#theres something in their writing that my mind start screaming

[shoejin]

day will be so fun then i think abt fujieda and towa then day feels like

[stevie-petey]

episode eight: the battle of starcourt

He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?” You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.” “I can sleep right now and find out–” “I will flick you again.” “A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”

Summary: jonathan becomes a certified surgeon, hopper returns and is oddly sentimental (wonder what that could mean !), you and dustin show off your musical theater talents, the mind flayer becomes a track star, fireworks become weapons, and really a lot just happens so suddenly it gives you whiplash. dont worry though, the rest of your summer involves painful goodbyes and the scary realization that youre growing up. absolutely disgusting. but at least steve gets to kiss you whenever now, so hooray for that ! side note: you keep making promises to people, surely there wont be narrative foreshadowing as a result !

Rating: general, violence and swearing

Warnings: blood, swearing, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 21.2k (ouch)

Before you swing in: this was my magnum opus. truly. so so so much happens in this chapter, this episode is INSANE. it took me a while, the scenes were hard and complex, but im happy with the final results :) ive been waiting a long time to write this ending, to set up the strings for later in season 4 <3 i sincerely hope this chapter is all yall have wanted. if theres any glaring typos, pls ignore because its 21.2k words and im weak from rereading it. anyways, i have a sneaky lil link right here that will make sense at the end of the chapter (spoiler alert: it's a mixtape jonathan makes for bug). enjoy !

-

El’s screams tear out of her body. She writhes in pain, sobs claw out of her throat. It’s unbearable to watch, the sight of her in immeasurable pain. It breaks your heart. 

No one knows what to do. 

Mike thrashes in your arms still. He tries to escape your hold so that he can cover his body with El’s. Take away her pain somehow. But you won’t let him. You know that it hurts him to see her this way, but his panic will only drive El’s panic further.

“What is that?” Disgust litters Erica’s face as she stares at the moving creature within El’s leg. Gently you push the girl away, not wanting to crowd El too much. She needs space to breathe. 

“There’s something in her leg,” Mike sneers into your face as he fights against you again. He’s furious, he’s overwhelmed, he just wants to help. “Let go!”

Your arms tighten around the boy. He isn’t in the right state of mind. Frantic, you look to your left and start forming a plan. “Jonathan, my switchblade is in my left back pocket. Grab it.” He stares at you, unsure what to do, and you raise your voice into a yell. “Grab it.”

Jonathan jumps at the command and his hand disappears behind you. You feel him find the weapon and pull it out. He holds it in front of you, offering it, but you don’t accept it. “Go and disinfect it. There’s a gas stove where you found us. Heat up the blades so that we can–” you swallow as nausea fills you. “We–we have to cut it out of her leg.”

The moment Jonathan is gone, you turn your attention to Mike and Steve. You try to keep your voice leveled, try to contain the blinding panic that screams in your head. El needs you right now. Swallowing again, you start to speak to them. “I need you guys to talk to El. Keep her awake.”

“Right, okay.” Mike nods, and you finally release him. He hovers over El, his voice is gentle as he tries to calm her. “Hey, stay awake, okay?”

You tug Steve towards El’s legs so that he can help you move her into a better position. “Get her onto her side. Mike, put her head in your lap.”

Both boys do as they’re told. Everyone watches, and Robin tries to make light of the situation. She rambles about a girl from her soccer team who once broke her leg. How the bone had ripped clean through her skin. The story makes you shiver, and Steve sees the discomfort. “Robin, hey. You’re not helping.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jonathan returns, out of breath. “Okay. Alright, El?” He looks down at the girl. Tries to steady his breathing. “This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?”

El whimpers out that she understands, and you take hold of her hand. “Sweetheart, you need to brace yourself. I promise it will be over soon.”

“I’ll be fast, but I need you to stay real still. Here,” Jonathan hands a wooden spoon to Mike. “You’re gonna want to bite down on this, okay?”

Teeth bared, El clenches her teeth around the spoon. Her body braces for what’s about to come. Kneeling next to her, you angle your body over hers and pin her arms down with your hands. You look at Mike, ordering him to do the same. “Hold her shoulders. Don’t let her go, no matter what.”

He pales, but swallows deeply and nods. When Mike is in position, you signal to Jonathan to start cutting. “Do it.”

“Okay,” Jonathan inhales. The knife you’ve given him shakes as he holds it over El’s wound. He’s fucking terrified, but he knows it’s the only way. Exhaling, he cuts into her flesh. Blood pours from the wound and El’s screams tear from her chest. 

Everyone makes a sound of disgust and horror. Your own stomach lurches at the sight of Jonathan cutting into the leg. The image, the way El’s body convulses, the screams she releases, it’s all too much. You don’t feel yourself shaking until Steve guides your head into the nook of his shoulder, shielding you. 

“Thank you,” your breathing is shaky. You aren’t even sure if he’s heard you, but Steve nods and his hand rubs up and down your back. He’s doing whatever he can to help, being the solid surface you need to lean upon. Lending you the strength you need to hold El down and save her. 

You hear your knife glance against the ground, followed by El’s scream becoming deafening. Unable to stop yourself, you pull away from Steve to look at what’s happening. When you do, you almost gag. Jonathan’s fingers are now in El’s leg, digging underneath the flesh and muscle to find whatever the hell is in there. A horrible squelching sound fills the air. Faintly you think you can hear Will crying behind you. 

Jonathan struggles, digs deeper into the leg, but it only seems to be making everything worse. El twists and contorts beneath you, in agonizing pain. Her screams only intensify. A tear from your eye lands on her shirt, and you force yourself to hold her down despite how desperately you want to end it.

“Goddamn it!” Jonathan can’t find it. He can’t find whatever the hell is in El’s leg. It keeps moving the moment he thinks he has it. Everything is slick from blood. 

“No!” El spits out the wooden spoon, her voice raw from screaming. “Stop it!” 

You can’t stomach her pain any longer. The moment she pleads for it to stop, you move off of El and push Jonathan away from her. Nancy helps, touches his shoulder to alert him as well. The moment she has the room to, El sits herself up. “I can do it.

“Do what, El?” You ask, though you think you know anyways.

She breathes heavily. Tears flow freely down her face. She’s sitting down, one of her knees is pressed against her chest. The injured leg remains flat on the ground, her hand outstretched above it. Static, the one you always feel when El uses her powers, surrounds you. There’s a low hum, she grunts and screams, and yet her hand remains steady. You rub her back, offering her all the strength you can give her, in awe despite the poor timing of it. 

To have the strength to expel a foreign object from your body. You can’t imagine it. 

El releases one final long, harrowing scream. The lights flicker, the windows behind you rattle violently. You only just barely manage to cover Dustin and the kids from the shards of glass before they explode. At the same time, a small, writhing creature shoots from El’s leg. It stalls in the air, hovering in front of her face as she continues to scream. The creature is no bigger than the size Dart had been when Dustin first found him. The idea that it had been buried in El’s leg makes you feel ill. 

With the last of her energy, El flings the creature across the room. It lands with a sickening thud on the floor, before it starts to move. You watch in horror as it scurries away, releasing its own screech, until Hopper’s boot crashes down upon it, killing it. 

You’ve never been happier to see that cranky son of a bitch. 

Joyce stands behind him and you whimper pathetically when you see her. You miss your own mother. It’s been days since you’ve last seen her. You’re more homesick than you’ve ever been before. 

Alongside Joyce and Hopper is a man you’ve never seen before. He has glasses and a beard. As you study him, Jonathan makes a surprised sound. “Murray?”

“You know him?” 

Jonathan nods at you. “He’s the detective Nance and I visited last year.” 

“He’s insane.” Nancy says, though there’s a nostalgic smile on her face. 

Hopper steps forward, investigating the scene. Glass crunches beneath his boots. He stops in front of you and El. He looks down at you. “Always at the scene of the crime, huh?”

“Yeah,” you blow hair out of your face. “Can’t seem to ever stop myself.” Then, finally noticing his aggressively bright and floral shirt that he’s wearing, you tilt your head to the side. “Nice shirt, by the way. I like the color on you. You’ve been direly needing some color in your life.”

Dustin snorts and El manages a tired smile. Hopper rolls his eyes at you, though you can tell it’s more from fondness rather than annoyance like it usually is. You watch as his eyes drift towards Joyce, uncharacteristically shy. “Thanks, kid.”

“Anytime, old man.” 

– 

“The Mind Flayer, it built this monster in Hawkins, to stop El, to kill her and pave a way into our world.” 

You sit on the fountain’s edge. Dustin is next to you, Steve leans against you on the other side. Mike’s words surround you. 

He explains what he and the others have been dealing with while you’ve been gone. Innocent people have been getting possessed and turned into chemicalized substances. Their bodies melting together, conjoining to create a monster meant to kill El. With every detail Mike remembers, your stomach twists uncomfortably. It doesn’t sound real. It sounds like a thing from nightmares.

And somehow Billy has become the face of it. 

The last time you saw him, he had been a shell of who he used to be. He had been in pain. Obvious pain. Sweat had run down his flushed skin and his eyes had a frost in them unlike anything you had ever seen before. Instead of helping him, instead of telling anyone about this, you had abandoned Billy. 

“How big is this thing?” Hopper asks, shifting so that El can rest more comfortably against him. 

Jonathan sighs. “It’s… It’s big. Real big. Thirty feet, at least.”

“You’ve seen it?” Your eyes draw to the bruise on his forehead. The pained noise he made when you hugged him still rings in your ears. 

“We’ve had a rough night.” Nancy whispers, eyes downcast. 

“It sorta destroyed Hopper’s cabin.” Lucas looks up at the chief, a poorly feigned apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry.”

Steve interjects now. He asks questions, tries to make sure he understands. As he speaks with the group, your head falls onto his shoulder. Your head spins. Only hours ago you were dealing with Russians and national emergencies. Now, you and Steve try to wrap your heads around the idea of a giant human goo creature wreaking havoc on Hawkins.  

Which, according to Max, is still very much alive. 

But that doesn’t stop Will from trying to help. “But if we close the gate again–” 

“We cut the brain off from the body.”

“And kill it.” Lucas finishes for Max. “Theoretically.”

It sounds so simple, but you’ve been here before.

You’ve heard this conversation already; you were standing in the Byers’ dining room. Steve had been next to you, just like he is now, and Jonathan had been on your other side. The people surrounding you were the same, only now Robin and Will join. That November, the conversation had terrified you. Closing the gate. Killing the Mind Flayer and destroying its army. 

It had been the exact same conversation. And it terrifies you still, now. Only this time the fear is accompanied by an emptiness.

You’ve been here before. It hadn’t been enough. 

“How many more times are we going to kill it?” Your head remains pressed against Steve. Your eyes don’t lift from the ground. Exhaustion sags your body. “We thought we already killed the Mind Flayer. We went through hell and back to close the gate, only for it to be opened again not even a year later. By another country. I mean,” laughter crawls out of your throat. “Who’s to say that they won’t just open the gate again? They’ve already done it once–”

“Loverboy over here,” The bearded man from earlier, Murray, suddenly appears and slaps the back of Jonathan’s head. The man has a mad smile on his face, the kind that tells you he’s an insane genius. After Jonathan shoves him away, Murray stops in front of you. He looks down, a curious glint in his eyes. “He told me you were a ray of sunshine. Gotta be honest. I’m not really getting a real sunshine vibe from you.”

Steve subtly shifts your body so that he’s in front of you. His eyes are narrowed, body tense. “What’s that in your hands?”

Murray seems to now remember what he interrupted the group for. He clutches the pieces of paper in his hands, waves them in the air. “Ah. These, my perfectly coiffed haired friend, are blueprints.” 

“That’s just a poorly done drawing of squares and lines.” You squint at the papers. They’re no better than the map Mike had scribbled to navigate the tunnels last year.

“Seriously,” Murray turns back to Jonathan again. “I thought she was supposed to be the nice one.”

You open your mouth to argue, not at all liking whatever this random man is insinuating, but Hopper steps forward first. “Just start talking.”

He sighs, but agrees. Motioning everyone to follow, Murray guides the group to a nearby table so that he can lay his drawings out for everyone to see. “Okay, this is what Alexei called ‘the hub’.” Murray points to the center of the first drawing. “Now, the hub takes us to the vault room.”

“Okay, where’s the gate?” Hopper hovers over him, attentive. 

“Right here.” Murray now points to a random box, far from where you know the gate actually is. You bite your lip, unsure if you should speak up just yet. “I don’t know the scale on this, but I think it’s fairly close to the vault room. Maybe fifty feet or so.”

You snort obnoxiously loud, getting everyone’s attention. “You’re so wrong that it physically pains me.”

“I’m sorry?” Murray gives you an odd look. When Jonathan and Nancy showed up on his doorstep last year, the two of them had nothing but great things to say about you. Jonathan had waxed poetry about you while Nancy had sat at the dinner table, resentful. Now, meeting you, Murray is really struggling to understand where that all came from. 

“It’s more like five hundred feet.” Erica says. When she sees Murray’s exasperated expression, she can’t help but laugh at the old man. “What, you’re just gonna waltz in there like it’s commie Disneyland or something?” 

“And who are you?” 

“Erica Sinclair. And who are you?”

“Murray… Bauman.”

“Listen, Mr. Bunman.” You have to stifle a laugh into Steve’s shoulder. You love Erica, you really do. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do things, but I’ve been down in that shithole for twenty-four hours. And with all due respect, you do what this man tells you, you’re all gonna die.”

“I’m sorry, why is this four year old speaking to me?”

You slide off the fountain’s edge and stand. Whoever this guy is, you don’t like his snippy attitude. “She’s ten, actually, and she’s right.”

“Yeah, you bald bastard!” Lucas reprimands her, but she doubles down. “Just the facts!”

While you enjoy her quips, you gently grab Erica’s shoulders and place her behind you. There isn’t time for her to make a grown man cry. “We went through hell down there. It won’t be as easy as walking fifty feet. The place is huge.”

“They’re right.” Dustin speaks up. “You’re all gonna die, but you don’t have to. Excuse me, may I?” Even before Murray has consented, your brother is already grabbing the blueprints. He sits down and starts explaining. “See this room here? This is a storage facility. There’s a hatch in here that feeds into their underground ventilation system.”

“It’s how we accidentally got in.” You add, figuring any extra information could help.

“Wait, you accidentally broke into a secret Russian lair?” Mike tries to hide it, but you can see that he’s impressed. You know that once this is all over, he’ll grill you for details later.

“No, we thought it’d be fun to get tortured by commies on the fourth of July.” Steve points to his swollen eye. “Yes, Wheeler. It was an accident.”

“Guys!” Dustin shouts. When he has everyone’s attention again, he sighs. “Jesus. Anyways, these vents will lead you to the base of the weapon. It’s a bit of a maze down there, but between me, Y/N, and Erica, we can show you the way.” 

Hopper stares down at the three of you, unamused. “You can show us the way?”

Dustin is about to agree, but you cover his mouth with your hand. “Yes, I can show you the way. The kids can stay here, but I remember everything from when we were down there. If you want all the hero glory, then fine. Fight some Russians. But I can be your navigator.”

“No.” Hopper, Steve, Dustin, and Jonathan say at the same time. 

You roll your eyes at all of them. “Okay, I was only talking to Hopper. The rest of you,” you glare at your brother and the two teens next to him. “Aren’t a part of this conversation.”

“There isn’t a conversation to be had, kid.” Hopper scoffs at you. He doesn’t want to hear whatever you’re about to say. He won’t let you back down there again. From the state Steve is in, Hopper doesn’t even want Joyce coming with him. “You’re not going. End of discussion.”

“You don’t seriously expect me to let you walk into a death trap, right? I mean, I know we argue a lot, but you can’t be that dumb.” Hopper has started to walk away now, trying to put an end to the conversation, but you follow him anyways. “Listen to me!” He ignores you, doesn’t turn around. Instead, Hopper starts gathering bullets as he picks up a shotgun from one of the guards on the ground. Groaning, you continue to chase him. 

You don’t care how annoying you’re being. You’ll nag him until your last dying breath. If he doesn’t want you getting hurt, then he has to understand that you don’t want him getting hurt either. “Hopper, I’m serious. El…” You look at the girl, who is far behind the two of you now as she rests near the fountain. Your voice grows thick. A wave of emotions rush over you, seeing her. She’s so small. She’s still just a kid, despite the power that lies within her. “She needs you. You–you can’t get hurt.”

“And I won’t.” 

“You don’t know that,” you grab the man’s shirt, but he tries to walk anyways. You plant your feet on the ground and grit your teeth. He’s frustratingly strong. “Please, just–you’re her father. You–you can’t leave her–” You stumble over your words, try to think of how to convince him. There has to be a way, a middle ground. Isn’t he the one who taught El what compromise means? 

In your nagging midst, you overhear Dustin and the party all catch up. Talk about how they missed one another. It’s a sweet reunion, seeing them come together again after being separated for so long; your boys are together again. It feels like a lifetime ago where they were all together on Weathertop hill. Seeing them together again, it hits you. 

The walkies. Cerebro.

“What if I could still communicate with you from above?” You shout, frantic. Hopper stops walking. He still doesn’t look at you, but he indicates that you have his attention. Taking a deep breath, you don’t waste any time. “We have walkies. Dustin, all the kids. It’s how they communicate with one another. Always have. What if… what if I give you directions using them? That way, you’ll fulfill your annoying need to be a hero while I fulfill my annoying need to protect everyone.”

Your words come rushing out, messy and jumbled, but Hopper seems to understand. He’s quiet, mulls what you’ve said over and over again in his head. He inhales, closes his eyes, and then exhales agonizingly slow. When he opens his eyes to look at you, he’s resolved. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

A relieved smile graces your face. Knowing you’ve gotten through to Hopper, you finally release his shirt. You straighten it back out, wipe some dirt off of it. It really is a good shirt, one you know was almost definitely purchased for a woman named Joyce Byers. “It adds to my charm.”

Hopper chuckles, shakes his head, before walking over to where your brother stands with the others. He fishes a walkie from his back pocket, tosses a spare one to Dustin. “Hey, heads up. Your sister came up with a shockingly genius compromise. You guys can navigate, just from someplace safe.”

Dustin sighs. “It’s not that simple.”

“The signal won’t reach.” Erica clarifies for him. 

You motion at them to explain faster. “But…”

“But,” Dustin quickly explains your idea. “We’d need something with a high enough frequency band to relay with the Russians’ radio tower. But for that to work, you need someone who has both seen their comms room and has access to a super-powered handcrafted radio–”

“Dustin,” you hit his shoulder, urging him to get to the point already. “Just tell him about Cerebro.”

“I was getting there! Look, we have one already situated at the highest point in Hawkins.” Your brother shakes his head. “If you need us to navigate, we got you. But we need a head start… and a car.”

“Hey, chief.” You stand beside Hopper now, grinning ear to ear. “Don’t you have a car?”

He stares past you, and the rage in his eyes amuses you immensely. It’s taking everything within him not to start yelling, which only causes your shit eating grin to grow. You extend your arm, hold your hand out palm-facing upwards. This is the best day of your life. “Come on, give me the car keys, Hopper.” 

Sucking his teeth, Hopper drops the car keys into your hand. “I hate you.”

Hopper stands in front of you, annoyance and irritability in his eyes as he stares at you, but you don’t care. A surge of warmth cascades through you instead. He listened. It means more to you than the man could ever know. Your arms find their way around him, surprising both you and Hopper, as you pull him into a hug. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t make me regret it.” Hopper says, his voice rough. He clears his throat, allows his hand to pat your shoulder. He may not know what you’ve gone through, but he thinks he can understand the weight the history has left you. It’s the same weight that he carries every day. The guilt, the anger that follows it. He clears his throat again and pulls you off of him, keeping you at arm’s length. “Do me a favor, will you? Make sure El and the others are safe.”

You sniff, wipe away tears. You’re not sure why you’re crying. “I will, I promise. Good luck, old man.”

“Good luck, kid.” He hesitates, still holding your shoulders. His breath hitches and his eyes don’t leave yours. There’s something in them, almost a certain kindness that once reflected in your father’s eyes when you were younger. The gaze burns you at first, but you stare back at Hopper through it. After he seems to find what he’s looking for, Hopper swallows. He says what Joyce has always said about you; from his conversation with the woman back at Melvald’s. “You’re the best of them.”

More tears well in your eyes, but you wipe them away before he can tease you. Hopper releases you, shoves you in a playful manner, and you can’t help but laugh. It’s a warm moment. His words simmer on your skin. You’ve heard them before, you know what people say about you, but the words are different coming from Hopper. 

Praise doesn’t come naturally to him. Words have always plagued him; the ones he has just told you hold a weight that’s even heavier than the guilt the two of you carry within yourselves. You’ve known Jim Hopper for three years now, but as you watch him walk over to El, soft smile still on his face from his conversation with you, you finally understand him. 

–

Steve is waiting for you at the fountain, whispering quietly with Robin. The two of them stand off to the side, away from the others. He’s nervous, uncomfortable. He stands with his back away from Jonathan and Nancy, who are a few feet away talking to Murray. His arms are crossed over his chest and his fingers tap together in an anxious tick you’ve become familiar with. 

The moment he sees you approaching, all the tension in Steve’s body melts away. 

He grabs your hand the second you’re within reach. Pulling you into his chest, he kisses the top of your head. “Any updates, angel?”

You hum against him, allowing yourself a moment to bask in his warmth. It’s been a long day. It’ll be an even longer night. “You know Weathertop hill?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Good.” You place Hopper’s keys into Steve’s hand. “You’re driving us, then.”

Robin points at Jonathan, who sneaks glances at the three of you. “Define ‘us’. Because, no offense, he seems nice and all, but he keeps looking over at you like a lost puppy and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Be nice, he’s still my best friend.” Flicking her forehead, you silently scold Robin. “And it’s just going to be the three of us with Dustin and Erica. Jonathan and Nancy are taking the rest of the kids to Murray’s bunker. He’s just… He’s worried. Probably wants to make sure he says goodbye to me before we leave.”

Robin makes a confused face, reminding you that she’s new to all of this. That she hasn’t had to say goodbye to her loved ones every year with the fear of them not returning. You sigh. “It’s… Kinda a tradition, at this point. A final goodbye before all hell breaks loose.”

“How many times do you guys almost die on a weekly basis?”

Steve snorts. “Depends on the month. November seems to be our worst one, though.”

“Astounding…”

You leave Steve to deal with Robin’s amazement on his own, though you laugh as you walk away. Ever since the events of Will’s disappearance, you’ve done everything you can to not think about what you’ve all been through. However, seeing the bewildered amazement on Robin’s face the more you reveal to her, you can’t help but laugh. 

Jonathan sees you approaching him and Nancy and steps aside to make room for you. They’re still talking to Murray, although the man is more lecturing them than anything. He holds up a bunch of keys, explaining in great detail which one goes into specific locks. It’s dizzying trying to keep track of it all. 

Secretly, you’re grateful that you’re going with Steve and the others. Easier key instructions. 

“This one is for the second to last bottom lock–”

“Murray, can I cut in real quick?” You try to be polite about it, but truly you don’t care whether or not you have the man’s permission. 

He glares at you. “Aren’t you already?”

“Good point!” You grab Nancy’s and Jonathan’s arms and pull them away with a wicked smile on your face. When you’ve dragged them far enough away from Murray, you wrap your arms around them both. Jonathan sinks into the unexpected embrace. Nancy stiffens. You try to ignore it. “Get to that old man’s bunker safely, please?”

“Of course, bug.” Jonathan has wrapped an arm around you. He closes his eyes, his fingers span across your back. “Stay at Weathertop, get to safety. Maybe even get some rest while you can.”

“I’ll try, bee.” Your laugh is wet. This will never get any easier. 

Nancy shifts in your embrace, and for a moment you’re afraid she’ll pull away entirely, but instead she surprises you by wrapping an arm around you as well. Her chin is tucked against your neck, she still hasn’t melted into the embrace like Jonathan has, but she’s trying. Lips close to your ear, she whispers, “I’ll keep him safe.”

You suck in a breath. You hadn’t known how desperately you needed to hear Nancy’s reassurance, to hear her silent apology. Pulling away from them, you look at Jonathan and Nancy. “I love you. I love you both.”

Jonathan smiles, the same way he did the night you met him on the Wheeler’s porch. Nancy ducks her head down shyly, the same way she did the night she opened the door to let you into her home. 

You squeeze their hands one last time before leaving to say goodbye to the others. 

Lucas wishes you luck, Will hugs you as tight as ever, and El offers you a partial smile. She’s still recovering from whatever the monster did to her leg, so you brush some hair out of her face and kiss her head.

“Sucks you were down in hell this whole time. Could really go for a brownie right now.” Mike says, a light in his eyes as El’s head rests in his lap.

You stick your tongue out at him. “Sorry, couldn’t find a way to bake while getting chased by Russians with guns.”

“Lame.”

“Goodbye, Wheeler.”

Then you turn to Max, who has been silent this entire time. She hugs you tightly when she sees you. “He’ll be okay, right?”

Your body goes stiff. Somehow, in the midst of Hopper and the others, you had forgotten about Billy. How he’s infected. Flayed. It hasn’t escaped your notice that no one seems to want to bring the matter up, either. When it had been Will, everyone had wanted to make sure he wouldn’t die if the gate closed. 

But no one has asked the same question for Billy. 

Swallowing, you slowly reciprocate Max’s embrace. “We’ll… We’ll find a way. We always do.”

Though the words aren’t meant to be a lie, you can’t help but feel that you’re breaking an oath when you say them. 

– 

Steve hadn’t noticed what brand of car the keys belonged to at first. However, the moment his brain recognizes the iconic Cadillac logo on its keychain, he practically starts to drool. A fucking Cadillac.

It doesn’t take him long to round everyone up and drag you outside.

“I was saying goodbye to Joyce,” you grumble, struggling to keep up with Steve’s quick footsteps.

“It’s a Cadillac, Y/N!” Steve can almost feel the foam pooling around his mouth. His footsteps increase even more, his body vibrating at the knowledge that he gets to drive his dream car. His dad hadn’t wanted to buy him one, said that the BMW was more practical. Reliable. When Steve pushes the mall’s front door open and sees the beautiful, timeless car parked perfectly in front of him, he almost collapses. “Oh, man, now this…This is what I’m talkin’ about!”

“‘Toddfather’?” Robin points out the license plate and its horrible name.

You make a face, but Steve doesn’t let her ruin his moment. He’s ecstatic. This is arguably the best thing that has happened to him all day (besides maybe kissing you). For fuck’s sake, it’s a goddamn Cadillac. “Oh, screw Todd! Steve’s her daddy now.”

Steve hops into the car’s front seat like a little kid with a toy car. Meanwhile you, Robin, Dustin, and Erica retract your heads in disgust at what he’s just said. Robin looks at you, repulsed. “Did he just talk about himself in the third person?”

Erica follows up with her own creeped out question. “Did he just call himself daddy?” 

“I’m choosing to ignore him right now.” You say to both of the girls, pressing a hand to your forehead as you walk to the car. There’s so much you don’t want to unpack with what Steve has said. 

“You can’t ignore me, Y/N.” Steve leans over the center counsel and opens the passenger door for you. “We already established that I’m really annoying.” 

“Just take us to Weathertop, please.” You buckle yourself in and make sure the kids have their seatbelts on as well. When you see that Robin has found herself in the middle seat, you snicker at her. She’s squished between Dustin and Erica, her knees are pressed uncomfortably to her chest.

“Why did I get stuck in the middle?” She complains.

Steve fixes one of the mirrors before revving the engine. As he pulls out of the mall’s parking lot, he offhandedly responds, “Passenger seat is reserved for girls I’m dating.”

Everyone in the backseat gags, and you blush furiously. You and Steve haven’t had the time to talk about your relationship. Or if there even is a relationship. But he’s just referred to you as the girl he’s dating. He kissed you yesterday, or was it today?

Time has blurred together, but Steve’s hand rests on your thigh as he drives and you’re his girl. 

There will be time to talk about all of it later. You’ll make sure of it this time. 

Steve’s foot presses on the gas, speeding through Hawkins. Neither of you were given an exact time frame from Hopper, but he presses down harder on the pedal and sends the car flying. There’s music on the radio, doing its best to distract everyone, but your hands are still antsy. You’re nervous, there’s still so much left unspecified within the plan. Steve notices your fidgeting fingers and removes his hand from your thigh to play with them; he’s trying to soothe you. 

You intertwine your fingers through his and smile at him. Steve winks back at you, and you admire how lovely he looks as he drives. The moment is broken when Robin shoves her head between the two of you. “What the hell is a Cerebro?”

“It’s basically a radio tower that Dustin built for his girlfriend, Suzie.” You explain to her, voice raised to be heard over the music and wind. “She lives in Utah.”

Robin raises an eyebrow, intrigued. She leans back in her seat and pokes Dustin’s shoulder. “Suzie must be really special, huh? I mean, if you built this thing and lugged it all the way to the middle of nowhere just to talk to her.” 

Your brother preens at this, pleased someone has recognized his romantic efforts. “I mean, nobody’s scientifically perfect, but Suzie’s about as close to being perfect as any human could possibly be.”

“She sounds made up to me.” Erica snarks from the backseat. She looks over at Steve, tries to get his opinion. “She sound made up to you?”

Steve hesitates for just a fraction of a second too long, and you sigh. Dustin notices it, too. “Why are you hesitating, Steve?”

“I–I’m not!” He looks to you for help, but you only shake your head at him. All he had to do was respond promptly. This is his own fault. “I’m not hesitating! I–I think she sounds real. You know, totally, absolutely real.”

“Not really loving your uncertain tone, Steve.” You say, and Dustin nods in agreement. “Suzie is real. I mean, I’m almost positive that she is.”

Dustin does a double take at your use of the word “almost”. He’s about to say something, demand to know why you’re not certain Suzie is real, before he notices that Steve is about to miss the Weathertop turn. “Left, turn left!”

“There’s not a road here?” Steve argues, squinting his eyes in the dark to see whatever the hell the kid is seeing.

Dustin screams at him again to turn, and you only have a second to brace yourself before Steve jerks the wheel. The car’s tires screech on the asphalt as your body gets thrown forward. You scream, getting war flashbacks to when you’d been in the back of Billy’s car as Max had very recklessly driven you and Steve to the tunnels. Somehow, this is so much worse. 

The car breaks through a fence and your screaming only intensifies. “What the fuck?”

“Hendersons, where are we going?” Steve screams to you and your brother. He’s desperately trying to keep hold of the steering wheel as the car struggles against the hillside’s grass. 

“Up!” You and Dustin exclaim. One hand clutches the door, the other clutches the seat. The entire car is practically at a ninety degree angle as Steve continues to drive up the hill. It’s bumpy, your head hits the back of the seat more times than you would like, and your heart races. 

The car makes a concerning amount of strange noises the further up the hill you drive. Robin clutches her stomach. “We’re not going to make it!” 

“Yes we are!” Steve does everything he can. His foot never leaves the gas. “C’mon, baby. C’mon!” 

“Sweet talking the car won’t help!” You shriek after a particularly rough bump leaves you nauseous. The poor car strains against the giant hill. The tires, not at all made for off-roading, get caught in the grass. 

Steve hits the wheel and curses. “C’mon! Please!” He presses harder on the gas, but the car comes to a stop. The tires move uselessly against the slick mud underneath.

Ill and desperately wanting to get out of the car, you unbuckle your seatbelt. “We can walk the rest of the way, Steve.” He gives you a despaired look, pleading with you to let him continue playing with his new car, but you roll your eyes at him. You’re five seconds away from vomiting, he can deal with abandoning the car. “The Toddfather is dead. We can mourn her later.”

Steve groans but turns the car off as everyone gets out, preparing for the walk ahead. The hill is just as steep as it had been earlier this week when you were with the party. While you’re annoyed you have to walk it again, at least this time it’s night and the heat isn’t as suffocating. 

When you reach the crest of the hill, Dustin immediately runs to Cerebro. He crouches next to the radio and turns it on. “Bald Eagle, do you copy? Bald Eagle, I repeat, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?”

Bald Eagle had been your idea. 

“Scoops Troop?” You ask your brother.

He nods, proud. “Thought of it myself.”

“Not bad, buddy.”

Murray’s voice crackles over the walkie. “Yes, I copy.”

Everyone lets out a breath of relief when you hear him. So far, the first phase of the plan seems to be working. Cerebro can reach all the way down to the lair; you can communicate with Hopper and Joyce. So far, so good.

Dustin starts to give Murray the directions he’ll need for the vents. You and Steve roam the perimeter of the hill, weary and needing something to do. While you’re far from the Russians below you, you still don’t necessarily feel like you’re out of harm’s reach. Robin stays with the kids, figuring it’s best to give the two of you some time alone. 

You stare out into the view of Hawkins from so high above. Weathertop has always been your favorite spot in the small town. Your first summer in Hawkins, Jonathan had introduced you to the hill; you used to spend all your time up here with him. You’d spend hours running up and down the length of it, giggling and sunkissed. If you stand still enough, you can still hear the laughter in the breeze. You miss Jonathan and being kids with him. 

“I haven’t been up here in years.” Steve stands next to you, voice soft. He stares out into the field as well, admires its beauty the way you are, though really he just wants the excuse to look at you. “Forgot how peaceful it was.”

“I love it here,” you tell him. “Late in the summer, dandelions appear. They scatter the entire hilltop. I like running through them.”

“Well, when they start to bloom,” Steve wraps his arms around your waist, pulls you back into his chest. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, lingers. He hasn’t held you in so long, his body aches with the weight of yours against it. “We can run through them together.”

You smile into the embrace, lean into the kiss, tremble into the words. He will always make you weak. It’s an exhilarating feeling, knowing someone can dismantle every bone in your body with less than six words. “I think I’d like that–”

From the corner of your eye, you see lights flickering in the distance. They catch your attention, standing out against the black backdrop of the night sky. You shrug Steve off, feeling a tug in your chest to walk closer to the hill’s edge. You need to figure out what you’re seeing. With every step you take, the more your vision focuses in on the lights, the more dread fills your body.

It’s the mall. The lights are coming from the mall. 

You freeze. 

The lights are going haywire, flickering wildly. It’s supposed to be deserted. Jonathan and the others were supposed to have left already, but still your stomach sinks. Something isn’t right. 

Steve stumbles after you, confused as to why you pulled away, but when he sees the mall as well, he stills. “What the…?”

“They left. They said they would be gone by now.” You try to calm yourself down, try to focus on the reasoning. The mall is empty. It’s supposed to be empty. Jonathan promised you he would make it to Murray’s safely. He wouldn’t lie, he would never lie to you. 

Robin, Dustin, and Erica come up behind you and Steve. You all stand there at the crest. No one moves, transfixed by what they see. The lights continue to flicker, miles below, impossibly too far away from help.

Someone has to help.

Your feet move, twisting your body to run back to the radio. You need answers. You need to know what the hell is going on, if everyone is safe, and Dustin is right behind you. He falls to the grass in front of the radio and frantically brings it to his lips. “Griswold Family, this is Scoops Troop. Do you copy? Over!”

He repeats the call over and over, but no one responds. With each passing moment of silence, your panic turns into blind fear. “I repeat, do you copy–” A sudden, horrifyingly familiar screech, one that has haunted your nightmares for years now, rips through the radio’s speaker. It’s loud and gruesome and sends ice into your body. Your brother’s concern rivals your own. “Griswold Family, please confirm your safety. Are you enroute to Bald Eagle’s nest?”

Dustin is screaming into the radio at this point, demanding answers, but there’s only snarling on the other side. Your breathing quickens, the edges of your vision blur. Sweat trickles down your neck. You can’t breathe. Jonathan is still at the mall. Mike and Will. Nancy, Max and Lucas. 

El.

The Mind Flayer has them. 

Steve tries to grab your hand, but you’re blind to it all. In raw desperation, you tear the radio out of Dustin’s hands and bring it to your own lips. “Jonathan! Nancy! Mike, anyone.”

Your pleads fill the void of a response in the night air. Steve sits next to you, all he can do is watch as your pleading turns into begging. Your voice cracks, the words scratch your throat. Seeing your white-knuckled grip on the radio, Steve can’t take it anymore. 

“C’mon,” he takes your hand and pulls you up. Numb with fear, your body is limp. You try to fight him, you don’t know why he’s pulling you away from the radio when your friends need help, but Steve has made up his mind. He takes the device out of your hands and makes you look at him. “They need our help.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!”

“Y/N, look at me.” Steve motions to the car, and finally you understand. “We’re going.”

Relief threatens to make your knees weak. Too wired from the debilitating combination of fear and helplessness, all you can do is nod at Steve and allow him to guide you down the hill. Dustin and Erica see that you’re leaving and try to stop you. “Where are you going?”

“To get them the hell outta there!” Steve calls over his shoulder, fumbling through his pocket to retrieve the keys. “Stay here, contact the others!”

Dustin calls out your name, anxious. He doesn’t want you to leave, and you hate that you have to leave him. But right now, he and Erica are as far from danger as physically possible. Weathertop hill is miles away from Starcourt. Right now, Jonathan needs you, and so do the others. Breaking out of Steve’s grasp, you run back to your brother and kiss his forehead. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

You run back to the car where Steve awaits, and Robin is quick to follow. She runs after the two of you and catches the walkie that Dustin tosses her. “Stay in touch,” he orders the three of you, still entirely against the whole thing. 

“We will!” You shout back at him, already crawling into the car. “Stay safe, don’t do anything stupid, and stay here.”

The backdoor closes, Robin’s seatbelt clicks into place, then the Cadillac’s engine roars to life.

–

Your hands won't stop shaking as Steve drives. Nothing he says can reassure you. The car hasn’t gone below seventy miles an hour despite the narrow road, and still it doesn’t feel like it will be enough. 

“I’m sure they’re okay.” Steve tries again to sound convincing, like his hands also don’t shake as he grips the steering wheel. “I mean, they have El. She’s a superhero.”

“Total superhero.” Robin unhelpfully chimes in. Her own nervousness is on display as she twists her fingers together. 

You draw your knees into your chest, trying desperately to make yourself smaller. You’re terrified for your friends, you should’ve never split up. The party always does better when it’s together. Forcing air into your lungs, you stare out the windshield. “How much farther?”

“A minute, maybe even less.” Steve promises, pressing down even harder on the gas pedal. The engine’s roar deafens your ears, and you welcome the distraction. 

In the distance you see Starcourt’s blinding neon lights. They grow bigger and bigger with every passing second, and you release the breath you had been holding when you see that you’re close. The moment of relief is short lived, however, when you hear gunshots pierce through the night. The sound rings in your eyes and the sight of Nancy firing the gun chokes you. 

“There!” You point towards where she stands and Steve changes the direction of the car. The tires screech and your body thuds against the door but you don’t care. All you can focus on is Nancy standing in front of Jonathan’s car, unmoving as she fires bullet after bullet. Something seems to be wrong with his car, you can hear the engine fail each time he turns the key.

You squint your eyes. At first, you can’t see what Nancy is firing at, but within seconds you see the third car barreling straight towards her at a terrifying speed. In the driver’s seat is Billy. “Steve!”

“I see him!” He floors it. 

The impact knocks all the air out of your body. It all happens so fast. Glass shatters. Metal hits metal. Your body gets thrown, your head roughly hits Steve’s shoulder as the car spins out. Your eyes squeeze shut at the momentum. You can’t remember if you scream. 

“Are you guys okay?” Steve asks, panting, as soon as he car comes to a stop. His head is spinning yet the first thing he does is look to see if you’re hurt. There’s some glass in your hair, but for the most part there isn’t a scratch on you, which he’s thankful for. 

“Ask me tomorrow?” Robin stares blankly ahead, still trying to process what’s just happened. 

It takes a few moments for you to come to. Your ears are ringing. Your neck aches from being thrown so suddenly to the left. “Let’s never do that again.”

“Agreed…” Robin swallows, but quickly her mouth goes dry. “Oh, shit.”

You follow her line of sight and nearly throw up. The Mind Flayer crawls over the mall and releases a thundering screech, and the size of it alone makes you want to cry. It’s huge, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen before. 

A car honks behind you, breaking you from your terror. Your head whips around, finding Nancy in the passenger seat of Jonathan’s car. “Get in!”

Quickly the three of you scramble out of the wrecked car. There isn’t room in any of the passenger seats, so you yank the trunk door open and scream at Robin and Steve to crawl in. It’s a tight fit, you have to press your back against Steve’s chest, but it’ll have to do. 

As soon as the trunk is closed, Jonathan steps on the gas. You’re thrown further into Steve’s chest and Robin, who sits in front of you, lets out a quiet yelp when she sees the Mind Flayer chasing after the car, not far behind. Seeing this as well, Jonathan takes a rough turn and everyone in the car tries to brace for the rest of the ride. 

“Are you okay, bug?” Jonathan shouts over his shoulder, eyes still on the road.

“Fine and dandy,” you pick a piece of glass out of your hair. Steve helps, carefully combing through your hair as well. The Mind Flayer screams, tries to lunge at the car, and your heart skips a beat. You try to distract yourself. “I crash cars every day. How about you guys, what brought y’all out here tonight?”

“Billy.” Everyone in the car says in unison.

You wince. “It’s always him, isn’t it?”

No one answers. Your quips don’t land. Robin hasn’t looked away from the Mind Flayer yet, Steve doesn’t want to look at it. Jonathan stares at the road ahead of him and Nancy flinches every time the Mind Flayer’s body thuds against the earth. The rest of the kids are silent, the echoes of its footfalls pounding against their eardrums. 

It’s grim in the car. Really fucking grim. 

“Dusty-bun, you copy?” A girl’s voice comes through over the radio. It’s not a voice you recognize; never in your life have you heard anyone besides your own mother refer to your brother as Dusty-bun.

Steve’s bewildered expression matches your own. Then Dustin’s voice crackles through the radio, and your bewilderment turns into relief. At least your brother is far away from whatever the hell is chasing you right now. “I copy, Suzie-poo. It sounds much better now, thanks.” 

“Suzie,” Steve and Robin breathe out at the same time. You smile at them, smug. They had their doubts, but you were almost certain she had been real. Serves them right. 

The nickname Dustin has for his girlfriend, however, is awful. “‘Suzie-poo’? That’s the best nickname he could’ve come up with?”

“I like bee, better.” Jonathan agrees.

Steve scoffs. “Honey has a nicer ring to it.”

“Both of you shut up!” You don’t have time for their weird ‘my horse is bigger than yours’ competition. Dustin’s started speaking over the radio again and you’re trying to listen in case it’s important. He’s asking Suzie whether she knows what Planck’s constant is, and you have no idea how any of this is relevant to the situation at hand. 

“Okay, so I know it starts with two sixes, and then a…” Dustin’s voice trails off. Apparently this Planck thing is a number, one he can’t seem to remember. “W-What is it?”

“Okay, let me just be clear on this.” The tone of Suzie’s voice makes you pity your brother. It’s an angry tone, annoyed and fed up. Whatever she’s about to say, it won’t be pretty. “I haven’t heard from you in a week, and now you want a mathematical equation that you should know so you can… save the world?”

You whistle, commending the girl’s sense of self worth. “She’s got a point.” 

Dustin pleads with her, promising that he’ll make it up to Suzie as soon as he can. You feel a bit bad for him, honestly. He really had been trying to contact her ever since he got home from camp. How was he supposed to know his week would end up being dominated by Russians?

“You can make it up to me now.” Suzie’s voice lowers a frightening octave. You have no idea what she’s about to say, and a large part of you wants to throw the radio out the window before you’re forced to find out. 

“What?” Dustin sounds frightened as well, which doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“I want to hear it.”

Horror fills you. It’s worse. So much worse than you ever could’ve imagined. You know exactly what Suzie wants from Dustin. “Oh, no… He told her.”

“Told her what?” Steve asks you, confused by this entire ordeal. Dustin and Suzie argue in the background. She’s insistent and your brother tries his best to convince her otherwise. 

Jonathan’s eyes meet Steve’s in the rearview mirror, mischief in them. “Theater camp.”

“Jonathan Byers, I will hurt you!” You hiss at him, utterly mortified. Sometimes you despise the fact that he’s your closest friend. He knows far too much about you. 

Steve has so many questions, but he forgets all of them when Dustin starts to sing. “Turn around, look at what you see.”

His voice is clear and beautiful, a testament to the countless hours the two of you were forced to endure in vocal lessons. When you were younger and still living in Virginia, your mother made you and your brother attend a musical theater camp every summer. She loved having you guys perform little shows for her around the house. Said your voices were like angels to listen to. 

The day you and Dustin moved to Hawkins, you both swore to never tell anyone about the camp. The secret would die with you. 

Jonathan only knows about it because your mom had him video tape Christmas carols a few years ago (like the traitor that he is). It had taken several batches of cookies, numerous pleas, and a handful of threats to ensure he wouldn’t tell anyone what he saw. 

“In her face, the mirror of your dreams.” Dustin’s melodic voice floats through the car. The song had been one the two of you sang frequently at camp, its verses simple yet fun to sing together. 

Steve and Robin share a look of disbelief. They’ve completely forgotten about the Mind Flayer still chasing after the car. Suzie, a surprisingly good singer as well, now joins Dustin. They sing together, in a sweet, childish way. You can’t help but sing along, harmonizing with them. 

Everyone in the car looks at you as if you’re insane, but you’re too tired and exhausted to care. You’ve had the weirdest two days of your goddamn life. Sue you for singing along. It’s a good song. 

That, or maybe you’re just delirious from dehydration.

After a minute or so, the song comes to a close, and you’re almost saddened by that. You’ve missed singing with your brother. You make a mental note to bug him about it later. “Planck’s constant is 6.62607004.”

Dustin laughs into the radio, happy that Suzie finally revealed the number. “You just saved the world!”

“Gosh, I miss you, Dusty-bun.”

The two continue to go back and forth with their baby talk, which you cringe at. It’s disgusting to overhear, although you guess you understand now why Dustin hates being around you and Steve. You’ll apologize to him later. 

Dustin’s voice cuts off unexpectedly, which you assume is Erica’s doing. You’ll also thank her later. The car goes quiet again. No one knows what to follow Dustin’s impromptu performance with. 

“So, theater camp, huh?” Steve finally breaks the silence, squeezing you gently in his arms as he teases. 

“Tell anyone and I swear I’ll–” The Mind Flayer suddenly turns around, catching your attention. It runs away, back towards the mall. It doesn’t make any sense. Everyone is here, in the car. It only wants El. Unease twists your stomach. You lean forward and look at who is in the car. When you see Will and Lucas in the seat in front of you, you panic. “Where are the others?”

You’re practically crawling over the seat to try and get to Jonathan and Nancy. “Where’s Max and El? Where the hell is Mike?”

Nancy tries to distance herself from your anger. “We got separated, but they’re–they’re fine. We had to guide the Mind Flayer away from the mall–”

“So you left them?”

“We didn’t really have much of a choice, Y/N!” Nancy screams back at you now, insulted that you truly believe she would ever leave her brother behind willingly. She wouldn’t do that. She knows that you know this. 

“It’s going back for them! It fucking turned around, can’t you see that? We need to follow it, now!” 

“Y/N–”

“Turn. Around.”

“Steve, sit Y/N back down!” Jonathan’s yell cuts in between you and Nancy. You’re about to start spewing curses at him, but Steve’s arms are strong and force you back into his lap. You’re livid. “Hold on!” 

Jonathan knows you’re right. He tightens his hold on the steering wheel and stomps on the brakes. The car spins, he twists the wheel, controls it as best as he can, before he steadies the vehicle and accelerates back towards the mall. 

– 

When you get to the mall, Lucas announces that he has a plan. 

“Fireworks have an insane amount of gunpowder in them.” He explains to the group, waving around a handful of fireworks he left in the trunk. You’re all carrying some as you run through the mall’s parking lot. “If we tie them together, we can mimic the damage of dynamite.”

“Think it’ll be enough to kill the Mind Flayer?” Nancy asks, hesitant.

“If we throw them from above, yeah!”

You kiss Lucas’ cheek, only barely managing not to trip over your feet as you run. “I think you’re a genius, Sinclair.”

Inside the mall, everyone quickly sets the fireworks up. Faintly you can hear the Mind Flayer lurking somewhere, its roars echoing throughout the building, but it hasn’t found you guys yet. Lighters get passed around, fireworks get messily taped together, groups are divided in an attempt to cover the most ground. Jonathan with Nancy. Will with Lucas. You and Steve with Robin.

You’re taping together the last of your fireworks when you look down over the railing. You almost drop the fireworks in your hand when you see Billy hovering over El. He’s so much bigger than she is. She’s hardly even visible beneath him. Your stomach churns. “He’s here.”

Thuds shake the ground. The Mind Flayer descends from the rooftop and crawls over to where Billy has placed El. Its mouth opens, preparing for the kill, and Lucas throws the first firework. “Flay this, you ugly piece of shit!”

Bursts of light collide into the monster. It hisses, turns to face the direction the firework was thrown, and Lucas throws another into its mouth. 

Smoke begins to fill the air. The whistle of the rockets sting your ears. The light blinds you. It’s loud and messy and fireworks rain down upon the monster. Everyone throws the bundles they have, and yet still you hesitate. Billy’s eyes flash through your mind. How the red in them overtook the icy blue. The sweat that poured from his face. The cruelty that seeped through his skin. 

It’s horrible what’s happened to him. He didn’t deserve to become a pawn in this maddening game. 

But someone has to end it. You breathe in, relax your body, and bring your lighter to the first firework. Its heat licks at your skin as you release it into the air. You hit the side of its body, sending the Mind Flayer stumbling back. 

“Hey, asshole. Over here!” Steve throws a firework and its blasts almost scorches the two of you. It’s dangerous, stray fireworks threaten to crash into everyone, but the plan seems to be working. WIth every hit the Mind Flayer takes, the more he weakens. 

Your thumb burns as you light fireworks over and over again. The motion is repetitive, just enough to keep the fear in you at bay. It’s deafening within the mall. It’s exhilarating. It’s dizzying. Reds, blues, yellows, greens all light up the sky. 

Distantly, through the haze of smoke, you watch as the fireworks affect Billy as well. He cowers each time the Mind Flayer gets hit, but it also seems to enrage him as well. He grabs El’s wounded leg and drags her closer to the monster.

Helplessly you wish you were down there with El, helping her. However, all you can do is continue throwing fireworks in a crazed attempt to save the ones you love. You scream with every throw, exerting all your strength to throw them as far as you physically can. But you’re quickly running out of ammunition. 

“Dustin, we’re out of time!” Steve screams into the walkie, breath heaving with soot on his face. 

Your brother screams back, pleading with Hopper to close the gate. No one answers him, and you hold back exhausted sobs as you throw the remaining fireworks. They won’t be enough. Someone has to close the gate, sever any connection the Upside Down has to your world. It’s the only way any of you are making it out alive. 

Yet it remains open, and Billy has now crawled back on top of El. 

She seems to be saying something to him, but in the cloud of smoke and explosions you can’t be sure. Robin helps you light the last firework, Steve aims it, and you’re numb to it all. He throws it, it explodes into a shower of purple. Its ashes scatter around Billy, singes his back, and you see now that he’s stopped moving. 

“That was the last one!” Robin shouts over the screams of the fireworks. Steve runs a hand through hair and curses. There isn’t anything else the three of you can do.

You run to the railing and look around, feverish to find any way to help. Jonathan catches your eye from across the plaza. He looks just as distraught as you are. Your palm hits against the metal of the railing in frustration. There has to be something. Then you see Max and Mike below, standing on the outskirts of where Billy and El are, all alone. 

“I’m going down!” You scream to Robin and Steve. You have to get down there. Someone has to be with them. They’re too close to the fire and explosions and monsters. 

“Y/N, wait–” Steve tries to stop you, but you plead with him. 

“Steve, I need you to trust me.” There’s a raw, overwhelming feeling within you that something bad is about to happen. You can’t shake it, the feeling of loss being inevitable frightens you. For three years now you’ve saved everyone, done everything right. For three years, you’ve gotten lucky. You don’t know how to explain all of this to Steve, the fear that has followed you ever since you first intercepted the Russian code. “Please.”

Maybe it’s the way you say it. Maybe it’s the tears that stream down your face as you look at him. Whatever the reason may be, Steve reluctantly lets go of you. Endlessly thankful for him, your hands cradle his face as you kiss him. He makes a cute, surprised noise, and you wish more than anything that you can bask in the warmth of his lips, but you can’t. 

You force yourself to pull away. “I’ll be back, take care of the others.”

And then you’re gone. 

Footsteps echoing against the walls of the mall, you run down the stairs and straight towards Max and Mike. They hear you approach and suddenly they’re both in your arms. They hold onto you tightly, none of you can tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you. Billy slowly stands up and away from El. His movements are labored as he walks in front of the Mind Flayer, blocking its path to her. 

They stand, face to face, unmoving. Predator against prey. Your heart pounds in your throat as you watch, too scared to move. In an almost imperceptible velocity, the Mind Flayer extends its claws. 

Billy raises his arms, stopping the monster from piercing through El, protecting her. “No!” A guttural, animalistic scream tears apart his vocal chords. He screams, over and over again, as the Mind Flayer struggles against him. 

Max freezes in your arms, you feel her choke on her gasp. 

Everything happens slowly after that. 

The first claw that penetrates Billy’s side. 

The second one that cuts through his other side. 

Then the third one, the fourth and the fifth and the sixth. They pierce through his skin, sink into the flesh. His body goes limp as he’s suspended into the air. The Mind Flayer hisses down at him, its teeth bared, and Billy, who has never been afraid, screams in the face of death as the monster fatally punctures his chest. 

Everything stops.

“Billy!” You will never forget the pain in Max’s scream. It will become yet another sound that haunts your nightmares. 

As you stand there with a paralyzed Max in your arms, the Mind Flayer drops Billy’s body onto the ground. He lands with a sickening thud. The Mind Flayer’s body crashes into the walls, it convulses, spasms, leaving destruction in its wake. Then, all together, it stills and falls to the ground.

The gate has been closed. 

Mike tears himself from your arms and runs over to El. He pulls her into a hug and she begins to sob. You and Max walk numbly over to them, neither of your eyes leave Billy’s bleeding body. He shudders weakly where he lays, a pool of blood encasing his body. 

“Billy?” Max knees next to him. She’s crying, she doesn’t know what to do. There’s so much blood. “Billy, get up. Please, Billy. Get up, please.”

You kneel next to her, at her side through it all. 

Blood pours from Billy’s mouth. He coughs and the wet sound only makes Max cry harder. He looks up at you, his eyes are finally blue again. “Talking to you… sweetheart.”

But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?

Those had been your last words to him. 

“Billy…” He had tried to find you. He had been lost and scared and alone. He didn’t know what had been happening to him, why his anger became venom. A sob is wrenched from your mouth. He had been all alone, and he had tried to find you.

Billy coughs again, more blood leaks from his wounds. With the last of his strength, he turns his head to Max. “I’m sorry…” His chest heaves in pain, he labors two final breaths, before his chest falls entirely. It doesn’t rise again. 

Max shakes his shoulders, uncaring for the wounds there. She shakes him, begs and pleads with him to wake up, but his body remains lifeless. She lets out one final, anguished sob. “Billy.” 

She buries her face in your chest and sobs. You hold her, El joins. The girl tries to soothe Max, she tries to keep you together, but you break as well. 

You cry for the boy Billy had once been. Max had told you stories from before. How he would drive her to the skate park, scare off any older boy who tried to taunt her. She told you about how he used to love surfing in California, before his mom had left them and his dad became violent. 

Max told you about how kind Billy had once been, she knows he used to be kind. How she could see it in him still, hiding the bruises from his father to not scare her. To make her feel safe in their own home even if he intimidated her as well; it was the violence in him that was created by a monster far more vile than the Mind Flayer. 

You cry for Max, too young to lose such a complicated loved one. You know the pain better than anyone else. How it hurts to grieve them, how it makes you feel pathetic to miss someone who has only hurt you, but the tenderness of knowing them tethers you to it all. Billy had been her brother. There is no greater tether than that. 

You cry because you loved and have lost. You will blame yourself for having not said anything about Billy’s off behavior. You had seen the first signs of what the Mind Flayer did to him. He had been stranded on the side of the road, bloodied and bruised, blue eyes darker than normal, and you had done nothing except tell him to come find you. 

And then you had left him. 

Billy Hargrove died alone.

You and Max will share the burden of this guilt. 

– 

Jonathan finds you first, then Steve. You’re on the floor, kneeling with Max in your arms, two broken pieces finding solace in the other. Billy’s body lies next to you, neither you nor Max can bear to look at it. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they’re the only words you can say to the girl. 

Max clutches your arms around her and her tears soak your shirt. El and Steve try to coax her out of your arms, but she doesn’t move. She refuses to let go of you, though she allows Jonathan to drape his arms over you and hold you as your own sobs echo within the mall. 

Nancy and the others join. They leave a wide berth around the dead body before them. Nancy sees that you’re in no condition to guide, so she takes over for you. She instructs Steve and Lucas to take Max from your arms so that they can stand the two of you up. The fire from the wreckage is quickly spreading and you’ll need to evacuate soon.

“It’s okay, bug. You’re okay.” Jonathan whispers in your ear, one hand delicate on your arm. Steve’s hands rest upon your other arm, and together the two of them are able to get you onto your feet. 

Your body shakes, grief sits heavily upon your chest. Steve’s eyes never leave your weak frame. 

It’s all a blur after that. 

Firefighters break through the mall and evacuate the building. Nancy and Jonathan do all the talking. Someone, you think it’s Steve, carefully guides you through the maze of burning rubble and bodies. It’s raining outside and the soft thunder almost drowns out the drone of the helicopters that swarm the building. 

There are ambulances amongst the military trucks and you’re shoved into one by a concerned medic. The woman explains to you that you’re in shock, that your body is in a state of perpetual flight. She allows Steve to sit and stay with you only after she’s finished patching up his split lip and bruised eye. 

“It’s going to take some time to heal,” the medic explains to you. She’s soft spoken, maternal, and in your numb state she reminds you of your mother. “You kids went through a lot tonight.”

Time. 

It always goes back to time. 

Steve rubs your back and kisses the top of your head every few minutes. You rest your head against his shoulder, body pressed against his, a blanket draped around both of your shoulders’. Neither of you say anything. His hand on your back is warm, it unthaws the ice that the shock has left behind. His touch grounds you, keeps you afloat. 

A car pulls up in the distance and its doors slam. Your eyes drift up, finding Joyce’s as she stumbles through the crowd of armed soldiers and firefighters. She stumbles around, lost in some haze that clouds her once shining face. Joyce looks around in concern, trying to find her sons, and somehow you know, even before her face crumbles when she sees you, that something terrible has happened.

Her eyes meet yours. 

Hopper isn’t with her.

Will rushes towards his mother and almost knocks her down with how hard he hugs her. Joyce clings onto him and breaks into heartwrenching, bone crushing, sobs. You can hear her from where you sit with Steve, you can feel the weight of her loss like thickened water in your lungs. 

In the other ambulance next to you, El, who had been resting in Mike’s lap, stands up when she sees Joyce. She walks towards the woman as she embraces her son. Though El faces away from you, standing alone in the middle of the parking lot, the way her shoulders shake as she begins to fall apart indicates the remnants of her childhood have died tonight.

“Hopper’s dead.” They’re the first words you’ve spoken all night. Your voice is hoarse from disuse and the words echo, taunting you. 

Steve doesn’t say anything, only a heavy sigh leaves his body. 

There were three deaths tonight. Billy, Hopper, and El’s childhood. One for every year you got lucky. The fear that had been creeping through the back of your mind finally presents itself to you. It manifests in the humid July air and it laughs at you. Saving Will, closing the gate, destroying the Mind Flayer. They were debts needed to be fulfilled, and they were paid for tonight.

You see Max and Robin sitting on a stretcher across from you. Max also hasn’t said anything all night, lost in her own grief and remorse. Joyce still sobs in Will’s arms. El grieves alone, mourning the closest thing she’s ever had to a father. 

You see Jonathan and Nancy whispering quietly to one another in another ambulance. They share a blanket like you do with Steve, but Nancy’s eyes are sunken in and Jonathan’s face is pale. Lucas and Mike sit together, too exhausted to say anything. 

You’re all bleeding or burned or bruised and you’re tired. 

“Sometimes…” Your voice cracks, tears threaten to silence you, and you force yourself to breathe in. Force yourself to focus, to get the words out. They’re important, somehow, even if you don’t know why. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.”

Steve draws small circles into your ribcage. His fingers catch on the raised skin, the scar from when you saved his life last year. “Luck?”

“When Will went missing… It was pure luck that I found him. Brought him back home.” You weren’t supposed to have been with the kids when they found El. You were lucky that night, it was luck that threw you into the middle of it all. “It was luck that saved Will last year, too. Those tunnels…” Your body shivers at the memory. It had been so cold down there, the smell of the damp earth is a scent you will never forget. “And now I–”

Your words catch in your throat. Steve’s body presses against yours, he waits for you, patient. When your voice returns, you try again. “And now I… I’m not sure how I feel.”

“Why’s that, angel?” Steve listens, he tries to understand. “I mean, the Mind Flayer is gone. We won.”

You saved Hawkins. You saved El. You know this, and it should be enough, but it isn’t. “All the deaths that took place tonight stain everything.”

El’s father is dead. Joyce had come so close to loving again. Max no longer has someone to call a brother. Billy, who endured so much hurt when he was a child, never got the chance to experience kindness when he grew up. 

Billy never got the chance to become good, not like you did. You were lucky to have even become kind again in the first place. It had taken years to turn the hurt from your childhood into empathy. You had a mother who called you her sweet girl even when you screamed horrible insults at her. You had a brother who held your hand through the anger that your father left behind. You had a best friend who taught you that not everyone leaves. There had been people who loved you, who were gentle, who showed you that anger can be turned into something soft. 

But all Billy ever knew in his life was violence and cruelty. It isn’t fair. 

“My entire life I’ve been lucky,” your chest constricts as you confess everything to Steve. All your fear, the doubt, the insecurity. “Now it–it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.” Your fingers find Steve’s, a mind of their own as your body seeks the solace only he can bring. He doesn’t know that he’s the reason you believe you’ve had more luck than anyone else in their life. “I… I was lucky to have met you, to become your friend, someone you trust. How could I possibly have any luck left over after everything we’ve been through together?”

Everything burns in Steve. He understands what you’re trying to say, he does, but he doesn’t agree. Steve hooks the pad of his fingertip underneath your chin and coaxes your head up, he wants you to look at him as he speaks. He needs you to hear him. To understand. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

You wipe your eyes, uncomfortable under Steve’s open and earnest gaze. “I’m wrong?”

He hums, strokes a finger from the dip of your cheek up to the crest of your brow. He admires you, memorizes the skin beneath his. “You’ve taught me a lot of things, but you’re wrong about that luck theory of yours. See, I have my own theory that you can never run out of luck if you love, and you taught me that to love and be loved is the luckiest thing a person can give and receive.”

Steve remembers the first day he ever saw you. He’d been thirteen, you had been twelve. He remembers how small you looked to him, yet lovely nonetheless, even back then. You had always been so lovely to Steve, kind, delicate, admirable. 

Your eyes stare into Steve’s and he remembers the first day he spoke to you. The squeal of your bike tires as you almost crashed into his car. The way the setting sun cast you in a golden glow in the ditch you landed in as Steve offered you his hand. How, the moment you laughed at what he said, he felt breathless. 

You smile at Steve now, the same smile all those years ago, the smile he saw when he was thirteen and believed in knights and dragons. Now, at eighteen, you smile at Steve and he believes in fates that attach people to one another and mold them into one being. 

“And I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, angel.” 

Steve’s words cut through you. They’re the good that remind you of the light of the sun that follows the dark of the night. It’s almost like an awakening, a slow remembering, how can someone run out of luck if they love with everything within them?

You see Mike now consoling El. She’s in pain, but Mike bears the hurt with her. You see Jonathan and Nancy sleep soundly against each other, safe in the other’s arms. Lucas holds Max’s hand as Robin cracks a joke that gets the young girl to laugh. Will strokes his fingers through his mother’s hair, offering her love that only a son can. 

Even while there is so much grief and pain within this world, the love that follows overwhelms it.

Steve stares down at you, eyes soft with contentedness. There isn’t a pressure behind them, he doesn’t need you to say anything to him. He’s simply happy to have you in his arms, to have you with him now, to remind him of how lucky he is, and you’re so full of love for him. 

“I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, too, sweet honey.”

Steve Harrington smiles the boyish smile that you fell for long before you knew what love even was, and he kisses you. He breathes you in, he has you right where he wants you. 

You finally, finally, have come home. 

– 

Time passes slowly afterwards; you take it one day at a time. 

After the mall burns down, your job is practically all but saved. It’s a small, bittersweet thing. Mrs. Waters had told you the news with her own bittersweet smile, mourning her dear friend Mrs. Driscoll who died in the fire. She will never know the truth, that the woman had become part of an army created by a monster. 

“But at least Doris would be happy that I still have my store,” the woman said as she stacked books with you at the counter. It had only taken you two days before finding yourself falling back into old habits. Your mother had wanted you to stay home for the rest of the summer, but Bookstrordinary has always been a second home to you, and you couldn’t bear the silence in the house. Mrs. Waters sighed sadly, looking down. “I miss her.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Waters.” You squeezed her hand, mourned with her.

Hopper’s funeral took place a week after Starcourt burned down. The entire town showed up, something that you know the old man would’ve hated, and he was crowned Hawkins’ hero. You spent the ceremony in the very back, holding El’s hand, so that the two of you wouldn’t be seen.

Billy’s funeral was a few days after Hopper’s. Max sat alone at the front of the church, Billy’s father had been too drunk to attend and her mother couldn’t get the time off of work. After the ceremony, the girl silently followed you into your car and spent the rest of the day at Bookstrordinary with you. She hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty house, and you understood the feeling. 

Max spends most of her summer with you at the store after that. Some days she helps restock the shelves, singing along to your set of tapes, bright and cheery. But some days she’s quiet, sits in a corner and pretends to read whatever you hand her. El stops by the store sometimes, too. You read comics to her, bake her the oatmeal raisin cookies she loves so much, and gossip about Mike and Lucas if Max is having one of her good days. 

During the first week you bake Joyce’s favorite muffins, the second week you bake her brownies. You offer her a shoulder to cry on every time you stop by the Byers home, you reminisce over Hopper and his disdain for you; she appreciates everything you do. 

Steve spends every single day with you, it doesn’t matter where you are. Without a job, he follows you everywhere. Whether you’re at work, at home, even at Jonathan’s or Nancy’s, he’s always able to find you with Robin right behind him. Nancy thinks the newfound trio is bizarre, but Jonathan can’t help but laugh whenever he sees Robin talking your ear off while Steve follows you around like a moth to a flame.

Together, you all try to heal.

Two weeks pass and you’re woken up by the ringing of your phone. 

“Hello?” Annoyance seeps through your greeting. You’ve only just managed to fall asleep, the nightmares at bay for once. 

“Come outside, angel.”

His voice wakes you up, the annoyance now replaced with confusion. “Steve?”

“Wear something warm, okay?”

“What–?” He hangs up, the line disconnects, and you’re completely taken aback by the phone call. You didn’t make any plans with Steve tonight, at least not any that you can recall. He had spent the day with you at work, ate dinner with you and your family, before watching a movie with Dustin and going home. 

You’re not entirely sure why he’s called you at nearly two in the morning to come outside, but you listen anyways. On your desk chair lays the cardigan Steve bought you for Christmas, his initials stitched into the sleeve. Sliding it over your shoulders, you quickly put it on before climbing through your window.

Steve’s car is parked two houses from yours, headlights off. There’s music faintly playing that can be heard through the window, and a familiar melody has you running to get inside. “The Beatles?”

They were the band that you and your dad used to listen to. His fingers would strum their songs on his guitar as the two of you sat side by side on the front porch of your childhood home. He would hum the words to you. Told you that you should know about real music. 

When your dad left, he took the music with him.

Jonathan had tried to get you into his favorite artists. The Smiths, David Bowie, the Clash. He would sit you down in his room and play their songs over his record player and watch your reactions. While the music was good, and you’ve come to love them because the artists reminded you of Jonathan, it was never the same as listening to the Beatles with your dad during early July mornings. 

Then one night, when you and Steve had been driving around Hawkins, a Beatles song began to play over the radio. Unknowing of your history with the band, Steve started to hum along the same way your dad would do, and it was finally then that music was brought back into your life.

“What, I don’t get a hello?” Steve is smiling ear to ear, seeing the flushed joy on your face and the cardigan you wear. 

You throw your body over the center console and hug him. “Hi, honey.”

As he drives, Steve is unusually quiet. His initial smug greeting upon your arrival is quickly overshadowed by a shy demeanor. Steve’s fingers fidget on the steering wheel, his foot taps against the car’s floor. The Beatles play softly within the car and somewhere along the route you find that the wooded scenery starts to look familiar.

He’s driving you to Lover’s Lake.

“Why are we heading towards the lake?” You ask Steve, but he pretends not to hear you. Instead, he turns the radio up and sings along to Paul McCartney. Your eyes wander to the backseat and notice a small box nestled against the leather. 

A few minutes later Steve parks the car and wordlessly the two of you get out. It’s dark, the moon reflects off the lake’s water. Crickets sing in the air and the waves lap at the shore. It’s a beautiful night, the July heat is masked by the night’s breeze; your cardigan keeps you warm. 

Lost in admiring the view, you don’t notice that Steve has left your side until he returns with a picnic basket. The box you saw earlier is tucked underneath his arm. You tilt your head at him, quizzically. “What are you planning, Harrington?”

Steve grabs your hand. “You’ll see.”

He leads you down to the lake’s edge where the water meets the sand. There’s a trail that Steve once found when he was nine. It had been during the last fishing trip he had ever taken with his dad. The man commanded him to hook the worm and Steve cried. Embarrassed and ashamed, Steve had run towards where the sand met the woods and found a meadow hidden within it. 

There are flowers in full bloom within the meadow, and you gasp when you see their vibrant pinks and blues. The flowers are delicate yet their stems are long. Steve sets the picnic basket down and pulls a blanket out from it. He sets it onto the grass and lays down, motioning you to join him. 

The stars are clear tonight, shining bright above the two of you. They almost seem to wink at you as you lay side by side with Steve. His hand is in yours, as it always is these days, and with only the stars as his witness, Steve whispers into your ear, “Thank you for staying.”

His breath warms your neck, and you know, without having to ask, what he’s thanking you for. Your promise to him last year, that you’d wait for him. He hadn’t been ready. The timing of it all wouldn’t have been right, but you knew, even back then, that you’d wait forever for Steve Harrington if it meant you’d receive even half of his love. 

Take your time, I’ll be here. 

“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” The words come easily to you, raw with truth and vulnerability. 

A soft sigh escapes Steve. He turns his head to you, eyes finding yours, and you’ve never seen such tenderness within him. He opens his mouth, sighs out the words you’ve longed to hear again since that night at Starcourt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You don’t think you’ll ever tire of saying those three words to him. There’s so much love within you, so much you’ve ached to give out ever since you were a little girl, and now you finally can. 

Steve kisses you with a softness that releases a sigh from your own lips, and you know he’s wholly, truly, yours now. With a swift motion, Steve places himself on top of you as you kiss. His weight presses down on you, one hand cups your cheek and the other steadies him. His hair tickles your face, his cologne clouds your brain, and the sweet taste of July honey coats your tongue. 

Minutes, maybe even hours, pass as you kiss Steve. It’s lazy, no sense of urgency as your lips move against his. It’s warm, it’s soft. Eventually he manages to pull himself away from you, he’s brought you here for other reasons tonight. 

“Hold on, I got you something.” Steve fixes his hair, clears his throat, and pulls out a container from the basket. He reveals a freshly baked loaf of banana bread on a beautiful glass plate. There’s a small, lopsided candle on top of it.

“You came prepared tonight,” you tease him, still breathless from the kisses and love.

“My mom did, actually. She’s the one who made this.” You sit up and look at Steve, wide eyed. He laughs at you, finding your stunned reaction endearing. “Relax, angel. She really wanted to bake you something, and I had to make up for allowing Russians to ruin your seventeenth birthday, didn’t I?” 

Words escape you. Steve’s mom made you banana bread, a woman you have still yet to meet, though you’ve only heard fond stories about. She had insisted on doing this kind thing for you. 

Steve lights the candle and holds the plate up for you. “C’mon, make a wish, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, smiling, and the wish comes easily to you.

For time to stay like this, forever.

You blow the candle out, Steve cuts the banana bread, and you take turns feeding it to one another. The dessert is delicious, freshly baked and still warm. It’s sweet and nostalgic and everything you could ever ask for. 

When you’ve finished eating, Steve claps his hands. “Alright, now onto the real event of the night!” 

You raise an eyebrow. “What, the kissing wasn’t enough?” Steve makes a panicked noise and you laugh at him. “I was teasing, honey.”

“You terrify me,” he huffs, before revealing a box from behind him, the very same one you’ve been curious about all night. 

“I aspire to be terrifying,” you stick your tongue out at Steve before turning the box over in your hands. It’s light, lighter than you expected. “Is this my gift you’ve been bragging about?” For months leading up to your birthday, Steve had been boasting about this amazing gift he had thought of, how he had convinced the party to help him. 

“Open it and find out.” There’s a glint in Steve’s eyes, yet you also see the shyness return as well. He’s nervous to see your reaction, he wants more than anything to have gotten this right. 

You roll your eyes at him but open the box. It isn’t wrapped like your other gifts from Steve have been. Instead the box is made of a dark oak, and its lid opens with a soft click. The silver catches your attention first. It’s a small chain with two silver ovals on opposite sides. In between the two ovals is a collection of charms. 

“Is this…?” The charms are all roughly the same size, but each vastly different from the other. 

Steve nods at you, rubs the back of his neck. “It’s a charm bracelet.” 

Moonlight reflects off of one of the charms, revealing it to be a frog, another one to be a cookie, and slowly you piece it together. There’s six charms, one for each member of the party. “Steve.”

“Have you figured it out–oomph!” He lands with a thud on his back as you attack him with a hug. Slightly out of breath, he laughs and wraps his arms around you. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“How did you get the kids to do this?” You lay on top of him, blinking back tears as you hold the  bracelet delicately in your hands to admire it. 

Steve sighs in exasperation. “Money and a lot of begging. They were all for picking out charms for you, I just had to pay them to spend more than five minutes with me at the jewelry store.”

You laugh, that sounds exactly like them, and you love those kids with everything within you. Holding up the frog pendant, you know which kid picked it out for you. “Mike?”

“Yup. Said something about Kermit the frog?”

“He’s such a little shit,” you say with fondness. Last year, when Billy had nearly choked you to death, your voice had been lost and Mike wouldn’t stop referring to you as Kermit. Your fingers skim over the pendant next to it, a simple blue one, and you smile. “Dustin?”

“He told me about your code blues.” Steve rubs your back, content to have you resting against him. You hum, touched that your brother trusted Steve enough to confide this to. No one else knows about your code blues, it’d been a special thing just between the two of you. 

With your ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, Steve explains the rest of the charms to you. His voice is lazy, slow, lilting with fondness, and his hand a firm weight against your back. Max chose a knife charm to remind you of how badass you are. Will chose a bee, because he’ll always be your little bee. Lucas was able to find a small, white flower that resembles a dogwood, knowing that it’s your favorite. As for El, she chose a cookie based solely on her love for the ones you bake for her. 

“What about the ovals?” You ask Steve after he’s done explaining what the kids chose for you. The ovals are slightly larger than the charms, almost serving as a divider between them. The metal is smooth underneath your fingers. 

He brushes hair out of your face and winks. “Turn them over.”

With slight confusion, you do, and discover that they’re engraved. Etched onto the back of one oval is honey, and, on the other, angel is written. They’re your names for one another, nestled between charms from the kids you love so dearly in your life; this is a gift made from pure, unadulterated love. 

“Oh my god,” it’s perfect, absolutely perfect. Your lips are all over Steve’s face before he even has time to blink. You scatter millions of kisses upon his face, drown him in them, With every kiss that you press upon his pretty skin, you shower him with praise. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

Steve laughs and tries to move his face away, but really he leans into the onslaught of love. His cheeks burn from smiling so hard and from the heat you always make him feel. He grabs your waist and enjoys the skin he holds. “You like it?”

“I love it, Steve!” 

“Does this make up for the whole Russian fiasco?” He asks, only joking a little bit. He still feels awful for dragging you into everything, but with time he’s learning to forgive himself. Before he overthinks it, Steve adds, “Am I now the best boyfriend in the world?”

His words make you blush, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to Steve being yours. You’ve waited so long to be his, to hold him and kiss him like you do now. You cherish the feeling, the sensation of knowing a boy loves you the way that Steve does. “You’ve definitely redeemed yourself for getting me trapped in a Russian lair on my birthday. And you’re definitely the best boyfriend in the world.”

Steve, despite being underneath you, does a victory dance and whoops into the night. He’s elated, his face shines when you look down at him, and you’ve never been so in love before. You once thought you knew what love was, what the burn of it could feel like. But now, with Steve lying beneath you as his arms keep you from falling, you know that love is airless, light, cool to the touch and warm on the skin. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, it’s supposed to feel like coming home after a long day of being out in the cold. 

After Steve helps you put on the charm bracelet, you lay together in the meadow. The lake’s waves can be heard in the distance. Crickets chirp their greeting, the stars wink hello above you. Their noises serve as a lullaby to you, soothing you to an almost sleep-like state. You nestle your head into the crook of Steve’s neck and let out a sleepy exhale. 

Feeling this, Steve strokes the back of your hair. “You fallin’ asleep on me, Henderson?”

“I’m resting my eyes.” 

“Very convincing,” he chuckles, tightening his embrace to try and stave off the cold that creeps in. He lets out his own tired sigh, your weight upon him has always put him at ease. He inhales, smells your perfume, and he can’t believe that he’s here right now with you. After everything he’s been through, he can’t believe that somehow he’s come out of it with you next to him. Last year he thought he had lost you forever. This year he can see forever with you. “I think I like this July a whole lot better than the last one.”

It’s meant to be a joke, a gentle tease. More of a reflection of how far the two of you have come in such a short amount of time, but still Steve’s words remind you of something. You’ve never told him the real reason why you left last summer. Why you ran away from him. 

“I was scared, last summer.” 

Steve tilts his head at you. “Scared of what?”

“I was scared of falling in love with you,” the confession lifts from your chest. It hangs over you both, the weight of it tangible. Steve’s eyes soften, he lets out a soft oh, and you duck your head shyly. “Last July, you were… Everything. You were everything to me, and it terrified me. I was still figuring my feelings out for Jonathan back then, you had Nancy, but you were so lovely and I just–I couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t have been fair, not to anyone, but I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…” Steve hadn’t known. All this time, he thought he had done something wrong. But really you had been trying to protect yourself, protect him, and he understands now why you had to leave him for a while. He sees the distress on your face and he shushes you, kisses your forehead. “Don’t apologize, okay? I honestly would’ve run away too, if I were you. I’m just… You came back to me, in the end. That’s all I care about.”

He’s too good for you. “I still hurt you.”

“You’re human,” Steve brushes more hair out of your face. “We all make mistakes. You ditched me for a few months and I almost got you killed by crazy Russians. I think we’re pretty even now.”

Despite the guilt in your throat, Steve manages to draw a smile from you. It’s what he’s always done best. Even on the day Will had gone missing, he had been the one to ease the loss by pretending not to have known your name. He had made you laugh when you thought you could never laugh again. Steve would do anything to get you to smile, and you cannot imagine where you’d be without him. “We always even our debts, huh?”

“It’s tradition at this point.”

And you laugh, full-bellied and loud and recklessly. It echoes into the night, Steve’s reverberates into your ears, and you’re happy. 

– 

A month passes, and in the mid-August heat, Jonathan knocks on your window late one night. 

His knuckles rap against the glass and it’s a sound reminiscent of before, when you were little kids who didn’t know how yet to hurt each other. You crawl out of your bed, curious, though happy nonetheless to let him in. 

You go to open your curtain, ready to tell the boy all about what Dustin had done today, unaware that when you open the curtain, everything will change. 

Jonathan is crying. 

“Bee, oh my God.” You quickly open the window and he manages to crawl through, though sobs wrack his body. He’s shaking, and for a terrifying moment you think that something has happened to Will. “Is everything okay?”

He stands before you, chest heaving and eyes red, and with two words your world comes crashing down. “We’re moving.”

Time stands still. You’re seventeen and your childhood is coming to a close.

Somehow you’re holding onto Jonathan as he explains everything through his tears. He’s moving in early September, going all the way to California. He and his family are leaving Hawkins, leaving you. 

Your legs give out, or maybe it’s Jonathan’s, but you hold each other on the floor, intertwined, mourning the loss of growing up together. Your tears mix with his, his breathing becomes yours. The two of you cling onto each other, scared that one day soon you’ll never be able to do this again. 

“We need to–” Your breathing is shaky, your eyes sting. You feel a desperate franticness claw out of you, you grasp at what little sanity you have left. “We need to promise each other that–that we’ll see each other every day before you leave, in some capacity. It–it doesn’t matter how but–”

“I’ve already talked to Nancy about it, bug.” Jonathan wipes your tears, lets his own fall freely. He knew you’d say this, and he loves you all the more for it. “It’s been agreed.”

You nod, relieved. It isn’t much, it still doesn’t change the fact that Jonathan will leave you in the end, but at least you’ll make every last second with him count. You’ll move into the Byers home if you have to, they’re your family. He’s your person. He’s embedded into your skin, he’s nestled between your bones. 

Last year you and Jonathan promised you would never let go of each other. 

The year prior to that you promised each other that nothing would change between you two. 

Now, holding onto each other as the world you’ve been building together for five years comes crumbling down, you have to believe that the promises will be enough.

–

Steve and Robin rope you into helping them find a new job.

You innocently pointed out that Family Video was hiring, figuring it was an easy enough place to work at, and suddenly the two of them had shoved you into Steve’s car with resumes in their hands. Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. 

“You put your mom down as a reference?” Robin questions Steve as you all get out of the car. She had agreed to proofread it after you politely declined, stating that if you proofread anything Steve wrote, it might ruin your relationship. 

“Yeah, why not?” Steve slams his door, straightens his shirt, and grabs your hand as you walk inside. “She’s like, super well respected.”

You share a look with Robin. “Rich kids,” you both groan at the same time. As much as you love Steve, you’ll neve quite get over how well connected he is. It’s bizarre and slightly terrifying how much the Harrington name can get you in this town.

“Whatever, call me a rich kid, but it’s my car you guys get free rides in.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “You’re such a dingus.”

“I didn’t ask to be here,” you remind Steve, though you thank him when he holds the store’s door open for you and Robin. “I think this could count as kidnapping.”

Robin bumps her hips against yours. “Not technically. Besides, I thought we agreed to leave our kidnapping days behind us after Erica?”

You shove the teen and follow her into the store. You look around at all the movies, slightly impressed. You’ve never really visited Family Video before, only really stopping by if you were picking up Dustin from the arcade next door. The store is nice, albeit small, but you can see Steve and Robin enjoying themselves. There’s good music, few customers, and the uniformed vest is less mortifying than Scoop’s small shorts and sailor hats. “It’s not so bad in here.”

“Why thank you, pretty lady.” A greasy looking man at the register smiles at you, leaning over it in a very unappealing manner. His name tag informs you that his name is Keith.

Steve immediately steps in front of you and stares the guy down. “She doesn’t need you thanking her, buddy.”

You can tell that he wants to say more, but you see the “general manager” on Keith’s name tag and quickly try to deescalate the situation. If your idiot boyfriend wants the job, he can’t piss off the guy hiring. “Steve, why don’t we take a look around while Robin does all the talking?”

“What–” He doesn’t have a chance to argue, you’re already pulling him down a random aisle, throwing a quick “good luck!” to Robin as you leave. 

She talks with Keith, and it seems to be going well. She shows him their resumes, smiles at him kindly. before she shouts across the store to Steve. “Dingus, what are your three favorite movies?”

Steve nearly drops the movie he had been looking at. “Uh, Animal House?” You can practically hear Robin’s disappointed sigh from where you stand, and Keith looks unimpressed. Panicked, Steve whispers to you, “What are my favorite movies?”

“I don’t know!” You hiss, frantically trying to get this poor man a job. “Just, name two other movies. Animal House can’t be too bad, right?”

“Star Wars,” Steve manages to get out, now walking back to the register. You stand next to him, looking nervously at Robin, who makes a pained noise at his responses. 

The manager stares blankly at him. “A New Hope?”

“A new what now?”

You drop your head into your hands and sigh. He’s hopeless. Already knowing it’s a lost cause, you mumble to him, “It’s a Star Wars movie, Steve.”

He snaps his fingers. “Right! Yeah, it’s the one with the teddy bears, isn’t it?” Steve makes what you think is supposed to be an Ewok sound, which only makes you sigh again. Sensing he’s fucked up, Steve tries to backtrack. “No? Uh… Oh! The one that just came out, the movie. The one with DeLorean and Alex P. Keaton and he’s trying to bang his mom.”

“Oh, dear.” It’s a trainwreck, one you can’t look away from, and Robin can only shake her head at you. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

“Stop talking.”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve clears his throat, he knows he’s rambling. Had he known he would have a goddamn pop quiz about movies, he wouldn’t have dragged you here for the interview. “Those are my top three. Classics.”

Keith looks between you, Steve, and Robin. He points to Robin first, “You start Monday.” He points to Steve, “You start never.” And then he points to you, “You can start whenever.”

“Okay, I get why you’re telling me no,” Steve waves a hand in front of you, “but she didn’t even apply!” 

You’re also confused by how this day is turning out, and you look at Robin, wide eyed and pleading. She’s good with people, Keith seems to like her. When she sees you silently begging her to fix this, Robin sighs and steps in front of Steve. “Will you just, um… Will you guys give us a minute?” 

“Why?” Steve doesn’t move, and you want to throw a shoe at him. 

“Let’s go, pretty boy.” You grab the back of his shirt and yank him back to the aisle of movies. He doesn’t fight you, he simply accepts his fate and allows you to drag him away. Before turning the corner, you nod at Keith. “Thanks for the job offer, but you should really give it to the guy I’m currently dragging.”

Robin snickers at Steve’s offended huff as the two of you leave, before she starts trying to convince the manager to let Steve work there. From where you stand, it seems like a heated discussion. You try to lean closer, nosey, and while you’re distracted, Steve runs into a life-sized cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates wearing a red bikini. 

He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?”

You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.”

“I can sleep right now and find out–”

“I will flick you again.”

“A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”

– 

When the Byers move, you spend the entire day fighting back tears as you help them pack. 

You spent the night in Jonathan’s room, both of you dreading the morning to come. Neither of you had slept, instead spending the entire night taking turns sharing your favorite memories together. The day you met. The time a dog chased you. When Jonathan mistook your sweater for his and wore it to school. Late night drives. Movie nights with your brothers. You relive it all that night. 

As the morning sunlight began to stream into Jonathan’s room, the warmth the memories brought started to fade away. Slowly, as the sun rose, you and Jonathan packed his room. You helped him organize his vinyls, sort through his mixtapes. When he isn’t looking, you steal a few t-shirts and flannels from his closet. He won’t notice they’re gone until he’s halfway to California. 

When it gets too much, seeing all of Jonathan’s life dwindling down to only a few boxes, you wander into the living room and help Joyce pack as well. She sees the tears in your eyes and gives you things to do, but eventually you can’t take it anymore. You go into Will’s room, and it’s the same. You cry, he cries with you, and it’s bittersweet. The rooms empty, the boxes grow.

El’s room is the hardest to pack, she has so few items to call her own, and you’re both silent as you move through the room together. 

With each box that you tape full of things you grew up with, you feel a piece of your childhood being packed away as well. The plates you used to eat off of, the books you used to bring from your job, the toys you passed down to Will. It’s all there, pieces of you frozen in time.

As you tape a box labeled “games” in Jonathan’s messy handwriting, you hear Max and Lucas singing in the living room. The sound makes you smile. It’s one of Max’s better days, she’s teasing Dustin for singing with Suzie, and she’s in a good mood. The rest of the party keeps her occupied. The kids all arrived as early as Joyce allowed them to, Nancy and Mike were the first to knock on the door. 

You place the box next to the others and walk towards Jonathan’s room. He’s leaning against its door frame with Nancy beside him, and you join them. You stare at the empty room, the one you’ve called your second home ever since you were twelve. It hurts, seeing it stripped of everything. 

All of Jonathan’s boxes are in the living room, filled with the things that make him who he is. There’s a drawer in your room of things Jonathan has left over the years, and you’re never giving them back. They’re all you have left of him. 

You and Jonathan take in his barren room, and you sigh against the door frame. “It’s so… empty.”

Nancy crosses her arms. “Is that everything?”

“I guess so,” Jonathan stuffs his hands in his pockets. His room feels cold somehow, its emptiness devoids it of the warmth it once had. He can still hear your laughs echoing in the floorboards, he can still smell your perfume that clings onto the walls. There’s scuff on the closet door from the time the two of you thought it’d be a good idea to play blind-folded baseball in the small room. 

Jonathan steps into his room, taking it all one last time. The sunlight from his window illuminates his silhouette, making him appear even smaller within the room. “Seventeen years of my life… packed up in one day.”

His voice is melancholic, his body is sad. You nudge Nancy, nod your head in Jonathan’s direction, urging her to go after him. She nods, understands that you’re telling her to say goodbye, giving them the space to do so. She smiles at you appreciatively.

You do it because they love each other, but selfishly a part of you leaves because you can’t say goodbye just yet. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, following after Jonathan. 

You find El as she’s leaving Joyce’s room. She’s holding a piece of paper, clutched closely to her chest. There are tears in her eyes, though you know better than to ask why. It’s a sad day for everyone, you’ll let her grieve on her own. However, that doesn’t stop you from pulling the girl into a fierce hug. 

“I’ll miss you so much, sweetheart.” You mumble, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know who’s going to paint my nails now.”

El laughs through her tears and holds you tight. “I can ask Mike to.”

You kiss her head again, close your eyes, and pray to whoever is above that this girl will stay who she is forever. That she will never change. Her kindness is genuine, her joy is admirable. All her life she only knew cruelty, and yet she still came out of it so full of love. “I’d love to hear how that goes.”

“I will write you,” El promises, and you nod eagerly at her. She pulls you in for one last hug before finally releasing you to go see Joyce. 

The woman greets you with a tired smile when you walk into her room. She’s kneeling on the floor, folding clothes. They’re baggier than what she normally wears, darker, and you finally realize that they’re Hopper’s. 

A lump forms in your throat. She shouldn’t be doing this alone, packing away the remnants of his life. “Here, let me help.”

Joyce accepts, and together you sit in comfortable silence as you go through the clothes Hopper left behind. They still smell like him, old cigarettes and whiskey. It’s a nostalgic scene, a part of you wishes you could keep one of his shirts. He had been dear to you, regardless of the constant bickering you faced with him. 

“I don’t blame you, you know.” Joyce speaks softly next to you, catching your attention. “At all.”

You look up at her, sucking in a breath. “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Byers.”

“The guilt, honey.” She places a hand on your arm, gentle as she always is with you. “I know you blame yourself for what happened to Will, but you shouldn’t. You have to let go of it. I want…” Joyce pauses, looks into your eyes the way a mother does to her daughter. “I want you to promise me that you’ll live the life that you deserve, because you’ve spent half of your life making sure my boys lived the lives that they deserved. Can you do that for me?”

“I…” You’re crying, you don’t know what to say. For years you’ve carried the guilt of Will’s disappearance, and for even longer you’ve done everything you could to ensure that he was loved. That Jonathan was loved. Never once had it felt like a burden to you, but Joyce’s words undoes something in you. “I promise.”

Joyce pulls you into her arms and hugs you, tears in her own eyes. She strokes your hair, hugs you as she’s always done since you were a little girl. She echoes the final words that Hopper told you. “You’re the best of them.”

You’re not sure how long you cry in Joyce’s arms, but when she soothes you and wipes your tears away, she tells you to go find Will. They’re leaving soon, he’ll want to see you, and you wish the woman one final goodbye before going to find her son. 

Will ends up being in the hallway, you find him just after he’s said goodbye to Mike. You note the longing in his eyes, the uncertainty in his posture as his friend leaves. There’s a wistful look on his face, one that you once had on your own when Jonathan was around. Even if Will may not know yet, you do. 

“Hey, little bee.”

He turns around, the softness in his eyes when he sees you makes you homesick. “Y/N!”

Will buries his face in your chest, and you hug him just as tightly back. He’s grown so much since you first met him. He’s no longer the shy little boy who had been afraid of his own shadow, and you can’t believe you won’t get to finish watching him grow up. “I swear, you’re going to be taller than me next time I see you. Won’t be able to call you little bee anymore.”

“I’ll always be your little bee,” Will squeezes you tighter, afraid to let go of you. 

“Good,” you ruffle his hair, making him to laugh. “I’ll miss you, but I’m sure you already know that.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Will’s voice is wet, more tears come. He pulls away from you, he looks as if he wants to say something, but he stops himself. As if he’s afraid of something.

You frown. “Hey, what is it?”

“I’m scared,” The words rush from his mouth. “What if… What if I don’t make any friends?” He lowers his voice, looks around nervously, before trusting to say the words out loud to you. “I–I’m different, Y/N.”

Will’s fear hurts you to see, you wish you could do more, promise him that it will all be okay, but you can’t. Instead, all you can do is kiss his cheek and hope he can feel all the love you have for him within it. All you can do is remind him that you will love him through it all. “You’re the bravest kid I know. I have no doubt that you’ll be fine. I mean, you’ll have Jonathan and El with you, but if you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away. I love you, and that will never change.”

You stroke the boy’s cheek with your finger, and he leans into the gentle touch. “I’m rooting for you, always.”

Will squeezes you tight when he hugs you for the last time. He thanks you, his body relaxes into yours, and you know that in the end he’ll be okay. He’s a brilliant kid, he’s been through more than anyone else his age ever has. He’s resilient, his kindness is his strength, you just hope that he can recognize that himself one day. 

As you pull away from the hug, Will’s eyes catch on someone, you turn around. It’s Jonathan, standing by the front door, waiting for you. 

It’s time to say goodbye. 

Taking a deep breath, you walk towards him, and Jonathan takes your hand and guides you to the porch outside. Everyone else is still inside, packing. You sit side by side in silence, absorbing the final remaining moments alone with each other. Saying goodbye to your childhood best friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

A ladybug crawls on a leaf next to you, a bee flies past you and lands on a sunflower nearby, and a bird chirps in the blue sky above. You rest your head on Jonathan’s shoulder, he presses a kiss to your temple. Your fingers interlock and the cool September air surrounds you.

“I made you something,” Jonathan breathes out, clears his throat. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a mixtape, its front covered with a piece of paper listing all the songs on it. “I, uh, used the money I won from the betting pool to make it. Dustin was pretty annoyed with me for winning.”

You snort at the image of your brother berating your friend for winning a betting pool about how long it’d take Steve to ask you out. Taking the mixtape from Jonathan, you read the songs. There’s eight songs on it, the first one being a Beatles song from your childhood; you don’t know how Jonathan knew that. Though most of them are familiar, the writing on the paper is old, faded with age. “How long have you been making this, bee?”

Jonathan looks away from you and swallows. “A while, I guess. Listen to it after I leave, okay? That way, if you hate it, I’ll never have to know.” His demeanor is odd, there’s something he’s not telling you, but it’s your last day with him. You leave it alone for now, not wanting to ruin it. 

“You’re not allowed to find a new best friend.” You tell him instead, the silence becoming too much to bear. It’s a joke, though truthfully you don’t want Jonathan to find another best friend. He’s supposed to be yours, only yours, and you’re supposed to be his. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jonathan lets out a soft laugh, and you’re going to miss feeling the way his body moves as he does so. He sucks in a breath, releases it slowly, and shakes his head. “I mean, we were kids together, bug.”

You start to cry, and he does as well. You’ve never had to say goodbye to each other before. Not like this. The two of you sit on the porch of Jonathan’s childhood home and cry. You cry into his neck, he buries his face into your hair, and it’s all so unfair. 

Jonathan touches his forehead to yours. You look into his eyes and know that your childhood will always live within him, and his within you. Jonathan brings his finger up to your bee necklace, his ladybug ring knocks against the pendant. The jewelry glistens in the sunlight. 

“Bee, we were more than just kids together.”

And it’s true. You were everything together. Now, you have to figure out how to be everything while apart. 

– 

The last of the boxes are placed in the moving van. Everyone is crying, you’re all gathered around one another, hugging and saying goodbye. 

You hold El tight and whisper good luck to her. You remind Will that everything will be okay, knowing how scared he’s been of high school and remorseful that he has to do it all alone. The kids all cry as they share the final hugs, Jonathan and Nancy cry as they hold one another. Everyone says goodbye, and you watch them with tears in your eyes. You turn to Joyce to kiss her cheek, but she grabs your arm instead. 

“Remember what you promised me, okay?” She catches your eye, makes sure you hear what she’s telling you. “Live the life that you deserve.”

“I will,” you exhale, and she seems content with that. Joyce hugs you, kisses your cheek, and you tell her to drive safe as she gets into the van. 

Jonathan stands by his car, waiting for you, and you pull the boy into your arms. He crashes against you, clutches you to his chest, and you breathe him in one final time. “I’ll always love you the most, bee.”

“And I’ll always love you the most, bug.” 

Joyce drives away first, El in the van with her, before Jonathan and Will follow. The car pulls out of its driveway one final time, and you hold Nancy’s hand as you both cry. Slowly, their cars fade into the distance, and one by one the kids hop on their bikes and pedal away. No one wants to stay, the empty house feels too permanent, solemn. Eventually Nancy gets into her own car, wishing you a quiet goodbye, until it’s just you and your brother standing in front of the house. 

Dustin stays beside you, as he always does, and you take a deep breath. Nothing will ever be the same again. 

You take one last look at the Byers home, the house you grew up in and discovered pure love and joy and naivety in, and inhale the final scent of your childhood. Dandelions are in bloom, its yellow surrounds the home, soon they will wilt and its seeds will litter the sky

Joyce’s words ring in your head.

It’s time to live the life that you deserve. You’re on your own now, though you know that really you aren’t. Dustin is next to you, Steve and Robin are waiting at your house with movies stolen from work because they knew how hard today would be. Your mother has your favorite cookies ready and waiting for you. Mike and the others have already planned their first letter to Will. 

The charm bracelet from the party and Steve is cool against your wrist. 

You’re no longer the scared, angry twelve year old you had been when you first moved to Hawkins. You’re loved, you have so many incredible people in your life who now get to watch you grow up into someone new. 

Slowly, you exhale your childhood, with a single promise of keeping it within you forever. To live the life that Joyce has told you that you deserve.

And you believe her. 

[END OF SEASON THREE]

-

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[pcheyes]

the music god from your pre calculus class

pairing: anton x fem reader

genre: fluff, strangers to friends ??

warnings: none

synopsis: the person who sits in your seat before you always puts music recommendations in the calculator, and you’re dying to know who it is

word count: 638

song suggestions: somethin stupid-frank sinatra

you walked into your pre calculus class and sat down. immediately you notice the calculator.

it isnt a fancy calculator, its just a school provided one, with a creepy eye drawing in the back. but everyday someone in the class before you types a song recommendation.

COME THRU-H.E.R.

everyday you try and get to class early to find the elusive person with the really good music taste, but you never catch them. you ask around for who sits there but they all laugh and walk away. you pull out your phone and go to spotify to add yet another song to your playlist called “randos music recommendations”. the playlist ranged from rnb, classical, jazz, to kpop. you continue the class trying to take notes but your mind wanders so you listen to his song from yesterday

FEATHER-SABRINA CARPENTER

‘who’s this person who leaves these songs?’

‘are they hot?’

‘what if im hallucinating all these songs?’

the bell rings and you walk to your next class, listening to the new song. 

⊹☾⋆⁺₊🎧✩°｡

today you were determined.

and you had a plan

you would fake sick to get a pass to the nurses office before your calculus class, and you would creep towards the room and look in to see who sits there. the time came to fake cramps to go to the nurses office and when you did you made a beeline to the calculus class. theres a window peaking into the class so you decided to watch from there. you scope the classroom to find your seat and the mysterious music god who blesses you every day.

and when you do.

oh god you almost slipped from the stool you were standing on because he was beautiful. he had his headphones on and was working on the problem. the class period was ending so he started typing his song recommendation for the day. his friends came over and started talking to him. 

“dude are you ever gonna face her? these song thingies were sweet at first but its getting sad. you always relace your shoes and stretch so you can get out before she comes. i’ve been saying i dont know you for a solid week now” his friend said as he scoffed “sohee what the heck!” the headphone boy said (you had named him that once you saw his headphones) “what ever. i need a headstart, i think i heard her friends say shes sprinting to calc today. i cant take any chances.” he starts stretching and relacing his shoes. the bell rings and he runs out the class. you grab your bag and run after him. he ends off at the orchestra hall and you yank him by his backpack. he yelps and locks eyes with you.

“i finally found you, you music god!” you say out of breath.

he laughs “oh goody!”

“dude who the hell says oh goody” 

“sorry” he says. “look i’m late for my orchestra practice so could you just uh, god you’re really pretty, look at the calculator and call it a day” 

you pull out a market and motion for him to stick out his forearm. he gives it to you and you write your number on his forearm. 

“make sure to send all your song recommendations to me. my ears are blessed after your beautiful songs or something.” his cheeks turn a deep scarlet. “oh uh yeah sure sure i’ll send it to you totally.” you nod and start walking away. suddenly he shouts after you “your hair looks really pretty today! not that it doesnt look pretty every day, i just like the slick back in the front, with the little curls in the front. it frames your face really well. makes you look extra beautiful.” you smile back at him.

“thanks music boy”

authors note: we need to bring back loser anton, he hasnt been his loser self since love 119. but i actually do this everyday in maths class and someone caught me leaving the class late and screamed “ITS THE MUSIC GIRL !!” but thanks to @chlorinecake and @kairoot for the songs !!

taglist: @unikivrse msg or comment to be added

feedback, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated

[rosinaparker]

Skz 9th member

Genre: fluff, crack

pairing: platonic!skz x f!reader

warnings: cursing, flirty comments/touches

A/N: Heyy guys...let's ignore the fact that we have been gone for a whole month😃 inspiration hasn’t been flowing at all for us☹️ -Rose✩

When you first joined the group, it was quite hard to fit in. Jyp wanted to make a mixed group. A group that would blow the internet up. Since Chan was choosing the members, he made sure the girl would fit in with the others. It turned out that you were the perfect fit for the group. Singing, rapping, visuals, you had it all. Chan took you under his wing as the oldest, making sure you felt as comfortable as you could get.

The boys were quite nervous around you. I mean lets be honest, its quite nerve wracking to know that a girl is gonna be apart of your group, meaning you have to be respectful, tidy up your space, make sure that the friendship stays platonic. It was hard for some of them of course, having a cute girl in the dorms was definitely exciting but it never bubbled up into something serious.

After a few years of getting to know the boys, writing songs together, practicing, talking.. you got used to them, and so did they. Any suspicion of romantic attraction was thrown out the window in their mind. They saw you as their little sister, besides Jeongin since you’re a few months older then him!

Now you’re probably asking yourself; how do they act around me? Well…

Chan

Very sweet

Most likely a father figure at this point

Has this soft spot for you when you ask for certain stuff

Protective

Everytime the others flirt with you, he kinda just sighs, knowing damn well theres gonna be rumors about that again

He honestly gave up on trying to stop it and just started getting all lovey dovey with you too

Lays on top of you to make you groan in annoyance

Minho

You know how he’s called the butt hunter? Yeah none of that for you

My dude has never touched you inappropriately

Very VERY respectful, even after all these years

Though his mouth still runs when he gets the chance to say something flirty

Ruffles your hair alot

The way he smiles at Han? You get the same treatment

Changbin

Such a silly guy

Honestly just throws you around alot

Head pats

Everytime you’re doing your hair, he kinda sits in the corner just watching you

Not in a creepy way or anything, he just admires the way it falls

Dances the sassiest choreographies with you

Most of the tiktoks you guys have posted are all girl group dances

Hyunjin

Genuinely just melts looking at you /p

Finds you so precious

You know how he has that cute aggression towards jeongin? Yeah expect it to happen to you too

Gets you jewelry alot, just because you mentioned you like wearing it on occasions

Leaves soft lingering touches alot (by accident, like around the waist or neck)

Paints you 24/7

If you’re into art too, you guys would always go out somewhere quiet and just paint the scenery

And if not then you are drawing ugly portraits of each other

Everytime you decide to go out at night without bodyguards for whatever reason, he is always the first to say he’s going with you

No you can’t decline, even Chan says he has to go with you because you could get in trouble

Jisung

Biggest fanboy

Forces you to call him oppa

But you dont, and he whines about it

Most touchy out of all the members

Always has an arm around your shoulder or waist

He just likes to know that you’re close

He might’ve had a crush on you at the beginning of the trainee years

He was gonna take that one to the grave but hyunjin exposed him in a skz code episode once

Now all the stays mess around with him

You guys as a duo get in trouble the most

Absolutely pulls that 'going in for a kiss' move on you

Screams if you lean in

Falls asleep in your bed

Felix

Softie

He has this weird obsession with poking your cheeks

Since the beginning of trainee years, he spent most of his time around you

Mostly because you understood him the best (besides Chan)

Gets so upset if you’re upset

Real bestie behavior

You get in trouble together 2.0

Always takes you out to shopping because you’re most honest when it comes to the clothes he picks out

You guys have this special bond together

Singing karaoke in your bedroom>>

You usually like to pretend to kiss him, he never backs up though which ruins your joke most of the time and he loves it

Cuddles with you the most

Seungmin

His part time job is literally to tease the living shit out of you

Feels the need to be gentle with you

Probably because you’re a girl

You’re not a fan of it

He always gets you your favorite boba flavor

Has seen you cry the most

Has even spend over 2 hours just listening to you vent out your frustrations

You always make flirty jokes but he just pushes you away till you stop saying that shit to him

And if he isn’t pushing you away, then he gets real close to catch you off guard

Even though he always denies it on camera when the others mention it, he gets quite happy when you guys end up having to share a bed in skz codes episodes or other shows

His reasoning for it, is because you tend to wrap yourself around him which comforts him

Jeongin

Makes fun of the fact that you’re shorter then him

Pokes your sides all the time

Annoying Little brother and frustrated big sister behavior

Even though he doesn’t admit it, he wishes you were younger then him so he could take care of you just like the others do

He isn’t a fan of physical touch, so whenever you get too close he playfully looks disgusted

But if you’re in need of touch, he is very willing to give it

If he’s feeling like it, he likes to slow dance on stage at concerts

But he immediately gets embarrassed

It feels good to write something again😋 -Rose✩

[laurawaldorf]

Heyyy☺️

Just saw that u are gonna start writing for Eminem so i do have a request 🥹

where the reader is yonger then him like prob in 2005 shes 18 or so and shes a famous singer songwriter (her style being like billie eilish and lana dal ray) and like theres two different versions one where he writes a diss and during an award show she disses him back and like they later resolve their issues or so and something like them ending up recording in the same building and then them hooking up or another version being eminem loves her songs and they record in the same building so he asks to collab and them ending up together and they go through a fight and like she gets a call from his daughters ( coz they get along ) that he’s overdosed and her helping him through that phase and u can write more about how their relationship evolves like her being a huge support to himand hus daughters and them getting married ( or u could add him first not wanting to get married coz of kim but coming to his senses) then him mentioning her in his someone save me song about how much shes been there for him

Just so u know this is a random pitch u can either write somewhat the whole thing or just something like this idea 🥹

U can add anything or change a bit, thanks ☺️

꯭•:◦ 𝗜𝗙𝗛𝗬.

⠀⠀────────────────────

| 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: Marshall Mathers III (Eminem) x Fem!Reader.

| 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘: Enemies to Lovers and slightly smut.

| 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: Slighty smut, flirting, making out.

| 𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗: yes.

| 𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: My Strange Addiction — Billie Eilish.

( heey, i just wanna thanks for being my first request! i hope you like it. 🤍 )

⠀⠀────────────────────

— Fuck. — It's the first word out of your mouth when you sees your musical rival sitting in the second row next to you at the 2005 VMAs Award.

It was your first MTV event after the release of your first album which was a global success, which gained you an absurd popularity in the pop industry, people knew you wherever you went, celebrities begged for a collab with your participation due to your soft voice and mesmerizing…However, your talent didn't just attract good things, it also attracted negative comments that were something common in an artist's life and a diss coming from the most controversial and well-known rapper of the 2000s, Marshall Mathers, or better known by his alter- ego, Slim Shady.

You discreetly judged Marshall by his look, seeing him smile with that cunning smile while talking to his mentor, Dr Dre. For a moment, your eyes met in quick eye contact, which made you shrug your shoulders and quickly look away as you took hurried steps towards your row, which was one in front, unlike the boy, who responded to the eye contact with a challenging and some sarcastic comments.

You felt the blonde's gaze in your direction, burning your back as if it were a touch, the boy's sharp gaze went through your body as if it were a knife, he knew you had heard the diss, and you knew he was going to use it. that as a weapon.

⠀⠀────────────────────

It didn't take long for the “Best Hip-Hop Video” category to begin, suspense hung in the air until the presenter finally decided to deliver the result: — Just Lose It, Eminem! — The presenter shouted excitedly, his mouth curving into a smile as he held the prize.

The event was filled with screams and applause from celebrities and fans who participated, Marshall got up and walked to the main stage to get his trophy. Discreetly, you sighed deeply, internally wondering how they left that song not only with diss for you but also for Michael Jackson to win, you couldn't say anything, just roll your eyes and cross your arms.

Eminem stood behind the microphone, holding his award in his hands as he thanked the presenter and waved to his fans who screamed for his presence. He got a little closer to the microphone until he started dictating his speech:

— Yo, this is crazy...I don't have a speech with me so I'll just say what comes to mind, I want to thank Dr Dre, my mentor who helped me during the Encore album process, I also want to thank the people at Shady Record and Paul Rosenberg. — Marshall said, letting his blue orbs meet yours. — I'm really happy for the award, but I see that there aren't many people happy about my achievement because of the diss, Right Y/N?

A provocative smile formed on the boy's lips when he mentioned your name, you could hear comments and laughter coming from other participants in the event, unlike you, who adjusted your performance and crossed your legs, your fists clenching every time your gaze fell on that one stupid smile he had on his face, doing everything he could to get to you as if to test your patience. The rest of the night went well, unlike the exchanges of barbs that became news in the media and the looks exuding hatred between the two when they saw each other at the MTV after-party.

⠀⠀────────────────────

After a few weeks, you and your team were invited to start a new album project at a renowned studio in Los Angeles, your excitement was radiant as your mind reasoned and processed several snippets of lyrics and a response to Marshall's diss. However, his excitement quickly disappeared when he saw the same boy in the hallway, making him snort and a disinterested and hateful look form on his face. The rapper noticed a look of anger burning his back, making him turn his head with a look of distrust and mockery until his eyes fell on you, and soon that same sarcastic smile formed on his lips.

Your team made sure the two of you didn't run into each other in the hallways to avoid causing an argument, but it was difficult when Eminem came into your studio just to tease you.

After a long album production session, the moonlight finally fell over the sky, leaving you alone in the room just working on some last details on the first demo of your song. Your concentration and focus was broken by three soft knocks on the oak door, and soon a creak came, revealing Marshall.

— Alone? Even your team doesn't support you anymore? — Eminem asked in an ironic tone, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

The rapper's voice made you shiver with anger, turning your head slowly towards him with an irritated expression and a raised eyebrow. —What the fuck do you want? Isn't it enough to piss me off at the entire VMAs now here too? — You responded with a grunt, removing your headphones as you stood up from his chair.

The rapper's teasing laugh drifted through the studio, stepping forward towards you.

—Are you angry? Did you forget that this is my building and you are inside one of my studios? Or didn't your team tell you that? — The boy responded with the same intensity, his eyes burning your skin.

Your ego was being hurt in that indirect fight, so your pride spoke over you.

You also took a step forward and crossed your arms, looking up at him in an intense gaze.

— I don't care if this studio is yours or not, you've been bothering me all day, are you lacking attention or what? — Your posture was confident, maintaining her eye contact with him.

Only a smirk left Eminem's lips, as he curved his body slightly towards him with his pupils dilated.

— If I managed to make you angry, it's because I caught your attention, right? — He replied, with a quick attack in a mocking and slightly rude tone. Your eyes widened and a small blush formed on yor cheeks, taking a step back slowly, which made the boy's ego even bigger.

— What is that? Where's all that courage you had until now? — He asked, taking another step forward and closing the space between you.

You couldn't deny it, he wasn't ugly, he never was, but his words made you very angry... but that anger was mixing with a kind of desire, a desire that you could see in his eyes.

And Marshall noticed this, with a confident and arrogant smile on his lips, he put his hand on her waist and gently brought her closer. Bringing your face closer. Your mind screamed for you to stop, but you couldn't deny the chemistry going on between the two of you, his blue eyes were like a magnet of attraction, the more you looked, the more you wanted. And then, her face slowly approached his, closing the space of centimeters between them in a fiery kiss, hot and full of desire, desire and anger, her arms entwined around his neck while Marshall's hands caressed her waist and went down to her breasts, caressing the spot as he deepened the kiss. Your hands scratched his back lightly as you murmured between the kiss:

— I fucking hate you.

[cass1dyyy]

IN DANGER

contains: angst, fluff

warnings: swearing, an argument, reader’s life is in danger, injury and injury detail, near-death experience

jj maybank x female reader

not proofread, im sorry for any mistakes!

summary: after an explosive argument with your kook father, you run out of the house, and decide to do your favourite activity, surfing. but what about hurricane agatha..?

A/N: i wanted to say this may be inaccurate because im not too sure how to write it. the end also may be inaccurate with jj’s health, but it’s fictional so oh well!

(imagine kiara’s house as your home)

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?” you screech at your dad, running down the stairs and into the kitchen, just trying to create space between you. he follows you anyway.

“MY ‘PROBLEM’ IS YOU HANGING OUT WITH THOSE STUPID POGUES! THEY BRING OUT THE WORST IN YOU. ESPECIALLY THAT STUPID JJ KID. I MEAN, HIS DAD’S A CRACKHEAD, WHY WOULDNT HE BE?!” he roars, knocking plates onto the floor in anger, you wince hearing them smash.

“no. no.” you mutter, tears welling up in your eyes, as you turn away from him, opening the porch door.

“DONT YOU DARE. COME BACK. Y/N DONT THERES A HURR-“

you slam the door, not hearing the last bit, not that you cared anyway. you walked furiously down your vast, white-painted porch, and turned to the garage. you snatched your surfboard, hooking it over your shoulder as you stumbled to your dads car, unlocking it.

you hoped he wouldnt hear as you started the car, shoving the board into the back of the jeep, before hopping into the drivers seat and speeding your way down to the beach.

“why is no one here??” you mutter to yourself. it was only 3pm, and usually there’d be multiple surfers and atleast one party on one side of the beach. puzzeled, you left your sandals on the pavement, letting the warm sand sink between your toes as you stepped closer to the refreshingly cold waves. hearing a car drive past, you turn your head out of instinct. you could’ve sworn you saw sarah’s familiar looking-car. why did everything seem so dystopian at the moment? the whole town was eerily empty.

around fifteen minutes into surfing, you were laying on your board, tired out after all the surfing. you noticed the waves getting rougher, and the sun disappearing behind the clouds. you raised your head, and looked around. the waves were thrashing around, and you started desperately trying to paddle to shore, to no avail. the freezing cold water was thrown over you as you shrieked, and started shaking. the weather immediately changed, rain hammering down from the murky sky. you screamed out:

“HELP!”

but no one could hear you… no one was around.

SARAH’S POV:

i headed up the chateau’s steps, meeting jj, kie, pope, and john b on the small porch.

“hey guys.” i smiled, greeting them all and sitting down.

“hey!” kiara said, patting the seat on the bench next to her, gesturing me to sit down.

“where’s y/n?” i ask innocently, genuinely curious.

“she wasnt with you?” pope asks.

“she-she hasn’t been around all day. we thought maybe she was sleeping at yours or something. you mean you havent seen her?” john b asks, furrowing his brows as everyone’s expression turns grave.

rain starts thrashing down, lightning illuminating the sky.

“no. no! i havent seen her..” an uneasy feeling set in my stomach.

“shit. i’m gonna go find her.” jj says, with a determined look on his face that told me we couldnt change his mind.

“jj..” kie said.

“no. her dad is a total dick, we all know that. she’s constantly running over here when they argue. thats like, what, three times a week? it wont hurt to check.” he says, getting up and running down onto his motorbike, immediately getting soaked.

and then, he just sped off. oh boy.

JJ’S POV:

i knew i was going way over the speed limit, but i didnt care. i knew something bad had happened to y/n. i could feel it, and i tried to push the worry gnawing at me down. i sped down the streets and eventually pulled up at y/n’s massive house. ‘kooks.’ i thought to myself. without hesitation, i walked up to the front door, knocking rapidly, (this reminded me of “housekeeping!!” if ykyk) before ringing the doorbell.

“what do you want?” snarled mr l/n, upon seeing me.

“hi sir. i was, uh- wondering if you’d seen y/n? is she here?” i asked, holding back my urge to swear at this dickhead.

“no. she took it upon herself to run away. my cars gone, and she left the garage door open. when you find her, tell her she’s not welcome here.”

he slammed the door shut without another word, leaving me with my own thoughts. i started walking back to the street, when i noticed the garage door a little bit open. i peeked through and saw three surfboards hooked up on the wall, but i didn’t see y/n’s usual one. and then it clicked in my head. she loved surfing! she mustve gone to the beach! wait… the hurricane… i have to go, NOW.

YOUR POV:

waves splashed over you, pulling you further away from shore. a jolt threw you almost off your board, as a surge of pain flew up your body. you looked beside you and saw sharp, jaggedy rocks that your surfboard was now wedged in. turning your head to look at your left leg, you gasped. a large, deep gash was stricken right up it, while scarlett blood seeped out of the wound.

your wet hair clung to the board that was now stained with blood as you lay on it. you felt stupid for it, but you felt somewhat safe wedged between the rocks. this way, you couldnt drift further away. you looked towards the sandy shore, torrential rain disrupting your view. then, you saw lights from a car, turning toward the beach. you could’ve jumped for joy (if you could).

you saw familiar blonde tufts of hair, and could make out the worn out camo shorts he frequently wore.

“JJ!” you screamed with all your might. of course, he couldnt hear you, but he could see you.

he pulled out.. one of your surfboards? he carried it to the waves, laying down on it and surfing through the tallest waves.

“JJ NO, ITS DANGEROUS!” you screeched helplessly.

as he got closer to you, screaming comforting words, one of the largest waves you’d seen towered over him.. and smashed down. jayj had disappeared. lost from view.

“JJ! JJ?” you cried out, tears streaming down your face, and mixing with the rain hammering down onto your cheeks.

A blonde head bobbed up onto the surface, as he gave himself one final push towards you, approaching the rocks. he was coughing furiously, but only cared about reaching you.

another wave washed over you, as you held your arm out for him. he grabbed it greatfully, trying to unhook your board as you held him tightly down, so he wouldnt get swept away.

“there! lets go, get on my board!” he yelled over to you, as you crawled off yours. a furious wave suddenly crashed into you, as you screamed in pure terror and slipped.

suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped over you, lifting yourself onto the board. your heart skipped a beat, but you werent too sure if it was because of your near death experience or jj…

“grab the rope, and tie it around you y/n! quick!!” he shouted over the endless crash of the waves and the hammering of the rain ricocheting off of the turquoise board.

you noticed a rope tied around the end of the board, with another bit of rope dangling off of it. you wrapped it around your ankle, tightening it, even though it dug into it painfully.

you and him surfed up waves, while you closed my eyes, too afraid to look, as you held onto jj’s muscular figure. it all seemed like a blur to you.

“untie the rope!” jj advised you.

“what?!” you screamed, confused.

“NOW!”

you quickly let the rope free from your ankle, trusting jj’s worrds.

suddenly, you were flung up into the air by a strong wave, and flung onto.. land?

your eyes seemed stuck together by treacle, as you strained to open them. you coughed and coughed, freeing your lungs of the endless water contained in them. you shivered uncontrollably, your face pale and skin freezing cold. your leg was still bleeding, and it hurt to move, you winced at any sudden movement.

you suddenly crawled around, looking for the boy who had selflessly just saved your life.

“JAYJ?” you shouted, and saw a crumpled figure closer to the tide.

you immediately got up, wincing due to the excruciating pain, but pushing forward, stumbling towards his unconscious figure.

“jj!” you cried out, tears spilling uncontrollably down your cheeks. this was all my fault.. you thought to yourself, as your emotions overtook you.

“jj please wake up.” you cried out, hyperventilating as you peformed cpr, your soaked hair dangling over his face.

sirens sounded in the distance, but you were too panic-stricken to care. you used your mouth endlessly to puff air into his, as you cried and cried, tears dropping onto his pale cheeks.

“ma’m! maam please step back, we’ll take it from here. you’ll suffer from hypothermia.” a cop’s voice shouted from behind you, as a police force came slowly towards you.

you leant back from jayj. your bestfriend. the only one who seemed to understand you. you turned your head back to the cops, as a nice looking woman put a blanket onto you, asking if you could walk.

you saw sarah, john b, pope, and kiara running towards you, and stopping once they saw who you were knelt next to. sarah ran to you, hugging you as a tear slipped down her cheek. you were a frozen mess, bawling your eyes out.

medics rushed over to jj, trying to resuscitate him, as you were slowly lifted up, as a cop and sarah tried to lead you to an ambulance.

you suddenly heard coughing behind you, and kie gasping. you turned and saw a crumpled jj’s chest heaving, and you bolted back towards him, ignoring the searing pain in your leg.

“oh jj.” you said, your voice barely a whisper, as you crouched next to him, tears dropping off of your face, as his hand reached up to your cheek, wiping them away as he smiled weakly.

“i love you.” you whispered softly to him. and suddenly, he brought you into a kiss. fireworks exploded in your stomach, as you broke the kiss.

“i love you too.”

your foreheads met, as you lent against eachother, both of you smiling at one another, as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

A/N: im not too sure how to feel about this tbh.. i hope you enjoyed it though!! i listened to noah kahan on shuffle while i wrote this 😜

[in--the--dark1610]

so guys im writing my first fic ever and i need to know if yous think its a good idea

so basically jekyll forgets its his birthday and gets really confused why everyones being super nice to him and why theres strange boxes appearing in his office (presents) eventually he gets super paranoid cus he thinks everyones tryna trick him or lure him into a false sense of security and when he tries to ask people why everyones being so happy and nice to him they just laugh and say like haha good one jekyll! and he cant even ask lanyon whats going on cus everytime he tries to go near him lanyon gets soooooper flustered and basically runs away with some half arsed excuse (sue me theyre in love <3)

so at some point everyone like drags him into a common room or something and he has full on convinced himself that everyones gonna straight up murder him right then and there (hyde doesnt help with this at all but i love him so its okay)

turns out its just like a little gathering for a sort of birthday party cus they know he doesnt actually like big massive gatherings (thats kinda self insurtive cus i hate stuff like that im not exactly sure why) but even then they still all like YELL happy birthday at him and he damn near shits himself and yells "THANK FUCK" which scares the shit out of everyone cus they have never heard him curse never mind SCREAM a curse word

eventually henry gets pulled into another room while nobodys looking (by lanyon obv) and he thinks its just to have a wee chat or some shite cus hes queer in denial but it ends up being a straight out of an american high school love confession on lanyons part so they start smooching and BAM BAM BAAAAM jasper walks in on them and everyone just freezes for a sec while jasper is just stood there with a peice of cake and eventually he just turns on his heel and LEAVES while henry is trying to defend himself like its his last damn breath but lanyon stops him and they smooch again

ill write another one for hyde cus i love him <3

[jester089]

FUN IDEIA ALERT!!!

FUN IDEIA ALERT!!!

Spoopy season requires spoopy things

sooo i was kinda of thinking Ghost!child reader with the gang (platonic, always!)

Lemme explain it to ya, So i wanted to see some hc of an spirit child reader whos soul got stuck into the digital circus, how, you say? Lets say that in the moment that reader putted the headset something fell in their head, killing them instantly, since reader was wearing the Headset, instead of their body and conscience go to the digital circus, their soul got there! Their appearance being something peaceful and pleasing to the eye, like Reader's appearance are a child covered in white robes with some gold details and a flower crown. But reader's eyes represent constant sadness, like there are always rivers of tears falling off their eyes who (strangely) doesnt make a mess on the floor, kinda like Gangle's tears but more sad

If you go close enough to Reader you can hear multiple whispers, inaudible ones cuz its multiple whispers at one time but only Reader can understand them. If they question what the whispers says, Reader will say: "its the voices lamenting." In a full echoish-whisperish voice.

BUUT theres more!

Since reader is a spirit they can lift things with their mind, dim the lights and go invisible (ghost things)

Reader rarely express any other emotion than sadness, but when they snap... OH BOI

Reader will go full hostile mode, their appearance distorts into something really creepy, like their eyes will go full pitch black and the tears turns into some glitchy goo, their robes getting slightly black in the edges, Reader will start throwing things around with their mind and scream loud as hell, basically like a ghost tantrum.

Im very excited with this ideia AAAA

- 🦇

Crying child

Ik that isn't what you meant. But the first thing my mind went to is the crying children from fnaf. Also this sounds honestly really hard to write for. I ain't gonna just not write it though. I wasn't really sure if you wanted headcannons or a oneshot. But this felt like a more oneshot-ish request so I did that. TADC Crew x Child Ghost Reader

You were one of the first people to arrive at the digital circus. You were around 6 when you first arrived and are now much older. But being trapped here as well as being dead had taken it's toll on your young mind so you still act around the same as when you first arrived. Still easily excitable, still gullible, still sad. You really were like a ghost. Not only because you were literally a ghost but you rarely spoke unless spoken to and would just quietly float around an endless stream of tears falling from your eyes. You also had the tendency to just stare at people. You had an aura of sadness around you. The occasional quiet sob and endless depressed whispers that always followed you around made it hard to be around you for long periods of time. Their's a lot of mental problems in the circus already, and you sure as hell ain't gonna help. When you are happy, which is rare you're quite nice to be around. The tears and whispers stop and you really do feel like just a normal kid to the others. Now anger is a different story. When you're angry Caine has to actually lock you up cause you've killed a few people. Your usual appearance resembles a fallen angel. Snapped halo, dirtied once pristine white robes lined with gold. But when you're angry it flips. Your robes singe at the edges leaving behind a brownish blood red color your halo sinks into your head and is replaced by a single broken pure red horn. The fact that your soul is in the circus makes you have some kind of power. You don't really use it cause you don't know how. But when you're mad at someone it is proper time to freak out because you've deleted a few people. You always feel horrible afterwards but their isn't anything you can do for them. The ones who have been abstracted at least have a chance of being helped. The ones you deleted not so much. So in the rare occurrence that you're around everyone they do their best to keep you calm, and to keep Jax away from you (He doesn't believe you're a threat.)

(Another kind of strange request. Sorry if this isn't good. I just didn't really know what to write. I did my best though. Hope you enjoyed it.)

xoxo, Jester

[leclerced]

plus size reader & landoscar

they’ve face enough controversy in their relationship as it is but once they get past the fact that they are a throuple , now the media feels the need to wrap their head around the fact that the girl they are with isn’t a model or skinny , that she has curves and a tummy and big shoulders. landoscar getting super defensive and mean in an interview liek “sorry are you the one who she screams for and begs to fuck her? no? then i don’t see why it’s any of your business why we are with her or why we are attracted to her.” and oscar who is a little less confrontational than lando saying “has it ever crossed your mind that maybe we LIKE that she’s bigger? that it’s not a burden?”

-🪼🪼🪼

oscar is def less confrontational and nicer about it, at least less vulgar. i can imagine someone asking why they’re w her or something and oscar’s just like “cause i love her? shes beautiful and smart and funny and makes me a better person, i can’t imagine anyone better to spend my life with, other than lando too.” meanwhile lando is like “what do you mean why?” he’s so snappy and it makes them super anxious, they regret asking the question immediately even if they didn’t write it. he starts going off about how he’s sick of people trying to get a reaction out of them, out of their gf, and how shitty they all are that all they can focus on is the size of her waist. says it’s a fucking race weekend; they should be asking about the fucking car, not his relationship. oscar tries to reign him in and be like ok he gets it babe! no need to rip his throat out. but lando insists on getting an answer on why the question is on the list, demands to speak to their supervisor or whatever and oscar’s like, damn okay. i guess he/we have the power to make those demands ???

can def see lando threatening to leak a sex tape to prove how hot his girlfriend is. like theres a howard stern interview where john cena talks about having sex w a plus size woman and hes very respectfully answering stern’s absolutely disgusting questions like if he actually had sex with her and john is like “yeah i had sex w her and it was lovely 🤭she had a beautiful smile and we went home together!” and thats oscar. very polite, and would never say anything uncouth. but lando would be like, “yeah do u wanna see? i watch this one video before bed, every night.” and oscar’s snatching his phone away before he can open his photos app. would never actually leak anything but he would be so angry when ppl try and say she isn’t attractive or something, he’s like listen my dick has never been harder and i have PROOF!!!!

[izaneko]

♥︎- tokyo revengers/izana x f!reader🤍❤️

♡- summary: inspired solely by this panel. i was rereading this chapter earlier, it excited me honestly way more than it should have.

♥︎- warnings : minors dni fem reader. cursing, pet names, izana beating up some random dudes, intercorse, smut

it was something about watching him beat the shit out of six other men and how you strangely felt turned on. you couldnt help but have remorse for the poor souls getting their asses handed to them by your seriously enraged boyfriend as he absolutely destroyed these guys one by one but at the same time you couldn't stop thinking about how sexy it made him look- and you found yourself having to shift yourself fixing your skirt cause of the slick wet coating on your thighs. as youre watching these dudes get there shit completely wrecked by izana your mind kept traveling to the worst possible places with him. you kept thinking bout when he was finished with them how you wanted to take him off to the side somewhere secluded, pin him down with your thighs and kiss him as you mercilessly grind your hips into him. you wanted him so bad it began to hurt yet for some reason you couldn't take your eyes off of him. he was spectacular. right before he finished off what little strength the last guy barely had left, he stopped for a second to check on his girl cause he always wants to make sure you are safe and caught you looking at him with a face that hes used to only seeing when you were beneath him. when he saw the way your skin was dusted pink and how your eyes were filled with such desire made him solid in less than a second. he put his already ruined opponent out of his misery with one last powerful blow letting go of his hair, tossing him to the side. right away he started to walk over to where you were seated amongst the heavenly kings, for protection of course and as arrived he had only one thing to say. " can i talk to her, alone.." it wasn't a question. kakucho stared at him confused and respectively informed him that you were unharmed and there was no need to worry but he simply laughed, and ignored him as he responded instead to you " c'mon baby, theres something real important i gotta talk to ya about .."

--------

the only thing that you could hear fill the air around you two other than your mismatched breathing was the moist noises his dick made thrusting in your pussy and the sound of his earrings as they swing rapidly in rhythm. he filled you completely and you screamed a little when he first went all the way in. the way his large purple eyes stared down at you with such affection you didn't know how much more you could honestly take. his hands found your thighs as he grabbed onto your plush cause he felt himself starting to drown inside you. you felt so fucking good around him and he felt his body jump whenever you would squeeze his length with every sexy sigh you let out. his movements became faster and you felt a taste of your first orgasm start to come on. you gripped his back knowing how this would end and he smiled cause he knew exactly what that had meant from you. he repositioned his feet on the ground to firm his stance and grasping your hips pushed inside, fucking into you with every last ounce he had left. you felt his cock press up deep in you that left such a pleasing ache it made a tiny whimper escape you. when he heard it, he leaned in to kiss your lips and as he did his silver trim tickled your cheeks that made you orgasm with such intensity that you instinctively began to cry out his name. " fu-ck, izanaa .. wait." he felt you grip down hard. there wasn't enough warning to stop as he felt himself come entirely in you. while you both desperately tried to even your breathe he held your limp body in his arms against him and kissed your forehead as he said, " damn that's why your my queen."

©izaneko - all rights reserved.

please do not copy / reupload or modify my writing.

[hardbeingcasual]

SCREAM VI SPOILERS

trouble, ethan landry

summary: You and Ethan are basically glued to the hip, but something seems to be drifting you both apart.

warnings: none, its fluff, basically an au (where he is not a psycho killer), writings probably bad but whatever, implied sex

kind of implied as a fem reader but theres no she/her pronouns used sooo i think its gn??? idk. sorry! i’m embarrassed of this so not prof read …

♪ trouble by cage the elephant / masterlist

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You didn’t seem to know how it happened, when it had started and you couldn’t seem to get rid of it.

It was like a burden on your shoulders every time you saw him. The way his curls fell upon his face, the way they bounced on his head every time he moved. His red cheeks whenever he got embarrassed (which you loved to mock him for.)

But, you fell distant with him. You shouldn’t feel like this for your best friend. It didn’t seem right.

You lay in your bed, headphones over your ears, they weren’t too loud, but loud enough so you could hear the music. As the next song starts to play the doorbell to your small apartment echoes through the place.

You stand up, pausing your music and putting the headphones around your shoulders.

You make your way to your door, opening it before the person on the other side could ring the doorbell again.

You become face to face with the person you weren’t wanting to see. Well, it’s not like you didn’t want to see him, you did, but every time you see him you feel like melting.

He was stood at your door, his eyes never leaving your face. “Hey.” He greets with a small nod, “Can I come in?”

You nod, “Yeah, of course.” You step aside to let him in, sitting on your couch in the living room area, Ethan doing the same and sitting next to you.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Ethan starts.

“For what?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m assuming I done something wrong, since you’ve been distant.” Ethan innocently says, making you laugh, you couldn’t help it. “Why’re are you laughing?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault, for being distant.”

“Oh.”

It was silent for a few moments before Ethan speaks up again, “What made you go distant.”

You stare off, thinking about if you should tell him or not. This was your best friend, you didn’t want to ruin anything with him but at the same time you needed to come clean.

You hesitate, your hands in your lap as you twiddle your thumbs. A sigh escapes your mouth, as you turn to face Ethan, him looking at you the whole time. “Everytime I see you, I feel something I have never felt before until recently. And its making me loose my fucking mind, it’s making me feel horrible.”

Ethan doesn’t say anything, he stops your twiddling thumbs, and grabbing both your hands and holding them in his. “I feel the same.” He confesses, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyebrow quirks at his words, you face etched with shock. His hands move from yours to your cheeks, “Can I kiss you?” He asks, you nodding. He doesn’t hesitate to bring his lips to yours, his soft lips against yours as your hands find their way on both sides of his neck.

Everything about it was perfect, in the arms of the person you loved, his soft hands on your skin, the way he treated you like you were an antique, like you were delicate.

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tags @wonderboytroy @larccroft

[butterscotch-goat]

Tell me about how charles loves

OH I FORGOT THET WAS IN THE TEXT WASNT IT. FUCK okay so. Okay. These r so scrambled and like I don't even know what I'm doing ever so it's going under the cut. Good lord I'm so sorry to everyone forever. Thank you for the ask Len genuinely I LOVE TALKING SBOUT THE OCS

Actually genuinely pacing back and forth writing this. Ok. So what I have in mind is more like specific circumstances than anything methinks?? I'm just gonna go with what's on my mind ok I told you this is dog shit take it all with a grain if salt bc it's RAMBLES. And ofc "love" in like the most applicable sense so in this case platonic if it's not obvious

SO! It takes a LOT of work for Charles to say he loves something or someone (projecting.) it's a very big word for him, moreso than it is for Beatrice, so he uses it carefully. he would say (honestly) that he loves/loved his parents, and he would admit only to Beatrice that he loves her. And after a certain point, he would declare his love for science. what I've been thinking about mostly though is that. Charles has never and could never love Aster. Ever. He might THINK he could, he might think he DOES at some points even (early in their friendship before shit REALLY hit the fan, or anytime after he starts believing Aster is divine) but he DOESN'T and CANNOT. BECAUSE!! He's too obsessed with the IDEA of her. The very CONCEPT that someone like her can even EXIST boggles his brain and gets him giddy with wonder. He's too blinded by that obsession and fascination that he could never truly see Aster as the person she is, therefore could never love her for the person she is. That's why he was able to operate on Aster with no anesthesia but couldn't do the same for Beatrice; he could (somewhat subconsciously) disconnect Aster's screams and cries and just hear them as byproducts of the procedure. But he couldn't do that with Beatrice, because he actually bothers to not only know, but LOVE her as a person, and hates seeing her unhappy (which is a problem because Beatrice constantly lies about her happiness).

He and Beatrice love each other in,, ways????? Beatrice throws around "I love yous" not without care, but rather often. Charles only says it when he thinks Beatrice needs it (and of course Beatrice is awful at expressing her needs, so. Y'know.) Charles more often expresses it via actions; getting a bucket of warm water for Beatrice without her asking for her to rest her feet in (arthritis babey!), or the ONE TIME he played piano in front of her, both of them knowing Beatrice is listening (then theres that second time that happens a month before the ovening but SHHH SHHSHSHHSHS), or getting her tea whenever he makes himself a cup. Stuff like that. Which is a valid way to love someone! But it's hard for Beatrice because she has the brand of self hate (everyone in escapism has their own Special Kind of self hate btw just to be clear) that needs A LOT of reassurance, and again, she would almost never outright ask for that reassurance herself. The most she'd do is say "I love you" and silently wait for him to say it back. And when he's p sure it's clear that's what Beatrice wants, OF COURSE he'll say it back! He loves Beatrice like crazy!!! They love each other so much it's awful!!! Doomed!! They're so fucking doomed Jesus Christ!! These two motherfuckers would go to the ends of the earth for each other but Beatrice doesn't want to communicate and Charles gets so swept up in his passions he doesnt realize when Beatrice's mental state crumples unless she tells him herself!! Good god I'm projecting a lot!! I think that's all I have to say for now I am so sorry holy fuck I don't know if any of that makes sense!! Was any of that relevant to like??? What I was referring to when I mentioned it?? I DO NOT KNOW. EVERYTHING A BLUR. Thank you good night!!!

[podfeels]

Podfeels Adapt8ion Notes: Episode 6

hello, dare again! just as a reminder for how these posts work, stagelights will be covering the notes as a whole, and if i ever have to pitch in it will be with purple text like this! with that said, lets get back into it!

and here we have it, the final one of season/act 1. i dont know if we ever settled on which its called. seasons internally, acts externally :) we never really cleared up that inconsistency but its not a huge deal so shrug emoji. this episode is some of our best work so far, and i think a lot of the changes help sell that even more.

a bit of a call forward to the next chapter where dirk says the same thing. we also used this in the trailer for the sahcon new years showcase.

this change was done to match the art drawn for the background more closely.

that first bit literally makes no sense in audio and there is no way to adapt it so we changed it. then some narration changes. then im pretty sure that last bit was a typo, so that was fixed lmao. yeah. half-hazard is a sarah-ism we nixed to make the actual word (as much as its a charming sarah-ism, i dont think it was intentionally included by choice by her, just put in by virtue of her writing it) and grub-naking was definitely a typo i think. as for the b's or 8's thing. yeah. that was hell to figure out and we eventually gave up on it after multiple attempts to find ANY way to make it work.

this line wasn’t actually changed, but there was a small addition of the characters in question screaming slash begging for their life or what have you as their name is said. spooky. :)

fairly big change, and i think the change from a photo to a video helps sell more in audio form the impact of junes violence here. its some good shit, and also fucking terrifying holy shit i shuddered while listening back to this for writing these notes. shout outs to the writing team for putting this here. abso-fuckin-lutely, the writing goes so hard. also a big shoutout to my friends who put up with my annoying and loose process to come in as cameo voices for the recording!

you know the drill by now.

there are a BUNCH of changes here. first of all we added a lot of new lines here for the ads, because i think that fits better in audio. all of these lines are voiced by guest actors, including sarah herself, which is pretty neat. then theres a new bit of dialogue here from jane. it being a pre-recorded message helps to sort of keep it ambiguous as to whether she’s alive or not, and helps to sell that this is a crisis the world is taking seriously. it also helps bring things in line with future bits of godfeels, as crockercorp has its hands in many pieces of this version of earth c. then janes voice starts to glitch out and we cut to the terezi call, which had a bunch of changes to reflect the whole “phone calls and not text” thing. 

some changes to help bring the fight scene into place more naturally

This entire fight scene does not show the script in the video version, so i had to manually create the screenshot for this for the sake of the comparison, but this screencap does not do this scene justice. this entire bit of narration was cut and replaced with some INCREDIBLE sound design, which i can’t really get into the sound design part because im not a sound designer. but its really fucking good. shout outs to dare for that.

so, a bit of background on this scene. originally our plan was to have an instrumental sludge metal cover of Sweet by Phemiec, the trickster!Jane song. it was gonna be a tense chase sequence like the original text, but dragged out into a cat and mouse between june and dirk with dirk playing with his food a bit and june having to face the reality of what she did while fearing for her life.

however, when it came time for this to be done, the musician i'd planned this with had something else in mind, intending on a Deftones style altmetal sound instead of the sludge metal previously discussed, and then also life events made her incapable of delivering within any reasonable timeframe anyway before we could settle on which route to go down. so that got scrapped, which is tragic because that plan, sludge or alt, would have been absolutely stunning, but also scrapping it allowed us to make it SO. MUCH. BETTER.

we had already settled on "Game over." as a title, a callback to the last time everyone Fucking Died, also formatted like Dirk's text instead of June's, to show his control over this episode. but following from that name, I realized... we could use the song. from [S] Game Over, CARNE VALE. which also adds more flavor to this ult-dirk depiction, i feel. using a Caliborn song over a Dirk scene reminds the listener that Ult-Dirk is, in fact, Caliborn. He's every instance of Dirk, which includes Lil Hal, which includes Arquisprite, which includes Lord English. So using a Caliborn song here actually resonates REALLY HARD, i think.

as for the sound design, thank you for the praise! im very proud of my work here, the vrillyhoo sounds, syncing the swings to the beat of the song, and using the uprising whistle in the song at one point as a sound effect for the vrillyhoo flying through the air after june gets disarmed. the scene and song gave me a lot of material to work with :3

there were actually a ton of suggestions for flourite octet effects from all of our writers (and a few friends of mine who weren't on the team lol), and i cant find them all, but these were the final ones we narrowed down to before chosing

last bit of the original episode had a bunch of cuts for pacing. pacing, yes, but also to keep us tied to our current june. the original writing had it cut to the scene before june showed up, and had her appear. but in order to maintain the inertia from the last scene and to keep our camera focused on our protagonist, we had us just land in the scene at the same time as her. the audio here is literally ripped verbatim from episode 5, and in the scriptlog for this episode it says “episode 5” during this part, which i think is very fun.

there is also a post credits scene involving dirk, with a bit of completely original writing.

i don’t know if theres much to say about this that the text itself doesn’t already make clear. “this is where i get off” is apparently a half life reference though, but i haven’t played half life so idfk. dirk would be the type of nerd to do a reference like this in these circumstances though.

i had a lot of plans for this scene, and felt VERY strongly about it. originally this scene was vetoed by some performers until i recorded it myself as a proof of concept and we discussed was to get them on board. my original draft had gore sfx after he swung his blade (because i love gore sfx), but i think its far stronger to cut off before impact. as for why we're having A Dirkicide, when thats often seen as a bit insensitive these days, is actually to humanize dirk. dirk, in later godfeels updates, comes back as far less of a villain. in early godfeels, he's all intimidating villain all the time, all the way until his death. i wanted to let him share his piece. the text here is some original, some taken from his death in the Meat timeline, and some taken from his death in the Game Over timeline. These callbacks are also included intentionally to make him a bit more sympathetic. While his plan is to spark the epilogues, and he is a monster for his actions there, he IS ultimately motivated by an urge to keep his friends alive. this timeline isn't just a dud for his plans, isn't just a failure of his foresight, but also a repeat of dirk's lowest moment in the comic, when he lets the glitchtide take him after learning all his friends are dead. a moment he remembers and likely still grieves. and now he's having to grieve it all again. this wasn't included to be insensitive to dirk, it was included to make you remember 'wait, shit. yeah. oof. he IS kinda right on all counts about june as of this moment'.

and for a bit of behind the scenes? i've designed two sounds for deaths, Heroic and Just. and this one? it was Heroic. he died in the process of opposing someone who just killed all her friends. i may not agree with that distinction overall, but i think its a fair choice for skaia to make and i included that little meta aspect to once again humanize him a bit more.

also yes i had him quote gman, not just because he's a dweeb, but also to show his position as a Controller Who's Lost Control.

_____

thank you for coming around to see the adaptational notes for podfeels act 1! thank you again to stagelights for putting all of this together (i never would have found the time to do the bit by bit markdowns like they did), and also thank you to everyone on the team for contributing to this passion project i think we're all very very proud of.

i apologize for the long delay in getting act 2 started, but rest assured that we're still hard at work! i hope youve enjoyed seeing our process a bit, and maybe even learned from it a little!

[samanddeansannoyingsis]

Castiel Acts of Service

Hellos, its been a hot minute so heres a short-ish oneshot of how Castiel would help Winchester sister deal with an anxiety attack after dropping a mug. Please be kind. Suggestions and some friendly criticism are welcome.

Pairing: Castiel x Winchester!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 1345 words

If you like this fanfic please remember to heart it and reblog. Leave me some fun suggestions on my page to get me to write more.

Thank you thank you, onto the story.....

It's so stupid. I dropped a mug on the floor in the bunker and I couldn't stop the tears and crying.

I knocked the mug while I was trying to reach the sink to start dishwater and my heart sank as I reached for it. I felt my fingers just barely graze the cup before it fell on the floor and shattered into a bunch of pieces. Immediately I cringed at the noise and my eyes welted up in tears and I deflate.

"God I cant do anything right..." I say shakily as my sobs overtake me. I go to lean over the counter but flinch when I go to touch it remembering that that was how I broke the mug in the first place. I wilt and sit on the floor not caring that the porcelain is digging into my legs through my leggings and I shake violently as I cry. I just broke down on the floor hyperventilating and crying about the broken mug.

My heart is racing as adrenaline pours into my veins to keep my hands from staying still as I try to pick up the bigger pieces. I cant help but shake as some crazed part of my brain cries out to hide my mistakes before someone sees it. My mind runs on and on about how worthless I am and how much I suck at being a functional person. For crying out loud I cant even do dishes without fucking up something. But its not my voice telling these things to me... Its Johns voice.

As the forever forgotten middle child of the Winchesters, also the only girl, I was forced to stay inside and do research instead of going out and hunting with my brother Dean and John. Secretly I despise them for it. But I could never tell them that. Instead, I stayed and took care of Sam, helped him though school and supported him when he left for college. And stayed in the shadows. Always in the shadows. Never any real help, just another burden... Or that's what John tells me. He lost the title of father or dad when he yelled at me that I should have succeeded when he found my cutting marks when I was 13.

I hear his voice as I sit shaking and sobbing quietly on the floor in the kitchen in the bunker all alone and surrounded by broken porcelain. I drop the few pieces I picked up as I cut myself on a rather sharp edge and start crying so hard I can no longer see well.

I put the pieces next to me and curl up and cry in a ball. I let myself sob quietly for a good few minutes until I hear footsteps approaching the kitchen. I take a deep breath and my eyes go wide as my anxiety ridden mind tries to scream at me to get up and hide. I sit paralyzed on the floor with wide puffy and red eyes locked on the doorway.

Instead of one of my brothers or the deceased John, in walks Castiel, the favorite angel. He is none the wiser and I didn't even think he noticed me until he started walking on the broken mug pieces.

"Are you ok? Theres a lot of glass on the floor. Did you mean to do that?" He says in his little gruff voice. I sniffle a few times and start crying again as he stops talking. I use my now bloody hands to cover my face as I sob into my knees.

Cass looks confused at my mess on the floor.

"I take it that's a no then?" He says a little softer as he looks at the glass and then at my hands. He sighs and walks to the sink to grab a washcloth.

I shake my head softly and sniffle as I try to stop crying but just proceed to wipe blood on my face. I smell the metallic liquid and frown. My heart is practically beating out of my chest as John continues to torment me from my head.

Cass brings the washcloth to me and kneels Infront of me to be face to face with me. He has a small frown as he gently grabs my bleeding hand and presses the cloth to it to try and clean it up before he heals it. I stair at the floor blankly and my eyes fall on the broken base of the mug. My eyes are bloodshot and I feel tingly as Cas uses his angelic powers to heal my hand. It fills my body with an odd warmth and I shiver softly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He prods gently. I shake my head and let him continue to hold my hand.

"Do you want help cleaning this up?" Cas says softly. I can tell he's trying to help me but I dont really hear him as I sit in my little cocoon of self depreciation. He puts my hand back on my knee and stands up and picks me up off the ground and puts me on the countertop.

I sigh softly as he moves me but I dont protest. He lets me sit there as I zone out again and start crying once more. Cas grabs a broom and dustpan and cleans up the broken mug quietly. I shake softly as I cry.

"I'm sorry." I say in a soft shakey voice once he gathers the mug into the dustpan. He pauses for a moment and looks up at me from the floor and shoots me a soft smile.

"It's ok. Accidents happen." Its a sweet sentiment, really. I nod softly as I sniffle and wipe my face on my hoodie sleeve.

"A little too often with me though." I say in a soft but sad tone. He frowns and looks at me confused.

"Ive never seen you break a mug before. How could it be often?" He says in an aloof manor. This breaks me out of my anxiety attack for a second and I smile for a second before I go back to frowning and looking at the remanents in the dustpan. Cas throws out the broken mug and then puts the broom away and stands in front of me as I sit quietly on the counter and try to quiet my rapidly beating heart to get my chest to stop hurting.

"You didn't have to do that." I say softly as I put a hand over my heart to try and add some pressure.

"I didn't want you to get cut again when you sat on the floor." He says shortly. I nod with an empty frown on my face.

"Fair." I say.

"Ill finish dishes for you if you wanna go pick a movie for movie night tonight." He says as he shuts off the water just before the sink spills over because I forgot to shut it off in the midst of my short anxiety attack. I frown as I look at the sink.

"Are you sure Cas? I dont want you to think im not able to do things." He shakes his head.

"You work so hard all the time trying to keep this place clean. Go sit down and pick a movie. Ill be in in a few minutes." His voice leaves little room for argument so I get up and shakily stand and walk to the living room and start looking through movies.

I smile to myself as I pick a stupid comedy movie about history and get ready to start the movie. A few minutes later, true to his word, Castiel walks in with slightly damp hands and a bowl of popcorn for me. I smile softly as I take the popcorn and he grabs me a soft blanket. As he drapes the blanket over my lap Sam walks in and then shortly after that Dean. Everyone settles in and Cas sits next to me on the couch and we all enjoy movie night together.

[leynaeithnea]

When you sit down to write something what is the kick starter that gives you the inspiration and what keeps you going while writing?

Heyo

Mmhmm, It sort of depends I think

For my originial stories (that i dont tend to be able to finish but lets ignore that for now) its usually a piece of dialogue, or an image popping up in my mind that i want to build a story around, rereading my intial notes and making pinterest boards; playlists etc etc usually helps me get interested and excited about the projects again (but instruggle with themes & worldbuilding for my og stories usually so I keep getting stuck)

However when it comes to fanfiction (which i just started again recently) its different

There I usually want to explore my favorite topics for writing (angst & hurt/comfort, dealing with trauma in some form)

And then look deeper into the characters minds

For example my Ody/Dio fic started out as simple "how does the trojan war affect ody?" As well as getting a bit inspired by the lyrics of Epic "all i hear are screams, everytime i dare to close my eyes", as well as some suggestions i got from some tumblr users (being so on edge from having to keep your guard up, that you draw a knife on a friend) and from there on it kind of developed on its own, with my only plan being there ending up being some spice for the fun of it (espeically for my iliad/odyssey fics rn like trying to stay as close to the sources as i can, within the framework of my story idea, eg. Its definitely not aligning with the iliad that dio and ody had an type of romantic/sexual relationship, but they have an interesting dynamic that is fun to explore, so in my story its not necessarily that its the type of "love" between them as would be expected today for people to have an intimate relationship like that, but its a twisted way of making it both the longing from being away from home, the shared weight of responsibility of a goddess attention on you and some more intense interpersonal feelings between them that are quite complex, i suppose i mixed odyssey odysseus and the more "emotional" odysseus we get in epic (that being said odyssey odysseus is not rly LESS emotional by any means (maybe contrary even), but theres more room for interpretation for whats going on in his head/his exact motivations for his actions are often something we can interpret, but not KNOW for sure

So i love exploring these interpretations and letting the parts i like from epic flow into them at times

So all of that kind of develops while writing and is something that then motivates me to carry on and explore another new aspect (first it was just "all i hear are screams" but in troy, then it was odysseus and diomedes "would-be" relationship, and by the end there was also a hint of "what it means to live up to the expectations of a goddess")

For my Ogygia story my desire was to have a retelling of the story that goes more into detail what happened during those 7 years that blends epic and the odyssey again (sticking more to the odyssey and adding in epic when it fits), because from the stories ive read there was always some lines in the odyssey that go unexplored or i dont like the interpretation on

For example "She pleased him no more", something that i probably adapted from your analysis on it iirc?, that initially she treated him nicely, but became more pushy over time only, or the emphasis in the odyssey that the reason ody couldnt leave was that he has no ship or crew (and calypso only helps him/gives her blessing for him to build his raft after Hermes told her so) as well as the lines between calyspo and hermes when she argues that the gods can keep themselves lovers but shes forced to give away hers, all of those (and a good bunch more) were aspects i wanted to explore there and kept motivating me to continue!

So its rly about exploring some aspects deeper through writing it, with giving them a bit of a personal flavor i suppose, those are rarely avoidable :)

Hope that answers the question and makes sense ^^"

[yurideification]

Current draft of chapter 1. Feedback appreciated, doesn't necessarily have to be constructive (though would obviously be appreciated):

Beatrice I

In a cramped, filthy apartment, surrounded by food scraps of various types, a woman dressed in all gray and with visible bags under her eyes sat hunched over a half-broken ThinkPad. As she observed the green-tinted imageboard that was currently displayed on the screen and mulled over its contents, a cheeto-covered hand shot down onto the keyboard - its left counterpart busy shoveling more cheese puffs down the woman's throat. At the top of the website, a large banner image decorated with various pyramids and eyes read,

“/OC/ - OCCULT & ARCANE”

With a swift move of her free hand she moved the mouse cursor to a small rectangle labelled “REPLY”. She clicked on it, and a large text box appeared on the screen. Moments later, she began writing. 

"Look, personally, this is all very interesting, but I think you're putting too much emphasis on the contents of the dreams, rather than WHEN they're happening. The Age of Aquarius is coming soon, which means what you're hearing is obviously some higher form of Enochian, and at BEST it's probably demons."

Click. Post. 

Another argument saved, she thought to herself as she scrolled up to the top of the thread and started rereading what had started off the whole discussion. 

TITLE: NIGHTMARES?

DESCRIPTION:

“hello /OC/ !! ever since i was a teen ive been having weird dreams almost every night. ive never really thought about them deeply but maybe one of you /oc/cultists could help me figure out whats going on, so here goes nothing. theyre varied and have shifted over the years but theres some common elements i can guess will always come up when i fall asleep. the most notable though is the language. its not really a language, but really a feeling? but ive always thought about it as one. i see visions of random things, and i associate it with a thing, and sometimes hear a sound or feel an emotion, but its all so random i can never make sense of it.

i see a mountain and i hear what sounds like a clock ticking. then im struck with a feeling of euphoria and i see the mountain melting into a valley. i see an apple. then two, then four, then six and eight and twenty, and with each new one im struck with a feeling of absolute dread. i see the planet, and i see a very large worm crawling out of it while a pop song is playing. melancholy. i dont know what it means, but it clearly means something, and ive spent the last couple years trying it out but im not getting anywhere on my own. please help me.”

Nothing she hadn’t seen before, though the thought of there being a pattern in what at first seemed like just random noise intrigued her more than she perhaps at first would have liked to admit. Scrolling down to the bottom again, she passed by several more snippets of dreams that the author had posted in response to people asking for more details.

A house burning in reverse, wind chimes, deep insatiable lust. smell of blood. then the entire thing plays in reverse again.

A woman she didn't recognize that gradually morphed into a lawn chair, combined with a chemical smell.

Screaming for several straight seconds until she woke up in a cold sweat, with no other associated imagery.

Naturally, the thread was filled with hundreds of other people speculating about what it could possibly mean and arguing with each other, the cheeto-covered woman only being one of them - not even being the first to suggest that it might be the language of the angels. One particularly persistent user kept spamming links to their self-published e-book about "Dream Linguistics: The Hidden Language of the Unconscious Mind." Another claimed they'd had the exact same dreams in 1987 and that they predicted the stock market crash that year.

"Classic hypnagogic hallucinations combined with sleep paralysis. Take some magnesium and try sleeping on your right side."

"The worm is obviously Ouroboros imagery, but inverted. Have you been experimenting with any chaos magick recently? IMPORTANT."

"Sounds like standard astral projection gone wrong. I can help but you'll need to wire me 500 crowns first for the proper materials."

"Anyone who says this isn't related to the planetary alignments is a fed or a fool. Look up the Ophiuchus Protocol."

The person at the computer finished scrolling down to the bottom, and hit refresh. The page took a bit to reload, but when it finished, there was a new reply.

“hey everyone, OP here. I really appreciate all the help, and youve all been really wonderful, but im gonna stop replying now. its late, and i need to get to sleep. im still not really sure what all the dreams are but i do feel somewhat closer to an answer. good night !!”

Over so soon after I found it, the woman thought to herself. 

Disappointing.

Upon having read it over a few times, she closed her laptop with a sigh, and laid down on it with her arms folded. Without the light of the laptop screen the room was pitch black - no lights were on, nothing shining in from the open windows subtly guiding the cool night air into the 11th floor apartment. If they were on, perhaps you'd be able to see the absolute mess on the floor. The scattered clothes, the filthy, days-old dishes stacked on the floor after they stopped fitting on the desk, the even older takeout containers and miscellaneous beer bottles. The occasional discarded cigarette pack, some visibly crushed. 

Here and there, evidence of her various obsessions littered the floor - tarot cards scattered like fallen leaves, crystals gathering dust in the corners, half-burned candles dripped onto printouts of ancient symbols. A dream journal lay open on the coffee table, its pages covered in cramped handwriting that grew increasingly erratic towards the margins. Books on symbolism and mythology formed precarious towers against the walls, their spines cracked from repeated consultation.

In the entrance hallway, having been covered by the same jacket for several weeks, there laid an unopened letter.

To Bea, with love ~

Adeline and Missy

A personalized hell, of sorts. 

As if straining against the dark itself, Beatrice raised herself up slowly and stretched for a few seconds, before letting her arms fall down again. She stared dead-eyed into the wall that had previously been blocked by her laptop screen, and then got up. Carefully, as to not step on anything that'd puncture her feet or make her slip, she walked through the apartment and out the open door onto her balcony - if it could even be called that. In truth, it was far too small, and only had barely enough space for someone to stand on. Her bare feet hit the outside exposed concrete, and she rested her arms on the metal of the outcropping, taking in the city outside.

It was beautiful, and so, so very large. Saint Vincent was one of the largest cities on the Magellanic east coast, and the cultural and economic capital of the Federation of Victoria, only surpassed by true giants such as Goldbridge and Sun City. Beatrice's apartment building, situated at the top of the large hill the city was built on, had a perfect view of its enormous, sprawling mass - The May Bridge on the far side, going into Greater Toone, and before that, all the various city districts;

There was Bayside right near the bridge, with its tall, imposing financial skyscrapers and the mayoral tower somehow towering above all of them, in turn bordered by The Lows and Little Vincent - the “rich kid’s club” - districts characterized by their large hotels, casinos and multi million-crown expensive mega-mansions that faced the bay. Go back in the direction you came from and you'd eventually reach Huttons, the former cultural and artistic center of the city, but whose prices were now rising to the point that it was becoming almost impossible for any actual artists to live there, although it still had some of the best bars in the city. In recent years there'd been sporadic attempts to de-gentrify it, but naturally all of those had failed at the hands of the very wealthy investors in the district who didn't want “criminals” to move in. 

Bordering Huttons was Bayside again, Central, characterized mostly by being home to the city's train hub and university - named, predictably enough, Vincent university - and the Lower Hills, where Beatrice currently resided. Beyond even here there was the Upper Hills, Teodora and the industrial district - colloquially called the smogs - and eventually Outer Vincent with its large, sprawling suburbia.

But really, who cares about a bunch of faceless smoke stacks and single family homes, Beatrice thought to herself. 

A cigarette was lit, the flame of her cheap lighter briefly illuminating her sunken face in the darkness. For a couple minutes, she stayed like that, silent, observing. It was a beautiful star-lit night, occasionally interrupted by something new from below - a cough, a shout, a police siren. More distant bangs than was perhaps usual. The kids playing down on the street below, their giggles and laughter softly echoing up to her.

A car whizzed by, its bright lights cutting through the night like knives through butter. 

The city breathed around her, alive with all its secret rhythms and hidden patterns, indifferent to her presence on the edge of it all. 

Eventually, with a sigh, Beatrice threw the cigarette over the edge and walked back into her pitch-black apartment, the door closing behind her with a soft thud. She stood there for a long moment, the door hard against her back, when suddenly, something echoed out and disturbed the dark stillness of the apartment. A pling, just once. Then again - pling.  It took her a moment to figure out what it was, and then, it hit.

My phone? Is someone trying to contact me? Fuck off… when was the last time I heard that sound? I should set it on do not disturb when I can…

Lumbering slowly, she made her way through the apartment, into the bedroom where her phone was sitting on a bedside table. Picking it up and holding it in her hand her first thought went to spam, and a soft irritation started growing inside her - then, however, she properly read the messages, and that irritation rapidly shifted into something resembling curiosity. 

“BEATRICE SCHWARZ: YOU have been graciously selected for an invitation to a ONCE IN AN AEON OPPORTUNITY. At VICTORIA MEMORIAL PARK, on the TWENTY-SECOND of NOVEMBER in the year 235, at 23:00, the GREAT SERENISSIMA will give YOU AN EXPERIENCE YOU CAN NEVER FORGET. (entrance fee: 50 crowns.)”

What is this, a circus or something?, Beatrice thought incredulously. She looked at the time. 

22:27.

Shit. 

Panicking, she rushed out into the hallway and put on the dirty, crumpled jacket that laid near the door. Five minutes later, she was down on the street. 

✿

As she walked, the city's geography unfolded around her like a well-worn map. She passed by the 24-hour laundromat with its eternal fluorescent glow, through the small park where the local cats held their midnight conferences, across the bridge over the commuter rail tracks that carried thousands of suburban workers into Central each morning. Each landmark, though familiar to her, simultaneously felt oddly strange - like seeing old friends again, an uncomfortable kind of nostalgia. It made her yearn for the comfort of her apartment again, though curiosity overpowered her every step of the way. 

The neon sign of Lucky's Corner Store buzzed and flickered as she walked by, its proprietor visible through the grimy windows, engaged in his nightly ritual of reorganizing the same shelf of canned goods he'd been fussing with for the past decade. She'd bought her first tarot deck there, hidden behind the counter with the cigarettes and lottery tickets. Mr. Lucky – not his real name, she assumed – had given her a knowing look as he rang it up, but never commented on her increasingly esoteric purchases she'd made over the years.

Victoria Memorial Park sat at the intersection of old money and new decay, a remnant of the city's more genteel past now caught in the undertow of urban change. During the day, it maintained a careful veneer of respectability with its manicured lawns and historical plaques. But at night, the old iron gates and overgrown corners revealed its true nature – a place where the city's carefully maintained boundaries began to blur.

As she approached the park's entrance, movement caught her eye – others were converging on the park from different directions. A woman in an expensive business suit, her heels clicking purposefully on the pavement. A teenager with a backpack covered in hand-drawn symbols. An elderly man leaning on a carved wooden cane that looked more ceremonial than practical. None of them acknowledged each other, but all moved with the same deliberate purpose.

The park's central lawn opened up before her, and there, in the soft glow of the antique lampposts, she saw them. Arranged in a perfect circle were perhaps two dozen people, seated on the ground. They were as diverse a group as Saint Vincent could produce – she spotted suits that probably cost more than her monthly rent sitting next to tattered thrift store jackets, gray-haired professors next to teenagers with dyed hair and facial piercings. Some sat straight-backed and alert, while others seemed to slouch with exhaustion or disinterest. All of them, however, faced inward, their attention focused on something in the center of the circle that Bea couldn't quite make out from her current position.

The air felt different here – thicker somehow, charged with an expectation that made the hair on the back of Bea's neck stand up. This wasn't like the amateur séances and half-hearted rituals she'd participated in before. This felt real. She took a step forward, and the circle parted to make room for one more. As she moved to take her place, she caught a glimpse of what lay in the center of the circle, and immediately felt an emotion she felt like hadn’t felt in years - not since she got that letter from her uncle, all those years ago.

Confusion.