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Back to You | 6

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eight months ago, you swore you would never step foot in Hawkins again. When Robin begs for you to come home for spring break, you find yourself agreeing despite better judgment. You’ve missed everyone, surely you could endure one more week in Hawkins if that means you can see your friends again.

Words: 9.6k

Part: 6/9

Warnings: Language, death, trauma mentions, Billy, self blame

A/N: Very loosely edited.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Waking up in Steve Harrington’s guest room is almost just as disorienting as waking up in Nancy Wheeler’s basement. There’s a calmness in the air as you rise, listening to the birds sing and feeling the warmth of the sun that peaks through the curtains. It coats the room in such a sweet brightness that you wish you could bathe in it, push away the worries beyond your control, and bask in the thick perfume of the Harrington residence.

Standing on the plush carpet, it occurs to you, never once have you slept in this room. Sure, it was always an option, the one Mrs. Harrington certainly would’ve preferred. At a young age, the thought of being separated from each other, even for a night, was unfathomable. You’d spend hours building elaborate forts out of sheets and chairs, falling asleep with blankets tucked under your chins. When sleeping side by side was no longer permitted, Steve, a gentleman from the start, always insisted on you taking the bed. By the time you were dating, they never cared enough to notice him slip in beside you. You wonder if the mattress still dips where you used to lie.

A loud crash, followed by a string of curses, sends an echo throughout the downstairs. You rush out of the room and down the hall in haste, stopping short when you see the kitchen in complete disarray. Mixing bowls litter the counter and flour dusts the floor. Steve crouches in the middle of the chaos, picking up a lone skillet from the tile.

“Uh, good morning,” you say.

“Jesus,” he jumps, startled at your sudden appearance.

“What’s all this?” You giggle, clamping your lips shut at the look of annoyance Steve sends your way.

“It was going to be breakfast but, uh,” he groans, limbs stiff with exhaustion as he comes to a stand. “I can’t find the baking powder.”

“I think cereal will do just fine,” you smile, gathering the mess of ingredients into your arms. Wordlessly, the two of you tidy up the room, moving around each other with ease. It feels so domestic, intimate even as you sweep, careful to avoid his feet. You wonder if this is how life would’ve –should’ve– been for the past eight months. Lazy mornings spent in the refrigerator light, old habits poking into your new routines.

Here, in the dirtiness of his kitchen, you’re overcome with a feeling so strong your fingers shake. You’re so goddamn homesick, not for your house, childhood bedroom, or Hawkins, but for sharing gummy bears on the couch, dancing to old records, and holding hands under tables. You realize how much you miss your home, how much you miss Steve.

Once dishes are wiped and cabinets are closed, the two of you take a seat across from each other at the dining room table. You stare at the wood, unable to look at him while he shovels food into his mouth.

“Where are your parents?” You ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

“Visiting Aunt Cheryl in Maine,” he says, wiping milk from his chin.

“Weren’t invited?”

“They assumed I was working. Which I am, or supposed to be, if all this wasn’t happening again,” he explains. “But I could’ve asked off if they told me sooner. Not three days before they were supposed to leave.”

“I’m sorry.” You look at him then. What else was there to say? The trace of anger vanishes from his features as you lock eyes.

“It’s okay,” he offers a half smile. “I wouldn’t have gotten to see you if I went.” Heat creeps up your neck, eyes falling to the spoon you twirl in your fingertips. “I guess I don’t mean that. I hate that you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can leave,” you’re about to stand before he stops you.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He pushes his bowl away, leaning forward on his elbows. “You got out, you got away, the life you always dreamed of and as soon as you’re home the world falls apart again.” You gulp, a knot settling in your stomach as he continues. “It’s just, I don’t know, every time I get sad you’re not here, I remember how awful this place is, you know? Nothing has changed. Mrs. Kenny still rents her movies every Sunday. Moria and Dale break up every month and get back together in two days. It’s always the same. Hawkins is the fucking same.” He lets out a breath, shaking his head. “Mike and Nancy will move out to California, Lucas will probably get a D1 scholarship somewhere, Dustin will grow up and have ten kids with Suzie. Max will graduate and get the hell out of town, just like you did. Robin will realize I’m a shitty friend, just like you did. One day, I’ll wake up and everyone will be gone and I’ll be here.”

“Steve,” you say, keeping your voice gentle. “You could’ve come with me. You could’ve gotten out too.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t.” His voice rises slightly, anger seeping into his tone. “I didn’t go and fucked everything up. This is my consequence. Being stuck here for the rest of my life.”

“So then don’t be. Who says you have to stay and wallow here forever? You can leave, just like me, just like everyone else can.”

“Yeah? And go where?” He laughs dryly, “Where else am I gonna go?”

“With me. Come back to me,” you want to scream. You want to lay all your cards out on the table before him, beg him to follow you across state lines, the way he promised. But he made his decision and you don’t know if he regrets it enough to change his mind. You can’t bear another rejection from Steve, not about this. So, you sit, staring at your soggy breakfast and biting your tongue.

“Did you know I called you?” He says after a few minutes. Your brows raise at the information. “I ran into your mom at the store one day and asked for your new number. It was the middle of August. The phone just rang and rang,” he recalls. “I don’t even know what I would’ve said if you answered, I didn’t think that far.” Your mom's constant bombardment of questioning clicks. He called. Your heart leaps at the news.

“I had no idea,” you whisper. He shrugs, gently pushing his chair back and clearing away the dishes with a frown tugging at his lips. You lean back in your chair with a sigh. You cross your arms around your chest as if they could be a barrier between you and all the words left unsaid.

From the corner of your eye, a photograph catches your attention. Hesitantly, you reach for it, shuffling away the discarded bills and letters for his parents. With shaky fingers, you pull open the newspaper where she rests. The girl who came into your life like a hurricane and was taken just as abruptly, leaving nothing but misery in her wake. She stares back at you, her smile frozen in time, just as beautiful as you remember.

You met Heather Holloway in the middle of May. You and five others dedicated a Saturday to mandatory training, a requirement before anyone was able to take a seat on the lifeguard tower. You knew the morning was going to be unbearable, to say the least. The water was still freezing, half of the recruits were new and immensely inexperienced, and to make it all worse, Billy was there.

Steve, who you assumed was still sleeping across town, was supposed to be there that day. It had become almost a tradition since you were fifteen to wear the whistle for those three hot months. When the word got around that the Hargrove boy would be an honorary member of the team, Steve couldn’t stomach it. Instead, he decided to scour the newspaper ads for another part-time job. Luckily for him, there was no shortage of openings with every store in Starcourt understaffed. He started the following week.

Since it was your third summer as a lifeguard and you spent a lifetime swimming in the Harrington pool, you could do each drill in your sleep. Your manager, Rodney, made it very clear he wouldn’t sign your certification papers if you skipped, even when you tried to slip him a five. It just felt like a complete waste of time. But, with a lease to be signed and a new life on the horizon, you couldn’t afford to lose your job before it started. So, you stood at the edge of the pool, half listening to Rodney’s instructions and picking at your nails.

Heather, a newbie, was assigned as your partner for the day. She offered a nervous smile that you tried to return as you lined up, preparing to dive. “Don’t me drown. My life is in your hands.” She said, before plunging into the water. As instructed, she flailed and thrashed for a few seconds. At the sound of Rodney’s whistle, you dove and rescued her with ease. “I knew I had nothing to worry about,” she grinned once the two of you broke through the surface. Even though you were shivering and your teeth were chattering, you couldn’t help but laugh together.

Much to your surprise, Heather was a natural in the water. Instead of coaching her the way you had planned, you took turns leaping into the deep end, gossiping while staying afloat, and giggling while handling the CPR dummy. By the end of the day, you felt like you’d known her forever.

The two of you walked back to the locker room talking about everything and nothing at all. She spoke of the world like it was made of magic. If she asked, you would’ve sat on the curb and listened for hours. As you pulled sweatpants over your damp suit, she held out a stick of gum toward you.

“For saving my life and all,” she smiled.

“Consider us even,” You said.

Seeing Heather, you remember it all. How quickly the two of you became friends, practically overnight. At work, you were inseparable. You’d share concession snacks during lunch, smear sunscreen on places neither of you could reach, and carpool when your shifts aligned. If you think hard enough, you can still smell the scent of her that lingered in your car, even after she hopped out. Tanning lotion, chlorine, and rose shampoo. She smelt like summer and a life full of dreams. Thinking about her, seeing her again, is agonizing.

Gently, you fold the pages closed. You pretend that your regret and the memories you keep running from are tucked between the paper. You know they aren’t. They will sit on your shoulder for as long as you live, creeping out in unexpected moments, tormenting you until the end of time.

“They’re building a memorial,” Steve says somewhere behind you. You can’t turn around, too enamored with her photograph as you trace her outline, memorizing ink. “I’m not sure if it’s done, but we can stop by sometime so you can see.” You nod, quickly wiping away a tear you didn’t know was there.

“How do you do it?” You ask. “Stay here, see their houses, look those kids in the eyes?” More tears fall. Whether they’re more from sadness or crippling guilt, you don’t know. “I mean I ran away and I feel like I’m, like I’m haunted or something. And I don’t see it every day.” Steve stands next to you and places his hand in yours. “Does it ever get easier?”

“No,” he whispers. His honesty is so blunt it startles you. “Not easier, but it gets smaller, I guess.” You’re proud that he’s taken his pain and learned to live with it, envious even. That’s something you still haven’t been able to do.

“I guess we should get going,” you say, clearing your throat and drying your cheeks. You can’t risk spiraling today. For now, you swallow the grief of Heather and her death, burying it somewhere inside, hoping to keep it contained for just a few more days.

Twenty minutes later, you and Steve park along the curb of Nancy’s house. She leans against her car, checking her watch as you step into the sun. Robin’s already blabbering nonsense in her ear. The young boys situate their bikes against the garage as you make your way towards them.

“We come bearing gifts.” You hold up a bag full of chips and candy. It’s certainly not a nutritious meal, but you can’t imagine Eddie will be too picky. On the way over, you talked to Dustin on your walkie, the one he gave you before he left for Camp Know Where, and asked what Eddie prefers. He rambled off a list of items and for himself, a special request of Pringles. Thankfully, the gas station had most of it.

“He’ll be eating like a true king,” Dustin jokes, reaching in for his breakfast.

“All right. We can all fit if two sit in the back,” Nancy says, opening the trunk door.

“Shotgun!” Robin shouts immediately, beelining to the front.

“Not it!” You look at Steve who’s already rolling his eyes.

“You owe me,” he says, taking the sack from your hand and climbing in. “Henderson, get your ass back here.” Dustin’s shoulders sag but he doesn’t protest. As Lucas and Max climb in the backseat, you close the trunk door softly.

To say it’s cramped is an understatement, but you make it work. For a moment, you let yourself believe that it’s just a normal day in the middle of spring break. That you and your group of misfit friends are on your way to an exciting adventure. A picnic at the quarry, hours at the arcade, maybe the movies. When the car turns right, you’re reminded that you’re headed for Reefer Rick’s on the outskirts.

At a stoplight downtown, you glance at the woman waiting at the crosswalk. You freeze when you see Heather staring back at you. You sit up straighter as the light turns green, craning your neck to follow her as she makes her way across the street. In a few blinks, you see Tracey Molden instead. She pays you no mind, unaware of your staring. You gulp, turning back and pushing yourself further into the seat cushion as if it could swallow you whole.

“You okay?” Max asks from the middle, looking you over.

“Yeah. Just thought I saw someone.” You offer her a reassuring smile, one she thankfully buys. Even though the radio plays, you can still hear the last real conversation you had with her eight months ago. The very one that’s haunted you ever since.

You clutched the receiver between your ear and shoulder, listening to the dial tone. Impatiently, you tapped your foot, rehearsing the lines for the fourth time. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t give up a shift that summer, but you were desperate. That morning, Steve called with the news that he planned an impromptu day of festivities. So far, there wasn't a single day you had off together, your schedules the opposite. It had been a long month of only spending time together after the sun went down or in one of the booths at Scoops. You’d do anything for a day with your boyfriend, even if that meant inconveniencing Heather for a few hours.

“Hello?” She finally answered.

“Don’t hate me,” you say, cringing at the aspirated groan from the other end of the line. “I need you to take my shift today.”

“No, absolutely not,” she laughs. “After the day I had yesterday cleaning vomit, twice I might add, there’s no way in hell I’m taking your shift. I need a few days to recover.” You were afraid of that. While dropping you off the night before, she was still gagging, retelling the story in such vivid detail, that it even made you a little queasy.

“Please, Heather,” you begged, “I’ll do anything. What about a sundae next week? All the toppings you want. I won’t even take a bite!”

“Tempting,” she hummed. “No dice.” You gently banged your head against the wall. A knot formed in your stomach with an idea. One you knew would work.

“Billy will be there,” you sang. Just saying his name left distaste in your mouth. Much to your dismay, Heather had grown quite fond of Billy since orientation. You weren’t sure how he barely gave her the attention she desired, but you suppose that’s what made it more fun. In all honesty, you were surprised nothing had transpired between the two of them. If Billy noticed her swooning, which was impossible to miss, he ignored it.

“Fine,” she grumbled after a stretch of silence.

“I am forever in your debt. You’re seriously the best!” You cheered, elated for what the day in front of you held.

“Yeah, yeah. Hang up before I change my mind.” But with the way she giggled, you knew she wasn’t too upset.

“Thank you. Love you, bye!”

You killed Heather Holloway, you know it in your bones. You think she knows it too. One of your dearest friends, packaged up and sent away like a lamb for slaughter. If it weren’t for you, Heather and her parents wouldn’t have been flayed. She’d be here in Hawkins preparing for the graduation that takes place in two months. All her ambitions, the remarkable life she would’ve led, you stole it all just by saying his name. Now, there’s nothing left of her but newspaper clippings, an empty grave, and a name being etched into stone. At least you said you loved her. You hope that now, wherever she is, she knows that has never stopped being true.

“Not to be a wimp, but can I maybe sit in the car for this visit? ‘Cause this is gonna totally and royally suck.” Robin asks over the music, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“It’ll be fine,” Nancy says, taking a curve. She’s trying her best to sound convincing.

“I just can’t stand to see those doe eyes of Eddie’s break again. I really, really can’t.”

“At least he can drink himself into feeling better.” Steve jokes between the chips he and Dustin share, raising the case of beer.

“That’s what my mom does,” Max says.

“Mine too,” you bump your elbow into hers, offering a small smile that she returns.

“Why don’t we give it a trial run? Hey, Eddie. Uh, good news first this time. We got you some Dustin-approved junk food and that six-pack you requested. Oh yeah, and we found Vecna. Only the bad news is that he’s in that other, darker, much scarier dimension, that we told you about and the gate’s closed, so we have no way of getting to him. Like he’s entirely shut off to us, so basically, you’re screwed. And, no, no, I know you were already screwed, but now you’re like doubly, triply, screwed!” Robin rambles.

“Whoa, wait, wait, wait. Maybe we don’t put it like that,” Lucas adds, trying to alleviate the tension in the air.

“We’re one step closer to finding Vecna,” Nancy nods to herself, talking it through. “That’s what we say. That’s what’s important.”

“See Robin? Positive spin can make all the difference,” Steve says, popping a Pringle into his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” Robin grumbles, no doubt rolling her eyes in the front seat.

“Oh, shit,” Nancy sighs, pulling onto a gravel road. The area is swarmed with reporters and townspeople, sections blocked off by barricades. Your stomach drops at the sight, worried that Eddie has been caught and cuffed by police. As soon as the car has stopped, you climb out, taking in the scene.

“All right?” You hear Chief Powell say over the community's raised voices.

“Come on, this way,” Nancy says, leading the group behind a news van.

“As many of you know by now, the Roane County line received a call a little after midnight.” You hear Powell begin as you huddle close to the hood. “Reporting a homicide out here on the lake.” You and Lucas share an uneasy look at the news. “Officer Callahan here and myself arrived first on the scene. We made our way to the shore of Lover’s Lake, about ten yards from that house you see behind me. Uh, it was there that we found the victim, an eighteen-year-old senior from Hawkins High, Patrick McKinney.” Max’s gaze snaps to Lucas, watching as his eyes drop to the ground. “His limbs, his body, uh, it was disfigured. There was an eyewitness on the scene. We have also identified a person of interest. Eddie Munson.” He raises a photo of Eddie into the air giving a perfect shot to the cameras. You could throw up right here in the grass. “We encourage anyone with information to please come forward.”

“Oh man,” Steve utters in disbelief. Reporters talk over one another, pushing microphones toward him. “This is not good. Really not good,” he continues. Gently, you rub soothing circles on Dustin’s shoulders as he stares at you with eyes full of fear.

“You’ve got a lot of questions, and I’m going to answer as many as I can. Two o’clock, at town hall, where anyone from the Hawkins community is welcome. But right now, I’ve got some work to do, and I appreciate your understanding.” At the close of Powell’s speech, the area grows loud with unanswered questions from the crowd. As the Chief backs away, they grow even more restless talking amongst themselves.

“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler?” Eddie’s voice pierces through the static in Dustin’s backpack. Frantically, the seven of you close in around the device as Dustin pushes the button to speak.

“Eddie, holy shit. Are you okay?” He asks.

“Nah, man. Pretty… Pretty goddamn far from okay.”

“Where is he?” Robin asks Dustin, leaning close to the speaker.

“Where are you?”

“Skull Rock. Uh, do you know it?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s near Cornwallis and–” Dustin starts.

“Garrett, yeah, yeah. I know it. I know where that is.” Steve whispers, thinking out loud. He pats the young boy’s shoulder and leads the way into the tree line.

“Hold tight. We’re coming, we’re coming!”

After a mile or so, you fall into step behind Max and Lucas trailing behind the rest of the group. Max glances at him every so often, as if finding the courage to speak. If he notices, he doesn’t acknowledge her stares. Instead, keeping focused on the path under his sneakers. She fiddles with her jacket sleeve, tugging on the fabric with an awkwardness. Your eyes are drawn to her wrist, the yellow of her watch uncovered for just a moment. She was wearing it that night. The final time you saw Heather.

The storm had blown through town hard and fast, practically out of nowhere. You barely had time to get all the kids out of the pool before lightning struck. Rain pelted the metal roof above as you flicked your wrist to check the time. You still had an hour before the pool closed, then you could be on your way to Starcourt to meet up with Steve and the others.

The doors to the locker room were yanked open with so much force you jumped. You cursed quietly under your breath. You weren’t in the mood to chase eager swimmers out of the building who hoped the downpour would pass within the next few minutes. When you turned, Max and El stared back at you.

It was a surprising sight to see, to say the least. According to the ginger, El wasn’t her biggest fan. Sure, they were friendly, but certainly not friends. Despite their boyfriends being all but conjoined by the hip, the girls barely talked, let alone hung out together.

“What’s going on?” You asked them. You directed your gaze to El and squinted at her slightly. “You’re not supposed to be here,” you stated, thinking of the rules Hopper had made very clear.

“We have a bigger problem right now,” Max said, visibly deflating at your presence. “We think something bad might’ve happened to Heather.” She answered your question before you had the chance to ask. At her words, your stomach sank. Heather didn’t pick you up that morning. Up until then, it was more annoying than anything. You had spent the whole day so irritated that you arrived late, you hadn’t thought something could’ve been wrong.

“We found this,” El said quietly. She gently held up a red fanny pack, unmistakably Heather’s. The jewels glinted under the fluorescents as she passed it to you.

“Where did you get this?” You whispered, taking it into your grasp. Delicately, you traced your fingers over the fabric.

“In my bathroom with Billy’s things,” Max said urgently. You let out a puff of air, suddenly feeling relieved. You thought that maybe she finally made her move, the one she had been planning since the beginning of June. You doubted Billy would’ve rejected her advances.

“Girls, this might not mean anything,” you began. Of course, you couldn’t pollute their minds with vulgar ideas of how this ended up in his possession. So, you bit back a laugh, thinking of a way to ease their panic.

“I know how it sounds. But I don’t think it’s that.” Max unzipped the bag and urged you to look inside. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see, but a bloody whistle surely wasn’t it. Dread clawed its way up your throat as you took in the sight. “We need to help El. She can find her with that.” She pointed to Heather’s staff photo clutched in El’s hand.

Without further question, the three of you got to work. You locked the door and assisted Max in turning on every showerhead in the room. You sent El to find a roll of duct tape from the supply closet while you searched through the lost and found for a pair of goggles. Finally, when El was ready, she sat on the floor with Heather’s photo laid before her. You and Max shared an uneasy glance from opposite benches.

“What do you see?” Max asked. You tapped your foot nervously and focused on the hands of her watch as they moved slowly.

“A door. A red door,” El answered. You knew immediately what she was talking about. You saw it every other day when picking Heather up from her house. El’s answer being something you recognized wasn’t comforting. It only made it worse. Without warning, El gasped for air and yanked off the goggles.

“What happened? El!” Max shouted, placing a hand on her shoulder. You rubbed circles on her back to try to calm her down. You could feel her hammering heart through the fabric of her shirt. She was hyperventilating, unable to respond.

“Tell me again what you saw,” you pleaded, glancing in the rearview as you sped through Hawkins.

“It was a bathtub full of ice. When I looked in, Heather was there,” she recalled quietly. “She asked me to help her. Then it was like something was pulling her under the water.” You couldn’t make any sense of it, or understand what it meant. “Is she your friend?”

“Yes,” you whispered, nauseated as you parked in front of her house. “Is this the door you saw?” You asked, despite knowing the answer. When she nodded, the three of you threw yourselves into the rain and marched up the steps.

Although you considered Heather a close friend, you had never seen the inside of her house. It was warm and inviting, filled with knickknacks and family portraits. At the sound of laughter, although not Heather’s, you turned and led the girls down the hall. You shielded them as best you could when met with her parents and Billy eating in the dining room.

“Max,” Billy greeted with a smile as he watched you round the corner.

“We didn’t mean to… barge in,” she said, coming to stand at your side. “We tried to knock, but… maybe you didn’t hear us over the storm.” She lies so effortlessly you’re almost stunned.

“I’m sorry, who is this dripping all over my living room right now?” Tom Holloway asked nobody in particular. Billy laughed like it wasn’t an appropriate question.

“I’m sorry. Janet, Tom, this is my sister Maxine.” Ignoring you and El completely, Billy stood and made his way over to Max.

“Oh!” Janet cheered. “Don’t be silly, Tom. You know this is Heather’s friend from work.”

“What on earth are you doing here?” Billy asked when in front of his sister. “Is something wrong?”

“We just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” Max answered.

“Okay? Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Something in his tone made you cringe. You knew it was for show. Pretending to be a boy perfect enough for Heather to bring home to meet her parents. It made you sick.

“Where is she?” El demanded, fully earning his attention.

“I’m sorry, where is who?”

“Well they’re a little burnt, I’m sorry–” Heather’s voice rang out, coming into view with a sheet of cookies. At the sound, all your fear dissipated. You relaxed under the stare of her family and overly enthusiastic guest.

“Heather! This is my sister Maxine. And, I’m sorry, I did not quite catch your name.” He said looking at El.

“El.”

“El,” he repeated. “Now what is it you were saying, El. You were looking for somebody?”

“Sorry!” You cut in. Billy looked at you as if just realizing you were there. “You didn’t pick me up today like we talked about. I got worried and wanted to swing by and make sure you were okay before I took them home.

“Right, I totally meant to call–” Heather began but Billy was quick to interrupt.

“Heather wasn’t feeling so hot today. So we thought we’d take the day off to nurse her back to health.” His eyes were unwavering from yours as he spoke. “But you’re feeling just fine right now, aren’t you, Heather?”

“I’m feeling so much better,” she agreed from across the room.

“I know you’ll get her home safe for me.” Billy gave a curt nod, gestured toward the living room, and led you back to the door.

Tearing your eyes away from the watch, you shove your hands into your pockets. You think about that night often, reanalyzing those last moments until your mind spins. You should’ve trusted El more, noticed Heather’s pitchy voice, and saw through Billy’s actions. No matter how big of a crush, Heather would’ve never set a place for him at the table, let alone bring him into her home, on the first day of truly talking.

You hate yourself for not pulling her into the kitchen to talk in private, to ask if she was okay. You knew better, and yet, you were too relieved she seemed alive and well to question any further. Only, she wasn’t, she might as well have been dead in the dining room.

You walk faster, catching up with Dustin and Steve. Dustin murmurs to himself and looks between his compass and map. Steve rubs his palms across his face in agitation, glaring at him from across the path. “Dude, I’m telling you, you’re taking us the wrong way,” Steve says, dropping his hands back to his sides.

“It’s north. I’m positive. I checked the map.” He responds, quickly flashing the guide.

“You do realize Skull Rock, it’s like a super popular make-out spot?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t popular until I made it popular. All right? I practically invented it. We’re heading in the wrong direction.” Steve takes a sharp left venturing off the path.

“Steve,” Dustin calls after him. “Where are you going? Steve!” He groans.

“Stop whining. Let’s go. Come on, trust me,” Steve turns slightly, beckoning you both to follow. You do, stepping over twigs and fallen leaves to keep up.

“Practically invented it,” you repeat, earning both their attention. “You’re so full of shit,” you giggle, shaking your head.

“Are you joking? I absolutely did.”

“Because everyone wanted a piece of King Steve, right?” You tease. Steve rolls his eyes and wiggles a finger in your direction.

“If I remember correctly, you spent a lot of time with Phillip Hanning there.”

“That was one time,” you say defensively.

“More like ten,” he smirks knowing it’s a lie.

“Gross,” Dustin gags.

“Oh, just you wait, Dusty Bun,” you throw an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. “That’ll be you in a few years.” Steve smacks his lips, exaggerating kissing noises. “Dustin and Suzie, sitting in a tree,” you chant as he pushes you off, poorly hiding his smile.

“You both are toddlers, you know that?” He laughs. Steve slows, matching pace with the two of you.

“This is nice,” Steve sighs with a shrug, knocking his elbow into yours. “I miss life when you weren’t mad at me.”

“Me too,” you smile.

“Does this mean you guys are officially friends again?” Dustin asks. His eagerness at the prospect is evident in his voice. Dramatically, you look side to side between the young boy and your long lost friend.

“Oh, I guess,” you laugh.

“That’s what I call a win!” Steve cheers, fist shooting into the sky.

“All right, all right. Don’t be a nerd about it. Be cool.” But even you’re giddy at the idea. As you head deeper into the woods, you decide that having Steve in your life as a friend is better than not having him there at all. His actions at the end of summer still hurt, but not nearly as much as his absence.

“Oh, boom!” Steve crouches working his way through the shrubbery. “Bada bing, bada boom. There she is, Henderson. Skull Rock. In your face, man. In your stupid, cocky little face.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Dustin says beside you, staring ahead at the infamous site.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve talks with his hand, silencing the teen. “Even with it staring you right in the face, you can’t admit it. You just can’t admit you’re wrong, you butthead.”

A thud hits the earth behind you. “I concur,” Eddie’s voice rings out. You whip around at the sound, grinning at the leather clad boy and his mop of curls. “You, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

“Jesus, we thought you were a goner.” Dustin wraps his arms around Eddie, squeezing him tight. Eddie hesitates a beat before patting his back, rings glistening in the setting sun.

“Yeah, me too, man.” His eyes lock with yours, soft and kind as you remember. “Me too.”

“Eddie,” you breathe. You aren’t sure what comes over you. Before you can stop, you’re stepping closer and throwing your arms around his neck. It startles him, and honestly, it startles you too. You back away quickly, clearing your throat as the other’s footsteps grow closer.

“Here,” Dustin says, shrugging off his backpack. “We brought you some food.” He pulls out two bags of chips and a canteen, handing the pile to Eddie. Eddie rips open the plastic and chews handfuls at a time.

“Guess we should get you up to speed,” Nancy begins. Everyone takes turns recounting yesterday’s events while he eats. He listens intently, asking a few clarifying questions, eyes full of horror as you tell him what you know.

“We were on our way to come find you but couldn’t get through a mob of people by Lovers Lake.” You take over, filling him in on what you saw that morning. “It’s bad. Powell says that Patrick was murdered last night and,” your breath catches, unsure how to continue. “Well, you’re the prime suspect. I can’t imagine you’re the eyewitness he claims to have?” He pretends to ponder your question for a moment.

“I’d say unlikely. Jason and his goons paid me a nice little visit last night.” Eddie sighs. “I guess they found out I was staying at Rick’s somehow. I used the boat to try and get away but Jason and Patrick swam after me.” He shudders at his recollection. “It was like he was, uh, pulled under the water or by something at first.” You gulp, you can’t help but think of Heather. “Then he just shot out of the air. I don’t know if I was shocked or if the wave toppled the boat or what, but I fell in. And when I came up, uh, it was the same after that. Just like Chrissy.”

“Jesus,” Lucas mumbles. He eyes Dustin as he paces around in the dirt.

“When I got to shore, I tried calling you guys, but uh,” he says, yanking the cap off the water and taking a drink. “My walkie was busted, man. Drenched. So, uh, I did the thing that I do now, apparently.” He flashes a joyless grin, wiping his chin with his jacket sleeve. “I ran,” he chuckles.

“Do you know what time this was? The attack?” Nancy asks.

“Yeah, no, I, uh, I know exactly what time it was.” He fiddles with a clasp on his wrist. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.” He flashes his watch before chucking it into the air toward Nancy. She grabs it, checks the time, and nods.

“9:27.”

“Same time our flashlights went kablooey,” Robin states.

“Which means what, exactly?” Steve asks.

“That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick,” Nancy concludes, tossing the watch back to Eddie.

“Well, we’re one step closer. We know how Vecna attacks,” Robin nods to the semi-circle that has formed around the new member.

“And where he attacks from,” Lucas says.

“So now we just need to sneak into his lair in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart,” Max’s eyes are full of determination.

“If he even has a heart,” Robin chuckles.

“A stake? Is he like a vamp? Is he a vampire?” Steve looks at you while he speaks.

“Doubt it, genius,” you mumble, earning an eye roll.

“It was a metaphor,” Max says with annoyance.

“A bullet should work on him, right?” Eddie asks from the ground.

“I say we chop his head off.” You give an approving nod to Lucas’s idea.

“Yeah, I’d say all the above but we can’t do any of that until we find a way into the Upside Down.” Nancy reminds the group.

“We need El to get her powers back,” Max sighs.

“Yeah, everything was like way easier. We had this girl. She had superpowers,” Steve tries to give a grossly simplified explanation to Eddie before he cuts in.

“Superpowers. Yeah, you mentioned her.” Eddie’s eyes find Dustin who still paces a few feet away from everyone. “Hey, uh, Henderson’s not, uh, cursed, is he?”

“Cursed? No, no. He’s fine. Mental? Absolutely,” Steve nods.

“Boom!” Dustin screams, effectively making everyone jump. He shoots a finger at Steve, eyes set. “Bada, bada, boom.” Steve’s entire face scrunches in confusion. “I was right.”

“Oh Jesus, not this again.” You groan.

“Skull Rock was north.”

“Seriously. You’re serious?” Steve gapes in awe.

“Mhm.”

“This is Skull Rock, okay?” Steve gestures wildly.

“Mhm.”

“You are totally, absolutely, one hundred percent wrong. Right now.” Steve aggressively points to the ground for emphasis.

“Yes,” Dustin agrees. “And no.”

“Oh my god,” Steve rubs his hands across his face in frustration.

“This compass worked correctly when we left the Wheeler’s. It was correct when we got in the car on Kerley, but it started to slip the further east we went. Now, it’s way off. When I was leading us here, I wasn’t wrong. The compass was.” He holds it up, showing it off to the group.

“So you’re using faulty equipment. Dude, you’re still wrong.”

“Except it isn’t faulty.” He holds up a finger. “Lucas, do you remember what can affect a compass?”

“An electromagnetic field.”

“Yep.” Dustin looks back, waiting for everyone to catch up.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve skipped that class?” Robin says sarcastically, urging him to continue.

“In the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, the needle will deflect towards that power. So either there’s some super big magnet around here, or,” he trails off.

“There’s a gate,” Lucas concludes.

“But we’re nowhere near the lab,” Nancy states.

“But what if, somehow, there’s another gate? A gate that we don’t know about. It’d have to be smaller. Way less powerful.”

“Snack-size gate,” Robin shrugs.

“How? Why?” Steve asks, trying to understand.

“No idea. All I know is that something is causing this disturbance, and the last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate. And I hope it is because then we’d have a way to Vecna. And a shot at freeing Max from this curse.” Dustin says, stepping away to begin the journey.

“Where are you going? Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.” Dustin ignores Steve. “Eddie’s still a wanted man. We can’t just go for a hike in the woods.”

“This little steel capsule might be the key to saving both Max and Eddie,” Dustin says with conviction. “What say you, Eddie the banished?” Everyone’s heads turn to Eddie awaiting his answer.

“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor, which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea. But, uh, the Shire,” he looks to the clouds. You follow his gaze, unable to locate what he sees. “The Shire is burning.” Dustin bounces at the foot of the hill, smiling wide as he stares back. “So Mordor it is.” Eddie jumps down, brushing through the group to meet Dustin.

“What is Mordor?” Steve mumbles to only you.

“Lord of the Rings,” you whisper. Eddie jogs back, grabbing his walkie and the canteen.

“Get your stuff, dude. Let’s go.” Steve urges him with wild arms to follow the others. You walk slower than the rest, watching the birds and bugs as you follow. Steve has left you to catch up and badger Dustin, still adamant that he won the argument earlier. Eddie pauses, sneakers staying planted in the leaves until you’re side by side.

“So this, uh, Upside Down place everyone keeps talking about,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “You’ve been there?” You shake your head and suck in a breath.

“Not really, no.” You wave to your friends. “Just tunnels, which was part our world too. It’s hard to explain.”

“How long have you guys been dealing with all this shit?”

“Since Will disappeared. That’s when it all started with the Demogorgon,” you explain.

“The Demogorgon?” His brows raise. “Are all of the monsters D&D characters?”

“That’s what the kids called it. Kinda looked like a really tall man without a face and razor-sharp claws. Then there were the Demodogs, which were like baby Demogorgons, not fully grown. And around the fall is when the Mind Flayer came in. It attached itself to Will somehow. Used him to spy here. His mom, Jonathan, and Nancy got it out, but it didn’t go back to the Upside Down. It just stayed in our world. Then, last summer, it used new hosts. Billy,” you start, but your breath hitches, still unable to say Heather’s name or her parents. “Anyway, it killed a bunch of people in town. It used them to become this huge spider-looking thing.”

“You said the mall the other day. That’s where it was?”

“That’s where Nancy and the others led it. Long story short, there was a Russian fortress underneath trying to open another gate. Robin cracked their secret code. Steve and I got kidnapped and tortured. Robin, Dustin, and Erica rescued us, and then we all threw fireworks at it while Hopper and Joyce turned off the machine that was opening the gate. Which killed the Mind Flayer.” Your explanation is longwinded and jumbled but you hope it’d suffice. You don’t want to talk about it more than you have to, but Eddie deserves to know the truth.

“Jesus,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. You hug your jacket tighter around yourself as the weather cools with the setting sun. “Are you not, like, scared at all?”

“Oh, I’m petrified.” You let out a chuckle but it’s humorless.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he smiles. “I mean, shit, you’ve seen me. I always thought that if it came down to it, I’d fight like hell. But fuck, dude,” he trails off, shaking his head. You know all too well what he means.

“If it makes you feel any better, I ran too.” Maybe, you didn’t flee in the moment, from the monsters, or alternate dimension. But you did run away from the aftermath, from Heather, heartbreak, and your friends. You left it all behind, unable to bear the weight of the trauma. Somehow, that’s worse. “You wanna know the one thing all of this has taught me?” He nods, practically begging you to continue. “Be afraid and do it anyway. Do it terrified. Don’t let it immobilize you.”

“Hey slowpokes,” Robin calls from up ahead before he can respond. She stands with her hands on her hips. The others are several yards from where you are. You hadn’t noticed how far the two of you had strayed. “We’re wasting daylight here.”

“Rodger that,” Eddie gives a small salute, nodding toward her as you pick up speed.

You’re starting to grow angry as the day slips away into the night. You’ve been walking for miles, your feet ache, and a thin layer of sweat coats your body despite the chill in the air. Dustin still leads the way into the unknown, reassuring the annoyed groans coming from Robin who’s just as agitated as you. Suddenly, he breaks into a sprint. He pushes through branches and out of your sight without another word. The rest of you jog after him, slowed by exhaustion.

“Dustin? Can you slow down?” Eddie asks in front of you, trudging through the trees. “Dustin?” He tries again when the boy doesn’t answer. You stumble into a clearing behind him, pushing away branches before they can hit your face.

“I think we’re getting close!” Dustin yells back for everyone to hear.

“Watch your step, big guy.” Eddie balls a handful of Dustin’s hoodie into his fist and yanks gently, saving him from toppling into the water.

“Oh, man,” Steve groans at the sight. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“Yeah, I thought these woods were familiar,” Eddie sighs.

“Lover’s Lake,” Robin names.

“This is confounding,” Dustin gapes in awe.

“There’s a gate in Lover’s Lake?” Max asks.

“Whenever the Demogorgon attacked, it always left an opening,” Nancy says. “Maybe Vecna’s the same way.” Everyone looks between each other and back to the sight before you.

“Yeah, only one way to find out,” Steve says, unable to look away from the lake.

“Over here,” Eddie jerks his head toward the shoreline. The group follows as Steve shines a flashlight to where Eddie instructs. He yanks away a tarp revealing a small boat, only big enough for maybe four people, and even that’s pushing it. You and Robin help them drag it back to the sand, stepping away when the bow touches the water.

“Easy,” Steve demands, attempting to coax it in. Eddie lets go, sending waves crashing back into the mud. “I-I said easy.” He rolls his eyes.

“Sorry, dude,” Eddie mumbles.

“Here you go,” Steve turns, offering a hand to Robin.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna do that.” Robin ignores it and places a palm on each of their heads as a guide instead.

“Yeah, that works too,” Steve grumbles. Eddie boards quickly, turning around and outstretching his palm which you gladly take. You ignore how warm it feels in your own, how part of you wants to hold on for longer.

“Got her?” Steve whispers, making sure you get in safely.

“Of course,” Eddie smiles.

“Thank you,” you whisper, pulling away.

“Hey, hey, hey, you trying to sink us?” You turn just in time to see Eddie pushing Dustin by his head back to land. “This thing holds three people tops, okay?” You move around Eddie, eye to eye with Dustin.

“You guys need to stay here with Max, okay? Keep an eye out for trouble.”

“You keep an eye out for trouble!” He raises his voice. “It’s my goddamn theory.”

“You heard her,” Robin defends. “Stay here and listen to Nance.”

“Who put her in charge?” Dustin asks, shooting a thumb over his shoulder in her general direction.

“I did,” Robin shrugs.

“You’ll get all the credit when the time comes,” you reassure, “But I’m not arguing with you right now.” Looking at him, all you can see is an eight-year-old boy refusing to listen.

“You’re not my mom.” He fires back.

“Well,” you wave your arms around the woods, annoyed. “I’ve been the next best thing for over ten years so what I say goes.” His eyes harden as he clenches down on his jaw. “I need you to stay here so you can be safe.”

“And what about you?” He yells, voice cracking. “I need you to be safe.” You soften, sucking in a breath. Even though it’s anger he hides behind, you can see his true fear.

“I’m going to be right back, I promise.” You nod with as much conviction as you can muster. “Compass, please?” You whisper, reaching out. Reluctantly, he digs into his pocket and passes it over.

“Hey, here you go,” Steve chucks a backpack into his arms. You turn and take a seat as Steve begins to push the boat forward. He hangs on to the boat as it lurches, stepping in at the last second.

“You said three!” Dustin calls.

“Sorry,” Steve whispers beside you, waving slightly as Robin and Eddie begin to row away.

“Bedtime at nine, kiddos!” Robin yells at them. You can’t help but laugh as Dustin flips her off. “Miss you already!” She stands, dramatically waving to add insult to injury. “Think Nance is mad she got stuck on babysitting duty?” She asks, sitting back down.

“Tough shit. It’s about time someone else does it.” Steve shrugs. You keep your eyes on the compass needle, watching closely for any sign of movement. Robin and Eddie continue rowing, occasionally groaning in the quiet of the night. After a few minutes, it happens.

“Oh shit,” you whisper at the compass spinning wildly in your grasp. “Okay, slow down, slow down!” Robin grunts, bringing the boat to a stop. Steve leans over, flashlight shining for everyone to see.

“Whoa,” he whispers, watching as it moves frantically.

“Guys, what’s going on?” The walkie squawks, Dustin’s voice piercing through the air. “Come on guys talk to me, what’s going on?” he asks again.

“Uh, Dustin, your–your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital, ahh.” Robin trails off. To your left, Steve kicks off his shoes and unrolls his socks.

“What the hell are you doing?” You whisper urgently.

“Somebody’s gotta go down there and check this thing out.”

“And it has to be you?” Panic rises in your chest. The thought of him hurdling into the unknown makes you sick.

“Unless one of you three can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years, then,” he trails off. “It’s gotta be me. No complaints, all right?”

“Um, yes, complaints. I was the best lifeguard every year.”

“Yeah, for only three summers. Give me a break.” He rolls his eyes. “Which, by the way, I’m the reason you got that job.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, Harrington.”

“Uh, guys?” Robin interjects. “Now’s not really the time for one of your little squabbles.”

“I’m going.” The determination in his voice takes your breath away. You finally nod, knowing there isn’t a world where you change his mind.

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I do not want to go down there.” Eddie mumbles, making you feel worse. You don’t want anyone to go. You’d do it just for the comfort of knowing none of your friends are beneath the surface. But there’s no way Steve would let that happen.

Eddie finds a discarded plastic bag and starts to wrap it around the flashlight. Steve stands from his seat, slipping out of his sweatshirt and tossing the fabric to the side. You can’t help but stare. His muscles are tense as he takes shallow breaths, looking into the murky water. He looks even more beautiful than you remember.

“Hey,” Eddie says. You look away quickly, hoping Steve didn’t notice. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Steve sighs, taking the flashlight out of Eddie’s grasp. Eddie removes a cigarette from his pocket, flicking his lighter and setting it ablaze.

“Gross.” Robin yanks the stick from his lips and sends it flying into the water.

“Hey,” you grab Steve’s hand gently. He looks back with soft eyes. “Please be careful.” He nods, squeezing your hand. When he breaks away, you can practically feel your heart in your throat. With a final breath, the boat teeters, and then he’s underwater.

The boat rocks, creaking in the silence. You stare at your watch, the seconds coming and going without any sign of Steve. Eddie bounces his leg nervously while Robin picks at her nail polish.

Come back to me. Those words hold more meaning now than they did this morning. You’ve wasted so much time these past few days being angry, instead of thankful that you had him back. You aren’t sure where the two of you lie, if the ghosts of your past are too great a divide to overcome. Staring at the clock that keeps ticking, you worry you’ll never know.

“Where are we at?” Robin asks nervously.

“Closing in on a minute.” You whisper.

“Okay,” she lets out a sigh full of anxiety.

“He’s going to be okay, Robin.” You try to force a smile but your lips can’t move. “He has to be.” You look back down as you reach the minute mark. You give up on staring, it only makes it harder. Instead, you lean your arms against the metal and let out a breath. Eddie clears his throat behind you, shifting in his seat.

Steve breaks through the surface, splashing you with water.

“Oh, Christ!” Eddie screams, throwing his body against the side of the boat at his abrupt arrival. You and Robin smile with relief the moment you see him.

“I found it,” he announces.

“You found it?” You ask in shock.

“I found it.” He gasps for air. “Yeah, found it.” Grabbing onto the rim, he rubs the water from his eyes.

“Dustin, you’re a goddamn Einstein. Steve found the gate.” Robin says into the walkie.

“It’s pretty wild. It’s more a snack-size gate than the mama gate, but still, it’s pretty damn big.” He says, pulling himself up slightly with his arms. Suddenly, he’s yanked down. The boat jostles slightly. The three of you grab onto the metal for balance, startled. Steve looks from the water and back up, confusion written across his features. Just when you’re about to reach for Steve, he screams. Instantly, he’s pulled back under and into the darkness.

“Steve!” You wail, reaching into the water in search of his hand. Waves slap the sides from the impact.

“No, no!” Eddie yells coming behind you and Robin.

“Steve!” Robin screams, submerging both arms in and stretching as far as she can without falling in herself. “Steve!”

“What the hell was that, man?” Eddie paces in small circles as you stand, careful not to tip over the side. Robin calls your name but you can’t focus on anything but the thought of him drowning.

“Really, what happened?” Robin shouts, voice pleading.

“Jesus!”

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself. A clarity washes over you as you stare at the bubbles he left in his wake.

You grab onto the boat, ready to throw yourself over just as Eddie yanks you back by your wrist. “Wait, wait, wait!”

“Let me go!” You beg, wrenching yourself free from his grasp.

“You’re not going in there are you?” His eyes are full of dread as he stares.

“Don’t come in after me.” You keep your tone steady. You look quickly over to Robin who looks so as though she could burst into tears at any moment. “I mean it.” They scream your name, voices hoarse but you pay them no attention. After a quick breath, you dive into the abyss.

The water is so cold it’s painful. It feels like your body is on fire as you kick further down, further away from safety. You can’t see much in the darkness, and you aren’t entirely sure what you’re looking for either. Frantically scouring the floor of the lake you see a faint glow. You swim faster towards it, limbs burning with each stroke.

Through blurry vision you see the crack in the earth, already closing itself back together. It’s slimy against your palms as you push against it, but it refuses to break. Desperately, you dig, ignoring the gunk that gets trapped under your nails. You think about the monsters that inevitably lurk on the other side, waiting for your arrival. How you’ll be trapped, weaponless at that, without a clue on how to return.

Don’t let me drown. My life is in your hands.

You couldn’t save Heather, but you have to save Steve. Without a second thought, you tear through the gate and into the Upside Down.

Forever tags: @superfrankie111 // @lemonadeorange73 // @youshutthefuckupville // @quaksonhehe

Steve Tags: @louloueh // @soulmatekeery // @slytherinambitious

Back to You Tags: @p-rspective // @gloryekaterina // @boomitsallie1 // @sundarksposts // @themyththelegendthenerd // @gengen64 // @frostandflamesfanfic // @m-rae23

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #joe keery #joe keery x reader #stranger things x you #steve harrington x fem

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allfandomxreader · 22 days ago

Text

Oh, I ate this up. Absolutely brilliant 🙂‍↕️

right where you left me. (the masterlist)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) total word count: 39,640

summary: a weekend gateway to with your old high school friends? sounds like a dream! only it’s not really as it’s been three years since you last saw them. three years since you left hawkins without so much as a goodbye, and certain people tend to hold grudges.

content warnings: friends-to-enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, forced proximity, angsty, mutual pining, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, emotional hurt / comfort, use of pet names, eddie is a bit of an asshole, mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, discusses sobriety, and also touches on topics of: unrequited love, divorce, death, grief, toxic relationships, mental health, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle? — pls read the cw's for each chapter and let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

a/n: the following are some songs i think they fit perfectly with their story, so i wanted to share them with you.

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

main masterlist

#fic recs #fic rec #em fic

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allfandomxreader · 27 days ago

Text

Back to You | 5

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Words: 7.3k

Part: 5/9

Warnings: Language and I think that's all

A/N: Only took 2 years and a teaser to get me writing again. Enjoy :)

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

You can’t remember the last time you were at the quarry. You stand still, under leaves that kiss the stars and with the toes of your sneakers too close to the cliff’s edge. The night is quiet and the wind is warm as it blows against your arms. You suppose the silence is why you’re here, to get away from the noise in Nancy Wheeler’s basement or to avoid Steve’s wandering eye when he thinks you won’t notice. Out here, you can breathe in a moment of solitude.

Even after the news broke that the body pulled from the water was a fake, most of Hawkin’s population refused to get too close. You never would’ve guessed that your neighbors were superstitious, but everyone seemed to believe the spot had some sort of bad juju. This left the area deserted and overgrown, making it a great hideaway for times like these.

You take a seat on the ledge, gathering gravel into your palms and watching it flutter to the calm water below. Your limbs begin to relax despite jagged rocks poking into your calves. After the stress of your homecoming and the threat of a new monster, it feels nice to let the weight of it all go, even if it’s just for a little while. Alone and with nobody watching, you can pretend none of it is real. You can believe that it’s only you, the breeze, and the weeds.

Behind you, a distant voice calls your name. You jump at the sudden sound, although familiar. Reluctantly, you sigh and turn toward the visitor, knowing your cover has been blown. Steve stands motionless, hands tucked in pockets. He has an expression you can’t quite read as his eyes lock with yours.

“Steve?” You call, but he doesn’t respond. “Did you follow me out here?” Your movements are quiet as you find your footing, wiping the dust off your jeans. With no response, your gaze meets the ground as you begin to walk toward him. You’re unsure how he knew where to find you, you don’t remember telling anyone you left. “Sorry, I just needed a break,” you explain, unable to look at him. Even after everything, you know he’s full of concern, and you feel almost guilty for causing him to worry. “I’m ready. We can go back now.”

When you look up, only the whites of his eyes stare back at you.

“No!” You gasp, knees bucking at the sight. It takes all your strength to keep you from tumbling to the earth. You dash forward, taking his chin in your trembling fingers, tugging at him desperately to wake him from his trance. “Listen to me, you have to wake up,” you choke, your voice barely above a whisper. It feels like all the air has been sucked from your body. “Please, Steve, wake up!”

The world has suddenly gone silent. You look around for anything that could croak out a song. Your Walkman is most certainly buried at the bottom of your duffel, still resting on the corner of your bed where you left it two days ago. You decide the only option is to drag him to his car and blare the radio. Hopefully, the worn and loved cassette is already lodged in the player. You crane your neck to peer behind him, expecting to see it parked haphazardly on the road, but you’re met with emptiness.

Without warning, you feel him lift from the ground. “Steve!” You wail, balling his grey jacket into your fist as he begins to float into the air. You try to grab hold of anything you can grasp, yanking at the hem of his shirt, a belt loop, even his shoelaces as he passes you by. You sob as the soles of his shoes dangle right above you.

“Steve!”

You lurch upright with a loud gasp for air. You kick backward across the carpet causing the knitted blanket to slip down your legs and pool around your ankles. The familiarity of the Wheeler’s basement hits you all at once as you take in your surroundings.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, you’re safe.” Your head snaps toward the voice you never thought you’d be relieved to hear again. Steve crouches beside you with panicked eyes and a frantic hand hovering around your shoulder as if debating on offering his touch. You pull your knees to your chest, bowing your head with your eyes screwed shut trying to calm your racing heart. “Here,” he whispers, swiping Lucas’s discarded water bottle from beneath the couch and gently placing it into your hands.

After a few warm sips, your eyelids flutter open. Steve stares at you expectantly, lowering himself to sit across from you. “Sorry,” you croak, voice raspy with sleep.

“No need,” he shakes his head, eyes searching yours. “I thought you said you weren’t having nightmares.” He frowns, unable to hide the sadness in his tone.

“I said they come and go,” you correct, stretching out your legs with a sigh.

“Do you,” his voice trails off like the words are stuck on his tongue. “Do you want to talk about it?” He sounds almost pleading. When you look at him, you can only see him hanging in the air, eyes rolled back, the scuffs on his shoes just barely out of reach. Your blood runs cold.

“No, not really.” You say softly, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing I can’t handle.” You force a laugh, but he seems unconvinced. You blink away the image and instead focus on your socked feet. Across from you, he shifts uncomfortably, looking you over and trying to take you in. You hope that enough time has passed that he can no longer read you.

“Is there anything I should know?” He’s cautious like he doesn’t want to know the answer himself.

“I didn’t see a clock if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ll let you know if that changes.” You stretch your arms above your head, peace lulling you back to reality as you find your friends. Lucas stirs across the room, murmuring, still deep in sleep. Robin is sprawled across the coffee table, drooling into her elbow. You smile, happy only Steve bears witness to your nightmare. The calm moment passes as soon as it came when you scan the four corners of the room, all of which are absent of Max’s presence. “Where’s Max?” You ask, scrambling to your feet.

As if on cue, Nancy, Dustin, and Max clobber down the stairs. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, relief flooding your veins at the sight of the ginger.

“You guys need to see this,” Nancy breathes, striding toward the center of the room with papers rolled loosely in her grasp. The commotion awakes Robin, who groans slightly at the sudden noise. Lucas is already making his way over to where the group stands, his knuckles rubbing at his eyes.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” you smile down at Robin, offering her a hand.

“I ache,” she whines, wincing as her bones crack once she’s upright.

All attention lands on Nancy, stepping over pillows and blankets to lay down a drawing for everyone to see. You take in the pages that are pieced together like a puzzle. A house, more like what’s left of one, stares back. Debris floats around the collapsing structure, suspended in a red haze.

“And this is?” You question, leaning over to get a closer look.

“Victor Creel’s house,” Nancy answers.

“It’s what I saw when,” Max waves her hand in the air, unable to finish her sentence.

“We think she infiltrated his mind,” Dustin adds. “She said that he seemed surprised she was there. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

“Surprised?” Robin asks, urging Max to explain. “What’s all the red stuff?”

“It looked almost like a fog,” Max says. “Everything was different when I made it here, like I was seeing something he didn’t want me to. And there were these bodies, strung up on huge spikes. And then, pieces of a house were just floating around. Anyway, I thought it’d be easier to draw than explain, that’s when Nancy put the pieces together. Literally.” She says, gesturing toward the paper.

“And they made Victor Creel’s house?” You ask, trying to understand. Max and Nancy nod.

“Sounds like a solid lead to me,” Robin says with a nod. “So what’s the plan? Breaking and entering?” A smirk ghosts across her features at the suggestion.

“Pretty much.” Nancy shrugs. “I say we take a look around.” She waits for any sign of objection, satisfied when nobody disagrees. “Great, we’ll leave in 5.”

The seven of you file out the door and to Nancy and Steve’s awaiting cars. You yearn to be in the backseat of Wheeler’s Lincoln, watching pathetically as Robin throws herself into the passenger seat. It’s not like the ride will be filled with hushed gossip or inside jokes, but still, you wish to be part of it. You glance at Max, guilt burying deep in your stomach at the mere thought of leaving her behind. With a sigh, you tug on the door handle and get in.

Steve pulls out slowly behind Nancy, letting her lead the way. Nobody talks, unsure of what the day will hold, of what awaits behind Victor’s abandoned front door. The only sound is the muffled song leaking from Nancy’s old headphones, now being worn by Max. Lucas had the idea late last night, a way to ensure a lifeline back to reality, back to home, if she were to get caught in the spell again.

Tired of the silence, you turn to Dustin. “Have you heard anything from Eddie yet? He’s probably starving by now.”

“Not personally. Nancy said she talked to him on the walkie this morning,” he says. “He asked for a food delivery and a six-pack.” Dustin finishes with a scoff. You roll your eyes at the detail, although part of you can’t blame him.

“Course he did.” You mumble, but content with an answer.

“What’s with you guys anyway?” Dustin asks, fully earning your attention.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow, thrown off by the question. Max removes a headphone from her ear, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“You said you were never friends but it took no convincing that he wasn’t guilty.” He shrugs.

“Just because I wasn’t friends with the guy–” you begin but Dustin continues to ramble.

“You jump to defend him, which –hey, I appreciate because I know him and all, but the point is, you supposedly don’t.”

“Oh, so, because we weren’t friends and I don’t think Eddie Munson is a murderer there’s something up?” You laugh in disbelief.

“He clearly trusts you, like, a lot.” The way he says it makes it sound like it’s a fact.

“He does not,” you argue, cringing when the words come out an octave higher. “No more than you.”

“Maybe, but you guys talk like you know something nobody else does,” Dustin states simply. “I’m just saying, when your friend says your babysitter was the hottest girl in school, you start to pick up on some things.” Your jaw goes slack at his confession. Heat creeps up your neck as you stare at him bewildered. Max and Lucas share uncertain glances from either end of the backseat.

“He said that?” You ask, earning a hum from the young boy as a response. “I didn’t know he felt that way.” You turn back in your seat, taking in the new information. You notice Steve’s grip on the wheel has tightened from the corner of your eye. “Nothing is going on,” you answer finally. “Maybe it’s because we had a few classes together or I never called him a freak.”

“But–”

“Drop it, Henderson.”

“You brought him up,” he giggles.

“Forget I asked then,” you huff, effectively silencing him. Staring out the window and watching the trees roll by, Dustin’s words bombard your thoughts despite your attempts to forget about them entirely.

Truthfully, you’ve never let yourself think too much about Eddie, the town’s oddball who most seemed to avoid unless they wanted some of his stash. You can’t deny that he’s incredibly charming and, of course, handsome. Your mind wanders back to that Halloween night, which by now feels like a lifetime ago.

If the situation wasn’t so humiliating, you might’ve taken the time to savor your moment together. Maybe, if you weren’t so embarrassed by your drunken actions and pitiful confession, you would’ve approached him a few days later to thank him. He would’ve laughed and said, "Don’t mention it,” with kind eyes, a friendly smile, and flushed cheeks. Thinking of him now, your heart skips a beat, and you curse yourself for it.

Steve’s tires screech to a halt as he shifts the gear to park. You take a second to clear your head, tucking away the memory. You lock eyes briefly with Max in the rearview and turn to her before she can escape.

“I want someone to have eyes on you at all times, understand?” You say, cocking a brow as if to challenge her.

“Yeah, okay, mom.” She rolls her eyes but you know it’s a front. She’s just as scared of being alone as you are.

“I’m serious, Max. No wandering and exploring without someone with you. And make sure that tape is always playing.”

“I’m going to be fine.” She reassures you.

“I know that,” you shake your head dismissing her words, unable to think of any other outcome. “We just need to take precautions, that’s all.” She nods, but can’t hide the flash of fear in her eyes.

The decrepit house sits nestled in trees, boarded up to ward off visitors. It’s in desperate need of a paint job, the plants grow rampant and cling to the porch columns, and there’s no doubt a layer of grime covering every inch of the building. A pit settles in your stomach as you take it all in.

“Yeah, that’s not creepy,” Steve says, staring ahead.

At the edge of Hawkins, the area is eerily quiet. There isn’t another home for miles, which shouldn’t surprise you, a string of murders doesn’t make the most welcoming neighborhood after all. The playground across the street looks just as bad, if not worse. A swing dangles from its chain, a merry-go-round lays crooked and broken on the grass, and what’s left of a spaceship is stripped down to the poles. Everything has been left to rot in the elements.

Silently, the seven of you trek forward undeterred. Steve stands behind Dustin, unzipping his backpack to remove the only two hammers Nancy could find twenty minutes ago. He passes one to Nancy and twirls the tool in his fingers as they ascend the porch. Robin stands beside you, looping her arm through yours, resting her head on your shoulder while you wait.

“I mean, what exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?” Steve asks, tugging the first nail from the aged wooden board that blocks the entrance. It jingles once it lands on the concrete.

“We’re not sure. We just know this house is important to Vecna.” Nancy says, positioning her hammer to assist.

“Because Max saw it in Vecna’s red soup mind world?” Steve asks, yanking again.

“Basically,” Nancy shrugs.

“Great.”

“Maybe it holds a clue to where Vecna is. Why he’s back. Why he killed the Creels. And how to stop him before he comes back for Max,” Dustin adds. Everyone nods, letting it sink in.

“We don’t think he’s in here,” Lucas begins, “Do we?” You swallow, glancing at Robin who looks just as uncertain as you.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Max answers with a shrug.

“Ready?” Steve asks Nancy who hums in response. They both step to the side and let the board come crashing down, sending a puff of dust and leaves into the air. “It’s locked,” Steve says jiggling the knob while Dustin sighs. Robin untangles your limbs and takes a few steps off the sidewalk. She raises a brick into the air to gain your attention, jerking her head towards the door. You nod, doubting anyone in town would care about the vandalism, they’d probably thank her for it. “Should I knock and see if anybody’s home?”

“No need,” Robin says, holding it for everyone to see. “I found a key.”

“Stand back.” You order the three young teens and they shuffle out of her way. Robin chucks the brick toward the stained glass, creating a hole big enough for Steve to reach through and unlock from the inside.

The door screeches open, hinges unused in what you assume has been decades. Steve lets out a low whistle as he steps through the threshold, waiting for everyone to follow. You’re last to enter, ushering the kids in.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, the only light that seeps through is from the window Robin just broke. You fight the urge to cough, dust already invading your senses as you walk around the foyer. To your right, Lucas yanks on a lamp string, as if expecting something to happen.

“Looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill,” He states. Dustin turns on his flashlight with a smile. Robin holds her bag out to you after she grabs her own.

“Thanks,” you say, reaching in and taking yours. Steadily, the room grows brighter as the lights flicker on.

“Where’d everyone get those?” Steve asks, looking around.

“Do you need to be told everything?” Dustin quips. “You’re not a child.” There’s a beat of tense silence as the two stare each other down.

“Thank you,” Steve says, voice strained with agitation.

“Huh,” Dustin shrugs off his backpack and hands it to Steve. “Back pocket.” You step past them, venturing further into the home as Steve pokes around the bag before letting it fall to the ground with a thud.

Sweeping the area with light, you run your hand along the banister. You think of the lives that were taken here all those years ago. Sadness hangs like a cloud above you while you look at their belongings, their photos, their life. Nothing has been removed since they lived here. You have the overwhelming feeling that you’re intruding, like you’re invading someone’s most intimate space. Suddenly, you realize you are, you all are. You rub the dust away from your fingers as you try and swallow it down.

“They just left everything,” Nancy says somewhere behind you.

“I guess a triple homicide isn’t good for resale value,” Robin responds.

“Hey, guys?” Max calls from across the room, gaining your attention. “You all see that, right?” Max shines her flashlight towards the grandfather clock that stands at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah,” Dustin and Steve confirm as everyone files over.

“Is this what you saw?” Nancy asks, gesturing towards it with her light. “In your visions?” She's looking at Max for the answer everyone already knows. Max takes in a shaky breath, nodding.

“I mean, it’s… Just a clock,” Robin notes, “Right?” She steps forward, hand outstretched, and wipes away muck from the glass. “Like a normal old clock.” She looks back at everyone.

“Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?” Steve questions from beside you. “Maybe he’s like, a clockmaker or something?” You look at him, dumbfounded, and can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to make sense of it.

“I think you cracked the case, Steve,” Dustin says with a shake of his head.

“All I know is the answers are here. Somewhere.” Nancy looks around the room for a moment. “Okay, everyone split up. Robin, upstairs.” She backs away, already taking the steps two at a time.

“Go. Find clues. Make up.” Robin hisses to you and Steve, squeezing your shoulder as she passes.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Max says, tugging on Lucas’s sleeve and pulling him further into the belly of the house. Dustin quickly takes off after them, throwing you a sympathetic smile over his shoulder before he disappears.

You can’t bring yourself to move, held captive by the guilt of being somewhere you don’t belong. Everything seems so special now, offering clues to who these people were, how they lived. Every item under this roof was meticulously bought and styled by Virginia Creel, does that mean nothing? The beds where they slept, the china they ate from, the curtains they closed, all have fragments of them still lingering. You want to protect it, not rummage through it all like it’s garbage.

“You alright?” Steve asks coming closer.

“Yeah, I just,” but you can’t find the words, you aren’t even sure he’ll understand. So, you change the subject to stall. “When Dustin was eight, he went through this major Scooby Doo phase. I had made him a little mystery kit. Flashlight, magnifying glass, even homemade Scooby Snacks, the whole nine yards. He refused to leave his house without it.” You smile at the memory. Steve’s brows twitch with confusion but indulges in the story. “Once, we were halfway to school and he had this huge meltdown because he had left it. He was crying, stomping his feet, I mean, the kid was inconsolable.”

“What’d you do?”

“Went back, of course.” You chuckle. “The way he looked at me, like the world was ending, I couldn’t send him to school like that. So we were both late.” You shrug. Thinking about how little he was makes your heart hurt. You wish that was the only issue he ever had to face, that you could’ve somehow protected him from everything that came after. “It’s just cute that he still carries all his stuff around. Like all this shit hasn’t changed him completely, he’s still that little boy.”

“I’m lucky he carries extras these days.” He laughs, waving the flashlight in the air. Your smile falters when you look around the room, reminded of the stakes at large.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” you sigh. “Upstairs? The numbers even out better that way.”

“Works for me,” he agrees, taking the lead. Each stair creaks underneath your weight as you climb. You watch Steve from behind, following him into a bedroom. You notice his tense shoulders and the way he has his lip sucked between his teeth. “Hey, uh,” he begins, “Could you maybe, uh, clarify what sort of clues we’re supposed to be looking for here?”

“Honestly?” You come to a stop, flipping through old magazines that are scattered across a vanity. “No idea. I’m hoping for a diary, maybe a scrapbook? Something of that sort,” you answer, yet find no luck.

You pull an old chair away from the wall and take a seat, trying not to think about the ring of dust it’ll leave on the back of your pants. You tug open a drawer, combing through old compacts and dried lipsticks. Behind you, Steve lifts the mattress, fanning the air with a quiet cough. Finding nothing, he lowers it and takes a seat, the old springs groaning beneath him.

“You can trust me with your secrets,” he whispers. Your head snaps toward him, unsure if you heard his words correctly. He glances your way, holding your gaze.

“What did you say?” You demand with squinted eyes.

“That’s what you said to Eddie the other night. I’m just trying to figure out what it means.” He lifts his feet to rest against the bottom of the old bedframe, tucking his hands between his knees. His demeanor is calm, expression blank as he moves.

“Why would you think it means anything?” You ask, unsure what he’s trying to get at.

“Dustin’s right about the way you guys talk, like knowing something nobody else does, or whatever,” he shrugs. “I don’t know, you said me, not us and that’s what got him to talk. That’s what I’m stuck on.” You look away, fingers tapping against the chair cushion. “Did you guys sleep together, or something?” He sounds desperate to know the answer.

“What?” You let out a loud laugh. “No, nothing like that.” Steve raises an eyebrow, signaling for you to continue. You click your tongue, absentmindedly tracing the woodgrain of the tabletop, no longer able to look at him. “He took me home the night of the Halloween party. I had a really terrible night, was shit-faced drunk, and he took care of me. Okay? That’s it.” Steve’s brows furrow together as he thinks back to that night. “I just, I don’t know. I feel like I owe him one, I guess.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, leaning forward.

“You didn’t ask?” You shrug simply. “Any time we talked about that night it was always about you and Nancy.” He looks away then, suddenly more interested in his shoes.

“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly.

“Hey,” you say, maneuvering so you’re in his line of sight. “You didn’t know. It’s okay, really. You were going through a lot of shit, I mean, we all were.” You wave your hand vaguely around the room. “I just didn’t want to add to that.” His eyes soften as you nod. “It’s all good, cross my heart.” The two of you share a fond smile at your words, the meaning worth so much more than just a promise. You don’t remember when you started saying the phrase, probably between the ages of six or seven, whispered like something sacred. You turn back around, opening another drawer to dig through. He stands, finding his way over to a bookshelf and plucking out a novel and random.

“What was it?” He asks, fanning through the pages.

“Hm?”

“What was your secret?” You freeze for a moment, clearing your throat as you pretend to be occupied.

“That I was in love with you,” your voice is barely above a whisper. You stand, placing the chair back where you found it. “He was the first person I told,” you say, turning on your heel and to the room across the hall.

Even though the windows are boarded, you can tell the sun has started to dip below the horizon. You make your way towards the closet, throwing open the door. You rake through jackets and folded slacks, shoving your hand into each of the pockets. Steve enters a few moments later, opening the dresser, and sifting through its contents.

“For the record,” he calls, “I also thought you were the hottest girl in school.” You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that stretches across your lips.

“Gee, thanks,” you laugh. “So, you and Dustin. Trouble in paradise?” You ask, crouching to reach for a discarded hatbox hidden in the corner.

“God,” he groans. “He just knows exactly what to say to push every last one of my buttons.” He crosses the room and leans against the doorway.

“He has a way with words, that’s for sure.” You giggle, popping open the lid only to see a handful of ties. You sigh, pushing it away and off to the side. “I’d happily take him off your hands if Robin wasn’t forcing us together every second she got.” You say, voice lowered to be sure she couldn’t hear you from the other room.

“Yeah, dude, what is with her?” He asks, folding his arms in front of him. “Before you got here, she was telling me not to talk to you and that I should keep my distance to not make things weird.” His confession makes your chest ache.

“To be fair, nobody expected any of this to happen,” you say in her defense. “I think part of her misses how things were.”

“Well, she’s not the only one.” He glances to the side, eyes squinting slightly as he walks away. You turn back to the mess you made, reaching for clothes strewn on the floor. You catch yourself smiling as you fold fleece and put garments back on their rightful hangers. It feels nice talking to him again, swapping secrets and sharing stories the way you used to.

When you come out of the closet you find him reaching into the floorboards, flashlight shining on something you can’t make out. “Find something?” You ask, standing on your tiptoes but fail to get a glimpse over his shoulder. When he doesn’t respond, you make your way into the hall, straining to hear where Nancy and Robin have gone.

You jump at the sound of shattering glass. Whipping around, you see Steve frantically scurrying backward, batting wildly at his arms and head. He plummets into you, nearly knocking you both to the ground.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” You ask, heart racing. You place a hand on his back to steady him.

“There was a spider,” he pants, still swatting. “It’s a black widow.” He turns suddenly, grabbing the doorknob and yanking it shut. “Don’t go back in there.”

“Got it,” you say, suppressing a giggle. Only then do you notice the whips of a spiderweb tangled in his hair. “Hang on,” you say bringing your fingertips to the strands. His body bristles at your touch that’s now unfamiliar to his skin. You swallow, ignoring the sting that comes with such simple actions. Last summer, this would’ve been nothing, this would’ve been second nature. Now, the two of you are lightyears away while standing only a foot apart. Your body wilts, feeling the ghosts of you, of Steve, of everything you shared, settle around you.

“Something? Shit, okay.” He stares at his reflection in the hallway mirror, eyes crazed at his disheveled state.

“Shh, stop moving for a second, I almost have it.” You let out a soft giggle, trying to hide your unease.

“If there’s a spider nesting in there, you’re never gonna find it till it lays eggs and all the babies spill out.” Robin chirps, coming around the corner.

“Not helping, Robin,” you sigh.

“What’s wrong with you?” Steve snaps, only earning a vicious laugh from the girl. “Robin, seriously.” You don’t have to be looking at him to know he’s rolling his eyes. “She’s got problems.”

“Don’t we all?” You ask, still untangling knots from web. He breathes out a humorless laugh as you run your fingers through his hair, shaking away the debris.

“Do you,” he begins softly, twisting his sneaker in the hardwood, debating his words. “Is there a world where we could ever be friends again? Start over?” The question is so quiet you almost miss it.

His absence left a gaping hole in your chest, one you are certain no one else can fill. Steve Harrington has a home in your soul, he’s part of you, down to your very core. He’s engrained in your movements, the lilt in your voice, the way your heart beats. Being around him is agonizing. You remember the pain, the memories, and the promises he didn’t keep. Every time he’s near, you’re reminded that you loved him so much and he couldn’t love you enough.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, blinking away thought.

“Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something. You know, me, you, Robin. Eddie, when we clear his name?” His body goes rigid as he offers the idea, his nerves practically radiating off his skin. You glance down the hall at Robin, who tries to hide her smile as she pretends not to listen. “Could we start there?”

“Yeah,” you smile, plucking out the last bit of cobweb. “We can start there.” You pat his shoulder, a signal that you’re finished. “All gone.” You whisper as he turns to face you fully.

“Great, thanks.” He looks away, suddenly aware of how close you two stand, and lets out an awkward chuckle. “Well, great um,” you watch his lips purse together. “Guess we should uh, get back to the investigation.”

“Sure,” you nod, following him back towards the stairs. From down below, you can hear the three teens moving around the rooms on quick feet.

“Guys?” Lucas calls over his shoulder. “Guys!” You and Steve move faster to the living room with Nancy and Robin following close behind. You come to a halt under a chandelier covered in grime, its light pulsing.

“It’s like the Christmas lights,” Nancy states. Nobody can take their eyes off of the sight.

“The Christmas lights?” Robin asks.

“Yeah, when Will was in the Upside Down, the lights… came to life,” Nancy whispers back.

“He used them to talk to Joyce,” you say, “That’s how she found him.”

“Vecna’s here,” Lucas starts, “In this house. Just on the other side.” And then the lights go out. Everyone shares a worried look.

“I think he just left the room.” Under normal circumstances that would be considered a typical, sarcastic remark from Robin, but you believe she’s right.

“Did he hear us?” Max questions, looking around.

“Can he see us?” Steve asks, meeting her eyes.

“Headphones,” Lucas demands. You can’t ignore the shake in her hands as Max puts them back around her ears.

“Wait, wait,” Nancy says, “Everyone, turn off your flashlights and spread out.” Immediately, you understand her thought process. You click the light off, stepping away from the circle with an arm stretched out. Dustin moves with you, following your actions.

“We’re not gonna be able to see if we turn off our flashlights,” Steve stammers. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, realizing nobody is listening.

You wander aimlessly, eyes strained on the bulb that won’t blink. You dodge decaying furniture and crooked rugs with quiet footsteps. You can hear Dustin nearby, he hasn’t moved too far out of your sight. It feels good to know he still trusts you for protection, still believes that you’re a safe space.

“I got him!” Robin screams from another room. “Got him!” She calls again while everyone rushes towards her. “I got him.” Her flashlight is raised in the air, ignited just for a second before it sputters out. “I, I had him.”

“Oh, whoa,” Steve says suddenly, staring at his light beam that nearly flickers off. “Oh, I think he’s moving.” He says, arm forward and walking away in an effort to keep the light on. “He’s moving. He’s moving!” You trail behind Steve and back up the stairs. “Shit.” He mumbles, light fading out at the top. “I lost him.”

“No, you didn’t,” Max says, pushing through the group. She pulls open a door where the glow of light can faintly be seen from beyond.

“It’s an attic,” Robin sings, full of nerves. “Of course, it’s an attic.” You squeeze her hand as you follow Max and Steve further up the second staircase.

“Hold up, guys,” Dustin says below, tone thick with worry. “What if he’s leading us into a trap?” Nobody responds, too focused on getting to the top. “Guys?” He begs. “Shit, shit, shit,” he says on every step.

A single lightbulb flickers in the center of the room. You sigh with relief at the emptiness that surrounds you, moving slowly towards the bulb. “Flashlights,” Dustin says, tearing your attention away. Looking down, you see everyone’s ablaze. Squeezing between Robin and Nancy, you lean in first, setting your flashlight under the buzzing lightbulb, while everyone follows your lead.

“Okay, what’s happening?” Steve asks, staring at the glowing circle. Slowly, the room grows brighter, bathed in so much light you have to squint. One by one, glass starts to burst. Everyone yelps, turning away quickly to shield your eyes as the flashlights explode. Then suddenly, you’re left in nothing but the darkness.

“Well,” Dustin gasps after a minute of silence. “I’m guessing that’s not a good sign.”

“What did he do?” Robin asks nobody in particular.

“Do you feel all right?” You look at Max across from you.

“I feel fine.” She nods, answering honestly.

“We need to get out of here,” Steve decides, already pushing his way toward the door. Nobody moves, still too stunned. “Now.” He yells.

It’s like the daze lifts from your body, suddenly hyper-aware of where you are, of what lurks right below you on the other side. It’s hard to move quickly with the amount of people trudging down the stairs, but eventually, you make it to the entrance.

“Can he get here?” Lucas asks.

“I don’t want to stick around to find out, Sinclair,” Steve responds, barreling out the front door.

The air is significantly cooler now and the moon is hidden behind clouds. You can see each puff of breath as you reach Steve’s car. Robin throws herself against his trunk with a groan. “Never thought I’d be so happy to see this car.” She breathes, pressing a quick kiss to the metal.

“Dramatic,” you laugh as she flips you off.

“Can you get her home?” Nancy asks Steve gesturing toward you. She takes the keys out of her pocket when she reaches the sidewalk. “I can get everyone else. She’s just closest to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucas barks out a sarcastic laugh. “Are we really not going to talk about what we just saw?” He flings his arms toward the house in frustration.

“We don’t even know what that was.” Nancy bites back. “Do you want to stand out here in the cold and chitchat?”

“Unbelievable,” Lucas shakes his head but relents, getting into her car without another word. Nancy purses her lips at the sight but chooses to let it go. She ushers at everyone else to get in, which they do without complaint.

“Meet back at my place tomorrow morning. We’ll bring food to Eddie and figure it all out then. Get some rest.” She says to the two of you, leaving no room for argument before getting into her car.

There’s a pleasant silence in the air as Steve turns onto the main road. When you’re alone, there’s no expectation of conversation. It’s always been this way, neither of you possessed the urge to fill the quiet with nonsense small talk to one another. Even when you were young and grew tired of playing pretend, you’d spend hours together without uttering a word, comforted knowing that the other was beside you.

“Oh shit,” you murmur, passing under streetlights that bring you closer to home. He hums, an acknowledgment that he’s listening. “My mom. She doesn’t work nights anymore.” Despite her no longer working the night shift for months, it completely slipped your mind. Being surrounded by the others, it’s been easy to forget about your life so far away, almost like it doesn’t exist. You fell back into the role of Dustin’s old babysitter, Robin’s best friend, and Nancy’s acquaintance so easily, like you were seventeen again. The glaring reminder that everything has changed is Steve and a parked Chevrolet in the driveway.

“You can stay at my place,” he offers.

“Oh, that’s not necessary.” It’s not the end of the world to wake your mother. You’re just not ready to answer her questions, which you know will all be about Steve. “I’ll just climb through the window. Might be kinda fun.” You’re lying and he knows it.

“Really, it’s no problem.”

“Robin’s not looking. You don’t have to pretend to care about me.” He recoils slightly, stung by your words.

“I’m not pretending.” His voice is so soft you nearly apologize. “Besides, with everything going on, it’d be nice to know I’m not alone.” He says shyly.

“Okay,” you agree against better judgment. “Only if you’re sure.”

You regret the decision as soon as he parks. The house stands just as it did eight months ago. It’s daunting, approaching the front door of a house that knows you no longer belong there. You want to turn back around, climb back into his car, and demand to be taken home. Before you get the chance, he beckons you inside.

You take in the warmth, the smell, and the art, lingering in the foyer. Everything is so familiar, unchanged, and untouched, like you’re staring into a time capsule. You wonder if this is how he felt the other morning, standing in your living room and soaking the memories back in.

“The guest bedroom should be made up. I’d take you there, but,” he gestures at you awkwardly.

“I’m sure I won’t get lost,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Right. I’ll, uh, get you some clean clothes.” He nods to himself before moving around you and up to his room.

Cautiously, you turn the corner, breath hitching as you stare down the hallway decorated in frames still filled with you. You aren’t sure how he does it, living here and passing photos of you daily. You would’ve torn them down, shattered the glass, and swept away any reminder of him into the garage. You look away, unable to bear the sight any longer.

You take a seat on the pristinely made bed, running a hand along the comforter. You wonder if Steve will tell his mother about this, you being here. If she’d have the same reaction as your mom would. Your mother would be overjoyed. She’d act like the world can spin correctly again. You can’t help but feel like this has been a colossal mistake.

“Found these.” He enters with a soft knock, tearing you away from your thoughts. Wordlessly, you take the clothes and hold them in your lap gently.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You hate how weak your voice sounds when you ask.

“What do you mean?” The bed dips beside you under his weight.

“I’ve been nothing but a total bitch to you since the second I got here. I don’t deserve anything you’ve done for me the past few days. Tonight especially.” When you look at him, his eyes are already searching yours. “I thought you hated me.”

“I did, still do sometimes.” He admits quietly. “For leaving, for not saying goodbye, for getting a boyfriend so quick. It just felt like none of it mattered. Like we didn’t matter. But then I saw you at the game and, I don’t know, I didn’t care about all of that anymore.” He shakes his head lost in thought. “Look, I know I majorly fucked up. I never thought you’d speak to me again and so this,” he gestures between the two of you, “This means everything to me. You could say you hate me right now and I’d just be happy to hear your voice.”

“I’d never be able to hate you, Steve.” You say honestly. It’s true, you realize, even when he hurt you most, he is so much more than your worst heartbreak. Steve is the warmth of summer, chlorine skin, and melted popsicles in the sun. He’s campfires and pitched tents under autumn’s stars. He’s candy cane swords and long days of sledding in the bite of winter. He’s the picked flowers and afternoons indoors when it rained in the spring. How could you possibly hate that? Hate him?

“I’ll let you get some sleep.” He offers a crooked smile, clapping his hands to his knees. “Sweet dreams.” And then he’s gone.

You stare at the ceiling, rest refusing to take hold. You throw off the sheets and start to pace unable to lie still any longer. You tug on the frayed hem, choking on the scent from his sweater that’s unequivocally Steve. You let out a muffled sigh and grab the doorknob.

Ten steps down the hall, up the stairs, and around the corner is where he’d be. Maybe his door would already be open, waiting for you. You can say, ‘I’m scared to sleep alone.’ and he’d let you crawl into the bed beside him. You can almost feel his arms wrapping around you, the softness of his skin pressed against your cheek. You can hear his footsteps circling above, you wonder if he’s contemplating the same thing.

But you’re no longer seventeen. You’re not dating, not in love, not his best friend. You’re a stranger in his home, a guest. You release the knob and settle back between his mother’s linens, blinking away tears. You’ve never wanted to leave somewhere more in your life. What truly startles you though, is how much you want to stay.

Forever tags: @superfrankie111 // @lemonadeorange73 // @youshutthefuckupville // @quaksonhehe

Steve Tags: @louloueh // @soulmatekeery // @slytherinambitious

Back to You Tags: @p-rspective // @gloryekaterina // @boomitsallie1 // @sundarksposts // @themyththelegendthenerd // @gengen64 // @frostandflamesfanfic // @m-rae23

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allfandomxreader · 8 months ago

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Dude it is SO FUN and EXCITING to see a reoccurring reader. If you've commented a handful of times on an author's work, I guarantee that they recognize you. You can't imagine how many times I've excitedly informed my friends "the person with the funny cat image commented!" "- anon is back!!!!" and the friends've recognized who I was talking about because I talk about my commenters so often LOL. We love you all!!!

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allfandomxreader · 8 months ago

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This is a reminder to:

Never mention a possible pregnancy/abortion to anyone, especially not through a social media app messaging service such as messenger, WhatsApp, Instagram DMs, Snapchat, etc.

Delete all period tracking apps and to start tracking using a planner or physical calendar

Book appointments for a form of birth control if possible, or to always carry condoms for yourself and other

Look into sterilization options if that is the route you want to go down (here is a list of 1000 doctors willing to sterilize you without a fight)

Protect your fellow person, protect the women in your life, the queer people, the disabled people, everyone will be affected by this

Form communities. Tell your people that you love them. Protect one another. Check in on one another. None of us are alone.

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allfandomxreader · 8 months ago

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if you're feeling powerless right now—and god knows I am—here's a reminder you can donate to the National Network of Abortion Funds, the Trans Law Center, Gaza Soup Kitchen, the Palestine Children's Relief Fund, and hundreds of other charities that will work to mitigate the damage that has been and will continue to be inflicted

life continues. we still have the capacity to do good, important work. that matters

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allfandomxreader · 9 months ago

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Pros of re-reading your own fic

a good time;

Has exactly the tropes you like and the characterization you want to read;

Gratification: yes you did finish a thing and yes you did do good;

just a very fun time all around.

Cons of re-reading your own fic:

Is that another TYpO

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allfandomxreader · 1 year ago

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A few snapshots of the interview with Joe Keery 'DJO'

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allfandomxreader · 1 year ago

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born to be his wife, forced to be a fan. </3

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allfandomxreader · 1 year ago

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life would be sooo good without my curse

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allfandomxreader · 1 year ago

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Hi hun! I just love love love your pieces <3

As for Carmy prompts - could we have some hurt to comfort when Carmen doesn't show up for a date? It's ok if you dont wanna do it or i requested incorrectly, but if you do, i cant wait to read!!!!! Thank you so much mwah mwah mwah

I’m not thaaaaaat sure how I feel about this and it’s so long but your request was so sweet I had to!!! Ily <3333

wc:1.1k

There’s so fucking much in his ear. Fak’s screaming whatever bullshit he’s sure will help absolutely nothing, Richie’s harassing Sydney and Tina’s trying to keep them all in line and will of that goddamn chaos, he shouldn’t be able to make out anything.

Prepping this whole thing, the opening, Richie biting his head off for fucking sending him to the best kitchen in the city- it’s all a bit fucking much.

He barely hears the door open (she has a key, because of course she does) and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he calls out her name.

“Hey, baby,” he yells back towards the entrance. It feels good, chopping the vegetables. It’s actually one of her favorite dishes that he’s making, and something inside him preens that he gets to feed her tonight. Everything feels illustrious under her gaze. He remembers the first time he’d cooked for her, how her watchful gaze felt a bit like sunlight; equal parts burning and doused in light.

She’d said she liked his hands, then. Said he looked pretty with a knife and a cutting board. “Will you try this sauce for me?”

He hears her heels click, the soft thud of her purse landing on the couch. It’s a slow saunter she does to him, but he’s razor focused- what does it need, garlic? Oregano?

It only breaks when he sees her. And she looks gorgeous. Wearing a black dress with a cowl neck, shimmery eyeshadow that catches and dances in the low light of the kitchen, a crimson lipstick neatly applied to her beautiful pout.

She smells like vanilla, and Carmen has the privilege of knowing what real, rich, Madagascar vanilla smells like. He’d loved the scent so much that he’d bought her a perfume made from it, and there’s a warmth blooming in his chest when he realizes that she’s wearing it.

Wordlessly, she opens her mouth and leans forward to try the sauce covered wooden spoon he’d raised to her lips.

Even when she’s in front of him, he can’t believe she’s someone he knows. That she’s wasting her time with someone like him.

“Jesus Christ you look beautiful,” he says without thinking, and he kisses her quick. It’s true. She’s a vision, plucked out of an old movie shot on grainy film, warm to the touch film.

He abandons the spoon and the sauce without much fanfare, a rough, calloused hand meeting her soft warm cheek.

“Thanks, Carmen.” she says, but her doe-eyes deny the joy she typically exudes in his presence. It’s his proudest achievement, how she glows around him. She’s tight lipped, smile betraying her words.

“What’s wrong? Is it the sauce? I know it’s a mess in here, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d see it-“

“No! No, seriously, it’s okay, honey.” She tries to insist but it really doesn’t work. He moves the pot off the burner and twists himself completely to face her, placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. He tries not to let it sting, how she stiffens for a moment before softening again.

“What happened?” He asks again.

“It’s the first,” she says, a rueful grin on her pretty lips, before gesturing down at her outfit, and oh.

The dinner. The fucking dinner that he’d promised her. His sweet girl, who waited up every night, who dutifully tasted every recipe, who soothed him on nights where nightmares stole his sleep-

“Fuck,” he says, more to himself than her, but god, he can’t stop looking at her, “Fuck! God, I’m such an asshole, I’m so sorry-“ he insists, suddenly so grateful that she’s letting him touch her, even more aware of every point of contact with the sudden fear that it could escape in a moment’s notice.

“Y’know, Carm, if you could’ve just told me that would’ve been one thing? But I left the reservation, and this was the one night we both had off!”

“I know, baby, fuck, I forgot-“

She backs away from him, and there’s a sick feeling in his stomach. Sitting on the chair he keeps by the stove (he put it there for her, because she loved watching him) she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It’s just not fair, Carm. To either of us. If you don’t have time for this-“

“I have time for this! I have time. Don’t say things like that.”

“Carmy, I’m not trying to hurt you. You know that’s the last thing I want.”

And it is. It’s the last thing she wants, and Carmen fucking knows it. Knows that three months in he’s supposed to have brought her flowers and taken her out and done more than cook for her and spend hours in his shitty apartment, and lately she’s been asking if he has time for being in a relationship.

And maybe he doesn’t, but fuck it if he doesn’t feel like he can breathe around her. This was the point of the dinner- take her out, be a boyfriend. Have her wait a little while on him. Show her he’s worth it.

Instead he fucking missed it, stayed home and made sauce no one would even eat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing her hand and lacing it through his own. It always shocks him, how it fits his own. “Okay? I’m so, so fuckin’ sorry. Tell me what I can do. Tell me, cos I’ll do just about fuckin’ anything to get you to stop saying shit like that.”

Her voice comes out small.

“I was alone, Carm. They kept trying to take my order and you weren’t there, and eventually I had to leave.“

She looks up at him, eyes sparkling and kind and Carmen. She looks beautiful, and if he wasn’t with her, he’d see her in the street and hate whatever fuck was lucky enough to be who she got dressed up for.

“I am so, so sorry. It’s just with the stove, and Fak, and Richie fucking calling me to bitch me out every thirty seconds,” she reaches her delicate fingers to brush his cheek with concern, “I should’ve remembered. It’s just about the only thing this week worth remembering. And you look…stunning, I should’ve been there. I should’ve. Please.”

Her expression softens and he loves the sight of her, warm and kind and lovely in both form and temperance. She’s so patient with him, responds with kindness- a gift.

She brushes her soft lips on his cheek and he tries to savor the sensation, note how warm and wonderful it is to have her form pressed against his, how her arms knot themselves around his waist.

“I know you’re stressed, babe,” she murmurs against his cheek, eyes shut, “tell you what. Why don’t you make me something better than what that place could’ve, huh?”

After he kisses her for so long that excess is no longer the right terminology, he makes her the best pasta she’s ever had in her goddamn life.

It’s better this way, anyway. She’s gorgeous in a way that’s just his to look at tonight.

#ficrecs #fic rec #cb fic

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allfandomxreader · 1 year ago

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THEY KEEP ASKING ME IF I WOULD DIE FOR THEM AND I KEEP ASKING WHY THEY WANT ME DEAD

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allfandomxreader · 1 year ago

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CINNAMON SUGAR — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen comes home to you late at night. Luckily, you manage to stay awake.

length 2k

contents absolutely zero plot, literally just a sweet n cute n sappy moment existing in a vacuum, holy shit so much fluff i might die (got the idea for this while listening to margaret & let the light in by lana del rey n it's realllll obvious), too many kisses to count, this is what he'd be like after intensive therapy i reckon, not proofread so be nice

Carmen opens the door to the bedroom carefully, minding the creaky hinge in the middle of the night. Moonlight peeks through the window, caught at the right time when the city doesn’t block its path into the apartment, giving just enough glow to the room to see you fast asleep in bed. It’s late, he realizes, even later than usual. He needs to work on that.

He makes his way to the bed, stopping at your side to kneel beside you and simply adore you: the curve of your nose, the plush of your lips in that pout you wear only when you’re asleep, the eyelashes laid against your cheeks.

You stir when he presses his lips to your temple, a soft groan pulled from your lips. “…Bear?”

“Yeah, ‘s me, baby.” Even at a whisper, he thinks he’s too loud, and with his rough and tired hand he brushes over the top of your head just light enough to keep you sleepy.

A drowsy hand reaches out from under the covers to smooth over the contours of his face, tracing along shadows made hazy by a few hours’ rest. “You coming to bed soon?”

“Almost,” he murmurs, smoothing a palm up your exposed arm to hold your hand steady. He pulls ever so slightly away from your palm, only to turn to land gentle kisses against its soft skin, worshiping the pieces of you that treat him with more care than he thinks he’s worthy of. “Needa take a shower first, alright? But I’ll be right back.”

He could’ve done that much by now—could’ve cleaned himself, rid himself of a day's work before seeing you—but truthfully, waiting any longer would’ve driven him mad. He would’ve been itchy in the shower, skin aflame knowing he could’ve felt your touch by then, arms and hands jittering to have your curves beneath them. His lips trail down to your wrist before he turns over your hand to kiss the backs of your fingers.

“Okay,” you answer, muffled by the blankets and pillow and the squeak of the floorboard as Carmen stands back up.

He makes his trip quick and quiet. He brushes his teeth and swipes up a towel while the water heats up, leaving just enough time to hang it on the hook and strip before hopping in. There’s a beat where he closes his eyes and just breathes, clears his mind of the day’s stress, lets warm water saturate his hair and cascade down his back. He lathers his hair with shampoo—the one you bought for him once to free him from the chains of 3-in-1 and that he’s been purchasing ever since to keep you happy—before cleaning the rest of his body, all while thinking about how much better it’d feel, how much more relief he’d get if it were you beside him under the stream instead of just his thoughts. But with the shampoo and soap down the drain goes that idea, much like the fleeting thought of using conditioner. You’ve yet to get to him on that one, especially at a moment like this, when time is of the essence and you’re waiting on him. Maybe another night, when you take your own product and swirl it around his curls; if it gives him an excuse to stay with you just a few minutes more, he’ll do it.

He hops out of the water like it’s acid and wraps the towel around his waist after drying himself to avoid trouble in the morning (you hate when the floor gets wet, and even if it wastes time, he’ll be sure to prevent that). Out goes the light again as he walks into the hall, sneaking back into the bedroom to get dressed into briefs and nothing more—you’ll keep him warm enough under the blankets.

It’s only then—when he peels back those final layers—that he realizes he’s been smiling the whole time.

Once he’s settled into the grooves of the mattress, chest to your back, you’re turning around to curl into his torso, like a magnetic field brought you there.

“Hey,” he coos, “Y’don’t have to move f’me, yeah? Just sleep, baby.” Moved by your eagerness, his arms curl around you, one along your waist as the other nicely fits comfortably into the space between your neck and shoulder.

And yet you shift a little more to cast an arm against his chest, his heart beating beneath your palm, head on his shoulder with a leg hooked onto his hip, split halfway between mattress and his body. “ ‘S more comfy this way, Carm.” You sigh and breathe deep into his skin. “You smell good, too.”

He can’t even lie well enough to convince himself his heart doesn’t run a million miles faster when you cozy up to him like this, caught in a space part fatigue and part love, with your hums ringing in his ear. “ ‘S that shampoo you got me a while ago…Sometime this week—” he yawns, and if he weren’t dying to hear your voice a few more times, he’d be a little more thankful for sleep coming so easily— “Sometime this week we can go t’the store, you can pick out another body wash f’me to try, too.”

“Mm, I’d like that.” You smooth your hand from his chest to his neck and shoulder, massaging there gently where he gets sore as a barely-there kiss lands to the skin beneath you. “How was it today?” The restaurant. His headaches. Richie’s mood lately. The flow of the kitchen. The strain in his back.

“Was alright,” he answers, as honestly as he can, soothing himself by brushing a hand up along your spine. “Real busy, so I didn’t get to leave ‘till late, ‘m sorry.”

“ ‘S alright, I stayed in and just relaxed for the night.” You snuggle into him a little deeper, and he thinks he could melt. “I was gonna ask you to bring something home, but it’s a weekend, so I didn’t wanna bother you in a rush.”

“What’d you want?”

From your lips comes a light and airy giggle, milliseconds of the best sounds he’s ever heard. “I just wanted some fries, honestly…didn’t feel like going out.”

“Heh,” he laughs, smiling while his eyes stay glued to the ceiling—as if looking at you would make the moment disappear. “I would’ve picked ‘em up for you, ‘r at least had Fak get ‘em to you.”

You yawn in tandem with the tailend of his thought, so your answer’s a bit softer. “Uh-uh, I like them better when you make ‘em.”

“Yeah? ‘ve I been pampering you too much?” He teases you, adds on a kiss to the top of your head as he squeezes you a bit tighter, but it’s all a ruse to cover up how much faster his pulse is when you say those words, like all the work he’s put in—all the love he has for you—makes its way to the table for not just anyone, but for you, the one person he’s sure matters more than the rest. More than those fucking stars, more than Chef of the Year, more than any critic’s review, more than he can wrap his head around; he feels it in his chest and that’s enough.

“Of course you have,” you agree, peeking up at him and craning your neck to plant your lips to his jaw, savoring it long enough to leave a smirk against his skin. “You’re always so sweet to me, Bear—” one more quick peck just beneath his ear— “love when you cook for me.”

He thinks he could pass out like this, with the last thing he hears being those words, but his fatigue seems to serve as an anesthetic that lets him soak it in for a bit longer, running his free hand through damp curls while a heavy, giddy sigh leaving his lips that lets you know he hears you, that he loves telling you he loves you through his art, that he lives for the smile on your face when he stays home for a few hours longer to make you breakfast. Yet with all the time spent having his shell soften for you, he can’t always find the right words, so he settles for the next best thing: “Y’know, uh…Marcus’s been playing around with recipes…”

He feels you smile against his chest, knowing what’s to come. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, an’ I’d never let ‘im serve ‘em, ‘cause, y’know…” He loses himself for a moment in the lull of your fingertips tracing mindless shapes into his chest. “They don’t fit the menu…but uh, he made these…these rolls today…”

“Mhm? ‘M listening…”

Carmen knew that, of course, from the faint kisses you peppered between breaths. He lets the fan whir through the gaps in his thoughts. “I think you’d like ‘em, he had some classic cinnamon, ‘n…a blueberry lemon goin’…”

“That sounds really good,” you whisper, the syllables lengthened from a shared lack of sleep.

“I know,” he drawls, and he’s a little too proud of himself for once when he adds, “Which is why I said I’d let ‘im fix up the lemon recipe a few more times if he made a batch for you.”

“Did you really?” The dazed smile comes through in your voice, a bubbliness to it that tells him he made the right call.

He figures that’s why he’s so drawn to you—all the right calls come easy to him, the effort feels natural and unpracticed, unlike the tar that builds in his throat when it comes to so many other people. With you, being good is anything but demanding. “ ‘F course, baby…”

It turns him to a puddle, the sweetness that drips from your fingertips, so he cradles your wrist carefully in his hand and lifts it to his lips to show it the love it deserves before urging the hand to busy itself with the tufts of hair behind his hear, to which you happily oblige. You twirl a lock around your finger, performing a methodical spiral, and even though he knows by the time it dries it’ll stick out from the mess like a sore thumb, he’d stop breathing before pulling your hand away. It’s soothing, that pattern. It stokes the fire in his gut that makes him feel a little less lonely when you’re not around.

“I brought…” He yawns again, his eyelids growing heavy. “I brought you some of the cinnamon rolls…Sugar liked ‘em…they’re on the counter for you tomorrow mornin'…” He’s not sure whether it’s your doing or the hours of stress endured throughout the day, but he knows this is the most relaxed he’s ever been, laying with you and doing little else other than indulging in your tender touches and shy kisses.

“Thank you, my love,” slips away with breath, sotto voce, as Carmen leaves brief kisses to your hairline.

And he thanks God for being able to do it even with such an intense fatigue washing over him—at least part of him does, the part that’s still awake—because the movement lets you tilt your head and graze your fingertips by his jaw, bringing his lips kindly to yours for the first and last time tonight. Somewhere in that beautiful tangle there’s a mutual agreement: an unspoken Goodnight, I love you, in the mix, a finality in his offering and your gracious thanks that doesn’t warrant anything more than your head tucked neatly into his neck, left to bask in the comfort of his arms wrapped around you.

Just like any other night with you, he can sleep peacefully with the unconscious push and pull of your bodies intertwined. He knows that by morning, you’ll still be in his arms, in the bed you share, waiting on your good morning kiss from under the covers.

And he’ll still be beneath your warmth, his mind fuzzy and full of tenderness, every part of him dying to marry you.

#ficrec #ficrecs #cb fic

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