#(which robin is heavily coded as)

[dxringred]

i still don’t understand the claim that robin didn’t ramble around vickie because she likes her and wanted to listen to her and/or likes her enough that she feels comfortable around her. for one thing, if A. was the case, why is that not what happened at the rally? and if B. was the case, how come she still had a slight tendency to ramble around nancy even after spending more time with her than she ever did vickie? 

like... this is only the second time she’s been around vickie? (third if you really want to count the scene where vickie’s sucking face with her boyfriend, but i’d call that reaching.) am i really supposed to believe robin is completely chill and comfortable with her crush that quickly? because i don’t.

and the argument about robin not doing it because she wants to listen feels really... disrespectful? rude? (i don’t know the adjective i’m looking for) with regards to real people who have a tendency to ramble, either due to having a crush or because they’re autistic etc. because rambling isn’t always something you can control? like, it just happens lol, and sometimes you don’t even realize you’re doing it until someone stops you. 

so to be like, “oh, robin didn’t ramble because she cares and wanted to listen,” almost sounds like, “oh, if you ramble, that means you don’t care and don’t want to listen.” at least, to me, anyway. also she literally still rambles around steve lmao, and i think you’ll be hard-pressed to convince most people that robin doesn’t care about him.

anyway, all this to say that i personally got the vibe that she realized vickie isn’t the one for her and/or isn’t the person she thought she was, as is often the case when people get to know their crushes. seeing her snogging her boyfriend put things into perspective for robin, and listening to her at the charity drive (or w/e) kind of solidified for her that, okay, vickie’s nice, but it turns out she isn’t actually what i’m looking for. 

[willandmichael]

when people say robin was a completely different character in s4 and that they watered her down.. makes no sense. she is just as smart as she was in s3, but she was a little bit more guarded because she was not as close to steve / the kids. i even saw people saying she did nothing this season, saying she was smarter in s3.. even though she was the one got her and nancy to talk to victor creel, the one who figured out that music could save you from vecna just by observing her surroundings and connecting the dots about music therapy, among other things. she needs to move forwards as a character and we got more of that! she was feeling more comfortable with being herself around people, which probably has something to do with her having a friend she can rely on in regards to her being a closeted lesbian and bond over shared trauma.

[eddiezpaghetti]

It has come to my attention that SOME OF YOU who read my last Byler post remain UNCONVINCED. So I'm gonna tack onto it this:

I'm older than fucking God and air, and I've been out and proud since 2007. Yes, I know what homophobia is, and yes, I know what queerbaiting is. I know about Supernatural and Teen Wolf and Sherlock and blahdyblahdyblah. No new ground is being covered here. I thought I made that clear in the original post, but, clearly, I did not.

I am aware of queerbaiting and homophobia, and I'm still wholeheartedly certain in Byler being canon anyway.

Okay, so there are three types of relationship I want to discuss when it comes to queerbaiting. They're all, like, "queer relationships that could have happened, but didn't".

First off, queer-coding. This isn't really a thing so much anymore, but it still crops up every once in a while. I'd argue it probably happens most with male-male relationships in family shows these days. First example that comes to mind is Mr. Smiley and Mr. Frowny from Steven Universe. You can't make a relationship canon because some shitty overhead bastard overhead said no, so you get as close as you can without compromising the show. Can't make someone gay? Well, now their comedy routine is a blatant allegory for a romantic relationship. Boom-shaka-laka. This is something I don't see being a problem with regards to Stranger Things, but I want it to be there as contrast, a demonstration of one of many things queerbaiting is not. However, one could argue that, thus far, Will Byers is, canonically, queer-coded. It's pretty fucking heavily implied in the show, and the creators have confirmed it, and you're gonna be able to see it if you're not FUCKING BLIND, but word of god is not technically canon which means that interviews don't technically make something canon, blahdyblahdyblahdyblah, technicalities, Robin has been explicitly stated in the text to be queer while Will has, thus far, not, outside of good ol' Show-Don't-Tell. Of course, anyone with two brain cells to rub together can tell that that's going to change by the end of Season 5, but, hey, for what it's worth, I'm throwing this out there.

Alrighty, Thingamajingama Number Two: "Oops, I accidentally made the greatest love story known to man." AKA, a genuine, honest-to-goodness mistake. Unfortunately, we do live in a heteronormative society. Sometimes people who don't think about being gay much write a friendship that's incredibly compelling and don't even consider the possibility that it could have been read as romantic. Something something Top Gun something. This is, again, not queerbaiting. This is Steddie, this is Ronance, this is Elmax, this is your favorite flavor of non-canon ship this week, this is not Byler. The creators know DAMN well what they're doing. They've talked about it. We know this. Nothing new here.

Which brings us to the topic of discussion here. Actual queerbaiting. This usually starts out as an "accidental greatest love story", and then reacts to fan response. And when I say "reacts", I mean like a goddamn chemical reaction. Like bleach and ammonia, bitch. It's noxious and it's gonna kick your fucking ass without mercy. This is when a creator is like, "Hey, let's get our queer audience invested, but we're not actually going to give them what they want because our straight audience isn't here for that/we personally think it's gross/we don't give enough of a shit to want to research a goddamn thing to write a real gay character," blah blah blah whatever excuse they want to come up with this time.

And when you think "queerbaiting", I want you to think "bullying". Because that's what it is. It's lucrative bullying, like beating us up and taking our lunch money, but it's bullying all the same. And it's a real goddamn thing, even if people misuse the word a lot, often when they mean one of the two above, sometimes when they mean "bury your gays", which is another homophobic thing entirely that I'm not going to get into here. Queerbaiting is the thing we're focused on, and it's real, and it's bullying. And here's the reason I want you to think of it as bullying:

They

Think

It's

Funny.

They are actively making fun of us.

That's why Dean had the "Cas, get out of my ass," line in Supernatural. It's why the "Do you like boys?" line happened in Teen Wolf. It's why "Lie with me, Watson," happened in the RDJ Sherlock Holmes movies. Because "It's just a joke, mate." "It was just a prank, bro." "You didn't really think it would happen, did you?" "You should see your face."

So here's probably the biggest reason I don't think it's specifically queerbaiting in this specific instance of Will Byers and Mike Wheeler.

Stranger Things has never, not once, made a gay joke. Ever.

Every single time queerness comes up, it's dead serious.

Lonnie calls Will a fag, and the show is not at all reluctant to show what a goddamn horrible person he is. And when Hopper latches onto that, it's not as "Hahah, is he gay, though?" It's because he's trying to determine a potential motive for Will's disappearance, and even if someone had interpreted it as a joke, Joyce immediately has a line that functions as snapping her fingers in front of the audience's face and yelling "FOCUS" when she says "He's MISSING." Basically outright saying "This isn't funny!"

Troy calls him a fairy, along with targeting Lucas and Dustin for their skin color and disability respectively, and Mike gets damn near murderous. Troy is portrayed as a goddamn monster and the show portrays it as justice when El makes him piss his pants and later breaks his arm.

Steve calls Jonathan "queer" as a slur and gets the shit beat out of him for it.

Billy's father is revealed to be homophobic and abusive in the same breath.

Mike says "It's not my fault you don't like girls!" and we're shown how devastated Will is and Mike immediately follows him to beg for forgiveness.

There is a joke in Robin's coming-out scene, but it's not at Robin's expense. It's at Steve's. Specifically for being heteronormative.

Jonathan has multiple scenes where he's trying so hard to tell Will that he's always going to love him as he is, whether he's gay or not, without pressuring him to come out before he's ready.

Even when there's a little bit of ribbing at Robin's expense, it's always because she's an awkward nerd who's nervous around pretty girls, just the same as Lucas and Dustin are teased when they both first develop crushes on Max, and even then, even then, it always comes as a package deal where they make fun of Steve's girl problems at the same time.

Stranger Things is an emphatically pro-gay show. It may not be the core point of the show the way it is in, say, Our Flag Means Death, but there is nothing less than respect for its queer characters. Its queer characters are always taken completely seriously. No one is making fun of us. They never have. That's why I have serious doubts that this is queerbaiting. It would come completely out of left field for the bullying to start in Stranger Things' final season.

So it's not at all likely to be queerbaiting because queerness is taken completely seriously. The creators have talked about Will's queerness, at least, so it's not an accident. And queer-coding would be silly to expect from this show when it's already on its final season. Like, what is Netflix gonna do? Cancel it? Not to mention all the explicit queerness that's in there already. And no one's gonna "What about the children?" a show that's had sex scenes in it since the first season.

There's no fakeout here. It's gonna happen. Breathe.

[wroteclassicaly]

I Won’t Stand By - Part One

(Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Summary: Steve has always been worth more. And you won’t stand by and watch him get his heart broken again. He needs to know.

Warnings: Language, pining, unrequited (or are they?) feelings, heavy on the angst, happy ending… eventually.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x best-friend!female reader

A/N: After I made this post, I started thinking heavily on Steve, Nancy & Stancy, a little more than usual. And I just feel like I needed to write this and channel some energy into it, as it basically took on a mind of its own (we heavily into Steve, okay? He’s consuming me). It’s going to have one more part to it (which I’ve already outlined). It’s thick on the angst, but it’ll have a happy ending, I think? I tried some different stuff with Steve and his reactions, so I hope y’all like it? Lemme know ❤️💖

“Are you stupid?”

You’d never insinuated, nor had you ever called Steve anything that would suggest he was ignorant, and you had known him since elementary school. You never made him feel like anyone else could, by a joke or an offhand comment, usually a backhanded compliment. But as he sees you standing under the entryway of the Family Video — three lunches in your hand, your neon pink windbreaker covered in rain drops, eyes steady in their focus on him and Robin — he’s never felt more like his IQ is non-existent.

Robin looks briefly confused, tapping her purple painted nails on the cheap wooden counter, unsure where to look. However, her mouth opens before she can stop it. “Hey, what’s going on? Is that a ham croissant I smell?”

You’d laugh if your lungs weren’t full of a scream that you’re sure is about to rip itself free. Your heartbeat is thumping so hard against your ribcage that it’s echoing all around your chest, playing ping pong. Steve opens his mouth to speak, starting to shift his posture enough that he can work himself around the counter to get to you. He can’t stand to see you this upset, especially at him. You don’t let him come within an inch of your trembling form, afraid that you’ll say things you can’t take back, or you’ll vomit your breakfast all over his green vest.

You want to berate yourself for the way he looks struck, physically recoiling as if to console himself. His sneakers stop on the rug you’re standing on, your wet loafers drenched and dripping. Nike and leather. You can’t take how good he smells, the way that it always greets you with a hug, but instead, you walked into his conversation with Robin about his upcoming date with Nancy. He really meant it, he saw her as his future, he never got over her, and now that she’s realized what she lost — she wants him back.

Steve is about to call a code for backup, when you decide to say something, stepping around him, paper bags full of food clenched and wrinkled in your vice. You damn near spit the words, tone laced with acidic venom. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

His chest aches with the bitterness of confusion, a hunger to understand that’s clawing at his throat and attempting to seize his tongue. He’s fumbling for words and that seems to fuel your excitement. Robin, meanwhile, her irises widen, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you. It's a simple & soft, “Oh, shit.” As she watches your feelings unfold in real time, understanding.

You throw the sacks onto the counter, Robin barely able to catch them before they can slide off, and you turn back, right as Steve shakes himself clear and attempts to meet you. Your finger jabs into his chest, breath getting caught in your throat. He bites his tongue when he sees your sclera is flooded with unshed tears. You know if you blink that it’ll all be over for you. How can you convey how you’re feeling?

Even if you weren’t ass over elbow for the guy, you still wouldn’t want him back together with Nancy Wheeler. She might be your friend too, but you were there for Steve. You saw everything he had to go through, and even though you didn’t leave his side, he was still dealing with their relationship and monster land — alone, trapped in his head. It wasn’t until he graduated that he was able to let go of each mental blockage that she and the whole situation caused him to put up (enough so), and truly let you in. She didn’t share his goals and Steve deserved better than a relationship that seems like nothing more than pure nostalgia.

Neither of them should settle. They are still vastly different.

Fuck, you really need to scream. Your chest is heavy with it, weighted. You’re sinking, choking on oxygen, your body rejecting it. Panic.

Steve practically begs Robin for help, jaw unhinged and tongue slicking across his lips. He tries to find something to say — anything. You roll your eyes and the tears finally salt your lash line, cooling and burning. “Actually, you know what? Fuck this right now!”

And if customers didn’t just come in, the little bell dinging and electrifying your anxieties — you’d have run right out the front door. But you do the next best thing — your only other option. You dart for the family labeled restroom in the back. Steve doesn’t even have to ask, Robin nodding her head. “Go. I got this.”

~*~

You curse yourself for not locking the door, for Steve’s thoroughly kind behavior (why can’t he just be an asshole and make this easier?). You’re practically bent over the sink, sobbing quietly into the fluorescent expanse, and you hear the door open and close. His cologne invades your senses — all delicate traces of woodsy spice. His freshly laundered clothing, even his minty breath from the spray you know he carries in his back pocket. It’s slow motion when you meet his concerned stare in the mirror.

His large palm clasps over your shoulder, wrist watch catching in the light. He turns you, but you find solace in the tile flooring and your loafer covered toes. His fingertips, ever-so gentle and calloused, filter beneath your chin — tilting. You try to look away but it’s a pointless effort. Steve’s brown is pitched high in an attempt to understand, to relate.

Your torso wants to give in and collapse, legs dead and heavy, stuck to the floor. Your mouth is dry, but your throat is wet with tears. It’s suddenly Tina’s Halloween party all those years ago, and you’re holding Steve as he’s crying, showing himself like you had never seen before. Your nose wrinkles into a scrunch, you reach up to swat his hand away. He catches your wrist with his other, and shakes his head, thumbpad caressing the healing cut on your cheek, even a month later it still remains.

When you went to battle with Vecna and the four of you were attacked by his little tentacle hive minds, you’d gotten the sharp end of one to the face. That very fear settles in his stomach at the memory, sloshing about with the gnawing worry over what’s currently going on with you. He tucks a strand of hair back behind your ear, a line of goosebumps shrouding your arms like invisible sleeves. His voice is so gentle with concern that you choke on an outright whimper.

“Talk to me, honey. What happened? What did I do?”

To a fault, this man is too good for anyone. And that’ll be his ultimate downfall. That’s enough to push on your anger, because you’re already riding the inevitable tidal wave of heartbreak, just waiting for the water to drown you. You don’t try to move his hold on you, you’re more than smart enough to know that he won’t budge if he doesn’t want to. You force yourself to talk to him, voice wavering and weak, and the word puke releases. “That’s the problem, Steve. It’s not what you did, but what you’re going to do to yourself by going back to her.”

“Wait, so you heard me and Robin—“

“I heard you in the RV, I heard you in the fucking upside down, and yes — I just heard about your stupid fucking date.”

He shakes his head, thumb tracing over your healing wound, a brief look of guilt flickering, his voice hoarse and tired. “So that’s why you think I’m stupid then, huh?”

“Do you remember when you cried all night after Tina’s party? When you spent money on flowers for her, or lost your entire friend group? Yeah, they were assholes, but you gave up everything because you thought something was wrong with you, that you needed to change.”

He’s briefly glancing at his own shoe wear, an audible swallow heard from him. How could he forget that night? He couldn’t stomach the word bullshit for months after.

You continue, unable to stop if someone duct taped your mouth shut.

“You dealt with torture, with trauma, with being cheated on. You became a more mature person, but that doesn’t mean you were ever an awful boyfriend, Steve. And now that she and Jonathan have grown apart, now that she’s seen you — it doesn’t make it okay for her to decide that you’re suddenly worth something again.”

He knows you’re right. Fuck, he can feel your statement carve itself into his every internal organ. He can’t disagree, he can’t fight you, because he fought with himself one too many times since Nancy destroyed him. His pride wants to argue, wants to blame himself, defend her, but he also knows you. And he knows you’re not taking shots at Nancy, nor are you trying to hurt him.

You’re surprised at how calmly you’re able to articulate yourself. You keep going. He needs to know.

“We were all kids when everything happened, and I don’t blame her for dealing with her own shit. I’m not excusing how she treated you. But I understand, and I love her. I just know that she doesn’t want the same things you want, Steve. It’s like you’re both trying to fit pieces into a mold that was never meant to work together, past what it was in the first place… So I’m fucking begging you, don’t do this to yourself.”

His hand drops, far too quickly than you’re ready for. His back falls against the door, his tresses dusting his forehead. Your body feels as if it’s been paved into the asphalt, unprepared for what he says next. “Any reasons other than that?”

“Steve—“ Your voice wobbles.

“No, you’ve made yourself clear. Me and Nance? Bad idea — I got that.”

“It’s because —“

“Why? There’s more to it than what you’re telling me, I know there is. Don’t fucking lie to me!” You’ve hit that spot in him, that wounded pride. He’s lashing a bit, arms crossing over his chest, biceps flexed beneath his white t-shirt.

“Because, I..” Your sentence topples.

He inches forward. “Because you what? Talk to me!”

Does he realize? Maybe he has an inkling, maybe he’s pushing it. You aren’t able to decipher, your emotions swirling, everything becoming too much all at once. Your instincts fly out the window, shattering glass, heart catching on your throat as it leaps out of your mouth and floats into the room. You lurch forward and grab Steve’s cheeks, his stubble tickling the backs of your fingers — and you press your lips to his.

He’s stiff at first, arms remaining tight and bound together. You’re crying, salting his mouth slick. He tastes like peppermint and coffee, with a hint of that creamer you’ve gotten him hooked on. His mouth is soft, becoming pliant. He begins to kiss you back, but it’s for a fraction, yet it’s there. His nose nudges yours, bumping, your lips parting with a smack as he uses his hands (arms uncrossing), to pull you away, cradling your face.

Heated, like a syrupy honey, he talks to you. He’s got it this go around. “Why didn’t you tell me that this was going on?”

You go to leave him, he won’t dare let you. His hold tightens, index finger rubbing along your cut. Your eyes flutter closed, fresh tears dowsing the raw skin of your cheeks. The moisture pours over Steve’s fingers.

“Don’t.” It’s him who is begging, chained undercurrents cutting into the depth of his voice. “Please don’t cry.”

The way that he strokes you, his grazing thumb soothing your cut, like you’re right back in the underworld and he almost died twice over seeing you hurt. He swipes at your tears, trying to wipe them away, but they blotch. More keeps coming. You’re dangling over that precipice of an anxiety attack that he can also sense. Like he’s coddling a wounded deer, Steve pulls you closer, bringing his lips to your forehead — pressing, voice gravelly, mouth moving away to utter, “Come here. Stay right here.” And helps you rest in his arms, your head sliding beneath his chin.

Whatever you attempt to say, it comes out as gibberish whimpering. Steve’s own chest cavity is scorched, throat blazing, eyes misty. You find solace in his broad physique, nose at his sternum. He’s confused, so many things running through his head, that it fucking aches at the base of his skull. Your cherry lip gloss-flavored kiss lingers, making him think of things he thought were just passing feelings for you a while ago.

There’s many things he wants to say, but his brain has a case of coward, working him into a settled question instead. “How long?”

“Everyday since I’ve known you, I think.” It’s an automatic whisper, a ghostly caress of your broken voice, but he still hears your answer.

He’s nodding, an annoyance filtering, a sadness. How could you not tell him something like this? All those nights you shared, talking about everything. He’s been more vulnerable with you than he’s been with anyone in his entire twenty years. This, he has to call you on.

“In all of the time you’ve known me, have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?”

Still buried in his embrace, you shake your head no.

“Is it — do you… Shit.” He isn’t sure how to phrase it, not wanting to make an ass of himself, the word also scaring the hell out of him.

He gets his answer, thankfully — when you speak. “Don’t ask me if I love —“ You cut yourself off briefly, before adding on, “— just… don’t, okay?”

His lids close, a sigh escaping. Holy shit, you love him. Someone else loves him, his best-friend is in love with him. And he could never see that? He talked about sex with other girls, about Nancy.

And not once did you ever stop him or act like it wasn’t alright. You hyped him up, you were always there to boost his spirits and his ego. He feels like a total asshole. His previous sigh has you shaking your head, especially after he lets out a quiet “I’m sorry.”

You break off his embrace, finding a hold on his forearms, squeezing. “Steve, look at me.” You find your courage again.

He complies immediately, rich hazel catching, nearly stealing your breath. You clear your throat lightly, inhaling through your nose to relax yourself. Steve’s hands are still on your face — unrelenting. “This thing with Nancy, it’s not even because of how I feel, not completely. You’re more than some trophy husband, you’re more than some minimum wage video clerk, even though I think your jobs have been pretty fucking cool.” His softened gaze dips off and he chuckles himself into that cheekily, familiar grin.

“Please don’t do this to yourself again, Steve. You deserve better than this. You always have. You’re the fucking heart of our group, don’t you understand that? Fuck the thumps on the head, fuck nostalgia. I’ve never stopped seeing what a good man you are, even when you used to be a bitchy jerk sometimes.”

He laughs again, music to your ears that gets you to stop crying briefly. You slide your fingers along his bare arms and he’s thoughtful, pausing, wanting to look away from you. Because what he’s going to say, he can’t bear the expression on your face. He just wishes, he almost begs the universe that Nancy hadn’t brought back her bullshit and confused him. And you kissed him and released a bunch of things he’d pushed away, things he didn’t even know existed.

Someone’s going to get hurt and he thinks it should be him, but as he’s gentle with you, fingertips splaying down the sides of your neck, he’s brought back down to the messy reality he’s a part of. “It wasn’t resolved on my terms. Honey, I have to try. Can’t you see things from my perspective, please understand?”

You decide instantaneously what you’re going to do, your ribs aching at the sudden drop in your heart rate, your throat feeling like it’s swollen to twice the normal size. Your hand leaves his wrist, combing the hair off his forehead — memorizing every mole and freckle, his cupid's bow, his jaw, those hauntingly warm eyes. He thinks you’ll get it, that you’ll stay. And you do get it, but the latter? You’re eerily firm, new tears seeping out, flooding your vision, making him a blurry silhouette.

It’s gonna be bad, he can feel the twisting in his gut. He tries to say something, beginning a reason. You cut him off. “I need you to understand that I can’t stand by and watch this. I care about you both, but you can’t ask me to watch you two try and sweep everything under the rug, and you can’t expect me to watch if your heart gets broken. I won’t watch you fall apart again. I can’t do it, Steve.”

“What are you saying?” He sounds pained, like you’d socked him in his stomach. It sure fucking feels like it. Even the tip of his tongue is aching, his own vision becoming cloudy. “How do you even know things won’t work?”

“If they do, then great. If she’s your person and that’s what was meant to happen, I hope it works for you.” If he’s happy, you mean that. But you just don’t think he deserves this, he deserves more, despite your feelings. And there’s some things that you just know.

He straightens himself against the door when he sees you reach around for the handle. He shakes his head and tries to keep your touch. You drop it, tears dripping off your lashes and onto the cheap flooring below. “Let me leave, Steve.”

“No, not happening.”

“Don’t do this.”

“You’re my best-friend, I can’t just be without you.”

“You have Robin. You can handle this.”

“I don’t wanna fucking handle this,” he lashes out, stepping forward and cupping your cheeks, making you look at him, his touch searing into your skin, “I want you.”

“Steve.” You’re a little heavier in your command, pulling his hands away, impulse leading. You lift onto your tippy toes and permit yourself a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

His breath is choppy, a sudden heat leveling off the room, his nose bumps, sliding off your peck, his lips crashing into yours. You kiss him back with everything in you, mouths wet and tear stricken. He’s crying too, everything wet, spit stringing as your lips separate.

“I really hope it turns out to be what you want.” You pant your sorrows against his mouth, drinking him in — seeing. You’re falling, abandoning emotions and nearing sobbing territory.

Steve’s hands drop as you say this and it gives you the leverage you need to leave him alone in the bathroom, one last pleading cry from him cut off as you close the door behind you. You keep your head down and you walk through the store alone, its popcorn and candy coated scent striking you. You only stop when you’re at the counter and Robin has a piece of her sandwich pinched between her fingers, a pitiful look on her face as she sees your tear-stained features. She doesn’t get the chance to ask you anything, not before you request, crushing her heart into pieces. “Make sure he’s okay. He’s gonna need you.”

And your presence is gone in mere seconds, that bell signifying something much more than anyone was ready to comprehend. You make it to your car, rain pouring around you, right as Steve leaves the bathroom pinching his nose and sniffling, watching you from the window. You don’t break down, not until you’ve driven away and found somewhere to pull over.

Over…

// Eat me paragraph //

[divineecelestial]

Instrument Of War | Steve Harrington x F!Reader

| Word Count — 20k |

| Series Summary — Steve Harrington is in love with you but is convinced you're out of his league and refuses to acknowledge his feelings. But when Dustin Henderson returns from summer camp with a secret Russian code, your lives change completely. |

| Warnings — Use of female pronouns, graphic depictions of violence, d3ath, bodily harm, bl00d, forced dr*g use. All warnings come from what occurs during Season 3 and the Russian base. [Y/N] endures experiences that can be found triggering. If you would like an in-depth warning list, you can message me! Please inform me if I missed anything. |

| Author's Note — This is the first chapter of a series. It contains all of Season 3, which is why it's incredibly long. The series will eventually contain smut. It is a reader insert written in the third person, therefore there will be no physical descriptions such as weight, eye/hair/skin color. And it's for those who want to be the main character and It-Girl so enjoy. |

[Y/N] moved through the effervescent crowd brimming the Starcourt Mall, the smell of deep-fried corndogs and the overwhelming fragrance of perfume samples filling the thick air. She stepped inside the parlor, pushing aside the blushing and giggling teenagers, disregarding their harsh glares and low whispers. She stopped at the counter, her ocean-blue uniform tightly squeezed in her closed hand as she breathed heavily. Steve whirled around, prepared to recite his required greeting when his jaded eyes widened and landed on the glittering gaze of [Y/N]. She was early for the beginning of her shift, earlier than she’s ever been, and he furrowed his eyebrows together as she expelled a heavy sigh and hesitantly peered over her shoulder. He stealthily glimpsed at the damp skin of her heaving chest, the edge of her cream-colored bra peeking from her tight blouse. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for five minutes,” The desperate plea fell from her glossed lips, the flushed pink of skin as she leaned over the polished counter distracted him. “I’ll explain later.” She moved around the counter’s edge, urgently grabbing his arms and loosening them as she forcefully wrapped them around herself. His hand brushed against the smooth skin of her lower back, his fingers touching the fabric of her skirt, and her breasts were pressed against his clothed chest but he could feel the warmth radiating from her. 

A teenage boy accompanied by a group of his friends stepped inside the parlor and his youthful expression fell as he witnessed [Y/N] in the warm, and extremely stiff, embrace of her supposed boyfriend. She smiled as she stood on her toes, pressing a delicate kiss to his blushing cheek as she softly moved a loose strand of his dark hair. The gesture was soft, unfamiliarly intimate as her polished nails moved behind his ear. He blinked owlishly, his softened eyes resembling warm honey as he thought of the sweetness of her gaze. This was nothing but an unexpected and temporary facade, he forcefully reminded himself; completely and unfortunately fake. The teenage boy glared poisonously before storming outside of the parlor. “He’s gone,” Steve’s voice was hoarse as the words fell from him, swallowing a lump in his throat as she backed away, the sweetness of her perfume fading. “Not that I mind, but what was that?” 

[Y/N] walked inside the back room, slamming the swinging door and sliding the moving windows close. From the blurred and textured glass, he could see her remove her small blouse, the clasp of her cream bra barely visible through the glassy haze. She always claimed she wouldn’t wear the dreadful uniform outside of the parlor, so she brought the uniform tucked inside her purse and changed in the back room. Robin didn’t mind and Steve definitely didn’t mind, but the only issue was refraining from sneaking a glimpse. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried telling him I was meeting my boyfriend, but he kept following me. That’s where you come in.” 

The young woman was blessed with the appearance of someone plastered on movie screens, painfully attractive and she always was the center of scrutiny whenever she stepped outside of her house. Everyone stared at her and it was a constant and unwavering occurrence. The issue with looking like her was the occasional creep who was convinced their persistence was going to give them a small chance of receiving her attention. But she didn’t have a boyfriend, which Robin couldn’t understand or entirely believe, but she used the boyfriend excuse constantly and normally the fabrication worked, but there was always the uncommon deviation. 

[Y/N] slid the window open, the warm lighting of the parlor illuminating the sleekness of her hair as she gave him a heart-stopping grin. He leaned against the back counter attached to the sliding window and she peered upward at him through the thick rim of her lashes. She wiped the faint lipgloss stain from his cheek with her thumb. “Sorry, it had to be believable.” The apology was barely heard as his knuckles blanched from squeezing the counter. His mouth opened and closed as she closed the window, disappearing from sight. Steve smelled the fading softness of her perfume and closed his eyes with defeat. She appeared from the back, grabbed the clear trash bag from the overflowing trash can, and disappeared from the parlor without another word. Throwing away the trash was an idle task she did whenever she didn’t want to help any customers. 

There was a small thud as Robin placed the whiteboard on the back counter. “Another one bites the dust,” She said, writing a tally on the ‘You Suck’ section of the whiteboard. “You are oh-for-six, Popeye.” 

Steve sighed heavily as he whirled around on his sneaker’s heel, crossing his arms with an exasperated glare. “Yeah, yeah, I can count.” He said, unamused by her antics. Each tally unfortunately represented another failed attempt or missed opportunity of scoring his dream girl—you. It was embarrassing having every failure on display, having to explain a poorly formulated lie as [Y/N] asked what the tallies meant, and having Robin make teasing remarks every time Steve froze and couldn’t string a sentence together whenever there was a shift in the energy between them.

Robin glanced at the black tally mark. “You know that means you suck.”

Steve nodded languidly. “Yup. I can read, too.”

She raised her thin eyebrows. “Since when?” 

He expelled a slow breath. “It never used to be like this.” He thought of his experiences during high school and there was an ache as he reminisced. He was always the guy taking girls’ breaths away, leaving them on their bedsheets feeling like their hearts were going to tear through their dresses. It used to be easy, a simple adrenaline rush, but now all [Y/N] had to do was breathe beside him and he was putty in her unaware hands.

Robin didn’t understand his cluttered thoughts. “You know, it’s a crazy idea, but have you considered just telling her the truth?” 

Steve scoffed at the sarcastic suggestion. “And risk our friendship?” He had thought about the possibility of revealing the depth of his feelings, he thought about it often, but the overwhelming dread consumed him and he was overcome with the likelihood of their friendship shattering. He didn’t mean for the words to be adorned with the intensity of his emotions, but when Robin’s lighthearted expression faded, he knew he had revealed just how much he cared. There was a moment of silence, or as silent, as an occupied shopping mall could be, and he stared at the streaks on the glass panels. “Or worse, she would tease me about it forever. That would so go to her head.” He joked, attempting to ease the saturation of the conversation, and although Robin chuckled, she knew that there was a thumping heart inside him that wasn’t calloused from high school. 

Robin knew when Steve was focused on conversing with a group of girls, displaying a swoon-worthy smile as he scooped through the variety of flavors. He was moments from earning a tally mark on the ‘You Rule’ and those girls were blushing with rosy cheeks, absorbing his smooth words, but she walked inside the parlor. [Y/N], blissfully unaware of the warmth glowing from Steve’s softened gaze, stepped inside with a verdant green, fur-lined blouse and a noticeably tight and small black skirt, her smooth legs barely visible through the black pantyhose and knee-high boots. Her hair was lazily thrown up, strands framing her grinning face. 

The words falling from Steve’s mouth disappeared into nothingness as she walked toward the counter with a smile that could have stone-cold men collapse to their knees. His eyes followed her, watching as the sunlight poured inside the parlor from the ceiling window and made her glow with golden warmth. His hand loosened and the scooper fell on top of the vanilla ice cream, disregarding the peeved questions from the girls. Robin knew when Steve easily overlooked a group of girls drowning him within their giggling attention as soon as [Y/N] arrived. Robin had never seen him look at anyone like that and he didn’t even seem to care that the group rolled their eyes and departed without another glance. He spoke with pretty girls every day, but not a single one had him ready to throw everything away for a single glance from her. 

When [Y/N] returned, the lingering conversation dissipated and they continued with their tasks. She organized the clear containers of sprinkles and cookie crumbs, meticulously labeling them with a permanent marker. She tossed a cookie crumb inside her mouth, doodling a dainty heart beside the pink sprinkle’s label. Steve languidly swept the back room’s marble floor with a rickety broom. There was a comfortable silence between them as they listened to the faint music that played throughout the mall’s speakers. As she scribbled another drawing, a familiar voice spoke from the register. “I’m Dustin,” He said and [Y/N] froze, a crooked line appearing across the clear container as she listened. Steve’s lazy movements paused suddenly, accidentally spreading the pile of dirt he managed. “Pleasure to meet you. Are they here?” The question broke them from their unsure trance and they disposed of the marker and broom, rushing to the door. 

Steve’s sneakers squeaked as she roughly pushed him aside, choosing to ignore his groan as he slammed into the door frame. He hastily grabbed her shoulder, smushing her face as he moved through the swinging door. His hands were raised in the air, unfiltered elation written on his pale face. “Henderson,” He exclaimed and Dustin laughed, pointing at him with a childlike eagerness. “Henderson! [Y/N], he’s back!”

His arm moved toward the bright logo. “You got the job!” 

Steve was moving with unseen energy. “I got the job!” He yelled with wide eyes, imitating him playing the trumpet before throwing himself into the personalized handshake they made. They made childish lightsaber sounds, pretending Steve’s intestines fell from his stomach as he was supposedly impaled. 

Robin watched the strange scene unravel from the other side of the register. “How many children are you friends with?” She asked, an amused smirk rising on her dark pink-stained lips. 

[Y/N] pushed the swinging door open and purposely shoved her shoulder into Steve’s arm as she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around the younger boy. Dustin was the aggravating sibling she didn’t have, a pesky bundle of unchecked energy she grew fond of. Encircled beneath her embrace, he blushed and his smile widened as he immediately hugged her back. Pulling away, she rushed behind the counter. “Tell me everything!” She listened as he recounted his mind-expanding experience during his summer camp retreat, the prototypes of his inventions, and the budding relationship with a girl named Suzie. She occasionally chimed in as she scooped unusually large scoops in the largest bowl they offered, throwing every topping she knew he would like, and intricately placed three soft waffle cones pieces through toothpicks and tossed a handful of bright red cherries.

She placed the makeshift ice cream boat across from Dustin on the rounded table where the cushioned booth was. “She’s brilliant, too. And she doesn’t even care that my real pearls are still coming in. She says kissing is better without teeth.” He shoved a spoonful inside his mouth, the corners of his mouth stained with different colors. Steve nodded slowly with a slightly disgusted expression, processing the revelation, and she feigned a bright smile.

“That’s really…romantic!” She replied after an unsure pause. A group of customers entered the parlor, and the children’s overexcited voices bounced off the walls. From behind the counter, Robin wordlessly pleaded for some form of assistance. “I’m gonna help out Robin and I’ll be back.” Dustin smiled thankfully as she scooted from the booth and slid the ice cream moving panel open. 

He motioned to the large plastic bowl of ice cream. “So do you really just get to eat as much of this as you want?” 

Steve, resting his forearm on the outer edge of the red booth, nodded. “Yeah, it’s not really a good idea for me, though.” He began, chancing an awkward glance where [Y/N] moved across the room. “I gotta keep in shape for the…ladies.” He explained with a feeble pause. There were no ladies and hasn’t been in quite some time and they both knew this. It wasn’t as if he didn’t try, because he did, but each failed attempt with earning a night out with a pretty girl that walked inside Scoops Ahoy sent his dwindling confidence further a downward spiral. His apprehensive eyes moved toward the smudged glass panel that protected the products from contamination, watching as she scooped a large ball, much larger than the designated size, and smiled as she spoke with a mother and her children. It never made sense to him how easily she charmed every customer like it was second nature, with complete and total ease.

Robin threw an empty cup away near the booth. “Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?”

Steve rolled his eyes at the remark. “Ignore her.”

“She seems cool.” 

“She’s not.” 

[Y/N] removed her sailor’s cap and shoved Steve aside, casually perched beside him as her exposed thigh beneath the uniform rubbed against his knee. There was nothing remotely romantic, or even sexual, about the careless touch, but it was more than enough to have him distracted by the closeness between them. Dustin sneakily watched as Steve glimpsed at her smooth skin caressing him, swallowing the mouthful of words. “So where’s the rest of the team?” She asked, finally noticing the lack of obnoxious teenagers.

Dustin’s eyes closed with a weary sigh, thrusting the spoon inside a sliced banana piece. A flicker of sorrow flashed across his face. “They ditched me yesterday,” He spat, scooping the ravaged banana slice and shoving it inside his mouth. “My first day back. Can you believe that shit?” Although she could completely believe that, she didn’t express the thought. They were all relishing the summer warmth alongside their boyfriends and girlfriends, holding each other’s sweaty hands and stealing quick kisses in the darkness of the movie theaters. “I swear to God. They’re gonna regret it, though, big time when they don’t get to share in my glory.” 

She plucked a cookie chunk from his banana boat. “Glory?” She questioned, crumbs falling against the corners of her mouth. 

There was a glint in the lightness of his eyes as he scooted closer. “So, last night we’re trying to get into contact with Suzie and…” The words faded as he nervously glanced around the parlor and brought his hand to the side of his mouth, mumbling a cluttered sentence of unintelligible words. 

Steve furrowed his thick eyebrows together, leaning closer. “What?” 

Dustin clicked his tongue against his teeth, glancing around the parlor once again before inhaling deeply. He not-so discreetly covered his mouth again, barely whispering. Her brows drew together as her eyes narrowed. “I have no idea what you’re saying right now,” [Y/N] said.

“I intercepted a secret Russian communication!” 

Her head lowered. “Oh, why didn’t you just say that, then?” She paused, processing the declaration. “I still don’t know what that means.” 

Dustin sighed impatiently, unzipping his overflowing backpack. He shuffled through the contents, placing a weathered book on the tabletop. “I just need your help translating.”

[Y/N] grabbed the tattered book, casually flipping through the yellowed pages. The distinct smell of aged paper flooded the air. She stood from the leather booth, her white sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, and she motioned for them to follow behind her. They moved through the counter and stepped inside the back room, disregarding the confused glance from Robin as Dustin trailed after Steve. He dumped his backpack onto the tabletop designated for employee breaks and retrieved his silver recorder, pressing the button on the side before a robotic male voice began reciting a message. The man repeated the message without a waver in his monotone voice. [Y/N] scribbled possible words on a yellow notepad as audio played, again and again, listening to the foreign words as she flipped through the translation book. 

There were a handful of pages discussing the Russian alphabet and they screwed the cap off an erasable marker, transcribing the foreign symbols onto the freshly cleaned whiteboard. Dustin pressed the pause button. “So what do you guys think?” 

Steve, with a thoughtful expression, peeled a banana and took a large bite as he rummaged through his thoughts. “It sounded familiar,” He eventually said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “The music right there at the end.”

Dustin’s mouth snapped shut as he watched Steve casually munch on a banana, his patience dwindling. “Why are you listening to the music, Steve?” He asked, his voice rising as he jutted an index finger at the recorder. “Listen to the Russian! We’re translating Russian!”

Steve’s cheeks extended as he spoke, his mouth full and muffled. “I’m trying to listen to the Russian, but there’s music—”

The swinging door flew open as Robin appeared, her freckled cheeks flushed with glaring frustration. “All right, babysitting time is over. One of you needs to get in there.” She aimed a scooper at them accusingly before her eyes narrowed when she saw the information of restocking on the whiteboard was erased and replaced. “Hey, my board! That was important data, guys!”

Dustin shrugged nonchalantly, unbothered by the sudden outburst. “I guarantee you what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” 

She quirked an unimpressed eyebrow, cocking her head to the side. “Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyway?” 

The younger boy’s eyes widened, peering upward at Steve who stiffened beside him. “How does she know about the Russians?” Steve merely shrugged his voice a garbled mess from the fruit. “You told her about—”

“Why do you automatically assume it was me?” Steve questioned, pointing an accusatory finger at [Y/N]. “Maybe it was [Y/N]!” 

Her glossed lips fell slack. “Of course, you’d find a way to blame me—”

“Hello, I can hear you.” Robin interrupted, her arms crossed. “Actually, I can hear everything you say. You three are extremely loud. You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape, and you’re trying to translate, but you haven’t figured out a single word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet. Sound about right?”

[Y/N] glanced at the pink ink seeping through the notepad, some of her translations circled and crossed. “Not completely right,” She muttered, circling a single word with the glitter pen. “I’m pretty sure this says yellow!” As enthusiastic as she was for the only translation she managed to complete, she wasn’t completely certain that it was correct.

Robin’s harsh glare softened as the corners of her lips curved. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” She said, but there was no mistaking the lightheartedness behind her words. [Y/N] grinned, knowing it wasn’t entirely a compliment, but she never complained when someone mentioned her appearance. Robin hastily reached forward, barely missing the recorder before Steve snatched the device away. “I wanna hear it. Maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages, you know?” 

“Russian?” Dustin asked, hopeful.

“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.” The three of them proclaimed, impressed with the foreign sentence. She rolled her eyes. “That was Pig Latin, but I can speak Spanish, French, and Italian, and I’ve been in band class for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me.” She pulled a chair beside [Y/N] as the silver bell beside the register rang through the silence. “Come on, it’s your turn to sling ice cream, my turn to translate. I don’t even want credit, I’m just bored.” Steve reluctantly took the scooper from her grasp and gave her the recorder.

The emptiness of the Starcourt Mall was unsettlingly quiet. Most, if not all, of the other shops, were cleaned and closed for the night, but there were four people remaining inside an ice cream parlor. The bright lights were still on, the only source of life inside, and almost every counter was wiped and the floor was swept. “The week is long, the silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west.” The four of them read the unusual sentence aloud, but there wasn’t even a flicker of understanding in the depths of their minds. “See, I told you yellow was in there!” Dustin gave an unimpressed side-eye before grabbing his duffle bag and stuffing his torn book inside.

The four of them were exhausted, their thoughts echoing with the Russian recording, and their supposed translation didn’t make sense. “It just can’t be right,” Steve said, pulling the metal gate over the entrance of the parlor and securing the lock. 

“Honestly, I think it’s great news,” Dustin said, walking ahead. 

Steve, with an unnecessary force, dropped the lock. “How is this great news?” He chuckled humorlessly. “So much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.” He knew he was behaving slightly dramatically, but the promise of becoming something more was enough for him to throw his entire self into the task. And maybe, just maybe, [Y/N] could have seen him as something more. 

They moved through the desolateness of the mall, occasionally glancing at the locked stores. “It’s not nonsense. It’s too specific. It’s obviously code.”

Steve thought about the suggestion for a moment. “What do you mean code?” He asked.

[Y/N] intently examined a bright pair of heels displayed on the other side of a glass window. “Like a super secret spy code in the movies?” 

Steve rolled his eyes as he lightly bumped his shoulder with hers, unconvinced with the possibility. “That’s a total stretch.” 

Robin half-shrugged, humming. “I don’t know.” She began, “Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say? ‘Fire the warhead at noon’?” 

“Exactly, that would defeat the purpose of being a secret,” [Y/N] said, “So maybe it is some kind of weird code and they’re specifically using weird words to hide their true message. Only people who have something to hide would use code to mask their message.”

Dustin high-fived her. “Exactly! You’re on a roll today, [Y/N].”

“So I guess that confirms your suspicions,” Robin said, clutching the strap of her helmet. 

Dustin gave her a knowing look. “Evil Russians.”

Robin smiled, gobsmacked that everything they were saying was making sense. “I can’t believe I’m about to agree with this strange child, but, yeah, totally evil Russians.” She giggled.

The four of them slowly walked through the mechanical animals. “So how do we crack it?” 

“I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.”

Dustin’s expression grew serious. “Maybe ‘silver cat’ is a meeting place.”

“Or a person.”

“Or a deadly weapon.” [Y/N] paused, throwing a mischievous glance behind her shoulder, but Steve wasn’t there. Her smile dwindled. “Wait, where’s Steve?” She turned, furrowing her brow as she found him. He was standing beside the mechanical horse, digging inside his uniform’s pockets. He pulled a small handful of coins, some clattering to the floor as he searched for a quarter on his palm. “What are you doing?” 

Steve moved the coins around, shaking his head softly. “I need a quarter. Do any of you have a quarter?”

[Y/N]’s eyes crinkled with a light smile as she jogged toward him. “I want a turn!” 

He ignored her, motioning for the rest of them to quicken their slow place. “Quarter!” Robin chuckled but threw him a coin regardless. He placed the coin inside the metal slot and the plastic horse began moving, a child-like tune playing. He shushed the three of them as they laughed at Robin’s muttered joke. “Will you guys shut up and listen?” 

There was a moment of silence as Dustin’s wide smile fell, realization dawning upon his face. “Holy shit. The music,” He shrugged off his bag and unzipped it, hurriedly pulling out the recorder. “It’s the same exact song on the recording.” The Russian man’s voice played from the recording and the music was the same.

Somewhat unconvinced, Robin shook her head. “Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?”

Steve, crouched by the mechanical horse, pointed at the coin slot. “Indiana Flyer? I don’t think so,” He said, “This code didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”

Steve appeared from behind a bush of large green leaves, a pair of black binoculars pressed against his concentrated eyes as he surveyed the crowded mall, with Dustin beside him. He wasn’t certain how inconspicuous they were being, especially with how noticeable his bright uniform was. “Do you see anything?” The younger boy questioned, peeking from the crevices of the leaves.

Steve moved his gaze across the food court, watching as people chewed their grease-filled food, then where a group of middle school girls gossiped at the water fountain. “I guess I don’t totally know what I’m looking for.” As soon as the midafternoon began to slow at Scoops, the three of them began investigating the bustling crowds roaming the inside of the mall. But, something that the younger boy seemed to forget, neither of them knew what exactly they were searching for.

Dustin peered over his shoulder. “Evil Russians. Tall, blond, not smiling.” He answered simply as if the answer was glaringly obvious. “Also look for earpieces, camo, duffle bags, that sort of thing.”

He hummed a distracted response before his eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Steve declared, blinking repeatedly as if the twisted sight before him was an unfortunate mirage. “Anna Jacobi’s talking to that meathead Mark Lewinsky. Jesus Christ, whatever happened to standards? Lewinsky never even came off the bench.” He said, watching with disgust as Mark pretended to throw a basketball, smiling with pride as Anna giggled.

Dustin narrowed his eyes. “Dude, you are the worst spy in history.” He yanked the binoculars from his grasp and shook his head disapprovingly. “Besides, I don’t get why you’re looking at girls. You have the perfect one right in front of you.” He said, pressing the binoculars against his face as he motioned across the food court. 

Steve sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, if you say [Y/N] again—”

“[Y/N]. [Y/N]. [Y/N]. [Y/N].”

“Stop, no. No!”

“[Y/N]. [Y/N]. [Y/N].”

“No.”

“[Y/N].”

“No.”

Steve chanced a softened glimpse where [Y/N] was casually perched between a cushioned booth, drinking a milkshake through a thick straw as she cautiously glanced around the area. This, although it was simple and didn’t require any exertion, must’ve been agony for her. She always said she would never wear the sailor’s uniform outside of the ice cream parlor, but she made the ‘sacrifice’ for them, as she said. So there she was, sipping her milkshake with a displeased expression as she searched for anything that wasn’t supposed to be there. But, as she soon realized, there were many strange people inside Hawkins and she wasn’t given specifics on characteristics to be searching for. And Steve, who was watching her with rose-colored glasses, didn’t bother disguising his blatant staring. He also watched with distaste as several guys purposely roamed the area, speaking in hushed whispers as they watched her from a distance. “Dude, no. I’m not her type. I’m nowhere in the ballpark of what her type is.” He dismissed the idea, but Dustin could hear the gloom laced in his words. 

Although the words weren’t explicitly expressed, Dustin knew that was as close to a verbal confession he was going to receive. Steve, though his friend, wasn’t acknowledging his feelings for her and Dustin wasn’t completely certain as to why. “So, what you’re saying is you’re not her type, but she’s your type?” The question was a simple and straightforward one, and easily could have been answered, but Steve hesitated.

That’s exactly what Steve was saying and that was the underlying reason he wouldn’t acknowledge his feelings. Because acknowledging he knew he wasn’t what [Y/N] wanted would only confirm he wasn’t good enough for her and he wasn’t sure he endure that feeling again. “Look, I missed my chance back in high school,” Steve eventually said, deciding that answer was more than enough for the time being. “She could have any guy she wants. She’s got a line waiting for her. Literally, there are, like, seven guys waiting to make a move on her as we speak. I lost what I had back in school. She’ll never go for me.” 

Dustin removed the binoculars and gave him a pointed look. “Now that you’re out of high school, which means you’re technically an adult, don’t you think it’s time to move on from primitive constructs such as popularity?” He didn’t understand where the obsession with popularity and social acceptance came from, but he knew where it was supposed to end and it was supposed to have ended when he crossed the stage with his diploma.

The bitterness from Steve’s expression dissipated as the question fell from his mouth. “Oh, primitive constructs?” He mocked, “That some stupid shit you learned at Camp…Nothing?” 

Dustin, entirely aware he was deflecting, rolled his eyes. “Camp Know Where, actually.” He corrected, “And no, it’s shit I learned from life. Instead of thinking you’re never gonna have a chance with her because you’re not the cool guy in high school anymore, why don’t you just forget about high school popularity and leagues, and be with somebody you actually like? Like me and Suzie?”

Steve despised knowing every word he spoke was undeniably true, he despised knowing the words of wisdom were coming from a thirteen-year-old middle schooler whose girlfriend probably didn’t even exist. He feigned an agreeing nod. “Oh, yeah! ‘Hotter than Phoebe Cates’ Suzie? And let’s think about how exactly did you score that beautiful girlfriend? Oh, yeah, with my advice. Because that’s how this works, Henderson. I give the advice, you follow through. Not the other way around, all right, pea-brain?”

Dustin rolled his eyes, disregarding the name-calling, and continued looking around the mall, his gaze moving across each and every face. It wasn’t long until he found someone matching his description. “Target acquired.” He said, watching the tall man with long blond hair push through the crowd with a dark blue duffle bag and sunglasses. “Ten o’clock. Sam Goody’s.”

Steve grabbed the binoculars, brown eyes widening as he saw the man walk with a stoic expression. “Shit,” He didn’t know any Russians, but that man was the exact image Dustin had listed earlier. He stood, whistling a specific sound and [Y/N] froze, looking up from her milkshake and meeting Steve’s flailing arms. She sipped a large gulp from the straw before throwing it away, rushing to the boy’s sides. “Let’s go!” 

He grabbed her hand, an unnecessary gesture, and pulled her through the conversing crowd and up the escalator, nearly tripping on her stained sneakers. She mumbled a string of apologies as some people yelped as they were pushed. “Slow down,” Dustin demanded, struggling to keep up with Steve’s speed. “You’re getting too close.” His shoulder bumped into a man, mumbling an apology as the guy yelled at him but the man they were following stopped, hesitantly peering over his shoulder at the ruckus. The three of them moved from his line of sight. Dustin grabbed the payphone, feigning a monotone conversation, and [Y/N] and Steve moved behind a large potted plant. She lowered her head, the fabric of his uniform caressing her cheek as he watched behind the leaves for the man to turn around. She could feel the buckle of his belt pressed against her stomach and the sudden warmth of him seeped through his clothes. Her unsure eyes moved upward, watching as his jaw clenched. Steve, noticing the softness of her lips inches away from him, glimpsed down at her, suddenly aware of how close she was to him. His mouth became dry as she stared at him with those gleaming eyes. “Steve, not now!” 

They blinked before continuing with their mission. They trailed him to a Jazzercise store and watched from behind a pillar as he dumped his duffle bag on a counter, unzipping his bag to reveal a stereo. “All right everyone, listen up!” He shouted, “I just have one question for you. Who is ready to sweat? That’s right!” The group of brightly dressed women cheered excitedly as he unzipped his jacket, revealing his muscular arms. “Let’s start it nice and easy. Let’s move our thighs. Yeah, ladies, warm it up! Come on, ladies, show me what you got!” The music began playing and Steve’s mouth fell slack as the women wearing tight spandex moved their hips slowly. 

[Y/N] rolled her eyes, smacking his shoulder. “Let’s go.” The walk back to Scoops was filled with bickering between Steve and Dustin. As they stepped inside, the smell of sweetness and floor cleaner filling their noses, Robin sprinted outside, jumping on the edge of the fountain. She circled in one spot, mumbling to herself. [Y/N] raised her brow. “Robin, what are you doing?” 

She smiled. “I cracked the code.”

“Are you serious? I just did my hair.” [Y/N] could faintly hear the sound of her displeased voice through the pouring rain and crackling thunder. She zipped her waterproof jacket and threw on the hood, pulling the two strings as far as she could manage. The gravel crunched beneath their sodden shoes as they slowly moved across the mall rooftop. Their wary eyes checked the surrounding area for any late-night employees. “So we’re looking for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes?” She asked, elbows perched on the edge of the roof. 

  Dustin uselessly wiped the glass lens of the binoculars with his drenched sleeve. The air was unusually cold and each breeze chilled her skin, goosebumps rising. “They’re with that whistling guy, ten o’clock.” He said, subtly pointing at the man wearing a yellow raincoat, pushing a red cart with large boxes. The Imperial Panda logo was printed on the sides.

Steve rubbed his palms together, his attempts at warming them were futile. “What do you think’s in there?” 

“Guns, bombs?”

“Chemical weapons?” Robin suggested as a crack of thunder and lightning tore through the sky. 

[Y/N] ’s bottom lip quivered as another breeze crashed against her. “Whatever it is, they’re armed to the teeth,” Dustin said, eyeing the large weapons clutched in their hands.

Steve wiped the heavy droplets from his face. “Great,” He mumbled, “That’s just great.” The thunder rumbled within the darkness of the clouds and [Y/N] instinctively shifted closer to him, her shaking hand squeezing his crouched knee. Her quivering touch, although ice-cold, ignited a flash of warmth through him. There was something comforting knowing she searched for some form of release within him. 

An armed guard unlocked the large double doors. “What’s in there?” Robin asked, unable to decipher much of anything through the downpour. 

“It’s just more boxes,” Dustin answered. 

Steve reached over and attempted to snatch the binoculars from him. “Let me check it out.” 

“No, I’m still looking.” The binoculars were tugged between them, both of the boys muttering profanities. They both lost their grip on it and it slammed onto the metal tube they leaned against. An echoing slam reverberated through the truck’s delivery area. “Duck!”  

The four of them tossed themselves onto the gravel of the rooftop with the backs of their head pressed against the brick of the roof’s edge. [Y/N] smashed her soaking cheek against Steve’s raincoat, interlacing her hand with his. They breathed heavily, their frightened eyes wide as the thunder rumbled. From the double doors, a guard screamed something in Russian. She blinked away the raindrops and glanced at their quivering hands. “We need to get out of here.” She said over the rainfall. They all nodded in agreement, rushing to the rooftop entrance.

Their footsteps echoed throughout the descending staircase, the bottom of their sneakers squeaking from the water as they pushed open the employee’s entrance open. The warmth of the corridor enveloped them like a heated blanket. “Well, I think we found your Russians, Dustin.”

[Y/N] scrutinized the polish on the table as she listened to Dustin speak. “The keycard opens the door, but unfortunately the Russian with this keycard also has a massive gun,” He explained the information he uncovered when he returned to the rooftop the following morning. She had scolded him as a mother would, even providing the dreadfully disappointed expression, when they were fueled by anger. “Whatever’s in this room, whatever’s in those boxes, they really don’t want anybody finding it.”

Robin fiddled with her ice cream scooper as Steve spun his sailor’s cap with his index finger. “But there’s got to be a way in.” She said, mostly to herself, as she considered the possible options. There couldn’t be one entrance and if there was, that would’ve been a severe fire hazard. 

Steve casually tossed his cap onto the table. “Well, you know, I could just take him out.” He nonchalantly suggested. And that was an egotistical portion of Steve speaking—a portion of him that was also stupid.

[Y/N] stopped messing with the silver chain of her necklace. “Take who out?” She knew she shouldn’t have asked the question because, although removing the guard from the equation would’ve been a good idea if one of them were bulletproof, she knew he was being sincere. 

“The Russian guard. Haven’t you been listening?” 

She squeezed her eyes closed, an incredulous smile curving her lips. “Yeah, I’ve been listening. Just trying to process this amount of stupidity.” 

“Oh, come on. I sneak up behind him, I knock him out, and I take his keycard. It’s easy.” And it was because of the delusion he made, entirely convinced he was some Terminator that could overpower a trained Russian guard, that she couldn’t help but laugh at him. 

“Stevie, I think you’re forgetting the part where he has a massive gun and you’re not bulletproof.”

His expression deadpanned. “No, [Y/N], I remembered that part. That’s why I would be sneaking.” He slowly moved his two fingers as if they were a person creeping around the corner. 

Dustin narrowed his eyes, his forearms crossed over each other. “Well, please, tell me this, and be honest, have you ever actually won a fight?” There was a silence for a moment as the three of them thought of when they had pressed an ice pack against the flushed bruises blossoming on his face and throwing away bloodstained tissues. 

“Okay, that was one time—” 

[Y/N]’s eyebrows rose at the understatement. “Twice with Jonathan.” She interrupted.

He rubbed his forehead. “That doesn’t count.” 

Her face was screwed with confusion. “That definitely counts because, and I’m sorry to break it to you, he kicked your ass. Like, definitely beat the shit out of you.” Steve attempted to protest, but she continued. “You had a busted lip and your eye was swollen and there was a gross amount of blood—” 

Robin’s eyes gleamed as she constructed an idea as the three of them bickered. She stood from her chair, the metal scraping against the floor, and grabbed her belongings. She pushed the back room door open and shoved her hand inside the clear tip jar. “What are you doing?” [Y/N] asked, watching as she jogged outside the parlor with a handful of cash. 

Robin paused. “I need cash!” 

Steve’s expression drooped as he saw the cash in her palm. “Well, half of that’s mine!” He nearly whined. “Where are you going?” 

She placed her helmet on, clicking the strap on. “To find a way into that room. A safe way.” She shouted from across the room. “And in the meantime, sling ice cream, behave, and don’t get beat up. It’s her day off, she’s not allowed to help you, dingus!” 

“It is fascinating what twenty bucks will get you at the County Recorder’s Office. Starcourt Mall. The complete blueprints.” Robin said as she unrolled the blueprints, flattening the blue and white paper on the table. “So, this is us, Scoops, and this is where we want to get.” She said, dragging her finger across the table. 

Steve examined the detailed outline, shaking his head. “I don’t see a way in.” He said.

“There’s not if you’re exclusively talking about doors.” She removed the top layer of the blueprint, revealing the mall’s ventilation. 

“Air ducts,” [Y/N] mumbled to herself.

Robin smiled brightly at her. “Exactly,” She said, grabbing a red marker from her whiteboard. “Turns out, this secret room needs air just like any old room. And these air ducts lead all the way here.” She traced a specific duct with the bright red ink, circling their final destination.

Steve grabbed the metal latter, firmly pressing it beneath the air vent near the ceiling. He accepted the screwdriver from [Y/N] and hurriedly unscrewed the screws securing the metal sheet. “Flashlight,” He said, extending his hand outward as he placed the ventilation sheet aside. He pressed the button and the air duct was illuminated with yellow light. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think you can fit in here. It’s like super tight.”

Dustin seemed unphased. “I’ll fit. Trust me,” He said as Steve descended the latter. “No collarbones, remember?”

Robin scrunched her face with confusion. “Um, excuse me?” 

Steve hopped off the latter. “Oh, he’s got some disease. Uh, Chry-Chrydo…something. Yeah, I dunno. He’s missing bones and stuff. He can bend like Gumbo.”

Robin gave him a dirty look. “You mean Gumby?” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s Gumbo.”

Dustin shouted from the vent, his voice echoing. “Steve, shut up and push me!” Steve rolled his eyes and stepped on the bottom step of the latter, pushing the bottom of his feet. “Not my feet, dumbass. Push my ass.”

“What—”

“Touch my butt! I don’t care!” Steve groaned with disgust as he climbed higher, apprehensively placing his palms on Dustin’s butt. “Come on! Harder! Push harder! You’re playing with my legs.”

Steve tossed his legs over his shoulder. “I’m not playing, I have terrible footing.” Dustin screeched with frustration as there was hardly any movement. “I’m just gonna shove you, okay? One, two…” And he shoved him, but there was only a creak in the vent.

Robin and [Y/N] watched the spectacle with disappointed expressions. From the register, the bell dinged repeatedly. “Ahoy, sailors! All hands on deck.” Erica pushed the small button on the bell over and over, motioning for someone to come around the counter. “Get over here and serve me some samples.”

[Y/N] and Robin shared a knowing look before dragging the little girl to the back. She protested, exclaiming she was going to tell someone to fire them, but once she saw Dustin descending the latter, she was intrigued. He handed her the flashlight and she stepped on the latter, climbing until she reached the top. The beam of light filled the vent as she briefly examined it before climbing back down. “Yeah, I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know if you can fit?” [Y/N] asked.

Erica’s face screwed with annoyance. “Oh, I can fit. I just don’t know if I want to.” 

“Are you claustrophobic?” Robin asked, unamused. 

She snickered. “I don’t have phobias.”

“Okay, what’s the problem?” 

She slammed her palms on the table. “The problem is I still haven’t heard what’s in this for Erica!”

Erica was easily convinced if she were given free ice cream for the remainder of her life, which they readily agreed because they were only going to have this job for the remainder of the summer, and memorized the outline of the ventilation blueprints until the Starcourt Mall closed. The four of them rushed to the rooftop, leaving Erica in the Scoops Ahoy back room. The radio static popped from the walkie-talkie as Robin pressed the button. “Erica, do you copy?” 

The young girl hummed in response. “I copy,” She responded, “You nerds in position or what?”

The four of them leaned against the rooftop’s edge, intently watching the loading dock and delivery area. “Yeah, we’re in position. It’s all quiet here, so you’ve got the green light.” Robin said softly. The loading dock where the group of armed guards was the other night was ominously empty. 

“Green light, roger that.” Erica said, “Commence Operation Child Endangerment.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Can we maybe not call it that?” 

“See you on the other side, nerds.” [Y/N] sighed as the bottom of her sneakers scraped against the gravel of the rooftop. The fabric of her black bellbottom jeans was stained with dust as she scooted beside Steve. The minutes progressed and there still wasn’t a response from the young girl. The child endangerment possibility was becoming glaringly conceivable and the anxiety was coursing through. “All right, nerds. I’m there.”

Robin’s tense expression eased. “Do you see anything?” 

There was a pause. “Yeah, I see those boring boxes you’re so excited about.” 

“Any guards?” 

“Negative.”

“Any booby traps?”

There was another pause, almost deadpanned. “If I could see them, they’d be pretty shit traps, wouldn’t they?” 

Robin, knowing Erica was right, only slightly smiled. “Thank you for that.”

There was a loud bang, a grunt escaping her lips as she kicked the ventilation sheet from the wall. “I’m in.” Steve ran both of his hands through his hair as he breathed out a nervous breath. There was an alarm signaling the double doors were moving and Erica appeared from the room with a satisfied smirk. She placed a hand on her hip. “Free ice cream for life.”

They rushed to the delivery area and glanced around, ensuring there weren’t any wandering guards in the shadows, before closing the double doors behind them. Steve pulled out a pocket knife, flipping the blade out and slicing the tan-colored tape on the boxes. He yanked back the box flaps and opened it, revealing a strange metallic box with a handle with a small engraving that showed to twist it clockwise. Steve expelled a breath before twisting the handle, a low hiss escaping with a light fog flowing in the air. There, inside, were four smaller handles. “That’s definitely not Chinese food.” He glanced at the five of them. “Maybe you guys should stand back.” Robin rolled her eyes but moved away regardless of the theatrics with Erica beside her. Dustin remained put. “Dude, just step back.”

“No.”

“Step back.”

“No.”

“Seriously, step back.”

Dustin smacked his hand away. “No!” He shouted assertively. “If you die, I die.” The spectacle was theatrical, somewhat endearing as the younger teenager glared with an acute finality, but also unnecessary. 

[Y/N] pushed Steve’s hand aside. “So dramatic,” She mumbled, interlocking her hand around one of the handles and pulling it out, another hiss emitting. When the item was fully out of the box, it was a thick glass vial with a neon green liquid inside, almost moving within. “What the fuck is this?” 

There was a menacing rumble as the hinges and screws creaked as the small room shook. The five of them paused, glimpsing around the room as if there were something going to emerge. “Was that just me, or did the room move?” Dustin questioned, nervous shifting his weight on his feet. There was a thunderous mechanical whirring as the room rumbled again.

Robin’s expression was plastered with unease. “You know what, let’s just grab that and go.” She demanded, snatching the green vial from [Y/N]’s loosening grasp, and moved toward the double doors. Dustin flipped open the control panel, pressing the glowing blue button that said ‘Open Door’. He pressed the button again when there wasn’t an immediate response. The doors didn’t open.

The room filled with an obnoxious clicking sound as he repeatedly smashed the glowing button. “Which one do I press, Erica?” 

She glared at him as if the answer was obvious, which it was. “Just press the button, nerd.”

He pressed the button once again. “Which one,” He blinked, wondering if he was seeing things incorrectly. “I’m pressing the button, okay? I’m pressing ‘Open Door’.” 

Steve, exasperated with the lack of any progress, shoved him aside. “Press the other button!” He demanded, pressing his thumb against the same button as earlier.

[Y/N] appeared by them, pressing the glowing green one. “Maybe it’s this one?” 

He gave her a look of disbelief. “That says ‘Close Door’, why would it be that one?” 

She tore her harsh gaze from the control panel and glared at him. “I don’t know, Steve, maybe the Russians got confused with the translations!” She moved to press the wrong button again, but he gently smacked her hand away from the panel. “Would you just let me do it?”

“No, you clearly don’t know what you’re doing—” Steve slammed his palm on the smallest button in the middle of the panel and the double doors were barricaded by a scarlet-red barrier. The fluorescent lights flickered before a mechanical whirring trembled the room. There was a stomach-churning drop. This was an unfamiliar speed, something from a rollercoaster, and there weren’t any restraints. “We’re going down! We’re doing down!” Steve screamed, covering [Y/N]’s cowering figure.

She crouched beneath his shrouding arms, her hair flowing upward. “Really, Steve, what gave you that idea?!” Her back was pressed against the metal shelves as Steve enwrapped his arms around her as much as he could. Her hands crumpled his uniform as she gripped the fabric tightly. 

Dustin slammed the random buttons. “Why don’t these buttons work?” He screamed, his voice frightened and high-pitch.

Erica rushed forward. “Push the button!”

“What do you think I’m doing?!”

The room jolted with a shattering finality and the five of them collapsed onto the floor with a pained scream. [Y/N] shrieked as she landed on top of Steve, her knee accidentally shoving into his crotch. He groaned, his pale skin reddening as her forehead bumped into his. “My groin,” He strained out, “You fell on my groin. I need you to get off me, please.” If the situation were different, and they weren’t locked inside a Russian base’s elevator, Steve would savor the weight of [Y/N]’s body on top of him, her hair brushing against his face, and have her lips inches away from him. But, the dull pain of his groin being squished clouded his thoughts. 

She glanced down where her knee was pressed against and scrambled off of him. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” He released a strained groan as she stood, carefully pulling him from the floor. “Are you okay?” 

Steve grimaced as he straightened, concentrated ire on his face. “Yeah, I’m great, now that I know Russians can’t design elevators!” He charged ahead and quite literally tossed Dustin aside, slamming the control panel open with a bang.

“I think we’ve clearly established those buttons don’t work,” Robin said, her chest heaving as she wiped the dampness on her forehead with the back of her hand.

Steve threw his arms into the air. “They’re buttons. They have to do something!” 

“Yeah, if we had a keycard!” Robin interjected, “It’s an electronic lock. Same as the loading dock door. If we don’t have a keycard, it won’t operate.”

[Y/N] examined the thick wall concealing the double doors warily. “Meaning we’re stuck in here.”

Erica stepped forward. “Just so you nerds are aware, I’m supposed to be spending the night at Tina’s, and Tina always covers for me. But if I’m not home for Uncle Jack’s party tomorrow and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she’s gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throat.”

Steve, unconcerned by the blatant threat and whining of the small girl, slammed his palms onto the discarded cardboard boxes. “I don’t care about Tina or Uncle Jack’s party! Your mom’s not gonna be able to find us if we’re dead in a Russian elevator!” He shouted with a glower. 

Erica recoiled from the severity of Steve’s tone and Dustin jutted an index finger at the evacuation hatch on the ceiling. “What if we climbed out?” 

Steve chanced a small glance where [Y/N] spoke with Robin across the elevator, the exhaustion swirling inside her droopy gaze as they analyzed the control panel. He couldn’t decipher exactly what they were whispering in hushed tones, but there was a glimmer of hope they were talking about him. He caught Robin leaning close to [Y/N]’s ear, stealing a noticeable glimpse toward him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He couldn’t see [Y/N]’s reaction to whatever was said.

He stood from the floor, wiping his palms on the fabric of his uniform, before climbing the shelves beside the evacuation hatch. As he neared the opening, he could hear Dustin speaking into the walkie-talkie and repeating the same sentence he had been saying for an hour. “Gotta take it easy on that thing. You’re going to drain the battery.” 

Dustin whirled around, facing Steve’s ascending figure. “The mall just opened. Someone can be in range.”

His face scrunched with annoyance. “What do you think? Petey the Mall Cop is gonna rappel down here and save the day?” The metal of the elevator creaked as Steve swung his leg over the opening and stood on his feet. 

The younger boy scowled at the harsh sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Why are you such in a bad mood after getting to spend the night with [Y/N] ?” 

Steve’s eyes widened as his voice traveled between the walls. He brought his index finger to his mouth and shushed him loudly. “Jesus Christ, will you stop trying to play matchmaker? It’s never happening.”

“I heard you guys talking all night,” Dustin said much quieter, unphased by the theatrics.

“Dude, you were listening in on our conversation? We were just trying to figure a way out of here.” He corrected, slowly maneuvering his way over the elevator’s wires. Which wasn’t a complete lie, just not the entire truth. “After eight hours, we’re still exactly nowhere, which is probably just a little bit of the reason I’m feeling just a tad cranky.” He hopped, undoing his belt and unzipping his shorts. 

Dustin’s eyes widened with horror. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice echoing.

Steve peered over his shoulder, eyebrows pressed together. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking a leak. Look away!”

[Y/N] and Robin spoke in hushed whispers as they tried analyzing the control panel. [Y/N] spun around, handing her Steve’s switchblade that fell from his pocket. Across the elevator, a stream of liquid poured down the wall. She narrowed her eyes with confusion, then disgust. “Move your dick over there, your pee is gonna leak onto the floor!” The trickle of urine moved in away in a jagged line. A clanking sound filled the room and [Y/N]’s eyes widened as Erica was attempting to crack open the green vial. “Are you trying to kill us? We don’t even know what that is!” 

Robin snatched the tube from her hand. “Exactly. It could be useful.” Erica protested. “We can survive down here a long time without food, but if the human body doesn’t get water, it will die.”

“Thank you, Erica, but I took third-grade science, and drinking this will probably kill us faster. It’s obviously not water.”

As the two girls bickered about the science of water consumption, Robin noticed a distant electrical humming approaching. She pressed her ear against the metal wall, her eyes widened as she heard the faint sound of voices. “We’ve got company,” She whispered, the three of them rushing to the hatch. Upon noticing their concerned expressions and quickened pace, Steve pulled them up, hurriedly closing the hatch before the elevator’s door opened. Two men entered, sniffing the air as they spoke in Russian. One of them blew a puff of smoke from his cigarette as they grabbed and moved some of the Imperial Panda boxes. As they returned back onto their small car and drove away, Steve yanked the green vial from Erica’s grasp and jumped down the hatch, throwing himself onto the floor and placing the green vial between the floor and closing the elevator door.  

“Hurry up, let’s go!” He tossed Erica’s backpack under the small crevice, pushing her by the bottom of her shoes, doing the same with Dustin and Robin. But as [Y/N] scooted beneath the elevator door, elbows rubbing against the floor until they burned, the green vial began to crack. Steve gave her one more shove and she rolled over onto her stomach. Pushing herself onto her knees, she pulled Steve’s arms and successfully got him out before the vial shattered with a hiss. A green ooze splashed as the glass splintered into pieces, burning the floor with smoke. Whatever was inside the vial was extremely acidic and seeping through concrete.

“Holy mother of God,” Dustin mumbled beneath his breath and they turned to face his direction, expressions frowning as the only path was a long corridor and they couldn’t see the end. The corridor was illuminated in blue fluorescent light, making it much more ominous.

Their skins were damp with sweat as they trudged forward, the blue light enveloping them as they moved forward inside the long stretched hallway. They all spoke about a variety of different topics as they walked through the corridor that didn’t seem to end. But it wasn’t until they began speaking about why Hawkins was chosen for some secret lab, that Steve, Dustin, and [Y/N] realized this might have been connected with the Upside Down.

Hours must’ve passed after they fastened their pace, somehow approaching the end where the corridor split into two different directions. Steve stepped forward, moving around the corner of the wall before someone drove past in a small vehicle. He quickly disappeared from view and pushed them behind a small storage unit, hiding from sight. They waited until the vehicle’s engine disappeared into nothingness before Steve peeked around the unit, motioning for them to follow him. “Okay, clear.” He whispered, “Come on, let’s go.”

“That was close.” Robin breathed out.

“Too close,” Dustin whispered.

Steve, although distressed from the close encounter, eased their concerns. “Relax, nobody saw us…” His voice trailed off as they turned around a corner, their breaths hitching as their adrenaline spiked. There, merely a few feet away, was what appeared to be the center of the underground lab, suffused with armed guards and scientists with pristine lab coats. The voices echoed through the large space, everyone wearing some form of uniform as they moved with casualness. When a guard on the upper section glanced their way, his hands wrapped around a large gun, they threw themselves behind a red cart. 

[Y/N] crouched behind the cart, her face inches from Steve’s as they slowed their panicked breathing. “I saw it. First floor, northwest.” Erica whispered, “The comms room.” 

[Y/N] slightly peeked around the handle of the cart. “Are you sure?” She asked, trying to find something that resembled what she was picturing as the comms room. She couldn’t see much through the roaming scientists and guards.

Erica nodded. “Positive. The door was open for a second and I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there.”

“That could be a hundred different things,” Dustin whispered, incredulous.

Robin swallowed nervously. “I’ll take those odds.” 

They peered around the corner and once they all knew where the location was, they moved back. “We’re gonna move fast, we’re gonna stay low,” Steve whispered and they all nodded in understanding. Crouching, they nearly crawled behind a large metal crate, waiting as the Russian voices walked across the room, then behind a bulky machine. A scientist unlocked the door and ignorantly walked away, his eyes focused on his file. Steve waved the five of them over. “Let’s go.” He shoved his hand between the door and successfully prevented it from closing. He silently closed the door as soon as they were all in behind him. 

A guard swiveled around and his eyes widened as he saw them inside the room, tearing off his thick headphones. He stood on his feet, confused eyes moving between the five of them. His hand hastily encircled around his holster. Robin instinctively rushed forward, her palm extended outward, shouting something in Russian. [Y/N] recognized the Russian words from the message they decoded. The man froze, responding and appearing even more confused. Robin tried again, the desperation evident on her flushed face but the guard wasn’t convinced by the nonsense she was spewing. He unbuttoned his holster, yanking his gun out.

Steve moved before he could even process what his body was doing. He shouted an animalistic sound, sprinting forward at full speed and wrapping his arms around the guard, slamming him into the counter where he was working. The guard pulled him off his waist and tossed Steve onto the table beside them, throwing a heavy punch Steve barely dodged. The man latched onto fingers onto Steve’s uniform, throwing him onto another table. Steve shot his elbow out into his rib, grabbing a metallic phone before smoothly moving it to his hand and colliding it against the guard’s temple. The man groaned as he fell back and smashed his head onto the table behind him, blood staining his skin as he collapsed onto the floor. 

Steve breathed heavily as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Dude! You did it,” Dustin yelled with a wide grin. “You won a fight!” The exhilaration was flowing through him as his body ached and his chest burned with every breath. He didn’t even process Dustin’s exclamation until he tore his exhausted gaze from the unconscious guard. He expelled a heavy sigh as he took in the wide-eyed sight of [Y/N] . And as she rushed toward him with a small, yet amazed, smile, he knew it was worth it.

Dustin stole the keycard from the guard’s belt and [Y/N] inspected Steve with worried eyes. Her shaking hands checked his face, pushing his hair away as she analyzed him as Erica and Dustin argued. “Are you okay?” She asked, still unconvinced there was some injury. 

Steve grabbed her wrists gently. “Yeah, I’m okay. I promise.” He couldn’t contain the small smile at her concern.

Robin nearly tripped down the stairs from across the room. “Guys, there’s something up there!” They ascended the staircase and a bright, flickering blue glow seeped through the square window on the door. Steve opened the door and they slowly entered after him. 

The sight was something pulled from a sci-fi movie; a huge glowing machine that hummed loudly as it spun, scientists wearing lab coats and radioactive gear walking around the machine as they inserted the green vials into the crackling machine, and it oozed with electricity as a bright beam shot at the concrete wall, a portal tearing through. “It’s the gate,” [Y/N] mumbled, closing her eyes as terrifying reality hit her; the Russians were opening The Gate. “We need to get out of here.”

There wasn’t any objection from any of them as they opened the door and descended the staircase. “I don’t understand. You’ve seen this before?” 

“Not exactly, just know this isn’t good.” [Y/N] could feel the familiar fear coursing through her as she nearly tripped on the last step. “We need to do something. A lot of people are going to die if we don’t!” She shouted, her quivering hand squeezing Steve’s shoulder.

“And you know about this how?” 

Erica glimpsed at the area where the guard lay unconscious and all there was left was a blood stain. “Uh, Steve? Where’s your Russian friend?” 

As soon as the words were said, an alarm blared and a flashing red light filled the room. Steve cursed, sprinting to the door and opening it. Across the room, a group of armed guards huddled around the stumbling and bleeding man. They screamed as they noticed Steve from the doorway. He slammed the door closed. “Go! Go! Go!” They sped up the staircase and stormed the portal room, ignoring the questioning glares they earned from the scientists. 

The guards shouted at them as they chucked the scientists aside and followed the five as they ran along the machine’s walkway. They could feel the heat of electricity crackling and they could barely hear anything over the blue beam shooting into the wall. “HOLY SHIT!” Dustin screamed as he nearly stumbled off the pathway before [Y/N] yanked him back by his collar. 

Steve circled around, spotting another path down a small staircase. “THIS WAY!” They thoughtlessly followed him as he shoved a guard over the railing. A pair of guards appeared from an entrance and [Y/N] screamed, slamming her body into a pile of metal barrels at them. The barrel collapsed onto them and they were squished on the floor. Steve pulled her to her feet and they continued sprinting until they poured into an empty room. Steve planted his sneakers on the floor, struggling to keep the guards from opening the door. 

Dustin and Erica lifted a loose panel on the floor, revealing a small escape route. [Y/N] pressed her back into the door, her boots squeaking as the force of the pounding guards was slowly pushing her. “Guys, let’s go!” Dustin shouted, helping Erica and Robin into the secret passage. 

“No! Get out of here!” 

“Steve, come on!” 

Steve exchanged a worried look with [Y/N], who was moments from being thrown from the door, and she frowned, nodding. “Just go get some help!” Dustin hesitated but jumped inside the passage and yanked it closed. As soon as they disappeared from view, the guards gave one final shove and the two of them were thrown onto the floor. They barreled in, aiming a variety of weapons at them. [Y/N] attempted to shove her face into Steve’s arms, knowing it was futile and it wasn’t going to help them, but a guard grabbed her hair, dragging her away from him. She screamed, scratching at his hands but his grasp only tightened. Steve lurched forward, but a guard’s boot kicked his jaw.

Specks of blackness clouded her blurred vision. The pain was unbearable as they jabbed [Y/N]’s stomach until the air was seized from her lungs, punched her face until saliva and blood trickled down her chin and stained her clothes, and slapped her until there was a red handprint bruised on her cheek. She knew she should have answered their questions, she should have explained this was an entire misunderstanding, but something told her she wasn’t going to leave regardless. They interrogated her until the questions were seared into her brain and she flinched as soon as the man inched closer. Tears streamed down her bruised cheeks, mixing with the dripping blood. She sobbed, each erratic breath felt like she was breathing in burning flames. She didn’t know how much time had passed when she grabbed her arms, pulled her from the chair, and dragged her down a hallway. To scream and plead seemed useless as they all continued with their idle tasks as she wept.

They opened a door, carelessly releasing her limp body onto the floor with a harsh thud. She struggled to breathe as her face collided with the floor and her restrained hands were raw from how much she uselessly tugged on them. Beside her laid Steve, bloodied and unconscious. She groaned as she pushed herself off the floor, crouching close to his face she tried nudging him. “Steve? Steve, come on, wake up.” Her voice was hoarse as she spoke, the desperation for him was seeping through her. She had never experienced this intensity of fear as she attempted to nudge his limp body again. He wouldn’t respond, his eyes were swollen and unreactive. She was hoping he would rustle awake, and mutter something about her breath smelling horrible, but he didn’t move. She couldn’t even check his pulse.

A loud buzzer was heard as the military-grade door opened, revealing an older soldier. The way he entered the room and the medallions were sewn into his uniform told her he was dripping with power. She glared at his approaching figure with undiluted hatred. “What did you do to him?” The words burned her throat as she screamed at him and he was momentarily surprised she finally spoke. But he eyed her as if she were nothing but a speck of dust, an inconvenience. She groaned as he backhanded her, ordering the two guards behind him and besides the doorway.

Two small chairs were swiveled to the middle of the room and the guards clumsily placed them both on the seats, back to back, and fastened a secure restraint around them. [Y/N] tried to wiggle free, but she could barely move her own limbs. The older soldier gripped Steve’s damp hair, pulling his bloodied face upward. “Don’t you fucking touch him!” She sneered with venom. The crimson blood stained her teeth as she bared them. He tsk’d and shook his head disapprovingly, releasing Steve’s hair. He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the blood and sweat from his hand. “Steve, Stevie, can you hear me?” 

“I think your boyfriend needs a doctor. Good thing we have the very best” The soldier said, circling around to face her. He rested his palms on his knees, leaning inches away from her face until she could smell the tobacco from his breath. “I’m so glad you choose to speak now.” [Y/N], although barely functioning from the pain, spit on his face. She watched with hazy satisfaction as the bloody saliva trickled down his face and stopped his cruel laughter. He wiped away the mess from his face with the white cloth, his wrinkly eyes flaring with fury. “You’re going to regret that, little bitch.” A wide and twisted smile rose on his thin lips as he straightened and exited the room without another word, locking the door behind him.

Her breathing was slow and deliberate as she looked around the desolate room, faintly wheezing with each exhale. The warm blood cascaded down her bruised skin. There was a silver tray across the room beside the examination bed and a moveable lamp. As she glanced around, evaluating the large locks on the door, she was overwhelmed by the hopelessness coursing through her. She couldn’t move with numbing restraints and each movement ignited a blistering ache. Her eyes glistened as she smelled the copper stench from behind her as Steve’s loose mouth leaked. She squeezed her eyes closed, the tears streaming down her face. She remained like that for what felt like hours but must’ve been minutes, and leaned as close as she could to him.

There was a faint shuffle behind her. “You okay, princess?” Steve mumbled.

Her eyes flew open at the unexpected sound of his low voice and gasped with relief. “Steve, Oh, my God,” Her soaking tears fluttered as she tried peering over her shoulder to see him. The agony was still rampant, unwavering, but something eased within her knowing he was okay. “Are you okay?” 

His breathing hitched as he listened to the hoarseness of her voice. “My ears are ringing, and I can’t really breathe, my eye feels it’s about to pop out of my skull, but you know, apart from that, I’m doing pretty good.” He knew there was something seriously wrong if she was sobbing behind him, quivering as if the room were filled with ice, and the potent stench of blood filled the air. 

She chuckled, choking back a threatening cry. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” She said, but she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. “They’re calling us a doctor.” She informed sarcastically, almost laughing despite the severity of the situation. 

Steve swallowed, glimpsing around through the blur. “Is this his place of work?” He asked, chuckling at his own joke. “I love the vibe. Charming.” 

She laughed, which sounded more like a huff of air, and realized how much she needed to hear him. The unknowing of his well-being, wondering even for a split second if he was even alive, was the worst terror she had ever experienced. But they weren’t going to survive here, so they needed to escape. “What I’m about to suggest is going to hurt, but we’ve gotta work together. There’s a table to your right and there’s a pair of scissors, if we move at the same time, we could maybe get over there and knocked them onto your lap or something.”

“And I could cut the binds.” 

She struggled to smile at the vitality in his voice. “Exactly. See, you’re not just a pretty face.”

“Those morons left scissors in here?” 

“Definitely morons.” She wheezed a small laugh, and she coughed a thick blood clot, not bothering to care about the blood dripping down her face. “Okay, on the count of three, we’re gonna hop.” 

Although she couldn’t see him, she could feel him nod to himself. “Okay, good, hop on three. I gotcha.” 

“One, two, three.” They used their remaining strength to hop and inch to the side. “Okay, that worked! Let’s do it again. One, two, three. Holy shit, it’s working! Again.”

They hopped, but the weight was unbalanced and they landed wrong. The chairs slipped and they collapsed onto their sides. [Y/N] groaned as her temple smacked the concrete. Steve breathed out a wavering sigh and she choked on the threatening sobs. He froze, struggling to peer over his shoulder. “It’s okay, princess.” His soft voice reassured her. “Don’t cry.”

A small puddle of blood pooled beneath her cheek. “It’s not okay, I’m practically choking on my own blood here, we don’t even know if the kids and Robin got out, and we’re going to die in this fucking secret Russian underground base.”

His eyes closed as he listened to the bleakness behind her words. “We’re not gonna die,” He said, but he wasn’t certain he believed his own words. “We’re gonna get out of here, okay? I promise I’m going to get you out of here.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to be American Heroes, plastered on the newspapers for saving the country, but [Y/N] was broken and bleeding. The only woman he’d ever known to literally radiate sunshine was shattering beside him. 

A soul-shattering weep tore through her, the putrid smell of her own blood seeping into the air. She tried to slow her breathing, focusing on her thoughts and memories instead of the blinding pain. “Do you remember our first conversation back in sophomore year?” She apprehensively asked. He muttered something beneath his breath. The question was random, but he knew she was asking to tether herself to reality. “You were at basketball practice, I was at cheerleading practice, and you guys kept throwing the balls in our section of the court. I think you guys were trying to get our attention, but you only pissed us off. I yelled at you, calling you every name I could think of and all you did was smirk and tell me to go back to shaking my pom-poms. You were such an asshole around your friends.”

Steve closed his eyes, listening to the story. “I know.” He said softly.

“But it didn’t even matter because you showed up at my locker the next day and apologized. You, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, waited all morning by my locker so you could say sorry.” The slice on her lower lip stung as she smiled, remembering the spectacle of Steve Harrington casually against her locker with all the confidence in the world. “I told you to go fuck yourself and you still cheered me on during my cheer solo at the game. I don’t know how we became friends, but I think it was because you liked that you didn’t have to be so uptight with me. You got rid of your ‘King Steve’ facade and you were just my Stevie. You weren’t concerned with all that popularity shit and you were just you.” 

Steve didn’t speak immediately, only remembering the words Dustin had told him earlier. He was enthralled with his appearance, his clique, and basketball that he didn’t even consider anything that made him genuinely happy. “It just baffles that everything that people tell you is important, everything that people say you should care about, it’s all just bullshit. But I guess you gotta mess up to figure things out, right? ” He chuckled humorlessly. “I wish I wasn’t such an asshole to you back in high school because maybe, just maybe, we could’ve become friends sooner and things would’ve been different for both of us. I needed you to shake me and yell in my face, ‘Steve, none of this shit matters. Get your life together and maybe instead of being here, I’d be on my way to college right now.”

He could hear the curve of her lips as she spoke. “And I’d be in fashion school and wouldn’t be scooping ice cream with some asshole.” 

Steve laughed, ignoring the sharp pain. “Gotta say, though, I liked being your Stevie. It was fun while it lasted.”

Her smile wavered. Your Stevie. She hadn’t even considered how much she liked hearing him say that. “It was.” 

The buzzer rang through the room and the door unlocked, revealing the older soldier. He examined them laying against the floor and chuckled at the sight. “Where were you two going?” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. The two goons easily picked them up from the floor, returning them back to their original position. He leaned closer to Steve’s bruised face. “Try telling the truth this time, yes? It will make your visit with Dr. Zharkov less painful.” He nodded for the doctor to commence with whatever their plans were. He stepped aside, moving closer to where [Y/N] was seated, and cocked his head menacingly. “You can sit and watch this time. You are too sick.”

She didn’t even have time to process what he’d meant by ‘too sick’. A man wearing white medical attire raised a gun-like machine, displaying a large needle with a vial of blue liquid. Steve screamed as the man punctured his neck, the vial injecting into his bloodstream with a hiss. “Honestly, I don’t feel anything.” He blinked away the dwelling tears away. “I feel kinda good. Morons messed up the drug” He revealed, erupting in a fit of giggles.

His cheeks began to throb from how much he was laughing. A wave of nausea overcame her as she struggled to keep her eyes open. “Something’s wrong,” She muttered, licking the dried blood from her lips. The buzzer sound came and the door unlocked, revealing the same crew. The doctor slammed a black bag onto his table, removing the contents one by one. 

The soldier glared at Steve, his hands behind his back. “Let’s try this again,” He said, “Who do you work for?”

“Scoops,” Steve struggled to keep the laughter inside. “Scoops Ahoy.” 

“How did you find us?” 

Steve chuckled. “Totally by accident.” The soldier spat something Russian and Dr. Zharkov retrieved a tool from his array and attached the end to Steve’s fingernail. “Wait, whoa, wait, wait!”

“It was a code!” [Y/N] shouted, “We heard a code! ‘The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. You can’t be surprised someone overheard that stupid shit because you broadcast it all over town and we cracked your dumb spy code in a fucking day! How does that make your ego feel knowing a couple of stupid kids who scoop ice cream cracked your code and now, people know you’re here!”

His face flushed with rage. “Who knows we are here, little bitch?”

She sneered, sweat beading around her forehead. “Guess you’ll find out, you cunt—” Dr. Zharkov embedded a small makeshift knife into her thigh. She screamed like a wailing banshee as the blade tore through her skin and her eyes were blinded with darkness as the suffering was unlike anything she’d ever felt. The blood trickled down her skin, and the fabric of her clothes was damp with her own blood. 

“Who knows we are here?!”

Steve glanced over his shoulder with wide and paranoid eyes. “Dustin knows,” Before she could strain through the black specks overcoming her and scream for him to keep his mouth shut, he continued. “Dustin Henderson knows”

“Dustin Henderson,” The soldier said, his accent thick. “It is your small, curly-haired friend?”

“Oh, curly-haired. Great hair. Small. Kind of like a ‘fro.” Steve knew all of this was wrong, but he couldn’t stop talking. The words were barely forming inside his jumbled head before they escaped him like vomit.

“Where is he?” 

“He’s long gone, you big asshole. And he’s probably calling Hopper, and Hopper’s calling the US Cavalry. They’re gonna come in here, commando-style, guns a-blazing, and kick your sorry asses back to Russia. You’re gonna be two pieces of toast.” An emergency alarm began blaring throughout the base, a flashing red light catching their attention. The soldier straightened at the blinking lights and his expression hardened before he disappeared out the door. 

Moments passed when the door was slammed open and Dustin sprinted inside, shoving an electric stick into the chest of Dr. Zharkov. He convulsed before collapsing onto the floor. “Henderson!” Steve exclaimed, “That’s crazy, I was just talking about you. Look, you gotta help [Y/N].” 

Robin appeared from the doorway, her eyes widening with fear as she took in the twisted sight of [Y/N] soaked with blood, bruised, and basically broken. She collapsed onto the floor, hastily undoing her restraints. Erica stepped inside the interrogation room and the constantly annoyed facade dropped as she saw Robin’s shaking hands covered with dark scarlet. As soon as the restraints around her hands were removed, [Y/N] brought a weak hand toward the blade protruding from her thigh. She weakly wrapped her hand around the handle, squeezing her eyes tightly until the tears streamed down her face. Before she could begin thinking of the pain, she yanked the blade out and screamed until her throat ached. “We’re gonna have to run, okay?” She could barely hear Robin speak over the constant thumping in her head. She latched her loose arm around her shoulders, guiding her through the maze of corridors. The walls were blending together, a dark and hazy mush as she limped.

Dustin struggled to keep Steve upright as they rushed through the flashing red light. Robin gripped onto [Y/N] tightly, her hands slipping from her grasp occasionally as the blood made it slippery. She whispered reassuring nothings as they moved through the corridors, telling her they were only a couple of feet away and to keep her eyes open. She stopped moving as they neared the small vehicle they had stolen, carefully opening the back door and placing [Y/N] inside. Dustin, however, tossed Steve into the back of a red vehicle and didn’t waste any time driving as quickly as they could. 

[Y/N] brought her clenched fist to her mouth to refrain from screaming out as they jolted against the metal barrier on the back of the vehicle. “Jesus, slow down!” Steve slurred. 

“Dustin, watch out!” Erica shouted as he crashed the vehicle into a pile of barrels. 

[Y/N]’s head clashed against the metal barrier and she groaned as she leaned into Steve’s chest. The three of them hopped off the vehicle and unlocked the door. “Come on, let’s go!” Dustin shouted, confused as to why Steve wasn’t in any rush to leave.  He yanked on Steve’s ankle, dragging him out and Robin carefully pulled [Y/N] from the back, nearly slipping on her blood. “Here goes nothing,” Dustin muttered to himself as he shoved the keycard into the slot for the elevator. The light turned green and the elevator door opened. The five of them hurried inside and the room immediately began jolting upward.

Steve stood on a metal platform with wheels on the bottom, struggling to balance and remain upright. “Dustin, I’m surfing!” The three of them ignored Steve’s antics as Robin pressed onto her thigh, apologizing as she applied pressure. Erica pulled a sweater out from her My Little Pony backpack and Robin swiftly cut the fabric with Steve’s pocketknife. She wrapped the fabric around her thigh, pulling tightly and making a tourniquet. 

“This is ridiculous! You’re still so pretty even all bloodied and bruised. That shouldn’t be possible.” Steve spoke, confused as to what was even happening. Everything was moving quickly and he couldn’t think properly.

[Y/N] struggled to move closer to the elevator wall, a wave of nausea moving through her. “You got a thing for blood and tears, Harrington?” She questioned through clenched teeth, avoiding looking at the bloodied wound.

He giggled. “If it’s on you, then yeah.”

Erica watched him behave erratically. “He seems drunk.” She commented.

Robin wiped the blood from her hands as much as she could manage. “Why would he be drunk?” She asked absentmindedly, her attention centralized on the redness stained on her skin. He misplaced his footing on the moving platform and he slipped off, collapsing onto the floor with a thud. Robin kneeled beside him, placing her hand on his forehead. “He’s burning up.” 

Steve didn’t even seem to be understanding the severity of the situation. “How am I burning up? She’s the hot one!” His limp hand pointed at where [Y/N] leaned against the wall, breathing shakily. Her skin was blanched, damp with sweat as she struggled to keep her eyes open. But she chuckled lightly at the delirious remark.

Dustin leaned beside him, ignoring his complaints as he pried his hands away and forcefully pulled his eyelid upward. “His pupils are super dilated.” He said. Steve booped the tip of his nose as Dustin slightly slapped his cheek. “Come on, knock it off.”

[Y/N] gripped Robin’s hand, her weak grasp wavered as she released a shaky breath. “He was drugged.” She mumbled, her mouth suddenly felt dry. “They injected him with something.”

“How many times, dad? I don’t do drugs. It’s only marijuana.” Steve slurred, struggling to blink normally.

Robin swiped the beads of sweat on [Y/N]’s pale forehead. “I think she’s internally bleeding.” She commented and the harshness of their reality intensified as she realized her friend was slowly dying on the floor of a Russian elevator.

Steve smiled widely. “That’s good! That’s where the blood’s supposed to be.”

The amount of crippling stress flowing through Dustin wasn’t something a thirteen-year-old boy was supposed to experience. One of his best friends, someone he even considered an annoying older brother, was drugged and could possibly overdose. Another one of his best friends, someone he thought of as an older sister who would do anything for him, was bleeding out on the floor and there wasn’t anything he could do. He shook his head. “They’re going to be looking for us up there, so we need to know where you parked your car.” He asked Steve.

Steve booped his nose again. “Can we make a pit stop at the food court?” 

“Yeah, sure, whatever. You can have as much food as you want, but only if you tell me where you parked your car.”

Steve’s face fell. “The Russians took my car keys,” He said, emptying out his pockets to reveal nothing inside them.

“Shit.”

There was only one rule Steve was given: watch the premiere of the movie and don’t go anywhere. Dustin and Erica were supposed to be babysitting him, perched only a row away from him, while Robin tried to clean [Y/N] as much as she could inside the restroom. But when Robin apprehensively left her alone to call for Dustin’s assistance, Steve inevitably became bored with a movie he didn’t understand. He stole a small glance where the three of them spoke in hushed whispers and when he saw they were distracted, he snuck out of the movie theatre. It wasn’t until long before the blinding lights and nausea overpowered him and he could feel the chunks of popcorn threatening to come out. He sprinted inside the bathroom, completely overlooked [Y/N]’s near-unconscious body, and vomited inside the toilet.

As he flushed the chunks of throw-up, he flopped onto the floor and rested his head against the bathroom stall. “Did you puke it all up?” [Y/N] questioned, propped against the tiles of the bathroom wall. She watched as he wiped the vomit away from his mouth with a piece of toilet paper.

When his sober gaze landed on her, a wave of blinding rage and concern crashed through him. He had seen her condition when they were in the back of the vehicle, zooming through the base’s corridors and bumping their skulls because of Dustin’s driving, but he was barely registering everything. “I don’t know,” He mumbled, his eyes moving across her. She was pale, her eyes sunken eyes were bloodshot and smudged, her face bloodied and bruised. There was a large handprint across her face, her bottom lip split, and there was so much blood staining her skin.

She swallowed the lump lodged within her throat. “That bad, huh?” She whispered, briefly closing her eyes. She had never seen him stare at her with such emotion before.

“You’ve never looked better.” It was such a blatant lie, horrifically untrue, but she was so thankful for the moment of normality. 

She clutched her side pathetically. “I don’t think you threw up all of that drug.” She said, the corners of her bloodstained lips rose.

He pushed himself from the tiles of the bathroom floor and scooted across the small distance, sitting beside her. She placed her temple on his shoulder, leaning against him as she encircled her arm around his. “Test it out yourself. Ask me anything.” He didn’t know where Robin or Dustin was, probably trying to devise a plan where they could escape alive, but he knew he was all she had at that moment.

He was expecting a lighthearted question, something to distract her from this unfortunate reality while they waited, but as she glanced upward at him, peering at him with her doe-eyes and exhaustion, she asked him something he didn’t think he would have to answer: ‘Have you ever been in love?’ 

Steve thought about the question. The answer was simple: Of course, he had and everyone knew of his heartbreak when she chose another guy over him. So he sighed and interlaced his hand with her bloodstained one. “Yeah, Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.” Thinking of the memories with her, it felt like lifetimes ago. 

And she asked the question he didn’t even want to think of: ‘Are you still in love with Nancy Wheeler?’ He thought and the revelation was like lightning coursing through his veins. He could feel the depleting warmth escape her hand as she held him tightly as she waited for his answer. He glanced down at her and it was like he was seeing her for the first time, and despite being covered in darkening shades of lilac and green, the darkness of her own blood drenched on her skin, she was painfully beautiful and his stomach lurched. He didn’t love Nancy Wheeler anymore. So he answered truthfully. “No.”

Her dazed gaze appeared almost expectant. “Why?” 

The question was simple and he already knew the answer. He had known the answer for years and it was looking straight at him. “I think it’s because I found someone who’s a little bit better for me.” He reluctantly admitted, “Ever since Dustin got home, he’s been saying, ‘You know, you’ve gotta make a move. You gotta make a move.’ And the girl I like is someone I never would have talked to in school because she was so out of my league. And I didn’t, I crushed on her from afar, until she cussed me out at basketball practice in front of all my friends and I was a goner. I never should have tried to move on from her with Nancy. I should have just made a move with her.

Because she’s so funny. I feel like, this summer, I have laughed harder than I have laughed in a really long time. And she’s brave, way braver than me. She took a beating from a Russian soldier and cussed him out after. And she’s so pretty and when she looks at me, I forget how to breathe. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.” He glanced down at her, eyebrows furrowing with concern when he noticed her eyes were closed. He shook her gently. “[Y/N]?” A flicker of concern flashed through him. 

Her eyes fluttered open at the movement. “I was listening, just trying to stop the room from spinning.” Her voice was soft as she spoke and she carefully laid her head against his thighs, whimpering through clenched teeth at the pain the small movement made. “I think this guy is on Russian drugs and isn’t thinking straight.” 

Steve smoothed the loose strands of hair on her head. “Really? Because I think he’s thinking a lot more clearly than usual.” This wasn’t exactly how he wanted this conversation to happen. If he ever did manage to discover the courage to reveal his feelings for her, he didn’t think it would happen because she was slowly losing consciousness after being beaten by Russian soldiers. 

Her eyes slowly blinked as she breathed a shaky breath. “You’re unbelievable, Steve Harrington.” She mumbled, focusing her bleary gaze on the stitching of his stained uniform. She squeezed his hand as tightly as she could manage and chuckled breathlessly. “You’re going to tell me this all over again when we get out of here, okay? You’re going to pour your stupid heart out to me when I’m not dying on a bathroom floor.”

He smiled, ignoring the sharp pain from his split lip. “I’ll write it down and everything.” 

She opened her mouth to respond, but the nausea was intense and she quickly straightened, wincing as she hastily crawled against the floor to the toilet. Leaning against the porcelain of the toilet seat, she vomited. She gagged violently, tears stinging her eyes as the water sloshed around. Steve rushed ahead, gathering her hair from her face, and soothingly rubbed her shoulder as she continued throwing up. She yanked a strip of toilet paper, wiping the remnants off her skin. Her eyebrows pinched together with confusion as the stains on the paper were tarry, unusually dark. The chunks inside the toilet were black, unlike anything she’s ever vomited before. 

The bathroom door slammed open and Dustin, Robin, and Erica appeared in the doorway. Steve peered over his shoulder, his wide-eyed expression fully indicating something was wrong. [Y/N] flushed the toilet as she turned to face the three. “I’m internally bleeding.” She informed them confirming Robin’s suggestion from earlier, remembering the pictures she had seen in her health textbooks. “And judging by my throw-up, it’s really bad. I’ve got a few hours.” She shuffled her weight as she struggled to stand on her wobbly legs. The wound on her thigh throbbed, feeling like a splinter as she tried to steady herself. Steve immediately grabbed her arms, gently helping her stand.

The worry on their faces was evident as Dustin nodded firmly, a newfound determination moving through him.  “Okay, we need to get out of here, let’s go.” He carefully opened the door, peering outside at the wandering crowds departing from the finished movies. “Blend in.” They stepped outside, [Y/N] subtly clutching onto Steve’s arm for balance as she tried to conceal her limp. “We just have to get on the bus with the rest of these plebes, and home sweet home, here we come.”

Steve’s face blanched. “Uh, Dustin,” He hesitantly said, “We might not wanna go to your house. I might’ve told them your full name.” 

Dustin’s eyes widened as he turned to glare at him. “What is wrong with you?” 

“Dude, I was drugged.”

“So?”

“So?!”

“So, you resist. You tough it out. You tough it out like a man.”

[Y/N] gnawed on her lower lip to restrain the threatening whimpers as she teetered through the crowd. Everyone was enthralled in their own conversations about the movie, accidentally bumping and shoving her arm as they walked towards the mall exit. As they walked around a corner, there was a line by the entrance as a group of men examined everyone’s ID. “Guys,” Robin said, stopping Steve and Dustin from continuing onward. One of them locked eyes with them and started walking toward them.

“Abort,” Dustin said, whirling around and sprinting in the opposite direction. The five of them ran toward the escalators, cursing as the escalators were blocked by a velvet rope and no longer in service. Robin slipped in between the slide-like sheet between the escalators, sliding down with ease. They all mimicked her, Steve helping [Y/N] step onto the platform.

As they landed on the bottom of the escalators, they moved as quickly as they could behind a counter of a pizzeria at the food court, pressing their backs against the compartments behind the counter. [Y/N] squeezed Steve’s hand as she perched beside him, trying to calm her erratic breathing as the Russian guards spoke into his device. The five of their knees were pressed against their chests as they listened to the sudden silence. 

The display car near the center of the mall alarm wailed, honking in a pattern as the metal creaked as it shook in place. The guards spun around, weapons aimed at the shaking car before it was thrown across the food court, colliding with the group of Russian guards and shattering everything it was thrown into. The five of them apprehensively peered over the countertop as the car hissed, glass shards collapsing onto the floor as the guards bled out. There, on the top floor, was the rest of the group. 

[Y/N] sighed with relief as they moved around the counter, limping towards the approaching group. Dustin sprinted toward El, a wide smile on his face. “You flung that thing like a hot wheel!” He wrapped his arms around Mike and El.

Erica furrowed her eyebrows with bewilderment. “Lucas?!”

Lucas mimicked her reaction. “What are you doing here?!”

She jutted her thumb towards the three older ones. “Ask them. It’s their fault.” 

Steve gently placed [Y/N] on one of the food court’s benches. “True, yeah. Totally true. It’s absolutely our fault.”

Robin glanced between the upside-down car and the group. “I don’t understand what happened to that car.”

Dustin pointed at Eleven. “El has superpowers.”

“She threw it with her mind. Come on, catch up.”

“Who’s El?” 

Nancy inched forward, eyeing Robin with uncertainty. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“I’m Robin, I work with Steve and [Y/N].”

“She cracked the top secret code.”

[Y/N] tightened the cloth around her oozing thigh. “Which is how we found out about the Russians.” She breathed out, cleaning her stained hands with the napkins on the tabletop.

Jonathan glanced at her with confusion. “Russians? What Russians?”

“Those were Russians?” Max asked, looking over where the dead men laid.

“Didn’t you hear our code red?” Dustin asked.

“Yeah, and I couldn’t understand what you were saying.” 

“Goddamn low battery!”

“How many times do I have to tell you about the low battery?” Steve exclaimed, slapping his hands together.

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Well, everything worked out, didn’t it, Steve?”

Erica extended her arm toward [Y/N]. “Worked out? [Y/N] is literally dying.”

[Y/N] covered her mouth with her trembling hand, losing the remaining strength she contained, and collapsed onto the floor. Her knees crashed against marble flooring and she braced herself with her hands. She hurled, tarry chunks of vomit spreading across in a muddy puddle. The group rushed toward her, avoiding the vomit, and Steve gripped her hand. She fell to the floor and Steve cradled her in his arms. “What the hell happened to her?” Nancy said, pressing her two fingers against her wrist. Her pulse was there, faint and she missed it the first time, but still there nonetheless.

Nancy had never seen her as anything other than annoyingly perfect, but here she was, deathly pale and barely lucid as she mumbled something beneath her breath. The chilling spectacle was nerve-wracking and she was overcome with the sudden possibility that she was going to die in Steve’s arms. 

Steve moved the hair from her damp forehead. “She was tortured by the Russians,” He stuttered, remembering the words she had uttered earlier. “She said she had internal bleeding.”

Robin tucked her hair behind her ears. “She was bleeding out from her thigh. I tried putting a tourniquet around it.” 

Nancy pressed the open wound on her thigh, grimacing as the blood oozed between her fingers. Her blood was warm, but her skin was unusually cold. “Shit, she’s dying from blood loss.” Steve didn’t even think about the possibility of blood loss, but as he thought of it now, it was glaringly obvious. She was brutally beaten and he didn’t even know how much blood she lost during that and her thigh was seeping the entire time they escaped the Russian base.

Jonathan examined the pulsing wound, barely noticing something inside. Whatever she was impaled with, a piece of it was still inside her. He pushed himself off his knees. “Keep her talking. Keep her awake, okay?” He gave one final look at the girl, sprinting across the food court without another word. 

[Y/N]’s eyes drooped as she struggled to breathe. “Hey, hey, hey, stay awake, [Y/N]. You gotta keep your eyes open.” Steve’s voice wavered as he caressed her cheek, eyes dwelling with burning tears as he shook her head. Her eyes temporarily fluttered open at the sudden movement and she blinked repeatedly, trying tyo stay awake.

Jonathan appeared, crouching to the floor, and grabbed her leg. “[Y/N], there’s still a piece stuck inside your leg and this is gonna hurt like hell, okay? But I need you to stay still.” He applied plastic gloves and gave Steve the wooden spoon. “You’re gonna want to bite down on this, okay?” The group watched the frightening scene unfold, their hearts racing erratically. 

Steve placed the wooden spoon between her teeth. Jonathan grabbed the handle of the heated knife and brought the knife’s edge toward her skin before he hesitated, glancing at [Y/N]’s near-unconscious expression. He closed his eyes before he sliced the skin wide enough for his two fingers and [Y/N]’s eyes shot open, screaming loudly at the searing pain. When the wound was large enough for him, he shoved his gloved fingers inside. [Y/N]’s nails dug into Steve and Robin’s hands as she screamed as the tears streamed down her face. His fingers slid around as he tried to find the shrapnel of the blade she was stabbed with and [Y/N] was certain she was seconds from blacking out. After a few seconds, which she was convinced was an eternity, he retracted his hand from beneath her tissue and tossed the piece of the snapped blade onto the floor. 

When [Y/N] awoke, she was carefully placed on the back of Nancy’s station wagon and surrounded by concerned children. Her eyes slowly blinked open, revealing the bright neon lights around the Starcourt Mall. She weakly glanced around as the doors closed, Nancy and Jonathan in the driver and passenger’s seats. “Where’s Steve?” She whispered, her mouth dry.

Max grabbed her feeble hand, squeezing reassuringly. “He’s taking Robin, Dustin, and Erica to Dustin’s radio thing. We’re all going to meet up later at Joyce and Hopper’s friend’s house.” She looked down at her thigh it was properly bandaged with clean gauze and the bleeding seemed to have ceased. Max noticed the questioning glance. “Jonathan cauterized it. It was the only way to stop the bleeding. You’re going to have a badass scar.” 

Nancy twisted the key inside the ignition but the engine pathetically sputtered. Her eyebrows puckered together and she tried again but to no avail. “What’s wrong?” Jonathan asked as he watched her twist the key again and again.

“You can’t be serious. Come on!” Nancy exclaimed as the engine fizzled.

“Didn’t your mom just buy you this car?” Lucas apprehensively asked.

“Yes! I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Did you leave the lights on?” Will asked.

“No.”

“Do we have gas?”

“Yes!” She twisted the key again. “Come on!”

Jonathan stopped her, yanking her hand from the ignition. “Stop! Pop the hood.” The two of them quickly stepped outside the car, lifting the hood as they inspected the inner workings. [Y/N] pressed her temple against the glass of the window, her gaze moving to the sudden light across the parking lot. The headlights of a car in the distance flashed on as the engine revved almost tauntingly. 

Nancy slammed her palm against the window, demanding them to leave the car and rush back inside the building. She yanked open the door and pulled each of the children from the backseats, ushering them inside through the entrance. She grabbed [Y/N]’s arm, threw it over her shoulders, and helped her inside. Once back inside the empty mall, she placed her down on a bench. They all began with their own personal tasks; Mike attempting to reach Steve and Dustin over his walkie-talkie, Nancy finding a suitable gun on the dead guards, and Lucas readying his slingshot. Will gave [Y/N] a water bottle, figuring she must’ve dehydrated, and opened the cap for her. She smiled at the gesture and accepted the bottle. 

Jonathan called him over to where they all stood behind the damaged display car. They were going to try and flip it on its side and take the ignition cable from beneath the hood. They all groaned as they pushed with all their strength. The car did move, but not enough to make a difference with its position. El stepped forward, extending her hand outward but nothing happened. Horror transformed her face as she realized her powers were gone.

Mike made the suggestion they use the golden poles from the velvet ropes blocking the escalator to push the car’s side. When they all pushed at the same time, the car flipped over. Nancy popped open the hood with the hatch beside the steering wheel and Jonathan searched for the cable. Will nervously touched the back of his neck and glanced around, feeling the Mind Flayer’s presence. 

From outside of Starcourt mall, there was a distant rumbling as if heavy footsteps were shaking the building. [Y/N] struggled to stand from the bench, peering upward at the large glass windows from the skylight of the mall. There was a dark figure approaching the windows, the glass cracking from the weight of the figure. The figure’s face loomed closer, revealing the distorted image of The Mind Flayer. [Y/N] grabbed Mike and El’s hand, who also dragged Max, pulling them away from the cracking skylight. She disregarded the throbbing pain with each step she took and pushed them behind the counter of one of the food joints. She threw her body over them like a protective veil as the Mind Flayer collapsed through the skylight and landed in the center of the food court. Small shards of glass landed on her clothed back as the rumbling thump shook the floor. She closed her eyes tightly as the thunderous snarl from the creature echoed through the walls.

She could hear Dustin from the discarded walkie-talkie, requesting they inform him of their safety, but the Mind Flayer grabbed the device with its tentacle protruding from its mouth, roared, and threw it against the car where it shattered into pieces and the transmission garbled. The Mind Flayer stomped across the food court, nearing the counter where she was covering the kids. She could hear the vulgar sloshing of its flesh as stopped, scrutinizing the area as its opened mouth dripped. The squelching of its footsteps dissipated as it stomped away, moving across the room as it tossed the corpse of the guard.

Mike carefully peered over the counter before falling back. “It’s turned away. If we go up the stairs now, we’ll make it.” He whispered, pointing to the escalator. 

Max shook her head. “No way, not with their conditions.” 

“We have to try—”

El latched her hand onto Mike’s forearm. “There’s another way to get out,” She whispered, “Through The Gap.” [Y/N] searched for the clothing store and upon seeing how close they were, she nodded. Max gripped her arm, pulling her from the floor and they rushed across, silencing their footsteps. As they stepped inside the entrance of the store, El crashed into a display. The display collapsed onto the floor, the thud echoing. The Mind Flayer roared and stomped toward The Gap, its thick leg blocking the entrance and clawed tentacles protruding from its flesh. They moved close to the floor as they searched for them. There was a deafening shriek as the monster latched onto a mannequin, tossing the plastic figure aside when it realized it wasn’t a person.

[Y/N] concealed them as much as she could manage behind the register counter, tears streaming down her cheeks as she heard the smaller screeching from the tentacle approaching where they were cowering. She could smell the rotten flesh as the squelching became louder. But, Lucas with his slingshot, popped a balloon in the distance. The Mind Flayer shrieked before stomping to find the source. [Y/N] ushered them to the employee corridor behind the register once the creature was far away enough for them to move.

They navigated through the employee corridors and [Y/N], who never would thought she would admit this, was grateful for taking the position at Scoops Ahoy because she never would’ve known where the emergency exits were if she hadn’t been through here before. She pressed the emergency door open, keeping it open as the three younger teenagers barged ahead. They exited the mall and through the gate that prevented non-employees from entering. [Y/N] stopped them, throwing her arm out as Billy glared at them from across the parking lot. His skin was covered with throbbing black veins and he was sweating from the heat of the flames escaping from beneath his smashed car’s hood. “Get back inside,” She demanded, pushing them away from the opened gate. 

[Y/N] slammed the glowing red button beside the gate which commenced the whirring of the gate, slowly closing as she turned back around and limped inside. The lights of the employee corridors flickered as they moved as quickly as they could manage. They eventually stopped at the elevator and Mike repeatedly pressed the button on the bottom of the panel. El leaned against the wall, taking the weight off her injured ankle. 

“Billy, you don’t have to do this.” Max pleaded from the corridor. Her eyes watered as she tried to bring him back from the Mind Flayer’s influence. “Your name’s Billy Hargrove. You live on 4819 Cherry Lane. Billy, please, I’m Max, I’m your sister—” He backhanded her with a shocking force and she fell to the floor, immediately unconscious. Mike, in a moment of panic, rushed forward with closed fists but he was easily thrown aside, dropping to the ground as he crashed against a wall of pipes. [Y/N] stood before El, covering her as she lurched forward, Steve’s pocketknife displayed. She sliced his arm before he grabbed the blade from her hand and studied the slash on his skin curiously. He cocked his head as his blank gaze returned to her. His black-veined hand wrapped around her throat and slammed her against the elevator door. She choked on her depleting breaths. In one fluid movement, he stabbed the bruised skin of her abdomen. She inhaled a strangled gasp as the blade tore through her flesh and his vacant stare never wavered from hers as he twisted the blade.

El screamed as she saw the darkness of her blood flow between Billy’s fingers before he yanked the blade from her stomach, releasing his tight grasp on her neck. [Y/N] fell to the floor with a whimper as she landed on her own bloodstains. Billy stepped over her limbs as if she were nothing but an inconvenience and merely slapped away El’s hand, smashing her head against the wall before throwing her unconscious figure over his shoulder and leaving the elevator room.

[Y/N] brought her trembling hand to the gushing wound, her drained gaze flooding with warm tears as she saw the redness coating her fingertips. From her peripheral vision, she could see the puddle of blood expand beneath her and the warmth seeped through her clothes, expanding and covering her like a scarlet blanket. 

She thought of everything leading to this moment; from the cheerleading practice she endured where she was introduced to Steve Harrington, the Upside Down nearly destroying her town, and the unbreakable bond she formed with the pesky group of teenagers that she loved as if they were own blood. She never thought that cussing out Steve for throwing basketballs at her squad would’ve brought her to her death. But, despite feeling her life drain from her, she wouldn’t have changed a single thing. 

She closed her eyes and listened to the thunderous explosions from the fireworks, wondering what the bright colors looked like as they exploded against the Mind Flayer, and allowed the darkness to comfort her.

Steve Harrington descended the escalator as the Mind Flayer collapsed onto the floor, lifeless as The Gate closed. Smoke from the extinguished fireworks clouded the air and scratched his throat as he breathed. He knew the monster was dead, but he still avoided the corpse as he walked beside Robin and checked the surrounding area. Billy was dead, bleeding black ooze, Max was wailing in El’s reassuring embrace beside her brother’s corpse and Mike’s exhausted figure, and the remainder of the group was on the upper level of the mall. “Where is she?” He questioned, glancing around the rubble and debris with concentrated eyes. He couldn’t see her and he knew she had to be around here somewhere. “Guys, where is she?” He was confused. She should have been right there with them.

Mike hesitantly removed his gaze from the puddle of inky blood soaking Billy’s clothes and his sympathetic eyes connected with his. Steve furrowed his eyebrows as Mike didn’t speak, but as he closed his eyes tightly, a teardrop dripping down his cheek, his silence told him everything he needed to know. Steve fought back the crashing wave of tears as he softly shook his head, his broken expression shattering as he refused to believe that she was gone. She was just here an hour ago, barely alive, but alive nonetheless. Robin wiped her damp cheeks as she wept at the revelation. She backed away, nearly stumbling into a large piece of debris as she clutched her aching chest.

The remainder of the group descended the broken escalators and tragic words weren’t necessary to reveal the loss they experienced. Nancy apprehensively loomed closer, softly touching his shoulder. “Steve…” She whispered gently. 

Steve whirled around, pushing her hand away from him. “Don’t.” No one, not even Nancy, had ever seen him like this before. This wasn’t just mourning, it was hatred and crippling guilt and torment. “You’re not dead, you’re not dead.” He mumbled to himself as if he said the words enough they would become true. He glanced at Mike’s crying figure. “Where is she?” 

Mike reluctantly made eye contact with him. He shook his head softly. “Steve, I don’t think you wanna see her like that.” Because he didn’t want to see her like that but he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t want to see the woman who babysat him and his friends as he grew up lifeless and surrounded by a pool of her own blood. But as Max woke him up and the first thing he saw when his droopy eyes opened was his friend dead. That unfortunate image was seared inside his cluttered mind. 

Steve nearly collapsed onto the floor at the words. “Where is she?” His voice cracked and his bottom lip quivered. Mike didn’t speak, only peered over his shoulder where Scoops Ahoy’s broken sign flickered. Steve sprinted inside the parlor and pushed through the employee corridors, frantic eyes searching every section. 

When he stepped inside the elevator room, the warm air was pulled from his lungs and he could smell the distinct smell of copper. He always thought dead bodies were supposed to be brutal and grisly, enough to make his stomach churn from the sight, but she still looked like [Y/N]. She looked almost peaceful and if he closed his eyes enough, she could have been sleeping on a bed of roses. But she wasn’t sleeping and the crimson wasn’t blossoming roses. He couldn’t stop the burning tears from streaming as he collapsed onto the floor beside her corpse. Her dark blood stained his knees and his socks as he kneeled. Apprehensive, he carefully touched her cold skin and pushed her hair away from her face. He sobbed at the undeniable truth beneath his shaking touch. He should have been there for her. He loomed closer, pressing a small kiss to her pale temple. He wrapped his arm beneath her legs and his other steadied her back. Her lifeless arm dangled as he carried her bridal style through the flickering corridor. Soon he was crossing the ice cream parlor and the food court where the remainder of the group waited for him. 

The helicopters and military stormed the debris of the Starcourt Mall. They escorted him from the premises and brought him where dozens of military troops were stationed outside in the parking lot, ambulances with EMTs preparing IV bags, and some media and news reporters flashing their cameras. But Steve didn’t care. Everything was a blurred haze as he stepped outside of the mall with the woman he loved lifeless in his arms as the sky cried for the earth’s loss.

Someone pulled her from his grasp and a flash of ire coursed through him. He tightened his hands around her, spewing a string of curse words at the person. Robin rushed beside him, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and muttered something to him about calming down. And he knew he shouldn’t have become angry at the concern she was giving him, but how was he supposed to calm down? She was gone. She died alone. She bled out alone and he should have been there. None of this should have happened. She was supposed to go to fashion school and listen to him pour out his stupid feelings for her after he wrote it all down.

Sam Owens appeared from the drizzle of the rain, the helicopter’s spotlight illuminating him as he stopped where Steve stood. “Come on, son. You’ve got to let her go.” He couldn’t, though. Because releasing her would mean this wasn’t some vivid nightmare and he wasn’t going to wake up and throw on his uniform and start throwing ice cream scoops into waffle cones as she teased him about how bad he was at pouring the sprinkles. “We can help her, but you’ve got to let her go.”

So in a moment of fiery guilt, he let her go.

[steveharrington]

i’m gonna say something that is perhaps an unpopular opinion. but. i am not hugely fond of the way robin’s implied autism was used as comedic relief when she tries to open up about missing social cues and feeling inhibited in making friends, and she really deserved some semblance of an apology for the way nancy reacted. like….robin literally says “i’m sorry if i did or said anything to upset you, i just sometimes can’t read social cues and also my mother criticizes me for this” which gives so much insight into how self conscious robin feels about this perceived barrier in her socializing with others and the fact that it’s a constant source of shame for her at home. and nancy just grimaces and says “….okay?” and it’s supposed to be like. a funny scene ig because there’s quirky music playing as nancy walks away and robin stands there looking like visibly discouraged by this interaction. and as robin and nancy’s friendship progresses, nancy only really starts warming up to robin as she proves useful to the mission/getting information. like there’s no moment where nancy is like oh maybe i should apologize for making her feel like i was angry at her and being visibly annoyed that i had to spend time with her. idk it just sucks to me that robin is so heavily coded to be autistic this season and it’s only really used in a “haha nancy finds her so annoying!!” way without any moments of genuine empathy for robin or validation from her new friend

[thequiver]

Who is Connor Hawke? - A Reading Guide

Connor Hawke is the son of Oliver Queen and Sandra "Moonday" Hawke. He is best known for his role as the Green Arrow, taking on the mantle upon his father's death and continuing as the Green Arrow after his resurrection. Connor was raised by his mother, and struggled in school due to being bullied for being mixed race (his mother is Black and Korean and his father is white). At around age thirteen Connor was able to talk his mother into letting him move to a Buddhist Ashram that his father had once stayed at, and there Connor entered the care of Master Jansen, learned martial arts and archery, and became a Buddhist monk. It was at the Ashram that Connor decided to continue the Green Arrow legacy. While serving as the Green Arrow, Connor teamed up with the Green Lantern Kyle Rayner and the Flash Wally West, Robin Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, and the Justice League.

While Connor is most known for his connection to the Arrow family, as this was what was focused on most heavily in Green Arrow Vol. 3- it is important to remember Connor has strong connections outside of the family as highlighted in Green Arrow Vol. 2! These characters include: Sandra "Moonday" Hawke, Nathan Hawke (Connor's "Gran"), Mastern Jansen, Eddie Fyers, Kyle Rayner, Wally West (and his wife Linda), Tim Drake, and Cassandra Cain!

As of June 2022, Connor has been confirmed as asexual, which solidifies his ace coding from both Green Arrow Vol. 2 and 3!

Reading list with RCO links under the cut!

Only three comics will be listed after the N52 because they are the only three that give us anything resembling an in character Connor Hawke- I will not now nor ever include Robin (2021) on this list.

The following is a chronological list of Connor's appearances:

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #0

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #91-105

Robin Vol. 2 #25

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #106-109

Showcase '96 #5

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #76

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #110

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #77

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #111-124

JLA #5, 8-12

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #125-129

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #96

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #130

Flash Vol. 2 #135

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #131-134

Detective Comics #723

Robin Vol. 2 #55

Nightwing Vol. 2 #23

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #135-136

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #104

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #137

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #1,000,000

Robin Vol. 2 #78-79

Green Arrow Vol. 3 #1, 8-11, 13-15, 21

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #162

Green Arrow Vol. 3 #24-25

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #164

Green Arrow Vol. 3 #27-32, 34-50, 52, 56-59, 66-68

Connor Hawke: Dragon's Blood #1-6

Green Arrow Vol. 3 #73-75

Green Arrow/Black Canary #1-7, 13-15

DC Festival of Heroes: The Asian Superhero Celebration

Green Arrow 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular

DC: Pride (2022)

The following issues have an unclear place in Connor's chronology and are presented here in chronological order by publication date:

JLA: Paradise Lost #2-3

Adventure Comics 80-Page Giant #1/2

JLA/Titans #2-3

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #110, 117

JLA #38, 40

Batgirl #30-32

Birds of Prey #43-46

Titans/Young Justice: Graduation Day #3

Identity Crisis #1, 6

Flash Vol. 2 #216

Richard Dragon #8-12

[mirrorballshiningjustforyou]

REQUEST

TBP Guys with a swiftie S/O

modern AU

Finney Blake

he’d like taylor a little before you guys started dating. like, he wasn’t a full on swiftie but if he heard a song of hers on the radio he’d go “oh i know this song”

like he’d know all the basics, shake it off, our song, tim mcgraw, you belong with me, blank space..all that

(i feel like he secretly listened to lover)

BUT when you start dating and he finds out you’re a swiftie it’s a different story

he will listen to ANY of her songs you put on, even if he hasn’t heard it

you have converted him into a full time swiftie, BE PROUD.

your guys’ song is definitely lover or enchanted

Robin Arellano

i feel like he’d be one of those guys that acts too cool to like taylor, like if someone mentions her he’s like “oh i dont really like her”

(but when reputation comes out he’s UGH i feel like he’d be such a reputation or fearless stan)

i feel like early on in the relationship he’d still act like hes “too cool” for her, but like lowkey love when you play her in the car or something (he is NOT driving)

later on into the relationship however, he’d be like “play that one song” (probs a song from reputation) and sing along to it

your guys song is definitely don’t blame me or paper rings

Bruce Yamada

he definitely listens to lover. like if it comes on spotify on shuffle he won’t skip it.

i think he’s the type of dude to like any music his partner likes. like if you suggest an artist, he’ll listen to their entire discography.

even before you started dating and he only had a crush on you, he would dedicate taylor’s songs to you.

he doesn’t know a whole BUNCH of songs, BUT would heavily appreciate it if you gave him songs to listen to

he probably loved 1989 when he was younger

AND your guys’ song is fearless or love story (i’m sorry he’s just so fearless coded)

Vance Hopper

since i headcanon that he has sisters, i think his younger sister is a swiftie, 100%. and he has to deal with her blasting it 24/7

so he probably knows a handful of songs, not too many, but not “just a few”. he doesn’t know the lyrics, but if it played, he’d recognize it.

when he finds out you’re a swiftie he acts annoyed and mentions that his sis is also a swiftie, which you find cool !! (i hope)

you also make him listen to fearless because. just look at the dude. doesnt he look like a fearless or a debut guy?

ESPECIALLY RED OMG. i feel like he’d love red or speak now

your guys song is better than revenge (i don’t think he would know the lyrics, he just probably likes how it doesn’t sound too pop) or stay, stay, stay

[hwknshellfire]

damaged goods - steve harrington x reader

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you ask out a boy in your class and it ends badly so you turn to steve, your best friend, for comfort

length: 1.5k

warnings: slight slut shaming, very liiight mention of sex, fluff

a.n: i hate endings so i'm sorrY. pls send along reuests! there are no volume 2 spoilers in this post!

Damaged goods.

The words echoed around your brain, making you wince with every step you took to walk out of Hawkins High. Their laughs still sounded behind you and you heard them even as the doors swung shut, though you think that’s just your mind playing cruel tricks on you. Tears stung your eyes and you brushed them from your cheeks with the back of your hand, letting your hair cover your face as it burned with shame.

No one was looking at you, but you felt like the whole world was staring at you as you left the school property, ignoring the calls of your younger friends as you surged past. You’d catch up with them later, maybe, if you could look them in the eye.

You couldn’t go home straight away, because then your parents would hound you with questions about school and you couldn’t lie to them. They’d pester and pester until you eventually cracked and you couldn’t handle them knowing what they’d said.

No, there was only one place you knew you could go, only one person you could talk to right now - Steve Harrington.

You stopped at the nearest bus stop and tried to sort yourself, taking deep breaths and wiping your face again. The autumn air rustled your hair and cooled your cheeks down a bit and by the time you got on the bus, you felt significantly better. Or at least, you told yourself you did.

It started as a horrible joke. One of the girls in your chemistry class found out you had a mild crush on George, your other classmates. It was a silly crush, but he had been the first person you had even looked at since Billy. Billy, who had been awful to everyone but you, who had been a popular jerk to anyone else but you. He had been sweet with you and shamelessly in love for the summer you had spent together and even though you knew his reputation, you trusted him with everything. Everything.

But then the summer ended with a colossal crash in the Starcourt Mall, battling the Mind Flayer with your gang and watching Billy die right in front of your eyes. True, by that point you had drifted apart, being busy with cracking the Russian’s code with Steve and Robin, your best friends, and Billy had been Flayed, which you didn’t realise until late.

It felt like another cruel joke of life to make you fall in love, drift apart, then kill Billy right in front of you. And it had taken you awhile to move on, relying heavily on Steve to bring you back to life. He had been your friend since childhood and he had disapproved of your relationship with Billy at first, the pair of them almost instant enemies, but Steve put up with Billy for you. He would do anything for you.

And when you finally felt better as school started, even without Steve in school to help you, you saw George across the classroom. He was different from Billy and maybe that’s what attracted you to him. He wasn’t quite as smart as you, but his dark hair fell in his eyes in a nice way and he dressed normally. That was the thing about him - he was normal.

And the girl next to you had noticed your staring and convinced you to go for it. You thought she was being nice.

The bus came to a stop by Family Video and you thanked the bus driver before hopping off. You entered the store and found Robin behind the counter, rearranging the counter. Her head lifted and she beamed at the sight of you. “Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey,” you replied half-heartedly, forcing a smile the best you could.

Robin cocked her head and frowned. “Something’s wrong.”

Your shoulders sagged as you leaned against the front counter. “That obvious, huh?”

“Y/N, I can read you like a book. Granted a very easy to read book, like one of those kids picture books where all the sentences rhyme. But it still counts as reading. What I mean is, it’s easy to read you.” Your friend’s rambling tugged a very small smile onto your face. Robin looked at you expectantly. “So. What is it?”

Your mouth twisted.

Damaged goods.

You swallowed hard. “Is Steve around?” You croaked out.

Robin’s eyes widened slightly. “Damn, it’s one of those problems?” You nodded. “ He’s in the stockroom. Walk right in, you know the way.”

You gave your friend an appreciative nod and moved round to the back of the store and knocked on the ajar stockroom door, where you could see Steve’s familiar figure kneeling on the floor, organising various videos. “Robin, I told you I have to get this done before Keith—”

“It’s me,” you interrupted Steve and he stopped talking, turning around to see you standing in front of him, playing with your nails the way you did when you were upset.

He frowned and stood up, brushing down his dusty jeans. “Y/N, I didn’t know you were coming here today.” He inspected your face and took it all in: the chewed lip, the red eyes, the tear marks in your makeup. You’d definitely been crying. With a quick glance over your shoulder to check Keith wasn’t around, he grabbed your hands and pulled you into the stockroom and turned you both around until your back was to the shelves. He closed the door and faced you.

It was a small stockroom and with the pair of you inside it as well as the mass of boxes, there was hardly room to breath. An exposed bulb swung on a wire just inches above Steve’s hair and dark shadows still cast down upon both of your faces.

Being this close to Steve made you nervous. It made you forget all about George when you really took in his face. He was a beautiful man, you would never deny that. And once upon a time, you thought maybe you’d be together one day. But then he had fallen for Nancy and that ended badly and you had fallen for Billy which also ended badly. Both times you had pulled each other out of the darkness and it had brought you closer than ever. But this physical closeness, close enough that you could feel his soft breath on your face, this made you almost nauseous.

“Spill,” he said gently.

You voice broke as you closed your eyes and whispered, “Do you think I’m damaged goods?” You heard his sharp intake of breath and your eyes opened, but you couldn’t look at him. You kept your eyes trained on the floor.

“Who said that?” he asked, his voice clipped. Angry.

You sniffed as you remembered. “George Casey and his friends,” you told him. “One of his group found out I had a bit of a crush on him and told me to ask him out and I decided, hey, why not go for it? It’s been months since…well, you know. And I thought I could try maybe going on one date and it wouldn’t mean anything. But…But it didn’t go well. I thought he was nice. He always seemed nice. And I couldn’t see his friends so when I asked him out at the end of school, I thought it would just be him.”

You paused as the tears fell freely again and you shook your head. “But then all his friends heard and started laughing at me. And he said—He said—”

“He said what, Y/N?”

“He said he would never date someone like me. Not Billy’s leftovers. He said he had no interest in damaged goods.” Shame burned your cheeks once more and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You heard Steve breathing deeply before his hand touched your chin gently and lifted your face to look at his. His eyes were soft and full of worry and his brows were furrowed. “Listen to me, Y/N. You are not damaged goods. What happened with Billy was your private life and the fact that George Casey and those assholes would even slut shame you is ridiculous. And why is it always the girl that gets shamed, too? Billy was terrible for it and yet you’re apparently the damaged one.” He huffed and you couldn’t help but smile. “But I’m serious, Y/N, you could never be damaged because of who you love. You’re the best person I know and any guy…any guy would be lucky to be loved by you. Lucky to love you.”

Something about the way he said it made your insides twist and you chewed on your lip as you looked at him. His eyes glanced at your lips then darted away again and that split second was all you needed to finally know. Those long hidden feelings from years ago, that tiny crush once upon a time, bloomed again in your chest and from the way Steve was looking at you, you knew he felt it too.

“Steve…” you mumbled, cupping his face. “I don’t deserve you.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “That’s a lie and you know it.” He paused and looked at your mouth again. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

“Are you sure you want to be associated with ‘damaged goods’?” you asked teasingly and he laughed and pulled you into him.

“If it means getting to kiss you, Y/N, then anytime.”

masterlist // requests

[desiccatedwithering]

chat with you, baby (flirt a little, maybe) — ch 1/2

(ao3 link for those who don't want to read a 7.1k tumblr post)

Eddie has his players on the edge of their seats, so wound up that half of them scream when the door slams open.

“Hey, shitheads!” Steve “The Hair” Harrington barks, looming in the doorway like a monster from the Abyss. “What the fuck are you doing in here? Get your asses down to the gym right fucking now.”

Eddie gapes. First of all, the audacity— Second, he’s never been much for physical fights, but if this douchebag thinks he can bully any of Eddie’s kids, he’ll have to go through Eddie first.

“Let’s go! Move it!” Harrington snaps, making an impatient gesture down the hall.

Eddie rises from his throne and steps in between him and the kids. “What’s your problem? Here to bully the freaks?”

“I don’t have any issue with you, dude,” he says, surprisingly gentle for someone who was just practically shouting at a bunch of freshmen. “But I really have to grab my kids and haul ass back to the gym, so could you move?”

“What’s up? Is it a Code Red?” Dustin asks, and Eddie has a moment of whiplash before he remembers the kid’s weird, inexplicable hero worship for this washed up asshole.

“Lucas is actually playing in the championship game right now, and you little shits are missing it!”

Dustin visibly wavers, which is truly unacceptable. “So what?” Eddie asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “He chose his side.”

“His side—? What the fuck are you talking about? They’re his friends; they should be there to support him.” He glares at Eddie, hands on his hips, before turning to Dustin. He points emphatically down the hall. “Go!”

Dustin goes, running like a bat out of hell. So much for the future of Hellfire.

Mike, at least, protests, “He should be here playing with us!”

“Mike Wheeler. Nancy is in that room, and I will absolutely tell her that you chose D&D over seeing Lucas play for the first time.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Mike challenges. Half of Eddie wants to cheer—Yes! Stand up to the jock! Show some spine, unlike Henderson (that traitor)—and the other half wants to roll the kid up in bubble wrap because what the fuck is he thinking? Sure, having a spine is great in theory, but Mike is at that weird lanky teen stage where he looks like his body is just a collection of twigs, and Harrington could absolutely snap him in half with almost no effort.

“Try me,” Harrington growls, baring his teeth in a feral grin, bloodlust in his eyes. Huh. That definitely should not be doing something for Eddie right now.

Horrifyingly, Mike stands up. “Sorry, Eddie,” he mutters, slinking out the door like a scolded dog, then taking off towards the gym.

Harrington does a quick visual sweep of the room, freezing when his eyes land on Erica. “He’s your brother,” he groans with exasperation. “Why are you still sitting there?”

“Uh, we’re in the middle of combat? You can’t boss me around like those nerds. Besides, I doubt Lucas will even get his hands on the ball anyway.”

Harrington pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “Are you even part of this campaign?”

“No. I subbed in because Lucas couldn’t make it.”

“You realize that’s fucked up right?” Harrington asks, hands on his hips.

Unbelievably, Erica wilts a bit under his disapproving gaze. She opens her mouth to protest—

“If you don’t go to the gym to support your brother right now, I won’t drive you to my house for our next D&D session.”

Woah woah woah. Hold up. Did Steve Harrington just say that he plays D&D?

“I’ll get my mom to drive me.”

“Robin and I will never play with you again.”

She clenches her jaw but stands and points at him dramatically. “You owe me!”

“Yes, yes, I know. Move it!”

“I’m going! Jesus, you’d think we were dealing with the commies again.” And with that, she, too, sprints away.

Then it’s just him and his bandmates in a room with Steve Harrington, who turns to look at him with fire in his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “Why didn’t you reschedule for Lucas?” he demands.

Eddie scoffs, though he feels like he’s lost his footing, the ground unstable beneath him. “We’re not going to reschedule for a single basketball game.”

“It’s the championship,” Harrington says, like that matters.

“So? It’s the end of the campaign.”

“That makes this worse. You know that right? You’re just finishing the campaign and don’t even care that Lucas can’t make it?”

And something in his tone actually makes Eddie’s stomach twist with guilt. God, unacceptable. How dare this jock make him feel guilty? He doubles down, lifting his chin imperiously. “He could’ve chosen to skip the game tonight.”

“And you could’ve chosen to wait until after spring break.”

“Jeff is graduating this year,” he says, though it feels far less relevant than when he brought it up in the cafeteria.

Harrington scoffs and throws up his hands. “Unbelievable.” He turns and gets a single stride down the hall before he stops, whirling back into the room abruptly. His hand darts out, and Eddie flinches, expecting a punch, but instead Harrington grabs his wrist and starts dragging him down the hall.

“What? Let go!”

“No,” Harrington snaps, hand like a vice around his wrist. Eddie tries to tug himself free but immediately realizes it’s a lost cause. Stupid strong jock hands. “You’re coming to support Lucas whether you like it or not.”

Eddie throws a wide-eyed, panicked look over his shoulder, but his three remaining players just give helpless little shrugs as he’s dragged towards his inevitable demise, not moving to aid him at all. Cowards. He’ll kill their characters if he ever manages to break free.

Harrington practically sprints, grumbling under his breath the whole time. “I swear, if I miss him making a shot because I had to deal with your screw up and come knock some sense into the kids—”

“That session was important,” Eddie complains.

“Spring break is literally a single week long. I don’t think it’s the end of the world to wait.” He adds something else under his breath. It almost sounds like, “Believe me; I’ve seen the end of the world.”

“It’s also not the end of the world to not watch a basketball game. You didn’t have to drag my players out to see it.”

“They’re my kids,” Harrington counters. Which is both rude and bizarre. Why should he get claim over them when he’s just a dumb jock? He’s not related to them. He doesn’t care about them. Obviously not, or he would’ve let them keep playing rather than force them to go to a basketball game like all the other boring, normal people in town. “And I don’t want them to ruin their friendships with Lucas because of your campaign.”

Eddie wants to protest because this situation is in no way his fault, but Harrington’s barreling on, “Believe me, if I knew where Max was, I’d be dragging her here, too. And honestly, it’s pretty fucking rich that they’d pick your campaign—no offense—over supporting Lucas, when Mike spent all of summer break ignoring Will when he wanted to play. Do you know how many free ice cream cones I had to give that kid? He’s always so sad! And Mike just abandoned him after he was—” Harrington shoots a look at Eddie, seeming to suddenly remember his presence “—after he got lost in the woods. Y’know? And then he moves away, and D&D is immediately cool again, and they all join a new party? I’m gonna get El”—Who the hell is El?—“to kick all their asses the next time they come to visit.”

And that should set off alarm bells in his head, a jock threatening freshmen with violence, but the tone is weird. Irritated, yes, but with an underlying current of fond exasperation, of indulgence. It sounds less like a bully targeting some children and more like a parent saying, “Kids. What can you do, right?”

“And, like, we talked about making time for your friends and being supportive even if you’d rather be doing something else, even if you think it’s more important. The only reason Scoops Troop was even formed—which, don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful for—was because everyone else ditched Dustin on his first day back from camp, when he was trying to introduce them to his girlfriend.”

Jesus Christ, Harrington talks a lot. The kids probably just completely tuned him out whenever they allegedly had their ‘friendship is important!’ meeting or whatever he’s going on about.

“And Erica— God, that girl is smart. But she apparently just loses her mind when it comes to D&D. I sometimes wake up in a cold sweat thinking about how she tried to bike to Indy to sell that acid to replace her books, you know?”

Eddie is honestly kind of fascinated—not in a positive way; more like how you just can’t help staring at a car crash as you pass it—by how Harrington’s brain works. Is he aware that Eddie has no fucking idea what he’s talking about?

Before he can ask any of the infinite questions that little anecdote raised—(For example: Acid as in LSD or, like, vinegar or some shit you’d use in chemistry class that could melt your skin off or whatever? And no matter what option it was, why was Erica in possession of it in the first place? Who was she planning to sell it to? Why was she biking to Indianapolis? And how did King Steve get involved in any part of it?)—they reach the doors to the gym.

Harrington drags him inside to an empty spot on the bottom row of the bleachers but doesn’t drop Eddie’s wrist, probably—rightly—assuming that he’ll bolt if given half a chance. Luckily, the way they’re sitting hides the fact that they’re a bit too close to holding hands in public for Eddie’s comfort. The kids are sitting in a little huddle across the gym, right next to the marching band, looking miserable and frustrated. One of the band players leans over, whispering to them, and they smile, postures relaxing a bit. They look back at the court and cheer as Lucas gets his hands on the ball for a second.

A blonde woman a couple rows above the kids catches sight of the two of them, waving at Harrington, and he halfheartedly waves back. She frowns and crosses her arms when he doesn’t make any move to join her, but Harrington doesn’t notice, attention already pulled back to the players like a moth to a flame.

“Did you seriously ditch your date to steal half my party?”

“Hmm?” Harrington tears his eyes away from the court to glance at Eddie. “Oh, yeah, I did.”

“...Why?”

Harrington frowns. “I told you. The kids should be here supporting Lucas.”

“But why do you care about their relationship? Why do you care about any of them?”

Harrington presses his lips together, fighting to keep a straight face. “I’m their babysitter,” he says. It’s clearly an inside joke, and Harrington shoots him a wolfish grin. Eddie hates seeing it this close. It sets off butterflies in his stomach, which is both stupid and unacceptable. This is Steve Harrington, the straightest man in Hawkins and an irredeemable asshole. He may be objectively attractive and have great hair, but he should not be making Eddie’s heart flutter, no matter how sharp his smirk is.

Harrington’s attention is—predictably—back on the court, but Eddie can’t help staring at him. He feels like the world has tilted on its axis, maybe flipped upside down completely. Never in a million years would he have imagined himself sitting in the gym during the championship basketball game, all but holding hands with Steve Harrington, who has apparently adopted Eddie’s pack of nerdy freshmen.

Then Harrington’s breath catches, and his fingers tighten on Eddie’s wrist, dragging him in even closer as he starts to stand up. Eddie looks back at the court just in time to see Lucas’s feet leave the floor, the ball flying through the air. The buzzer goes off, and Eddie thinks, Huh, does that still count?

A second later, the ball swooshes through the hoop to a thunderous roar from the crowd, which answers that question. Harrington whoops beside him, almost deafeningly loud, jumping in place (and Eddie really never expected him to be the type to jump for joy). Eddie cheers with him. Fine, he’ll admit it: He’s proud of the twerp, even if he is sore that Lucas would choose basketball over his campaign.

“It’s not you.”

“What?”

“He didn’t choose to play basketball because he dislikes your campaign,” Harrington says, apparently reading his mind. “He was hoping that if he played, he’d get popular enough that people would stop bullying him and his friends.”

Oh. Eddie’s heart clenches. He’d been reading the whole situation wrong. But it makes sense. Eddie never had the option to not be a freak, so he took that label and turned it into armor, made himself untouchable. He plays up the drama, the “demonic possession.” He’s weird and a nerd and a drug dealer, but people don’t pay him much attention beyond that. He’s off-putting intentionally; he scares people away before they can get a good look. So he may be a freak to them, but he’s not queer. (It also probably helps that Eddie refuses to deal to anyone who knocks his lights out, which keeps most of the jocks in line.)

Lucas and Dustin can’t hide like that. Mike could probably fly under the radar, but he seems to be too preoccupied with being surly and unpleasant to bother.

“C’mon,” Harrington says, dragging him forward with a spring in his step and a wide grin. It lights up his whole face, and Eddie thinks that he could spend hours staring at it. Not that he would because Harrington is still a dick. One insightful comment about Lucas doesn’t change that. “Let’s go congratulate him.”

“Not meet up with your date?”

Harrington waves the question aside. “She genuinely thought Tammy Thompson’s singing was good.”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, for a muppet.”

“That’s what I said!” Harrington laughs. “We all know Tammy Thompson’s a total dud.” The last part is said slightly louder. Not loud enough to draw the attention of the crowd, but loud enough for the band player who had talked to the kids earlier to catch.

“Steve!” she scolds, reaching over to smack his shoulder, though she snickers as she does it.

“What! You agreed with me, Robin!” He shoves her back playfully. “And it was under the influence of whatever shit was in those syringes, so I know you weren’t lying.”

Eddie carefully files that grain of information into the folder he’s just created, dedicated to figuring out what the fuck is going on with Harrington and why he seems so different from just a couple years ago.

Robin notices the way Harrington is still holding Eddie’s wrist, and her eyebrows climb. Eddie braces himself, but she just leans forward with a sly little smirk. “Damn, Steve. I was gonna tell you that your date left and add another tally to the ‘You Suck’ column, but it looks like you found yourself a new one. Finally a mark for ‘You Rule.’” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Ok, and here come the slurs—

Harrington rolls his eyes. “No, he’s just here as a punishment for not rescheduling the end of their D&D campaign so that Lucas could make it. I was worried he would bolt if I let him go.”

Is Eddie losing his mind, or did King Steve just ignore the implication that he was on a date with a dude? And he’s still holding Eddie’s wrist. Maybe he just missed the hint. That’s possible, right? He is a dumb jock, after all. (Or maybe he’s far, far cooler than Eddie expected. No, there’s no way.)

Robin frowns at Eddie. “You wouldn’t reschedule?”

“Hey”—Eddie lifts his free hand in surrender—“I’ve already been put in my place by Harrington here, so you don’t have to bother.”

“Ok,” she says slowly. “But just know that if you upset any of the kids, Steve and I will feed you to a demogorgon. Or the mind flayer.”

“Robin!” Harrington hisses, elbowing her in the side, then throws a pointed look towards Eddie. Which is a weird reaction to an even weirder threat. Is he supposed to be scared of a couple of D&D monsters? They do know he literally DMs the game, right?

She rolls her eyes, complaining, “God, you’re so dramatic. Wait here. I’ve gotta go change out of this atrocious polyester prison before I die.” She looks back at Eddie and makes an I’m watching you gesture, then drags her finger across her throat. “Demogorgon and/or mind flayer. Don’t test me.”

Harrington looks frantically around the room, oddly desperate for a topic change. His eyes land on Lucas, Dustin, Mike, and Erica, talking a few feet away, and he lifts an arm to wave them over. “Lucas!”

Lucas bounces over, accepting Robin’s high five as they pass each other, and Harrington drags him into a one armed hug.

“That was a fantastic shot! Whoever taught you must’ve really known their stuff, huh?”

Lucas rolls his eyes with a grin before noticing Eddie. He blinks, like his presence might just be a hallucination. Eddie’s right there with him; this whole night feels like a hallucination. “You came to my game?” he asks, utterly baffled.

“Didn’t really have much of a choice,” he drawls, waving towards the arm still being held hostage. He’s fairly certain he won’t be getting it back ever again. Maybe he could convince Harrington to switch to handcuffs, which at least wouldn’t be actively trying to crush all the bones in his wrist— Oh. He clears his throat as his wrist is slowly shattered. “But, uh, yeah. You did good, man. Great shot.”

Lucas lights up, and the crushing pressure around his wrist eases. “Thanks. That— means a lot.” He glances away for a moment, towards Mike, who gestures emphatically as he says something to a frowning Dustin and Erica. “So, uh. Did they win the battle?”

“Nah, man. Half my players were dragged out before we could even really get into it. Guess we’ll just have to finish the campaign after spring break.”

Lucas beams. Ugh. What is it with sports boys making him feel guilty tonight? Lucas looks so thrilled that he’ll get to play in their final session, and Eddie feels like a complete monster. He kinda wants to run into the woods and never return. He’ll hide out in Reefer Rick’s boat house or under Skull Rock or something, anywhere to get him away from the clear delight on Lucas’s face.

God, if Harrington doesn’t let him go soon, he’s gonna gnaw off his own arm like a coyote in a trap to escape this whole mess.

A moment later, Lucas is dragged away by the other basketball players—yuck, but also thank god because Eddie really didn’t want to have to try to talk about sports; he’s content to be supportive from afar, like a divorced parent who only gets custody once a month. (Before he’s whisked off by the jocks, Harrington murmurs a reminder that Lucas shouldn’t let the other guys pressure him into anything, and if he ever feels unsafe, he can call Harrington for a ride; seriously, dude, I mean it; call me.) There’s clearly a weight off Lucas’s shoulders as he trots away.

Harrington’s thumb sweeps back and forth across Eddie’s pulse, and when Eddie musters the strength to look up at him, Harrington is staring back with such a warm and fond expression that it steals his breath. What is happening here? It can’t be what he’s thinking. Can it? No, definitely not. Unless…?

“Hey, Steve,” Robin cuts in, walking back over sans uniform, an unimpressed look on her face. “Can you stop making googly eyes at Mr. Hellfire here for long enough to drive me home?”

Harrington glances over at her, and Eddie can breathe again—even as he tenses at the phrase googly eyes, though Harrington just ignores it again and starts leading Eddie towards the doors. “Yeah, of course. Can you ask if any of the kids need rides? We’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

Huh. Maybe Harrington really is a babysitter. Certainly not the profession he would’ve expected from the resident pretty boy, asshole jock, but why else would he be offering to drive around a bunch of freshmen like it was a regular thing?

“—Eddie?”

“Huh?”

“I was asking if you need a ride.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, a bit dumbly. He blinks twice and manages to drag his eyes away from Harrington, looking across the parking lot. “No, I’m good. I have my— Fuck!”

Harrington startles a little, pulling him in closer, which is surprisingly nice and protective and— Eddie mentally slaps himself. He is not going to stand here swooning over Steve Harrington. No way. Not even a little bit.

“What’s up?” Harrington asks, tense as a bowstring.

Eddie gestures towards his van with a scowl. “Some fucker slashed my tire.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Harrington breathes, relieved, which is fucking rude. Then he seems to realize what he said and winces. “I mean, that sucks. Obviously. Do you have a spare?”

Eddie puffs up his cheeks in that way that makes Wayne compare him to an angry chipmunk. “Nope. It’s whatever. I don’t live too far from here. I can walk.”

Harrington frowns. “It’s dark out.”

“So?” He raises a brow. “I know my way around; I won’t get lost.”

Harrington shakes his head and declares, “No, it’s not safe. I’ll drive you.”

Eddie is about to argue, but he pauses. Harrington didn’t say that it might be unsafe. He said it with absolute certainty. Like he knows about some monster lurking in their town. Which is absurd, obviously. Sure, the past few years have been weird, with people going missing and then turning up dead, but that doesn’t mean there’s any danger now. Those were chemical leaks and a mall fire and one kid who got lost in the woods. (Which, by the way, did anyone ever figure out the identity of whoever they actually fished out of the quarry after the Byers kid turned back up?) There’s nothing that would put him at risk.

But Harrington’s hand has tightened on his wrist again, like he thinks Eddie might break free and run off into the woods never to be seen again. So, “Fine,” he says. “But don’t expect me to pay for gas.”

Harrington lets out an aggrieved sigh. “No one ever does.” He sounds so much like an exhausted dad that Eddie can’t stop the giggle that bubbles out of him. Harrington looks delighted at the sound. Then he glances back at Eddie’s van and tilts his head. “Hey, uh, is that Chrissy Cunningham standing by your van?”

“Damn,” Robin says, reappearing on Harrington’s other side and scaring Eddie half to death. “I didn’t think Queen Chrissy was the type to slash tires.”

Harrington tilts his head and makes a considering noise. “I don’t know. I feel like she has it in her.”

Robin glances at him and snorts. “Yeah, I guess rich kids are the ones who go the most feral when given half a chance.” She mimes swinging a bat, and Harrington elbows her.

“Shut up. You’ve never even seen me use her.”

“No, but I’ve gotten the play by play at least a dozen times by now.” She puffs out her chest, deepening her voice for dramatic effect. Eddie briefly wonders if she’s ever thought about playing D&D. “A fog sweeps into the junkyard, obscuring your view. You can hear Dart prowling and finally catch sight of him, but he’s not taking the bait. So you bravely heft Mrs. Harrington—”

“Ew, that is not her name.”

“—so you bravely heft your bat—which is named something you’re too embarrassed to tell me—and step out of the fortified bus to be the bait.‘Human tastes better than cat, I promise.’ But then! The horror! Dart isn’t alone; he’s brought friends, a whole pack of de— dogs, lying in wait. They attack! You dodge out of the way, roll over the hood of a car, and hit one as you come back to your feet.” She mimes another swing, and Harrington rolls his eyes with a sigh.

“You barely make it back into the bus alive. The dogs batter the outside of the bus, trying to break in to devour you all. As you brace the door, trying to keep them out, one jumps onto the roof. It looms in the open hatch right above Max and opens its terrible, disgusting mouth. You shove her aside, putting yourself in harm’s way again to save her life. Luckily, the dogs run away seconds before your untimely death. Thus making a trio of twelve year olds fall madly in love with you.” She sweeps into a dramatic bow, and Eddie would clap if he wasn’t still being restrained.

Harrington scowls. “One, you have to know the kids are exaggerating. And two, I’m positive none of them said anything about being in love with me.”

“One: Yeah, ok, maybe they’re exaggerating that one, but I distinctly recall a man trying to pull a gun on us and you deciding to scream, run directly at him, and then tackle and wrestle him until you managed to knock him unconscious. And if that’s not rich kids gone wild, I don’t know what is.” She shoots him an extremely judgmental look. “And two: They didn’t have to. I can see it all over their faces whenever they retell the story. Or, Max and Lucas, at the very least. Jury’s still out on Dustin.”

“Gross, Rob. Those are my kids. Were you drugged again?” Harrington looks her up and down, and Eddie glances between them, trying to find any hint that they’re joking because, uh, hello? Drugged? Again? “Why are you being like this?”

“No, dingus. I’m just riding the high of our victory. Go, Tigers!” she cheers. Harrington raises an eyebrow, and she rolls her eyes. “Ok, fine. A certain somebody laughed at my joke, and I’ve decided to focus on the elation I feel tonight and save the soul crushing terror and probable panic attack about the other thing I said for our shift tomorrow.”

Harrington looks at her for a moment longer, then nods. “Alright, fair.”

“Drugged?” Eddie asks.

“Russians,” Robin answers, as Harrington jabs an elbow into her side and says, “Long story. You don’t want to know.”

Uh, Eddie absolutely wants to know. He’s never wanted to know anything more in his life. God, it’s like Harrington doesn’t understand him at all. Unfortunately, Harrington’s face makes it abundantly clear that he won’t be elaborating any time soon. Maybe Dustin knows what the hell they’re talking about.

“Right,” Eddie says, drawing the word out as he glances between the pair.

“So, are we gonna do something about the queen of Hawkins High slashing your tires?” Robin asks. Then, to Steve, “Oh, also the kiddos are good. They all have rides.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure she wasn’t the one who did it,” Eddie says. Harrington and Robin both turn to look at him in eerie unison. It sends a shiver down his spine, and he continues, weakly, “I was supposed to drive her back to my place after the game.”

Robin raises an eyebrow. She lets go of Harrington and swings around to hang off of Eddie instead, giving the bandana in his pocket a pointed tug. “I didn’t really think she was your type,” Robin murmurs, thankfully quiet enough that only Eddie can hear. “Honestly, I was pretty certain that she’s much closer to my type than yours.”

Eddie’s jaw drops because who just says that? Eddie is the capital “f” Freak of the school, and even he wouldn’t just casually come out to someone he’d only just met. Sure, he’s flagging, so she probably had a pretty good idea that he was safe, but what if the bandana had just been a coincidence? What if she’d been wrong? Before he can figure out how the fuck to respond, Harrington comes to his rescue. Ugh, rescued by Harrington. This is the one and only time he’ll ever be grateful to have the dude around.

Harrington shoots, like, a weirdly sympathetic look at Robin, then tilts his head like a puppy and asks, “I thought she had a boyfriend?”

Eddie absolutely will not read into the slight frown that crawls onto Harrington’s face when his eyes dart from Robin to Eddie. It means utterly nothing.

Then he realizes what Harrington is actually asking and nearly chokes. Does Harrington seriously think that Chrissy would cheat on Jason with Eddie, of all people? “For drugs. We’re doing a deal. She wanted something stronger than weed, which I don’t carry around.”

Harrington’s brow smooths, and he nods like everything is suddenly right with the world. And then the frown comes back as he looks back at Chrissy. His hand tightens on Eddie’s wrist again, apparently subconsciously.

“What is it now?” Eddie asks, rolling his eyes. “You got a problem with the idea of me dealing to a cheerleader, King Steve?”

“No, I don’t care about that. Just— Is she ok?”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t know, honestly. She acted like a spooked horse when we met up in the woods, and then she asked for something stronger. But we don’t exactly know each other well. She could’ve just been nervous buying drugs for the first time.”

Harrington’s still frowning, tapping an absent minded rhythm against Eddie’s forearm. “Well, I can drive her to yours, too. I don’t want her walking around this late either. Or going to the basketball players’ party if she’s not feeling alright.”

Steve Harrington, knight in shining armor, apparently, protecting kids from—feral? rabid?—dogs (maybe?) and driving people home so they don’t have to walk around the spooky woods of Hawkins. Eddie could swoon. Except he wouldn’t. Because this is still Steve Harrington. Straight asshole jock. He’s not swoon worthy in the slightest. He’s not.

Eddie takes a step in Chrissy’s direction. He’s brought up short by the hand still holding his wrist. “Are you going to release me so I can get her?” Eddie asks flatly. Harrington squints at him for a moment, studying his face, and Eddie rolls his eyes. “I promise I won’t go running off into the woods.”

“Friends don’t lie,” Robin interjects extremely unhelpfully.

Eddie sighs. “Jesus Christ. I’m not lying. I am going to walk over there, tell Chrissy the plan, and walk back here. It’s like thirty feet. I’m not going to run, and nothing’s gonna eat me, or whatever you’re worried about.”

“Knock on wood,” Harrington mutters.

Eddie is losing his mind. Maybe he’s the one who needs the Special K. He tries to wrench his arm out of Harrington’s grasp again, giving him his best puppy dog eyes when it doesn’t work.

“Fine, fine. I’ll let you go.” He points at Eddie’s face. Eddie experiences a moment of derangement where he thinks about biting his finger. That would definitely go well for him. “No running.”

Harrington finally drops his hand, and Eddie’s wrist immediately feels cold and bereft. Jesus Christ, he’s gotta get a grip on himself. This is getting ridiculous.

Eddie briefly considers scampering off into the woods just to fuck with them, then realizes it’s probably a terrible idea. If Harrington had no qualms grappling a man with a loaded weapon, he certainly won’t hesitate to tackle Eddie onto the asphalt, likely breaking all of his bones in the process.

He glances around as he walks towards his van, double checking that there aren’t any basketball players loitering about, then raises his hand and calls, “Hey, Chrissy.”

She startles a little but quickly spots him. She meets him halfway, hands twisted together in front of her. “Your van—?” she starts, worried.

Eddie sighs. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it in the morning. Harrington offered to drive us back to my place, if you don’t mind.” Her eyes slide to something over his shoulder, which is the only reason he doesn’t have a heart attack and literally die when he turns and finds Harrington and Robin standing right behind him. Apparently they can move like goddamn ghosts when they want to.

Harrington has his arm slung over Robin’s shoulders, and when she realizes Chrissy is looking, she shoves him away so hard he nearly falls on his ass. “Hi! Chrissy, right?” she asks, surprisingly sweet and innocent for someone who just assaulted her friend (boyfriend? beard? He’s genuinely got no idea what’s happening in that relationship).

Chrissy nods.

“I’m Robin, and you probably know Steve.” She lowers her voice a bit and adds, “Don’t worry. He’s not as much of a douchebag as he used to be.”

“Thanks for the glowing recommendation, Rob,” Harrington sighs.

Chrissy glances at Eddie, hesitant, and he shoots her a smile. “It’s cool. They’re not gonna rat you out or anything. Harrington used to buy from me when he was still king of the school.”

“And Steve and I became best friends when we were insanely high. Like, I genuinely have no idea what we were on, but it was a trip. We watched part of that movie—”

“—the confusing one where Alex P. Keaton’s mom wants to bang him—”

“—and then we both went and puked—”

“—and shared some deep, dark secrets—”

“—and now we’re bonded for life!” She pats his cheek, then pinches it. “He can never get rid of me.”

“God knows I’ve tried,” Harrington says, deadpan.

Chrissy muffles a giggle with her hand, and Robin looks like she might pass out at the sound. “I didn’t realize the three of you were friends.”

“We’re not,” Eddie says. Harrington shoots him a wounded look, like crashing Eddie’s D&D campaign and dragging him to a basketball game he didn’t want to go to should’ve been enough to earn him friend status.

“We share custody over the same group of nerds,” Harrington explains as he leads them back over to his car. “I get them on weekends and most afternoons, and Eddie has them during weekdays and Hellfire nights.”

Chrissy nods like this makes total sense, while Eddie just stares frozen and befuddled. Here he is, feeling maybe a little bit jealous (ugh) of the relationship Harrington seems to have with the kids, and Harrington is just easily talking about it like they’re coparenting the twerps. Has he somehow stepped into an alternate dimension? How is this happening?

“And Steve and I met working at Scoops Ahoy in the mall last year,” Robin adds.

“May those stupid little hats burn in hell,” Harrington says solemnly.

Robin ignores him and continues, “And now we work together at Family Video.”

Chrissy nods, shooting Robin a sweet little smile as she asks, “You’re in marching band, right? I’m pretty sure I saw you playing, at least.”

Robin looks like she might actually die. Harrington steps on her foot. “Yes!” She nods like a bobble head. “Sure am. I play the mellophone.” She then mimes playing a trumpet, and Eddie just barely manages not to wince.

Harrington’s fingers twitch, like he wants to smack her hands out of the air. Instead, he just takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a long, long moment, clearly fighting back a sigh. After composing himself, he glances at Robin and asks, voice playful, “So, Robin, you want shotgun?”

Robin looks at him with fire in her eyes. “Eddie already called it, remember?” she says, voice sugar sweet and utterly deadly.

Harrington smirks. “Of course. How could I forget?” Then he pulls her close to whisper something in her ear and gives her the most “Go get ‘em, champ!” pat on the back Eddie has ever seen.

Holy shit, he realizes, the stars aligning and a lightbulb going off in his head. Harrington knows that Robin’s queer. And he’s being her wingman. (At least, he’s like 90% sure that’s what’s happening right now.)

He’s not sure how he managed to get into the car since his whole brain was focused on that earth shattering epiphany, but when he blinks back onto the Prime Material Plane, Harrington is staring at him expectantly, hand hovering over the gearshift.

“Can I help you?” he asks, a bit defensively.

“Yes, you can, actually,” Harrington says sweetly. Then he orders, “Seatbelt.”

He points towards it, like Eddie might not understand what he’s talking about. What, does Harrington think he’s some sort of caveman who’s never heard of seatbelts? Just for that offense, he’s not going to use it.

(And the thing is, he was going to put his seatbelt on. The moment he’d gotten his license, Wayne had taken him by the shoulders, stared into his eyes, and said, “I know I can’t stop you from driving like a damn maniac, but do me a favor and wear your seatbelt, yeah? I don’t want to get a call about them having to scrape you off the road because you flew through the windshield like a dumbass,” which was fair, honestly, and Eddie hadn’t hesitated to agree; Wayne didn’t need that kind of stress in his life. But now that Harrington’s ordering him to—)

Harrington must see something in the mulish set of his jaw, because his eyes narrow. “I’ll sit here all night if I have to.”

“It’s really not worth fighting him on this,” Robin says from the back, exhausted (and safely buckled in).

Eddie sighs and gives in. It’s not admitting defeat—because he would never let a jock win—it just happens to be in his best interest. He doesn’t want to drag out this interaction any longer than necessary, after all. Or die in a car crash.

Harrington shoots him a blinding—and infuriatingly triumphant—smile after the seatbelt clicks.

“So do I get a gold star, or what?” Eddie snarks.

Harrington laughs. “I don’t have my stickers on me, but I’ll have Henderson drop one off for you at your next game.”

Eddie genuinely cannot tell if Harrington is fucking with him right now.

Then Harrington puts a hand on the back of his seat, twisting around as he pulls out of the parking space, and the terrible part of Eddie that’s completely ruled by teenage hormones thinks, Oh god. Hot.

He takes a shaky breath and is hit with a wave of Harrington’s cologne. It’s probably something he put on special for his date. (His date that he ditched so he could spend more time talking to Eddie—) Harrington seems like the type of rich dude who’d have a different cologne for every occasion. Whatever it is, it smells incredible. It’s probably worth more than the entire trailer park, which Eddie should find offensive just on sheer principle, but honestly, all he can really think about is how much he wants to bite at Harrington’s forearm.

“You need directions?” Eddie asks as he battles off the horny demon in his brain.

“No, I’m good. I know where you live.”

Before Eddie can ask why Harrington knows where he lives—is he being stalked or something?—Robin launches into a summary of her day. It’s so routine, so familiar, the teasing little back and forth that she and Harrington settle into as she fills him in on the new gossip, that Eddie almost feels like an intruder. Or, he feels like he should feel that way. Instead, it’s weirdly comfortable to just listen as Harrington and Robin banter, and they never seem thrown off when he interjects.

Harrington has just finished whining about how much it’s gonna cost to take all the kids out for ice cream to celebrate Lucas’s game-winning shot, like he’s not absolutely loaded, when Robin says, “I still can’t believe they brought Tammy Thompson all the way back from Nashville to sing at the championship.”

“I know!” Chrissy hesitates for a second, then adds, “This is going to sound mean…”

Robin waves away the concern. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure everyone in the car has said worse.”

“Yeah, Rob’s a real asshole.”

“Case in point,” Robin says, through gritted teeth. “Ignore him. You were saying?”

“I kinda thought she sounded like a muppet,” Chrissy admits, voice a bit timid.

Robin lets out the loudest, most braying laugh Eddie’s ever heard, clapping her hands together like a sea lion. “Literally all of us have said that at some point!”

Chrissy’s nervous expression shifts into a grin, and she leans closer. “Really? God, I thought I was the only one.”

“No, no, she definitely sounds like a muppet. That time when Steve and I were high out of our minds, he did this impression of her, and I swear I nearly peed, I was laughing so hard.”

Harrington makes a thoughtful noise. Then, quietly enough not to disturb the girls giggling in the back, he asks, “Do you think Tammy Thompson’s singing is some sort of litmus test?”

Eddie stares blankly at the side of his head. “For?”

“Finding friends of Dorothy.”

Eddie feels a bit like someone just set off a firework inside his head. His thoughts are traveling faster than light. Or possibly swimming through molasses. He’s not really certain. There’s just a jumbled mess of half formed conclusions that he agonizingly starts to sort through.

One: Steve Harrington knows what Friends of Dorothy means, which confirms Eddie’s suspicion that he knows that Robin is queer. Two: Harrington thinks that Chrissy is queer. Three: Harrington thinks that Eddie is queer. Four: Harrington seems to have no problem being in a car with three maybe-possibly-probably queer people—actually, he seems to be enjoying the experience. Five: He’s absolutely trying to set up the two girls in the back seat. Six: Harrington was the first one to mention that Tammy Thompson sounds like a muppet—

Hold up. Did King Steve just casually come out to him?

He turns, openly gaping. “I— You—?”

And then Harrington has the audacity to fucking wink at him. Holy shit. Harrington did just casually come out to Eddie “The Freak” Munson after trying to set up his lesbian best friend and Queen Chrissy Cunningham.

This is the single strangest fucking thing that’s ever happened in this town, no doubt about it.

(tumblr post for ch 2, or read it on ao3)

[willbyersabyss]

Steve’s crawling backwards speech was code for the Upside Down’s mind time loop?

I know... I know. But hear me out.

There are already plenty of hints that the Upside Down is stuck in a loop. We know mind loops exist thanks to Terry and she just so happens to parallel Will very heavily within that loop (look at this post). So is the Upside Down in Will's mind loop? Steve sure thinks so.

So this scene starts out with Robin saying they've seen one of the trees before. Pretty random thing to say to get Robin out of the way for an awkward stancy conversation... unless? They've seen this all before. This has happened already because there's a time loop! Nancy also brought up the hive mind for no reason. Seeing things again? Minds? Mind loop?

Robin also says this. You know who actually got lost in the woods, the same woods they’re standing in during this scene? Will. So Will is brought into the mix here. Vecna is destroying the world because Will got lost in the woods… hm I wonder why.

Steve crawled backwards and got a thump on his head. What's 5x01 titled again? The Crawl?

Crawling backwards. Thump on the head. The Upside Down is in the past, it's crawling backwards. What did this cause? A thump to the head. And what does the thump cause? Change. Why? Maybe because the Upside Down is a head! Will changed the Upside Down when he got there… he thumped his mind.

ALSO Steve says he crawled backwards down a flight of stairs. Will’s body in the Upside Down was found downstairs in the library.

The only thing Nancy really says during this conversation is stuff like "that doesn't make sense" or "that explains a lot" which is just... I don't know it feels like code for the time loop and mind theories being confusing but they also explain EVERYTHING! Ok and the constant use of head, brain, backwards. Why are they linking brain thumping to going in reverse? With all the time travel hints already laid out?

GATE? Like the Upside Down gate? They're speaking to me.

Roundabout? So something that spins in a circle like a... loop. Got it. Also those damn carousels aka ROUNDABOUTS across from the Creel house and at Rink-O-Mania (look here and here). It all comes back to Will’s memories, doesn’t it?

Steve got the biggest thump of his head in 1984. That's the same year Will was possessed and now he has the Mind Flayer in his head. That's the head thump they're hinting at! Will's possession has something to do with the Upside Down being backwards, in reverse, in a time loop. Which we already knew. Will's head got thumped and went backwards.

They aren't going the wrong way after all? So is the Upside Down still moving forwards, just in a roundabout loopy way instead? Is going backwards the right way to go to resolve the plot?

I've also said before that this whole conversation is representative of the characters returning to their s1 mindsets. Stancy revival, El's monster vs superhero dilemma, Max ending up in a coma because she wasn't there in s1, I could go on. But why? Why are they regressing? And at the same time they reveal the Upside Down is stuck in 1983 aka the year they're all regressing to? Very interesting.

They’re all moving backwards and they need another thump to the head to move on. Literally.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 4, Poll 4

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Yan Xiaohan-Golden Terrace / Huang Jin Tai

Qualifications:

He is a bastard child of unknown origins who got adopted by the Court Eunuch and was thus looked down upon by people, so he has severe inferiority complex and abandonment issues. On top of that he contacted a deadly narcotic one dose of which left him with a long term addiction. The only way to cure it is to go cold turkey as a second dose of it would mean he can never recover. So he is left with severe drug withdrawal which makes him emotionally unstable during flare ups (i.e. makes his mental health issues way worse and at times makes him do impulsive things) and sometimes physically unstable as well (constant tremors, losing control over limbs etc.). His healing is a long process and it only gets a little bearable when he is with his sole trusted person (Fu Shen).

Propaganda:

Badass military General (Fu Shen) and shrewd politician (Yan Xiaohan) could never see eye to eye in political issues. The Emperor forced them into an arranged marriage after Fu Shen's 'accident' to handicap both of them even further as they were too powerful to handle. Joke's on him, they just became the most in love with each other couple in the whole country and neither the marriage nor their disabilities could stop them from getting what they wanted, be it more power, prosperity for the people, or just each other. Fu Shen's physically very strong even when he is wheelchair bound (he has stopped assassination attempts on the Emperor), and when he wears his mobility aid boots he has fought wars and lead his army to victory. But the sexiest part of him is his wit which can complement Yan Xiaohan's perfectly. The only thing that 'causes a setback in this is his sense of morality and loyalty which creates a contrast with his husband.

Yan Xiaohan is also strong and skilled in double handed swordsmanship, but his forte is psychological warfare. He has no bottom-line (except his husband) when it comes to doing things beneficial for his goal. Which is why the withdrawal flare ups caused him quite a bit of distress. These two are that couple who'll flirt with each other even in the face of death, so even their disabilities are a fuel to the flirting and teasing. One of Yan XIaohan's famous quotes is "only one of your three legs can stand up Marquis". He also hides all of Fu Shen's mobility aids (wheelchair and boots) when they have a lover's spat so he can tend to Fu Shen personally (carry him around, helps him bath, dresses him etc.) and make up in the process. On the other hand Yan Xiaohan's addiction can be partially satiated for a while by the next best thing for euphoria, i.e. sex and food. So they fool around in risky places (read: public) using that as an excuse.

Robin Buckley-Stranger Things

Qualifications:

Canon lesbian and VERY heavily coded to be neurodivergent in some way (but it's the '80s so she's not catching a diagnosis any time soon). And by very heavily coded I mean literally says the words "I don't really have a filter, or a strong grasp of social cues."

Propaganda:

Canon lesbian with an iconic coming out scene! Is also described as hyper, knows a shit ton about languages (and in fact knows 4 including English) and films and rabies, is bothered by certain textures, is distracted easily but also notices a lot of smaller details, talks very fast, and doesn't have a good grasp of social cues. Also of note is that she mentions taking 6 months longer to walk than most babies, which is notable because developmental delays usually accompany autism. Robin is also noted to be less coordinated or balanced than her peers (to the point that there are a couple moments where another character reassures her about doing something requiring coordination) as well as being a "weird runner." This could possibly point to dyspraxia, which in addition to being it's own thing, is also known to have high rates of comorbidity in those who have ADHD and/or ASD. With all of this in mind, a lot of people see her as having ADHD or Autism, or even having them both. Again, it's not like she can just get diagnosed in the show to confirm it given the time period (hell, it's hard for people, particularly women, to get diagnosed even today). Additionally the lack of vocabulary to properly explain her experiences, or for other characters to do the same in regards to Robin is also due to the time frame (See: "she's hyper", "a weird runner". That being said the first time has the character saying it later befriend her and the latter ends up being used in a more fond manner. Even Robin herself mentions thinking that her whole life is "one big error", because, again she doesn't have any resources to show her what might be going on). As a nice side note, her friends generally treat her well, such as the aforementioned instance of reassuring her in an area she feels less confident in, and her friends in general enjoy her company and stick by her if need be, which I thought was nice (One of whom she has come out to, which makes it all the more meaningful in conservative small town Indiana in the '80s because... yeah.) Basically, there's a lot of evidence and also I just really like her character so here we are. Given season four is where a lot of this comes up, I am whacking away anyone who said she got annoying in season four.

[jasontoddssuper]

I call them headcanons but i do think Todomomo is genuienly queer-coded,especially Momo being bi and Shouto being gnc.There's so many parallels between their friendship that's heavily implied to have budding romantic love to it and Momo's Gal Pal TendenciesTM with Jirou and Shouto just absolutely does not give a shit about gender roles-which may not seem like much but this is a shonen and context is important.To a lesser extent there's also how Momo reminds me of so many younger trans girls i've met(and there's been a good amount)and how their struggles with being the perfect kids their parent(s)want them to be play so well into irl lgbt experiences.I just think that they're an m/f couple in the most non-cishet way possible is all

@toffixes @agrebel18 @trans-harlequin @nogender-onlystars @jellyjays @cottoncandyspikes @moonage-gaydream @desi-pluto @malewifetouya @mystiqdreamer @charmixrukia @justanisabelakinnie @kyojurolover @leo-thecactus @genderfluid-bat @catlliecal @nightwings-robin @user1046 @9ragonmew

[audioaujom]

Sam and Sebastian Have a Sleepover

Stardew Hub, < prev, next >

I write a lot of whump. Like a lot a lot. If I'm not writing whump, I'm writing angst. So this week I thought I'd flex my rather unused fluff skills to give everybody a break.

Just for this week, though. ((:

Word Count: 2875

--

It took five buzzes of the phone next to him for Sebastian to snap out of his heavily-focused work-induced daze. 

Annoyed by the interruption since he was on a time crunch—Sam was coming over soon to spend the night—he spared a glance at his phone, halting his work immediately as he realized it was a flood of messages from Sam.

————————————

From: Sam Hey! I’m almost up the mountain!

I HAVE ARRIVED !!

Um… Dude?

Can you come let me in??

Cool guess I’ll just freeze my balls off out here lol

To: Sam SORRY

coming

————————————

Leaving his phone open on the messaging app and his line of code half-finished, Sebastian bolted up the basement steps and into the living room to throw the front door open in a breathless panic.

“Finally. Thought I was gonna die out here.” Sam greeted with a grin, his face flushing red from the cold wind that stung his face above the wrapped scarf around his neck.

“Sorry, man. I got caught up trying to finish some work so we could just relax all night.” Sebastian apologized, quickly moving out of the way and motioning his friend inside. “Come on in.”

Sam grinned knowingly at his sheepish friend, toeing off his heavy snow boots and working on unwrapping himself from all his winter gear when Robin poked her head into the room.

“Hey, Sam. Hot chocolate?” She offered as soon as he was free of his outerwear, holding a plain mug out towards him. “Should warm you up from walking here in the cold.”

“Sure!” Sam immediately took the warm cup and took a small sip, wincing from the heat but giving her a wide smile anyway. “Thanks, Robin.”

Robin’s other hand held another mug, which she offered to her son. “I made one for you too, Sebby.”

“Thanks.” Sebastian took the mug and held it in both of his hands, relishing in the heat.

Both cups accepted, Robin smiled happily before offering, “If you end up watching something before I head off to bed, I can make you some popcorn.”

“We’ll let you know.” 

“It's no problem.” She beamed, planting a soft kiss on the side of Sebastian’s head before teasing, “Anything for my boys.”

“Mom.” Sebastian felt his face heat up in embarrassment, awkwardly shooing her back towards the kitchen.

“Sorry, sorry. You know I just love to dote.” Laughing, Robin affectionately ruffled his hair before disappearing back the way she came. “Go have fun.”

The two boys and their matching mugs of hot chocolate trudged down the basement steps together wordlessly, Sebastian quickly heading for his desk as Sam glanced around the slightly messy room.

“Wow. Am I such a frequent guest you don't feel the need to clean up for me anymore?” The tease was light as Sam picked up a shirt discarded on the floor, Sebastian huffing as he sat down and placed his mug a decent distance away from his keyboard in case he bumped it.

“Shut up, Sam.” He shot his friend a tame glare as Sam tossed the shirt into a nearby laundry basket, explaining again, “I was just busy with work today, and I guess I lost track of time.”

“You say that like I mind.” Sam rolled his eyes, pulling his phone out and plopping onto the nearby couch. “Finish up your stuff. I know how important all that is; I can wait a few more minutes since I get your full attention after.”

“Thanks. I won't be long.” 

Sam patiently scrolled through his phone while Sebastian finished what he was working on, only looking up when Sebastian spoke again several minutes later.

“Hey, before I turn this thing off for the night… wanna play something?” Sebastian offered, tipping his chair back before rocking it forward again. Sam instantly lit up, Sebastian frowning as he figured out what the hopeful look on Sam’s face meant. “No. Not again.”

“C’mon…! Please?” Sam begged, giving Sebastian the best puppy dog eyes he could muster.

“We’re adults, Sam! Adults don't play Fireboy and Watergirl after work!” 

Sebastian’s protest hung in the air for only a few minutes, ending when the man reluctantly opened coolmathgames and Sam dragged a stool over to join him.

Sebastian's feigned annoyance quickly died, the two losing track of time as they sat shoulder to shoulder and peacefully played level after level together of the nostalgic game.

Well, not peacefully.

“No! Come on! We’re so close!!” Sebastian shrieked, Sam unable to contain his laughter as the two were mere seconds away from completing the level.

“I thought you didn't want to play this game, Seb.” Sam teased between his giggles, Sebastian entirely unamused.

“If we don’t get the green gem for this level because of you, I'm throwing you back out in the snow.” 

“Harsh.” Sam shook his head, stepping in front of the door and letting the level end to show they successfully completed all three requirements for the level to turn green. He leaned back and stretched a little, admitting, “Alright, I think I’m ready to throw in the towel.”

“Yeah, cause you suck.” Sebastian teased, shutting the browser and powering down his computer.

“I do not!” Sam instantly protested, before the explosion died down to sheepishness. “I just… don’t always time my jumps the best.”

“Nor do you cooperate well.” Sebastian added on, nodding thoughtfully.

“That’s all your fault! You need to learn to communicate better!” 

Sebastian stopped mid-motion of reaching for his cup to deadpan, “What part of ‘don’t touch the pulley I’m pushing this box onto it’ was unclear?” 

Sam paused, looking anywhere but at his friend’s face. “If I go ask Robin to make us popcorn will you forgive me?” 

“Maybe.” 

“If I ask for popcorn and also help you build a pillow fort?” Sam tried again, Sebastian’s frown slowly creasing into a smile.

“...we can start with the cushions from the couch.”

“SUCCESS!” Sam cheered, jumping up from his seat and grabbing his own half-full abandoned mug of hot chocolate and taking a tentative sip of the now lukewarm drink. “Wow, this stuff really only is good warm. They don’t call it cold chocolate for a reason.”

“Are you complaining about having a glass of chocolate milk?” Sebastian asked, both eyebrows raised.

“Lukewarm chocolate milk.” Sam corrected, earning an eye roll.

“That does sound pretty gross.” Sebastian admitted, before picking up his own mug that still had some liquid in it and taking a sip. “Oh, it is gross!”

“Why would you try it? I said it wasn’t good!” Setting his mug on the coffee table, Sam couldn't help but laugh at Sebastian's sour expression.

“I was curious!” Sebastian's defense was met only with more laughter, him grabbing both now discarded mugs and heading for the door. “I’ll go get some blankets from upstairs and tell mom we’d like some snacks.”

“You’re the best. I’ll have this foundation all set and stable by the time you’re back!” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes as Sam fumbled with the cushions, trying to get them to sit up on their own. He quickly disappeared up the steps, running into Robin on his way to the closet where they kept all the spare linens after setting their mugs in the sink.

“Movie time?” She asked, leaning against the wall beside the closet.

“Hopefully.” Sebastian nodded, loading one arm up with blankets. “I’m just getting some more blankets to finish up the fort Sam started.”

“I’m sure it’ll be a feat of construction that would make me proud.” Robin teased, crossing her arms. “You get your work all done?”

“Just in time.” He nodded, adjusting his grip to better hold onto the unruly pile in his arms. “I’ll have a few days off after this, for once.”

“Good. You deserve the break.” She smiled, patting him on the shoulder before swiping the closet door closed so he wouldn't have to. “I’ll bring the popcorn down when it’s ready. Go finish the fort, Sebby.”

“Thanks, mom.” Sebastian smiled at her over the blanket pile. “For everything.”

“Of course. Love you.” Robin smiled back, before gently pushing him back towards the basement. “Now hurry before Sam gets crushed under the weight of those cushions trying to build by himself.”

“Got it.” Sebastian gave her a half-hearted salute around the pile in his arms, disappearing down the basement steps again as Sam greeted him with the sorry sight of collapsed cushions and haphazardly piled pillows.

It took a while, the two bickering constantly about where to place things—and at one point dissolving into a pillow fight that completely destroyed any progress they’d made—until they eventually managed to get the couch cushions balanced into a little shelter, the interior decorated with several layers of blankets and pillows, one final blanket stretched over the top to shield the lights that they’d dimmed at one point during the fighting.

“Okay. Movie time.” Sam cheered as they settled in, the bowl of hot popcorn Robin delivered set between their legs. He then dug in his pockets to pull out a quarter, grinning as he said decidedly, “Heads it’s a comedy, tails it’s a romance.”

“How about we don’t flip the coin and pick an action movie.” Sebastian suggested, picking up a stray piece of popcorn and popping it into his mouth.

“Boring. What about we do both with a romcom?” Sam countered, Sebastian giving him a blank look.

“Not after last time.” 

“Little Italy is a cinematic masterpiece—” Sam started as seriously as he could muster, devolving into giggles as Sebastian angrily cut him off.

“You were cackling through the whole thing! And you’re smirking now cause you know you’re full of shit!” He shoved his friend lightly, no real heat behind his words. “You wanted to watch that to torture me!”

“At least I didn’t pick a Hallmark movie!” Sam’s defense was weak, Sebastian snatching the remote from where it lay in front of them.

“Just for that we’re watching a horror movie.” He declared aloud, starting to browse through his streaming apps. “That new psychological one should be streaming, right?”

“No!” Sam instantly whined, throwing himself on top of Sebastian who dutifully held the remote up and out of his reach while they both tried not to topple the fort. “Give me that!”

“No way! I didn’t sign up to watch a fluffy romance and definitely not one where everyone wants to feel up Hayden Christensen!”

“Okay, but we can’t watch one of your super spooky horror ones!” Sam said with a pout, rolling over to stare up at Sebastian from his lap. “I can do one of the more tame ones!”

“Okay, okay! I won’t pick anything too scary.” Sebastian finally relented, before spinning the remote in his hands and smirking as Sam sat back up. “Maybe.”

“Seb!”

After endlessly scrolling through all the streaming services they could find, Sebastian eventually got Sam to settle on an odd looking thriller titled ‘Bad Samaritan’.

It took less than an hour for Sebastian to finally give up, turning to Sam and admitting, “Alright, I’ve lost it.”

“Really?” Sam asked, before letting out a thankful breath. “Thank god, me too.”

“I picked it cause it looked decent and was free with Prime, but…” Sebastian shook his head, using the remote to turn the volume down on the TV. “The serial killer is just fucking with this guy. It’s not even scary.”

“The scariest part of the movie is David Tennant’s American accent.” Sam commented, Sebastian snorting and smacking his arm.

“Oh, shush. I bet it’ll make for good background noise, though.”

Sam tilted his head to the side, confused. “Background noise? For what?” 

“How are things going with your dad being home?” Sebastian asked seriously after a moment, turning to face his friend fully.

“Oh.” Sam’s lighthearted expression dropped, awkwardly scratching at his arm and staring down at the blanket half-covering them both to play with the hem. “I mean, it’s alright. Vince’s thrilled to have him home, but… it’s not really the same.” He laughed a little, but it was strained. “Partially ‘cause he’s been gone so long, but he’s also… different. I know war’s not easy, so I know it’s going to take some adjusting from all of us, but…”

“Well if things get too different, you can always crash here.” Sebastian offered, his friend finally looking up at him as he smiled gently. “I’ll make Maru clear her gadgets out of the guest room just for you.”

“Implying I wouldn’t rather sleep on your couch.” Sam scoffed jokingly, leaning back against the fort wall behind him. “These cushions are cozy.”

“Yeah, but more than a night will kill your back.” Sebastian rolled his eyes, before making eye contact with Sam and firmly stating, “I’m serious, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam smiled, taking his own self-assurance as an end to the topic. “If things were less hectic at my place, I’d offer you a refuge from whatever weird tension there is with you and Demetrius.”

“It’s not tension.” Sebastian denied half-heartedly, looking up at the blanket stretched over their heads and the way the light flickered between the threads. “He just doesn’t like me all that much.”

“Isn’t he like… supposed to be your dad?” 

“I mean, I guess. It’s not like I have any frame of reference for what he's supposed to be like.” The honest comment slipped from him before he realized what he said, turning his head to see the concerned look Sam was giving him. “I’m fine, though. I’ve got mom, and Maru’s started sticking up for me if he tries shit.” Sebastian tried to reassure, quickly changing the subject. “Right now I’m more worried about you and Vincent. And Jodi.”

“We’ll see. He hasn’t been home very long.” Sam shrugged, adjusting himself to sit up and sit cross legged, playing with his hands in his lap. “I know these things take time, and he hasn’t even been home for a year yet.”

“Sorry to bring it up if you don’t wanna talk about it.” Sebastian sighed, picking up the long-empty popcorn bowl and gently swirling the unpopped kernels left in the bottom. “I just worry about you, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam grabbed the edge of the bowl to stop him, drawing his attention away from it and to his words as he carefully started, “It’s nothing compared to what’s going on with Abby, though.”

Sebastian almost dropped the bowl in shock, confused. “What? What’s going on with her?” 

“Pierre and Caroline apparently are sleeping in separate rooms right now.” Sam lowered his voice to a mock whisper even though they were alone, leaning in a little as he continued, “My mom was talking to Caroline during their weekly aerobics thing and she said that Pierre thinks she cheated on him and Abby isn’t his.”

“Oh damn.” Sebastian mumbled, setting the bowl down so one of his free hands could go up to pay with his bangs. “This really is a small town, huh?”

“One day we’ll move outta here.” Not quite answering, Sam let himself fall silent for a moment—the only noise the forgotten movie playing quietly in the background. “The three of us will hit it big with the band and move to Zuzu City and finally live somewhere normal.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian nodded, before a small smirk started to creep onto his face. “Though normal might be hard.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You really want to give up the mine full of monsters?” Sebastian asked, Sam’s confusion slowly waning into amusement. “The strange creatures in the Community Center? The wizard who lives outside of town and the strange woman on that new island the farmer discovered?”

“Okay, fair enough. I don’t dislike the weird.” Sam conceded, laughing softly. “It just might be a nice change of pace.”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind it either.” Sebastian admitted, before glancing up at the TV and watching the unfolding scene in bemusement. “Alright, I think the 10th doctor just tried to blow up Klaus from the Umbrella Academy. Do you wanna watch something else?”

“Yes please.” Sam agreed instantly, hopefully suggesting, “Up?”

Sebastian sighed, turning annoyed yet fond eyes to his friend beside him. “Again?” 

“Please?” Sam begged, eyes wide and pleading as Sebastian tried his hardest to resist.

“No, no way.” 

His protests were all in vain, Sam snatching the remote from him to open the familiar animated movie. He made no move to stop his friend, instead snuggling further into the fort and letting himself start to drift off to sleep as the opening credits rolled.

Early the next morning, the door to the basement slowly opened as Robin poked her head inside to check on the boys.

The dim light from the TV that was still on lit up Sam and Sebastian’s sleeping faces, the screen still open on Up’s details and Sam’s head on Sebastian's shoulder. Robin creeped over to the fort the two were encased in, fondly smiling as she tugged the blanket they had draped over them up to cover them a little better. 

“Of course they fell asleep while watching.” She teased aloud, quiet enough to not wake either of them as she then turned and snuck back out of the room. “My boys.”

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

Death changes everything Chapter 2: Don't you know who I think I am?

Fandom: Stranger Things

Ships: Mungrove, healing Harringrove, steddiegrove/harringroveson/metalsandwich

Tags: EmOTiOnz, Bad Ass Mother Fucking Wayne Munson, Abusive Neil Hargrove, inferred child abuse, harringrove catharsis, Billy hargrove needs a hug, and two boyfriends, emotional sex, M/M/M

Trigger warnings: homophobia, homophobic language

Chapter summary:

It had been three weeks, since their night together. And Eddie had become obsessed since. He only knew that because Robin had just told him, 

“You’re obsessed,” while they were sitting under the oak tree at lunch. Steve didn't join them today, which Eddie is actually grateful for. He doesn't know how to broach the topic of sleeping with Billy, Steve’s ex, with his new best friend. 

He told Robin immediately, had to, she was his absolute best friend, wingman, right hand man and partner in crime. Had been since 7th grade orchestra and they never looked back. They were the definition of The Odd Couple, but it benefited both of their strives toward queer anonymity that people just assumed it was natural the two weirdos were dating each other. They never bothered correcting the assumption, except with other queerdos who knew about The Code. Steve, recently awoken bisexual, fell into that category, and his relationship with Billy was complicated in the simplest, most convenient of terms. 

Eddie let out a heavy sigh. He could feel tears brimming on the edge og lids, but he couldnt let them fall. Not now. 

“He’s gonna hate me.”

Robin sighs heavily now too. And eddie hates hes the one who made her make that sound. 

“Every day you put it off is only making it worse.”

“Gee thanks alot Rob,”

“Well im sorry! I’ve tried the kind and compassionate route! Look where its gotten you!”

Shes right, of course she is, but he still doesn't want to hear it. 

“Eddie,” she sighs, interlacing her arm with his and kissing the edge of his bicep the way she does only when shes about to deliver some hard truths, “its gonna suck. Yeah. But, he will get over it. You gotta give Steve the chance to be okay with it before you convince yourself he won’t be. He won't hurt you, Steve’s not like that, but, it’s going to hurt him. I don’t think Steve will ever be over Billy.”

The tears fall anyway. 

“Fuck.” Which is annoying because he let himself be convinced he could save two dollars and go without waterproof eyeliner and now he’s paying the price. “I don't deserve either of them.”

“Stop that shit right now. I think you might be freaking yourself out a little. It’s just sex.”

“Sex with Billy is not just sex to Steve.”

“You're not Steve.”

“You're right, I’m a slut and an idiot.”

Robin sighs at his self depricary, resting her head against his bicep now. 

“Invite Steve over, make him dinner, then tell him. Then talk to Billy. If you’re asking for my advice.”

He was, he really was at his wits end after 3 weeks of no further contact, new injuries on Billy, and too long in his own head. 

“I love you.”

Robin snorted. 

“That’s so gay Munson. But I love you too.”

It got Eddie to laugh too, and he was so happy to have her as a platonic soulmate.

[lavenoon]

we've seen Dusk/Moon go non-verbal, but how would the boys react to Y/N having a non-verbal episode?

I should probably start with the disclaimer that this will be heavily biased by my own nonverbal episodes, which I realize are not universal but also very much where Moon gets his from

You'll also definitely get a bonus Eclipse despite him not being that involved (at this point in canon, at least), so he'll just get a generic "you" while for Sun and Moon I'll stick with Y/N!

Given the differences in circumstances if at home vs at work I'll differentiate between Sun & Dawn and Moon & Dusk, with some reverse coded boy info too.

Sun doesn't get nonverbal himself, but he's very familiar with Moon's episodes. He knows what usually triggers them (high stress/ overwhelm, sometimes delayed) so when Y/N chokes up trying to talk to him, looking so frustrated with themself barely managing words and half sentences, he immediately switches tracks. Easily flips the conversational script to 1) check in on them and 2) stick to yes/no questions. Post reveal in particular he will offer his company if they don't want to be alone, and would be content with any of the outcomes - whether they want to be alone (and rest!), or want to stay with him - he'll end up doing some woodworking perhaps, crafting a new project and either work silently or chatter away if Y/N would still like a bit of background noise.

Dawn doesn't quite have that much leeway. If they're on a mission while the stress hits a bit too much, there probably are some other signs of Robin slowly but surely reaching their breaking point, and he would strive to get them out before. If that fails, and they struggle more with the actual words, he might try and switch to sign if yes/no isn't an option, and if it's a simple physical blockage of somehow not getting the words out. If it's too much and Robin starts shutting down he'll extract them with a fitting excuse and get them out of the social situation - if they still insist on finishing the mission (because Robin is a bit of a workaholic fool) he'll make sure they don't overdo it, and perhaps only set up some bugs or other little gadgets they might need. Back home they get pampered, no buts! Reverse Dawn has kind of lost here pre-reveal, because he too knows the signs from Moon, but Robin doesn't really trust him enough to be that vulnerable around him. He'll get them out faster, not knowing enough about how they handle these episodes, and very bluntly explains that he has an idea whats going on and there's no need to talk, so if they could just not fight him on this and get the non social parts of this mission done they'll all be home sooner. He does say it very matter of factly, which helps Robin feel not as defensive, and he doesn't mention it again unless Robin brings it up (until post-reveal, perhaps).

Moon... Moon seeing Y/N choke on words and obviously struggling overrides any hesitation he may have, even for pre-reveal reverse Moon. As far as he's concerned, nonverbal episodes are exceptional circumstances and normal social rules don't apply. (Not that he's a social rules expert to begin with). If somehow in (perceived) public (which to Moon includes the front porch) he'll make his first task getting out of that situation, and into a more private environment. He always hates being perceived by strangers when he's nonverbal, so he'll simply assume Y/N feels similarly. At the very least, privacy won't hurt. Same as Sun he switches to simple questions, and checks in with how much physical comfort they're okay with. He's touchy and craves contact/ physical reassurance, but knows that might not be the universal experience. If yes though, he won't hesitate to bundle them up and get them somewhere away from prying eyes where he can stick close and make sure they're okay with a very extensive cuddle session. They better kiss working that night goodbye. Reverse Moon isn't much different, despite being much more shy pre-reveal. He'll quickly admit to getting his own episodes, and would they like some company? The only difference is that the cuddling wouldn't be quite as touchy and perhaps opts for more of a little blanket fort as a small safe recluse instead, and also definitely wouldn't even think about getting up into their room. It might turn into a bit of a "bonding moment" where he opens up and Y/N gets to know their kind of quiet neighbor a little better, and they'll thank him for his help once they can talk again.

Dusk gets a bit more leeway than Dawn, given that there's no one else to appease. He might take a bit longer to realize what's going on if they're currently getting around via parkour or sneaking quietly anyhow. But once he does he's all business. Pre-reveal he might be a bit blunter, while post-reveal they're close enough for him to be gentler in his approach, but otherwise not much changes. He'll do a quick assessment - is this mission worth the strain, and what's the middle ground between Robin's workaholic opinion and his very "I'd say fuck work if I said fuck on the regular" approach. If the mission is cut short, he either ushers or outright takes them home, depending on the point in the timeline. If Robin insists they continue he'll keep a closer eye on them to notice the nonverbal cues, and will match their silence to not force them into their usual banter routine, before then taking or ushering them home.

Eclipse has never had a nonverbal episode - days where he's quieter, yes, but that's a mood thing. He was in their head when Moon had many many nonverbal episodes during the stress of the early days, heard the static bursts that laced his voice if he did force himself to talk, and the physical reactions that come with extended strain. Noises more than words, shaking, and then at times the blockage was so great that when Moon did end up getting something out of his voice box, it ended up being sobs. Eclipse wasn't in a position to help, and Moon wasn't in a position to accept it, anyway. Even after getting his own body Eclipse didn't feel confident enough to offer anything except quiet company or taking care of some chores while Moon retreated into his and Sun's room. So if you end up having a nonverbal episode? He needs to get this right. He can't let you down like he let down Moon. (Not that Moon would sign that - the early days were stressful, and he doesn't blame Eclipse. He wouldn't want his little brother to feel obligated to take care of him anyway). But Eclipse carries some guilt, and it means he'll be very, very careful. He'll speak quieter, softer, leaning down and closer as he reaches out but doesn't make contact yet. Makes himself smaller, and less overwhelming until he knows you're okay. If your reach out too, taking hold of his hands, he'll gladly offer all the physical contact that you want, but will ask before every escalation if it's okay. He remembers Sun's tricks and what helped Moon before, and will gladly use that. Easy questions, yes/no answers, do you want to go home/ to your room/ do you want or need this or that/ do you want him to stay/ do you want him to be quiet/ do you want distraction etc etc. He's attentive and entirely non judgemental, making sure you feel safe and understood even without the words to express yourself. He'll definitely ask about what he should do if it happens again once you can talk again, what was okay, what could be better, anything he missed entirely? He wants to be safe for you, and while he doesn't have much experience he'll do his best to take care of you as you need it