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joshlmbrt · 5 months

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NOW PLAYING (FROM THE VAULT);

♫ TRACK 11; You’re On Your Own, Kid. (dad!steve harrington version)

. 1:03 ──⚬──── 3:45 .

. ⇆ ◃◃ ıı ▹▹ ↻ .

warnings; growing up, talks about deep issues; sh, toxic relationships, and mental health. r is a female! this one is just kind of sad but bittersweet as well.

an; this wasn’t a request by anyone, but i really felt like maybe this would fit steve/dad!steve! lowkey kind of cried myself but that’s okay. but i hope you all enjoy because i really really like this one. i promise that im working on the other request, ive just really been wanting to write this one!

special tag!; @hollandweather

to request, click here!

‘SUMMER WENT AWAY. . .’

NEW JASPER, MAINE. 2008

The first time you had ever heard your baby girl, Violet, cry was when she was born.

The second time the cry was as loud as it was the first time, was when she found out she was having a baby bother - she had wanted a sister to dress up, but menacingly, she had talked Matthew into dressing up.

The third time was when she had her heart broken by some boy, who Steve had disliked from the very beginning. Those tears only lasted a week, seemingly over it very quickly.

But now. . . Now it was different.

The crying, although loud, it had you crying too.

Steve wasn’t there at the moment to calm either one of you down. But if he had been there, he would’ve been crying himself, although later on in the day, silently to himself so you wouldn’t start crying as well.

“I just want to stop, Mom.” Her sobs had made her voice raw, small.

Her hands shake in your own as you sit on her floor, staring at her as you nod. “I know, baby,” Your voice cracks and you are quick to reach out and hold her face. She’s still here. She’s okay. She’ll be okay. “I know. . . I’ll help you. In any way I can. I’ll help. I promise.”

“Please don’t tell daddy. I don’t want-” Her breath shudders as she greedily sucks breath back into her lungs. “I don’t want him to worry.”

You nod, pull her closer to rest her head against your chest, pushing back the sweaty hairs against her forehead. “I wont. I promise,” You rock her softly. “I promise.” You press your lips against her forehead.

Her hand grips onto your arm tightly, your eyes land on the small welts on her arm.

Your heart breaks all over for her.

The feeling of not feeling as if she was enough - that she didn’t have anyone to come too - it makes your heart shatter into a million pieces.

Your body starts to rock side to side with her as her sobs turn into small hiccups. You start humming her a small song as you did when she used to cry in your arms.

‘I DREAM OF GETTING OUT, THERE’S JUST ONE WHO COULD MAKE ME STAY.’

🕊️

2010.

She’s been happy for a while.

The only hurt on her arms is bruises this time, seemingly appearing every so often.

“This is Michael,” Violet had a big smile on her face, teeth an all. It was a special occasion, the new boyfriend of 5 months finally meeting her family at a cookout.

Eddie and Robin had glance at the boy, smiling and nodding in kind, introducing themselves.

Nancy and Jonathan were on a trip, not being able to make it. But they give their best wishes and hopes to the couple.

Dustin had introduced himself, hand shaking the boys who only seemed as if he was uninterested.

Steve, being the total dad he was, he had made a joke of some sort, causing you to slap his arm, quick to reassure Michael he was not capable of causing harm.

He couldn’t even hurt a fly.

Making a quick excuse to show him to the family room to watch a movie, Michael had gripped ahold of her hand.

Matthew watches quietly, deciding to stay with Uncle Dustin and Eddie, and Auntie Robin. “Baby, could you go get your sister and Michael? Tell them the foods ready.” You had asked.

Soon you’d regret sending him downstairs.

He nods. You press quick kiss to the top of his head before setting out paper plates.

He had stepped inside quietly, making his way towards the door that was cracked.

The first thing he had heard was begging - a female begging stop.

His brother duties are immediately heightened, pushing the door open, careful, knowing it creaks.

On light footing, he makes his way down the steps. He stops, eyes widening at the sight.

He watches as the boys hands get a tighter grip on his sister - a person he loved, cherished, and looked up too because she was the strongest person he knew - before slinging her down on the couch, arm raised.

He doesn’t stick around to watch the rest, but the sound of what did happen makes him glad he didn’t witness it and was quick to run out.

Steve was a blur once Matthew had told him, Eddie hot on his heels. You check over Matthew before glancing over at Robin whose face was contorted in worry.

Steve was lucky Eddie had followed him, otherwise he would’ve missed out on everything that was to come in the near future.

Although, Eddie was not gentle pushing the boy out of the front door while Steve tried to hold Violet, to check on her.

Matthew had followed you and Robin down the steps, Dustin quickly following after the boy. “Matt-" He tries to grab his hand to pull him back.

Violet has her sights immediately on the boy. “This is your fault! We were fine!” Steve had a hold - a gentler hold - on her arms.

“Violet May!” Your brows raised in surprise.

“It was fine! Everything was fine!” She cries out. “Then Matthew had to ruin everything!” She had an angered expression.

Matthew’s lips were parted as he watched the look of anger. . . hatred on her face. “I’m. . . I’m sorry. It looked like-”

“I hate you,” She seethes, pushing past everyone. “I wished mom never had you!” She runs up the stairs before making her way to her room in a haste.

Matthew watches, lip quivering at the words. He turns to look at you and Steve. “I’m sorry, mama. I thought she was. . . I thought she was getting hurt.”

You toss a look to Steve who nods, making his way upstairs as you kneel in front of Matthew, holding your arms out. He quickly makes his way over, wrapping his arms around your neck. “Shhh, it’s okay. You did the right thing, sweet boy. She didn’t mean any of it,” You pull away and wipe away his tears. “You’re very brave.” You whisper, nodding.

He smiles shakily at that, before leaning in and giving you a tighter hug. You rub his back softly, eyes peeking up at everyone else who stands there in silence.

That night, Matthew had woken up. He couldn’t get that vision out of his head.

He slips out of bed, making his way to the bathroom. He stops quickly though, ears perking up at the sound of sniffling.

He quietly makes his way towards the door that had one of his drawings taped to it of him and his sister. He knocks softly, waiting for her voice. It never comes.

Still, worried about the person he loved the most, he pushes the door open quietly, leaving it open a crack before making his way towards her bed.

He slides down onto the floor, pulling his legs up and resting his chin on his knees.

He didn’t want her to kick him out so fast, so he stayed silent. She knew he was there and if she really wanted to be alone, she would definitely tell him.

He just wanted her to know that someone cares for her - he still cares for her.

She knew.

‘I LOOKED AROUND IN A BLOOD-SOAKED GOWN AND SAW SOMETHING THEY CAN’T TAKE AWAY.’

🕊️

2013.

“I’m going to college!” Violet jumps up and down, the white acceptance letter in her hand, crinkled from her fist.

You shout with her, pulling her into a tight hug. Steve is quick to join. Matthew stares, mouth turned in a frown.

Steve picks his head up, watching as the boy moves the cereal in the bowl. “Did you hear her, champ? Vi is going to college!”

“Yeah. In Chicago.” He says, monotonously. He’s impressed, really. If anyone could do it, he knew his sister could.

He was proud, but didn’t want it to show. He was angry that she was growing up and leaving him alone. Even if he never really was alone.

The group hug breaks and you share a small glance with Steve. “Aw, bud. She’ll come back.”

“Whatever,” He lifts his shoulder. “Woo, or whatever,” whatever had been the choice word he had been using lately. “I don’t care. Good for her. She’s going to forget about us and never look back.”

“Matt, no I won’t. I could never-” “I don’t care!” He drops the spoon against the bowl, causing you to flinch at the sound. He stands from the chair. “I don’t care that you’re going to college! I’m glad you’re leaving!”

He’s then walking away, slamming the door and stopping on the porch.

He didn’t mean that. He wanted to hide the letter before she had even saw it, but it was too late. She had plucked it from his grasp, gasping as she ran inside.

He would’ve been in big trouble for trashing it anyway.

He plops on the porch swing, staring out at the yard as he picks at the loose skin around his nails.

Steve had given him a few moments to himself before stepping out and placing himself next to him. Now and days, Matthew really looked like Steve.

It almost was scary to Steve how much he really looked like him.

“You okay, Matt?”

“Excellent.”

Steve sighs and nods a bit as he stares out into the yard. He smiles a bit. “Remember that one time when Violet made you dress up with her and do a little fashion runway in the driveway?”

Matthew feels his lip curve a bit, nodding as he drops his head. “Yeah.”

“She wanted a sister really bad,” Steve nods. “But once you came into the world, she was so excited. She couldn’t wait to get home from pre-school everyday,” He chuckles. “She kept kicking her dirty little sparkly shoes against my seat.” Steve’s word didn’t have any malice.

Matthew smiles a bit, turning his palm over and picking at the callous on his hand.

“She loves you, Matt,” Steve nods, looking over at the boy. “Very much. She loves us all even when we don’t see eye to eye on something. So don’t. . . let her leave making her think you aren’t happy for her.”

Steve’s hand lands on his son’s shoulder, gripping softly, comfortingly. “Growing up is scary. It only gets scarier from here. And it sucks. . . But it’s not so bad when you know you have family who loves and cares for you deeply.”

Matthew was sobbing now, leaning into Steve’s side as he presses his lip into his chestnut locks, his own eyes growing watery.

William, Steve’s father, had never let him express feelings or showed affection - fearing it would make him weak - so Steve, even if he was scared each time you became pregnant, made a promise with himself.

He would never, ever, allow his children to feel alone or unloved, would never let them feel like it was weak to show emotion or affection by laughing in their face.

He would never tell them what their dream should be, what they should be doing, they could figure that out on their own during life.

He knew that he would fail on somethings in parenthood. But one thing he never wanted to fail on was exactly that.

And he didn’t fail.

‘TAKE THE MOMENT AND TASTE IT, YOU’VE GOT NO REASON TO BE AFRAID.’

🕊️

The trunk slams close and Violet huffs, her hands on her hips - something she had copied from Steve since she was old enough to walk - turning towards everyone.

Nancy is quick to take a photo - your hands are too busy shaking - and Nelly, Nancy’s youngest, quickly barrels towards her legs and wraps her arms around her. “Don’t go.”

Violet smiles sadly, kneeling down to the girl with tight curls and a cute, pert nose. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“My birthday?”

Violet smiles sneakily. “Maybe.” She whispers. Nelly smiles, a small gap in the front from where she had just lost the tooth, she’s quick to wrap her arms around her.

Violet smiles and closes her eyes as she tilts her head down. She always smelled like strawberries.

Nelly parts from her and she stands sighing. Violet hugs Nancy and Jonathan next, before Eddie and Robin, Dustin, Max and Lucas are next. “Take care of them,” She points towards Steve and you. “Please.” She laughs, it’s a bit airy.

She’s about to cry.

“We know.” Max nods.

“No promises.” Eddie holds his hands up. Robin slaps his arm, Violet laughs softly. She steps back and glances at Steve.

“You’ll call when you get there?” He lifts his brows.

She rolls her eyes, nodding. “Yes.”

He nods. “If, uh, if you ever need somewhere to stay if this doesn’t work out-”

“Wow, thanks.” She knew he meant well, but she had the jitters all day.

“You know what I mean,” He shakes his head. She nods, scratching at her arm. “But, if you need somewhere to go. . . You can always come back home.”

She nods, smiling as she quickly wraps her arms around his sides, face buried in his chest. His hand lands on her shoulder, the other land on the top of her head. “I love you, nugget.”

She laughs softly, a tear leaving her eye. “I love you, daddy.”

She pulls away, wiping a tear before wrapping her arms around you. You waste no time to wrap your own around her.

You curse time in your head, want to beg her to stay, but instead you whisper, “Don’t forget us, please.”

She’s quick to shake her head. “Never. I could never forget where I came from.”

You pull away, wiping her tears from her cheeks. She does the same to you.

You smile softly at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, mama. I’ll call you as soon as I make it.”

You nod, pulling away. Although, you want to reach out for her again, you stand next to Steve who wraps his arm around you.

Matthew is standing next to the car, hands in his pocket. She steps up towards him, smiling softly.

“Well, I guess this is it, huh?”

“Yeah. I guess.” He shrugs.

She hums a bit, staring at him. He stares at her quietly. He feels the burn before launching himself towards her, arms wrapping around her neck.

She lets out a breath of relief, more tears falling from her face. “I love you, Matt. You’re the best little brother any sister could ask for.”

“And you’re the best big sister any little brother could ask for,” He nods. He pulls away, quickly wiping away his tears. “And. . . I know I haven’t said it yet, but I am proud of you. I was just scared.”

“Of what?”

“You forgetting me.”

“I could never forget you. Unless you forget about me.” She squints her eyes at him.

He laughs a bit, although it sounds rough around the edges. “Never.”

She smiles and wipes a stray tear away from his cheek. “I love you.” She says again.

“And I love you. Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“Of course. I’m gonna bother you guys with calls.”

He smiles at that, nodding.

“You’re on your own, kid.”

She smirks at him, patting his cheek as she steps off the curb. Sliding into the car, she pushes some glasses up on her nose before starting the car.

“Don’t forget your seatbelt!” Steve yells out. She laughs quietly in the car, buckling up. She rolls down all the windows before throwing her arm out, waving to everyone gathered on the curb.

They all wave back, growing smaller in the distance.

🕊️

‘YEAH, YOU CAN FACE THIS. YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, KID. YOU ALWAYS HAVE BEEN.’

thank you all for reading! likes, comments, feedbacks, and reblogs are encouraged and deeply appreciated! 🧸

#dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #dad!steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic

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hawkinsindiana · 1 year

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we won’t be like them

ALMOST PARADISE: PART FOUR - CHAPTER EIGHT OF NINE

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 10.4k

a/n: gulp. thanks to ms ruby @stevebabey for helping me w the early stages of the shower scene ehheheheheh. YES THERE’S A SHOWER SCENE!!!!!!! warnings for descriptions of blood/wounds, general nondescript nudity, major character deaths, and loooooooooots of physical touch pls enjoy!!!!

masterlist

Steve says your name, breaking through the haze of dread and anxiety that’s overtaken you in the last several minutes. His palms grip your face intently as he finally gets you to focus on him, your wide eyes locking onto his. Despite being back in Hawkins, his palms are still slightly chilled from the freezing temperature of the Upside Down; the longer he spends with his skin on yours, you can feel yourself warming him up. He looks scared, panicked even.

Steve’s voice is firm and a bit stern with every ounce of his conviction pouring out into his words, “He’s a smart kid, okay? We’re gonna find him.”

All you can manage is a small nod. Your throat is dry. You can tell Steve’s desperate to keep a level head, but he’s bursting at the seams, emotion showing even though he doesn’t mean it to.

The one time you weren’t with the teens and this happens.

You two agreed that they’ve grown more capable; if there was anywhere your skills would be needed, it was with Nancy. It wasn’t her who you should’ve been helping.

You wished her luck as she landed on the sidewalk outside the RV with Creel House a few yards ahead. If either you or Steve had been there to protect them, this never would have happened. Whatever it was that went wrong may have been prevented; the plan wasn’t great, but it wasn’t terrible. That doesn’t matter anymore.

You left her to die. You swore to yourself that you’d keep her safe and you left her to fend for herself.

Your brother’s missing. He’s not at the RV like he promised he’d be.

A gentle tap on your face brings you back — you hadn’t noticed you’d fallen into your thoughts once again. Steve’s eyes continue to bore into yours although you’re unable to give any further acknowledgement. He swallows harshly; you’re in shock. He can’t help you any further right now.

Regretfully, Steve removes his hands from you and rises from his knees. He doesn’t want to leave you.

“Just… just stay right here, okay? Don’t move,” He says, his fingers reaching out to the axe in the dirt beside him, “I’m gonna help them look. I’ll be right back.”

Steve presses a firm kiss to the skin above your eyebrow and vanishes around the corner of the RV, leaving you to sit alone on the steps that lead inside the vehicle. In his absence, you can hear the sporadic shouts of your brother’s name from Robin and Nancy; Steve’s voice joins theirs. Emergency sirens grow in the distance.

You can’t pull your gaze from the red glow. The crack in the earth shredded the landscape with ease, destroying many of the trailers in its wake. You wonder if any of those families survived — it’s not likely they did. The sky, while dark from the late hour, fades into a maroon haze that rises from the gate and the surrounding tree line. What does the rest of Hawkins look like? Is your mom safe? The Wheelers? The Sinclairs?

The Munson’s is gone. You imagine it splintered to pieces and was sucked into the gate as it appeared, torn apart in the same way Creel House did with the four of you inside. You barely escaped with the others. The chimes of the grandfather clock didn’t sound how you expected, but rather like haunting bell tolls from Hell, marking the end of so many lives. It was an awful sound; it’s one you’re not sure you’ll ever forget.

Lucas and Erica were inside Creel House too. Dustin and Eddie would’ve been in his trailer.

More tears burn your eyes. Your hand rises to your forehead; the spot Steve kissed feels warm. There’s pressure in your chest. You’re still loved. Someone still loves you. You’ve done terrible things and you’re still loved. You left her to die.

A ragged sigh is pushed from your lungs when your lip begins to quiver. Far too many tears have already been spilled, but you can’t seem to find the will to stop. Your feelings have always been big — strong enough that it used to feel like a superpower to experience emotion so deeply. But now, after all you’ve been through, it feels like a curse. Everything feels too big. This level of grief and regret… you’ll have to learn to tolerate it. A section of your heart will need to be carved out to make room. Your failure has cost lives. More blood stains your hands; your palms are already spattered. Maybe this is a feeling you’ll need to get used to.

You’re still loved. You left her to die. Your head hurts.

Despite the thoughts fighting for dominance inside your mind, another voice cuts through the air like a knife through silk — Dustin’s voice. You wonder if it’s a dream or some sick trick of Vecna’s as you see him emerge from the edge of your periphery, a long shadow cast over the ground. It takes you a moment to register him as tangible, then you notice his limp. Immediately, you rise to meet him. You sprint a distance of fifty feet in mere seconds.

Dustin’s the first to go in for a hug; you’re more worried about the state of his injury until you see the tears that track down his face too. You gladly welcome his embrace, your arms settling around his shoulders. Your brother cries harder and some semblance of relief washes over the pair of you — the Hendersons made it out alive. Selfishly, you’re glad others were killed and not him. You instantly feel guilty for that thought.

The thought of another crosses your mind. You’re almost afraid to ask.

“Where’s Eddie?”

Dustin’s breathing comes in disjointed heaves. His voice is clogged from his sobs.

“I h-had to… I just…”

As he struggles to speak, Steve jogs over to the pair of you. A myriad of emotions are etched across his face — relief, fear, and perhaps a hint of anger. You lock eyes as Dustin pushes through his stutters and confirms what you thought.

“I had to leave him there. His body’s s-still in there.”

His body.

More guilt washes through you. Steve’s mouth presses into a firm line and he casts his gaze down towards the ground. A hand smooths over the crease in his forehead, the other still holding the axe tightly. He curses under his breath.

How many lives did this failure cost?

You squeeze your brother even tighter, one of your palms slipping to cradle the back of his head. You want to take this feeling from him and carry it instead. Dustin sighs a rather deep breath, his words muffled against the fabric of your vest, “Max is gone too, isn’t she?”

At the mention of the girl, your resolve crumbles. Your shoulders sag from the weight of her name, now burned into your mind as a reminder of what more you could’ve done. More tears pool behind your eyelashes; you blink and they fall, pouring down over your face. Your reaction is enough of an answer for him, but not for you. You inhale, knowing that your actions, or lack thereof, took one of your brother’s best friends away from him. You left her to die.

“I’m so sorry,” You mumble. It’s unclear who you’re saying it to, or which death you’re comforting him over. Maybe it’s for everything.

A weight lays across the line of your shoulders; not another moment passes before Steve’s brow is pressing into your temple, his nose nudging the swell of your cheek. His other arm wraps firmly around Dustin as you instinctively lean into his touch, beckoning him closer without retreating from your brother’s embrace. It’s a bit of an awkward position but no one has the mind to care, especially as the three of you come to terms with what’s happened and what’s to come. This is a weight you’ll carry forever.

—

Steve has a pretty strict ‘no-dust-in-my-car’ policy; tonight, it is completely disregarded. He doesn’t particularly care that Dustin doesn’t wipe his feet off before entering, or that your pants are probably depositing dirt in the passenger’s seat. It is a major sigh of relief to be somewhere familiar — in this case, Steve’s BMW parked in the Maple Street cul-de-sac. You abandoned the Winnebago one street over.

Exhausted doesn’t begin to describe what you’re feeling. Your mind is blank and your body is sore. Everything hurts in one way or another. You can’t tell if you’ll be able to sleep or not, but you know you need rest, preferably with your love curled up beside you.

It takes a few minutes longer than normal to reach the driveway to your home. Roads have already been closed off by police and detours made around the damage. People are hastily packing up their families and clogging up the streets as they abandon their homes — you wish you had the luxury.

You pull the spare key from its usual place in the light fixture on the porch. The second you insert it into the lock, the door opens from the opposite side; your mother stands before you clad in an obnoxiously fluffy pink robe. She appears to be bouncing between worry, anger and relief, which blooms into unmistakable concern. There’s fresh bruising on your neck and Dustin’s arm is thrown across Steve’s shoulders to keep him balanced.

You imagine the three of you clad in military green and protective attire must be quite a sight. You feel pathetic. You feel like a child.

“It’s a…” You pause to clear your throat, which has only grown raspier since your experience at Creel House; you can still feel the tendril constricting your airflow.

“It’s a long story. I promise we’ll tell yo-”

Before you can finish, your mom pulls you into a tight hug, effectively silencing the excuse you had conjured up on the drive over. Right now she doesn’t care what it was that kept you away so long, she’s just glad you’re safe. It takes a bit of effort to hide your wince as her hand smooths over the wound on your back, but more than anything, it feels good to be home and welcomed by the comfort of your mother’s touch.

She doesn’t know the things you’ve done; you hope it stays that way.

As she pulls away, her hands shift to hold your face for a moment before switching her attention.

“Oh my boys,” She mumbles, reaching out to greet Dustin and Steve next. She does the same, pulling them both into a tight hug and plants a kiss on each of their cheeks. After they break away, Steve gently leads Dustin back into his bedroom, per his request. All he wants to do is sleep.

You manage to convince your mom that food can wait until the morning, so she nervously darts off to help your brother in whatever way he needs. As Steve exits Dustin’s room, your tired eyes meet and your outstretched hands follow. Instantly, warmth spreads through your veins at his touch; you need more. You lead him along the familiar path from the hall and into your bedroom.

It’s sparser than it used to be, but it’s still a relief to be greeted by the wallpaper you picked in your youth. This space exudes nothing but comfort — even more so when Steve scoops you into his hold the second you enter.

The moment you’re settled with your arms slung around his shoulders and his firmly clutching your ribs, it’s like the both of you melt. A deep cleansing exhale somehow pulls you closer until you’re fairly confident there’s no place where your souls begin or end. For everything that went wrong today, thank god the love you share has endured.

“I’m so fucking exhausted.”

You hum in agreement at Steve’s words, muttered from deep in the bend of your neck. You can feel his tiredness, evident in how he’s practically leaning against you to stay upright. His fingers are slightly trembling against you — a side effect of adrenaline threaded through his veins for too long. Now that it’s finally beginning to wane, all that’s left is the desire to rest.

You bury your face deeper into his clothes, greedily taking in every ounce of solace you can. While his touch is soothing, you unsurprisingly find yourself hungry for more, craving skin against skin after all these heavy garments have been stripped away. The longer you spend here in each other’s embrace, the more of a necessity it becomes.

“Stay with me tonight. Please.”

Steve huffs a tiny laugh, “You’re crazy for thinking I was going anywhere else.”

You allow the hint of a smile to crack your solemn exterior; it’s stupid how good it feels to hear a bit of humor fall from his lips. Instantly, you feel guilty for enjoying a spark of happiness.

He shifts his hold and pulls away enough to meet your eyes. His exhaustion would be easy to miss if you didn’t know him better than anyone else. A small frown creates that crease between his brow as his hand rises to ghost over your cheek; it’s hard to keep the shiver at bay that comes from him lightly skimming the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. Your skin is ashy, coated in a layer of dust and splatters of blood, belonging to you and those disgusting creatures. He wants to wipe away all reminders of these horrible few days. An awful knot forms at the bottom of his stomach as he remembers not all of them are going to disappear.

Steve drops his hand to your shoulder before smoothing his palm down the side of your arm, “Go get cleaned up, yeah? I’ll bring your spare clothes.”

You nod once and say a silent thank you in the form of a kiss, gently pressed to the skin above his jawline; your lips prickle against the stubble that resides there. For a moment, you spot the hint of a blush beneath the grime that flecks his face. You smile a bit, for something so simple as a kiss from you still earns a reaction as sweet as your love.

With that, Steve removes his hands from you and disappears out the bedroom door. The sound of his car keys echoes through the dark living room while you shuffle down the hall; through the walls, you catch the muffled voice of your mother and the quiet sobs from Dustin. That golden feeling in your chest dissipates.

It takes a few seconds for the temperature of the shower to shift from freezing cold to comfortably warm. Before you have the chance to make any additional adjustments, a knock on the door steals your focus. It’s Steve; a case of déjà vu clouds your mind.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” He whispers as he passes you a small stack of folded clothes. They turn out to be nothing more than one of his long sleeved tees, as well as a fresh pair of socks and underwear. The emergency outfits for situations just like this, hidden away in the back of Steve’s trunk, don’t have comfort in mind. Your eyes meet as you thank him, your voice even softer than his.

You feel the need to comfort him building up inside your chest, like a compulsion you wouldn’t dare try to defy. He’s done such a good job of protecting and caring for you — you’d like to return the favor. You place your free hand onto his forearm and begin gently guiding him into the room with you; your touch, as well as the delicate gaze that accompanies, serves as a silent invitation he understands through all his weariness.

As Steve shuts the door behind him, the steam from the shower immediately begins to enhance his exhaustion. Sluggishly, he sets his own bundle of clothes onto the counter beside yours. Before he can reach for you, you’ve already sunk down to the tile, your nimble fingers tugging at the triple knotted laces of his boots. Once you’ve managed to loosen the shoes, he steps out of them with ease; they’re a size and a half too big. The boots are discarded by the door with a heavy thunk.

Steve’s kneeling as soon as he can and repeats the same action on you. He works quickly to undo your laces and with a hand pressed to the back of your calf for support, he pulls each shoe off. Another heavy thunk near the door.

A tired silence falls over the pair of you as Steve straightens back up to his full height, minus a heavy sag in his posture. His fingers come to tug on the side of your vest, zippers and velcro ripping as he gingerly eases it off you. He can feel the relief roll through your body in a wave, one less weight on your injured shoulder and before he can continue, you’re repeating the action on him.

Steve’s chest heats with love as you begin removing his own vest with care; the jacket follows soon after and they’re both discarded onto the tile. He briefly wonders what to do with them — he’d love to have a stupid bonfire and burn it all, along with the terrible memories of the past few days. But your voice in his head reminds him that can’t be done, that there’s a chance you’ll need this armor again. He grows even wearier with that thought. As if you can sense it, because of course you can, your hands press into his skin and bring him back out of his head.

The skirting touches are against the skin of his waist, just below the sweat-soaked gauze your warm fingers placed there not long ago. But now, your hands are calloused and on the brink of blistering, worn from weapon use. Although the sensation is slightly different than he’s used to, Steve would recognize the curious intention beneath those palms anywhere. It’s still you, even if a bit jaded.

Steve lets you work the fabric of his shirt off him. He winces when he twists too far to the side; pain splinters off in all directions from his stomach wounds, irritated and angry after hours of strenuous movement. Your worried eyes dart up to study his expressions, intent on putting him through as little discomfort as you can. Gently, he manages to pull his arms through the sleeves and tugs it over his head with a small hiss. It’s tossed into the pile with everything else.

He’s glad you don’t protest when he begins the same process on you. Once the zipper of your suit is down its track and you start to remove the clothing, a particularly pained whimper escapes you. Steve stills in an instant, waiting for your face to relax before he continues to guide your arms out of the thick sleeves. It takes you a moment to slip out of the fabric now bunched around your thighs; one of Steve’s hands grips your uninjured shoulder for balance as you slide the suit down to the floor. Goosebumps erupt over your bare legs as your skin is exposed to the air, which grows warmer by the minute due to the steam from the shower. It makes it more difficult for you to stay awake, your eyelids drooping even further as you step out of the clothing, pulling your socks off quickly as well.

Both of your gazes are much different than they normally would be in similar circumstances to this. You’re far too upset, far too angry, far too exhausted to even allow yourselves the luxury of such thoughts. Neither of your eyes carry a single hint of that type of warmth, but a different one instead — the kind that comes from fierce trust and overwhelming love.

Rather than beginning to remove any more clothing, you kneel back to the ground and open the cabinet beneath the sink. After a few seconds of clattering plastic hidden from Steve’s view, you emerge with a rather large first aid kit. Without getting up, you place it onto the countertop and root around for a box of bandages — all shapes and sizes. It pains Steve to think you had prepared for this, knowing that someday you could come home with a wound so terrible that it must be treated with this amount of care, including sutures and hospital grade gauze. He wonders how long it’s been down there, packed away from the prying eyes of your mother so she'd never stumble upon it while cleaning.

When you finally rise once again, your fingers ghost over his abdomen and the bandage you placed there earlier. Both of your wounds need to be flushed with water and gently washed in the shower, now that you have the proper time. As you begin unwrapping the gauze across his stomach, trying not to focus too intently on the deep shade of maroon that’s seeped through the fabric, Steve exhales deeply in preparation. His eyes screw shut and he blindly reaches behind him to grasp the lip of the sink, a cold sweat starting to trickle down his spine.

“That’s it, Stevie,” You mumble as you continue your tedious work, “You’re doing so good. Last layer.”

What was once alabaster white is stained — hues of red and brown from dried and fresher blood. Steve swears it’s fused to his skin, a whimper breaking past his lips as you lift a scab off when you pull. An apology is already out of your mouth.

You’re frozen, stuck a moment too long scanning the wounds on his abdomen. From the bob in your throat as you swallow, Steve can feel the guilt, sadness, and pain that radiates from you; seeing your lover in this state never gets easier, no matter how used to it you might be. You sniffle quietly.

A soft brush of Steve’s fingers across your cheek forces your eyes upwards. You’re able to blink back the tears as he swipes his thumb over your skin. It’s a silent act of reassurance, but how much it actually does to soothe you, neither of you know.

He shifts his hand to your shoulder, accentuating the movement with a nod of his head and muttering softly, “Turn around.”

You spin on the cool tile at his request, wincing as you begin hiking up the fabric of your tank; the motion angers your shoulder unbelievably so. The sound immediately forces Steve’s hands to rest on top of yours, urging you to stop. He pulls them away, carefully watching your reaction to ensure you go through as little pain as possible while he takes over, sliding it up your torso. The wounds begin to show themselves the higher it rises.

With a tense jaw, Steve grimaces at the sight of your scratched skin, which had been left to rub against your clothes. He wishes there was more he could’ve done for you earlier. He wishes he could’ve taken as much care with your wounds as you did his. The raised marks appear agitated, fresher blood clotting in some areas; Steve stretches the shirt to move your left arm through easily, guiding it over your head so he can slide it off the other without hurting you. He doesn’t want to look at the worst part but it calls to him like the world’s cruelest temptation — the wound is finally exposed to the air as he discards the tank top somewhere behind him.

Briefly, Steve pinches his eyes closed before forcing them back open; you hear him sigh dejectedly as his gaze lands on the bandage covering where the Demobat had burrowed into your skin. You’ve bled through it over the past day or so, leaving most of the fabric inked red. The only plus side to this is that the adhesive gives much faster when Steve takes a corner in between his fingers. The other hand is holding your hip steady as he peels it away, thumb brushing comfortingly until the bandage is removed; he places the soiled piece on top of his discarded in the sink.

You haven’t realized how tightly you’ve been gripping the countertop until Steve pulls your hand away from the stone, lightly massaging your palm as he remains intently focused on the deep wound punctured into your skin. Then he finds his eyes roving over your back, eventually landing on the stained band of your bra, now splotched with red from your blood and gray from the parallel dimension. It used to be one of his favorites — he doesn’t know how many times he’s seen this one; the color flatters you so, but now he’s pretty certain he’ll never be able to look at it again. A part of him hopes you feel the same way and toss it out later. He’ll buy you a million more if you do.

You silently turn in his hold and your gaze is already cast down to meet with his own injuries once more. You want to make it better right now, you don’t want to wait however long it’ll take for him to heal. Why is it seeing them right now that makes your throat ache so much?

You’ve collected your own reminders of what you’ve survived; you’ve learned to accept them as both a blessing and a curse. The thought of Steve looking over his body and seeing twisted skin left behind from one of these nightmares, and being reminded of what left them there, makes your heart crack. You know how painful it is to relive these traumatic moments from your life day after day. You hate the idea of him doing the same, especially when this time was significantly worse than the others.

Now, you’ll have matching scars given to you by the same awful creatures. For the rest of your lives, they will remind you both of how neither of you could save each other from them.

Steve’s seen you go through this before — watched your body heal after one of these horrific moments in time. It’s incredibly difficult to know there’s nothing more you’re able to do except change the bindings and flush them with water. Twice he’s witnessed a traumatic event indent itself on your skin, as if it isn’t already wired deep into your brain, now unforgettable.

He knows how terrible this feels, seeing what will be the first scars on his body. Now you’ve got yet another reminder torn into the fabric of your back — the back Steve has run his hands over more times than he can count. Nevermind that you’ve lost it yourself thrice now, you’re still mourning what he should be grieving: the normalcy of his own skin.

Your face pinches, mind running over the events of the Upside Down, looking for a moment where something could’ve happened differently — a moment where you could’ve saved him from this. But every time, it happens the same way.

It’s like he can sense everything you’re feeling, almost as if the uncertainty and sadness swirls in the air between you. Your fingers are lightly skimming over the skin of his stomach, absently lost in these terrible thoughts. You need to fix this.

“Sweetheart,” Steve murmurs gently, his large hands covering yours as he pulls them away and coaxes you towards the shower. Stitches and gauze don’t matter until it’s clean.

“Shower first, yeah?”

He doesn’t wait for your response, finally beginning to work off his cargo pants that feel a million times heavier than when he put them on in War Zone. Stripping off the final fabric from his body, Steve lets you follow suit, testing the temperature of the water with his hand. Just like the billows of steam that cling to every surface suggest, it’s grown hotter. He adjusts it slightly, the stream warm instead of scalding and he steps in, knowing you’ll be right behind.

The water cascades along his shoulders deliciously, each drop heating patches of skin he hasn’t realized were frigid until now. Steve was worried that the warmth would send him straight to sleep, so he’s relieved that some of his exhaustion washes down the drain as his body is soothed. It’s a deep breath he can finally take.

Naturally, as you enter after him, Steve shifts back and ushers you under the stream; he’s desperate to let you get some reprieve from the aches of your body. His hands settle on your face, thumbs swiping away the grime and dirt as water spills down your skin. As softly as he can, Steve tilts your head to rinse your hair, his fingers massaging along your hairline for additional comfort.

The water that swirls around the drain starts to change color the longer you spend beneath the shower head; it shifts deep red, then pink, sometimes a brownish gray. Your wounds sting each time the water hits them, discomfort showing on your face with a quick squint of the eye, but it’s a pain you can bear — you’ve felt far worse. With hair now wet enough for his liking, Steve gently spins you with a hand on each arm, letting the stream hit your chest instead. He takes a red bottle from the small shelf and lathers a bit of your shampoo in his palms, the familiar scent mixing with the steam billowing around you.

His fingers move expertly to work the suds through your wet strands, taking extra time to ensure the shampoo gets to your scalp. You’re practically putty in his hands, sighing lightly as Steve continues washing your hair, head falling backward in bliss from his touch. He’s washed your hair before, but never with this much care and dedication to a deep cleanse. A part of you wishes it didn’t take another encounter with the supernatural to experience it… or any of the significant moments in your relationship you’ve shared recently.

As he finishes lathering your hair, Steve’s eyes drift to your neck — a bruise has begun to form against the smooth skin, wrapping the entire expanse of your throat in splotches of purple and deep red. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the sight of your face without all its warmth and life. His right hand rests at the base of your neck between your shoulder blades, his fingers gently caressing the injured flesh with a dark gaze, irises holding a restrained rage within.

A shiver — a direct contrast to the steam that envelops you — rolls down the length of your spine as Steve’s cheek brushes yours. His other hand splays out across the expanse of your stomach, keeping you still as his head ducks lower and settles in the crook between your throat and collarbone. Instinctively you lean into him, pressing your face to his hair as Steve stays here for a moment, gratefully taking in the feeling of you standing in front of him. It’s so featherlight that you almost miss it — a kiss pressed to the mark on your skin that he had left there, the only sign of his love on your body. He’s tempted to leave more, to outnumber the other bruises a million to one and make you understand just how thankful he is to have you here with him.

It doesn’t take very long for you to spin in his hold, your hands seeking to find purchase on him wherever you can. You settle for sliding your fingers into Steve’s hair as his grip on you shifts, his rough palms slipping across your waist to keep you close. His forehead rests against your shoulder as you continue to wet the dark strands as best you can, intent on helping him unwind too. When it’s time to add some shampoo, you have to twist awkwardly to reach the bottles on the shelf. But before you get the chance to, a sound nearly drowned out by the rushing water catches your attention — a small sniffle.

Instantly you snap back to Steve, whose face you take between your wet hands. He doesn’t fight as you gently tilt his head up to see his eyes are rimmed with red. You swallow harshly. You can only imagine how surreal this must be for him; just a couple of hours ago, he was clutching your dying body in the same hands that caress you now. That’s a memory he’s not likely to forget, no matter how much longer he lives for. You hate he has to carry that.

You don’t have any words to comfort him and quite frankly, you’re not sure anything you say right now could be helpful. What he needs is just you — your presence, your touch, and your love.

Your noses brush as you press your forehead to his and you shut your eyes, taking this quiet moment to do nothing but be present with him. He’s done the same for you so many times it’s hard to keep count. In the darkness, while both the water and Steve warm you from within, he shifts even closer. His lips find yours.

You’ll never grow tired of kisses like this — ones where there’s a swoop in your stomach and every emotion he’s feeling presses into your skin. Through both his hands and his kiss, you understand it all in an instant. The adoration is almost overwhelming, pouring over the edge until you are firm in your belief that it’ll never run out. But the ridiculous amount of affection for you is eclipsed by an unwavering fear. It’s louder than anything else, told by the way his fingers gently dig into the depressions of your ribcage and his lips, which cling to yours until the moment his oxygen runs out.

Most people wouldn’t associate Steve with being afraid. They couldn’t be more wrong. Steve Harrington is terrified.

There’s a soft desperation that lingers, which you blindly follow into another kiss. Though diluted from the water that glides down your face, the familiar taste of tears hits your tongue; it takes a moment to realize they’re coming from you too. You’re not sure of the exact cause as a deep sadness takes root somewhere in your heart, too far to be inspected further but ever present. But upon understanding the depth of emotions Steve has felt recently, you realize it’s more grief. Grief that for a brief period of time, there was nowhere for his love to go.

It’s not right to say he deserves the world because that doesn’t seem like enough; there’s far more that you want to give him. You want to give him a gift as imperfectly beautiful and impractical as the moon, for someone who holds you this delicately should be rewarded. You’re drawn to him with your tides, even with shipwrecks and skeletons hidden in the darkest parts of your mind. He knows your deepest secrets and he’d still beg to reflect his love in your ocean, even if you’re clouded with storms or calm and clear.

It’s all meaningless anyways. If you tried to hand him the moon, he’d shrug it off in an instant and give it to you instead.

When you pull away, both the tears and water are streaming down your faces in a seemingly endless river. Steve feels like you’ve exchanged pieces of your souls. You place a final kiss on the corner of his mouth before you turn in his hold and reach for the shampoo. He presses his lips to your shoulder as you lather the suds in your palms.

This routine continues until you’ve both rinsed and scrubbed the other until all of the grime is washed down the drain. While your bodies may feel clean, your minds don’t have the same luxury. The pair of you retreat with the medical supplies to your room, where there’s no rush to care for your love properly. Steve’s thankful that patching you up goes significantly smoother than last time, even though he does have to stitch your wound closed. It’s rather nerve wracking work, but after a quick refresher from you, he completes it with more confidence. You place large bandages over the bites in his abdomen rather than a continuous piece of cloth so he can be more comfortable. Nearly an hour has passed by the time you’re finished.

—

Under normal circumstances, you’d prop the window open to let the spring breeze filter through the room and cool off your bodies from the warmth of the shower — you decide against it when your ears catch the endless echo of sirens from the town beyond. You should be out there helping, offering your assistance in any way you can to attempt to make up for what you’ve done, but that can wait.

Steve desperately wants to hold you close, fully envelop you in his arms and pull you on top of him so he can feel your heartbeat thudding along with his own. He needs to feel every inch of your body against his — a reminder that you’re alive, laying here with him in the darkness of your bedroom. His wounds, on the other hand, have a different idea.

With every movement, his stomach aches; pain shoots through his muscles and forces his face to pinch as he carefully crawls beneath the covers. Even through his pain, he shifts the blankets so you can slip in beside him. The cotton is cool against your skin; it’s the reprieve you’ve been craving ever since finding Eddie holed up in that boathouse last week — the relief of knowing it’s over, that you’ve survived, the same one you’ve felt four times now.

Even so, it’s not the same. It’s not over. Vecna’s still out there somewhere. Hawkins has been destroyed. It’s only a matter of time before you’re called back into the fray; the pile of battle-worn gear in the corner says as much.

Steve’s mind is running through the same thoughts as he finally settles on his back, eyelashes fluttering closed when he stills. He’s overthinking, worrying obsessively about what’s going to come next and whether or not he has the strength to do this again.

The thoughts shift when your hand rests in the center of his torso, palm pressed over the dip in his ribs where his sternum ends. You crave the closeness too; you wish you could crawl into his arms and sleep forever in his embrace without a care in the world. As you press your forehead to the outside of his arm, Steve removes your hand to clutch it in his, your intertwined fingers now resting against him — his grip is firm and gentle.

As you two lay here, the time on your digital clock passing midnight, Steve finds himself reflecting on what’s to come, more specifically for the two of you.

If he’s honest, a lot of what he said is a complete blur. Only a few details come to mind if he thinks hard enough. What he does remember is that everything he said was the truth — he can feel it deep in his chest. He wouldn’t have lied to you about any of that, not that he’d ever lie to you about anything.

You said yes to it all, too. You said yes to the future, to the-

Oh god.

Suddenly, Steve wonders if you said yes to everything because… well, of course you did. You thought you were gonna die. It would’ve been pretty shitty to turn down something like that from the one you love before charging into battle. He may have accidentally chosen the worst time to spring all that on you.

It’s not that Steve doesn’t want that life with you anymore. On the contrary, he’s certain there will never be anyone else. But wanting to share your future is a big commitment, no matter how in love you are. You’re the one with some semblance of a plan for your life… is he intruding by asking for so much so soon?

Sometimes Steve forgets that he hasn’t known you his entire life. It often feels like he has. In reality, it’s only been a couple of years. You’ve been together for a shorter period of time than that.

His expression immediately creases in embarrassment. You seriously told your girlfriend of fifteen months that you want her to have your kids?

“Y’know that uh… all that stuff I said? In the woods?”

You raise your head to rest on his pillow, intently studying the anxiety as it forms over his face. The streetlight outside your window lightly washes the pair of you in a yellow hue, even behind the drawn curtains.

You feel your face heat as you recall his beautiful words. You nod once, your damp hair mussing against the pillowcase, “Yeah. What about it?”

He steals a quick glance at you out of the corner of his eye; the thrum of his heartbeat increases in your intertwined hands.

“It’s okay if you… if that’s not what you really want. We thought we were gonna die, y’know, so if you agreed to everything back there and you didn’t really mean it, that’s fine. Okay? That’s perfectly fine because I still wanna live with you and I still love you a-”

“I did.”

While you could’ve let him ramble on and on until his brain was empty, you can’t listen to him doubt himself like this for much longer. Confusion shutters across his face with your interruption, his brow pinching as he turns his gaze back to you. He doesn’t have to speak for you to understand.

An easy smile pulls at your lips. You remove your hand from his and rest your palm on his cheek, your thumb lightly stroking his skin; his lashes flutter from the contact. His fingers curl around your forearm in response.

“I meant it. All of it, baby. I want that too, and I want it with you.”

To reinforce your words, you lower your head and press a kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder. When you pull away, a strange feeling spreads from the imprint of your lips. It travels down his arm and across his chest until his entire body is bathed in what can only be described as pure love, far stronger than anything he’s ever felt, including fear. As terrified as you make him, he loves you much more. Warm relief curls around his heart. You meant it.

He can’t stand it anymore.

“C’mere,” Steve mutters gently, sliding his palm down to your elbow. He lifts the arm trapped between you so you can scooch closer; he doesn’t particularly care about his wounds anymore, not when he needs your skin against him like he needs oxygen. He’s convinced your touch will heal him. With your hand secured against his ribs, you pull yourself flush against him and tuck the other beneath the pillow. Once you’re settled, Steve winds his arm around your waist to avoid your own injuries. It’s awfully snug, but exactly what you’ve been craving.

You think you could gaze into his eyes forever — endless galaxies of rich browns and flecks of amber stars with a black hole right in the center. A pocket of space only meant for you, until the end of time.

Steve smiles as he tucks his hand beneath the hem of your shirt, his fingers tracing aimless lines along your hip. He’ll never quite understand how a young boy’s disappearance brought him the love of his life, the future mother of his children, his soulmate — he decides not to question it too much. His life would be so ridiculously boring without you.

His voice is sincere, “You’re my best friend.”

“Well I hope so,” You tease, somehow scooting even closer to him, “You never stopped being mine.”

Steve’s heart swells tremendously. Beneath all the endearment and fondness, you’re still those two lonely idiots who found a friend in the most unlikely of places. Although he never wants to lose your love, losing the innocent friendship that first tied you together would be catastrophic. Before he gets a chance to come up with any sort of equally gooey reply, your eyes are widening slightly — like something’s just dawned on you.

“Wait, does this mean we’re… like… married now?”

The idea of getting to call you his wife makes his head go fuzzy. As much as he’d love to, that does seem like too much too soon. Last week you were planning on moving in together and now there’s talk of marriage and children and the rest of your lives. He’s got you, he knows that now. You’re not going anywhere. He can wait a bit longer.

“Hm…” Steve briefly turns his gaze to the ceiling, the hum in his throat playful as he acts like he’s deciding, “Not yet. Think I still wanna ask you properly.”

A bit of relief leaves you in the form of a scoff — a small taunt that humors his banter, “You gonna get me a ring, Harrington?”

Gingerly, Steve takes your right hand from its place on his chest and holds it out in front of him, carefully twisting your wrist to get a better look. A few seconds of silence pass.

“Steve?”

“Hold on. I’m picturing it.”

You have to hold back a chuckle; you don’t have the heart to joke about it being the wrong hand. Instead, you join him in the endeavor. A delicate silver band molds to the column of your ring finger. It’s nothing fancy — no gems or diamonds perched on the metal but it’d still be yours. Steve grins stupidly as he imagines the feeling of the silver, cool to the touch, pressing into his skin.

He guides your hand to his lips, where he presses a kiss onto the place a ring would sit between your knuckles: a promise. He rests your clasped hands back onto his chest, “I think a ring sounds nice.”

You smile just as sweetly, knowing that there’s no reason for something material to signify your love. Steve could ask you to marry him while tangled together on the couch and you’d be just as eager. But for all the chaos you’ve experienced, a slice of normalcy and a traditional proposal doesn’t sound so bad.

“I think so too,” You mumble as you tuck your face into the bend of his neck, your warm exhale fanning out over his skin. Steve welcomes the feeling and rests his cheek against your hair, his arm tightening around you.

Marriage… god that’s a heavy word. The more you think about it, the more you realize how you barely understand the definition. Nothing positive comes to mind, only failure and unhappiness with a side of regret. You don’t know how anyone could regret love. You’ve found someone who’s willing to learn and adapt with you, who will stick beside you even on your darkest days, who will dish out extra affection on the days where you don’t feel like you deserve it. You’ve been very lucky; perhaps it’s the universe apologizing for all the hardship and scars. It sent you someone with hundreds of constellations across his skin and a golden touch to comfort you in times of great stress.

Steve doesn’t have experience with loving marriage either, yet he’s still willing to jump off this cliff with you.

“We won’t be like them.”

Filled with so much mistrust and contempt it’s hard to imagine there was once kindness for the other. Desperate enough to have a son in the hopes he’d fix everything that went wrong. No, it doesn’t take much to understand you and Steve will change the Harrington name into something synonymous with compassion and love. The massive difference between you and his parents is your desire.

You want a family. You want a home. Your children won't be brought into this world for any other reason than to be an extension of your love. They’ll be cared for and comforted, celebrated and cheered on. You’ll take pride in the mundane that his parents found so disinteresting. You’ll have the weekly movie nights and sit on the bleachers at their sports games. You’ll hang their art projects on the fridge and make their stuffed animals have silly voices. You and Steve will show your children the best parts of yourselves and hope they become even better.

Steve didn’t realize becoming like his parents was something he was concerned about until you said it. It’s a fear that’s quickly squashed. Instead, he worries about what reassurance you might need.

“I won’t leave you.”

Out of everything Steve’s said over the past few hours, he means this the most. Sure, he can’t promise there won’t be bad times or stressful situations that cause an argument or two. He can’t promise there won’t be mistakes made or conflicting ideas. He can’t promise that this addicting feeling of young love will last forever. One thing, however, that he can promise is that he’ll be true to you. He can’t imagine a day where he could meet someone better for him. The thought of having to explain what he’s experienced to someone else makes him want to break out in hives — rather than you, who can see a blank stare or a balled up fist and just know, no explanation required. Taking care of Steve is second nature; he hopes you understand he feels the same for you.

He thinks you might assume this is in reference to your own parents, which he supposes is true as well. He’d never force you to raise your children alone just because he got bored, which he can’t picture either. How could he ever grow tired of the Harrington/Henderson kids? They’re almost guaranteed to be the craziest, most adorable little rascals the world has ever seen. But he wants that life, which he hopes is a comfort in itself.

No, Steve will never leave you. He doesn’t think he could, if he’s honest. Even if you were to grow to hate him through years of marriage and parenting, he’d never initiate anything that could take you from him. How could he? You’re the first person that’s ever loved him. He’ll never give that up willingly, no matter how stupid that may sound.

When you shift your head back, Steve does the same — he can’t stand the thought of going another moment without sealing your soft words in a proper kiss. The only word that comes to mind as you slot your lips against his is safety; he’s never felt as safe and secure as he does right now, receiving your love and cradling you in his arms. You’re going to take care of each other.

The passion builds as you sigh against him, suddenly feeling a bit too warm for your skin when his palm curls up around your jaw to keep you near. Although the press of his mouth is gentle, he is fierce in his intent.

“I love you,” Steve whispers against you, pausing for a moment as he allows himself to bask in this wonderful feeling. It continues to grow as you deliver a light peck to his lips; he opens his eyes to peer into yours, a bit dazed by everything. Your response is simple.

“I love you too.”

Steve would kiss you again if you two didn’t burst into a pair of brilliant smiles, like pure happiness emanating from within. He pulls back slightly to get a proper look at you — a smile that he hopes he’ll see in more than one face.

“I think our first is gonna be a girl.”

You scoff, your voice switching into something playfully stern, “Steve. You don’t know that.”

“Well I do!” He pouts, almost offended that you would doubt him on a matter as serious as this. As his focus returns to your ceiling, his hand moves from your cheek to wave through the air in front of him, “Just call it… father’s intuition, okay? It’ll be a girl.”

Another noise reminiscent of a laugh is pulled from your throat at his insistence. You’d be lying if you didn’t find him insanely endearing — talking about your children like they’re already here. Your heart flutters as the image of Steve doting on a baby girl materializes inside your brain.

You shuffle down the bed a bit to rest your head on his shoulder, “Alright then. What do we name her?”

Steve hums curiously. He hasn’t thought about that part yet. Although it doesn’t have to, he feels like her name should have meaning. Something important to the both of you, something that signifies a fresh start.

He inhales as it comes to him — a name he’s been repeating to himself over and over again, accompanied by a handful of numbers.

“Marcie’s a cute name, don’t you think?”

Tears nearly pool at your lash line with his admission. The street name for your little apartment in Chicago. Steve would want to name your daughter after the first symbol of your future together. Your smile returns, but far more sentimental than it was before.

“I like that a lot,” You confirm, tilting your head up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. As you do, another idea forms, this one far more upsetting than the other.

“That or… or Max, maybe.”

Steve sighs, closing his eyes at your suggestion. His free hand runs across his brow in an exasperated motion — not at you, but at the outside world he was having a blissful time ignoring. He eventually nods, exhaling once again, “Yeah. That’s a good option too.”

He hates how quickly sadness crawls between you; he can feel you retreating into yourself and away from him, your arm curling back near your body rather than draped out across his chest. While he knows addressing the trauma you both experienced is important, right now doesn’t seem like the best time. Not while all the wounds are still fresh.

“Y’know we don’t have to worry about a name right now,” He mumbles, leaning down to press a kiss into your hair, “We don’t even have a kid yet.”

A small smirk pulls at his lips, “And I don’t know if you’re aware of this Henderson, but I heard that making the baby’s supposed to be the best part.”

His plan works; you let out a chuckle against his skin, “Did you really?”

Steve grins at your playful tone, his hand beneath your shirt shifting tantalizingly higher. He relishes the smattering of goosebumps that he leaves behind and he leans down to nuzzle his nose along your hairline. He hums in response and uses that familiarly flirtatious lilt in his voice that you have a hard time refusing, where you feel desired by him.

“Too bad that’s years away, hm?”

Damn him for being so good at distracting you. You shift against him once more, hooking your leg around his hips, “That’s alright. Gives us plenty of time to practice.”

Your answer earns you a genuine laugh and another kiss to your head.

—

Determined to keep your mind from wandering too far, Steve ends up reciting all the movies available to rent at Family Video, in alphabetical order no less. It’s another one of those stupid skills he’s learned through his tenure there, as well as how to change receipt paper in under five seconds (yes, he and Robin had a competition to see who could do it faster and no, Keith did not think it was very funny). But it ends up working wonders for you, and you make mental notes of those that sound interesting enough to watch for yourselves. As he starts the N’s — “Nighthawks… Nightmare on Elm Street” — Steve recognizes the slowing tempo of your breath and realizes that you’ve drifted off.

Your head’s tilted back now. You had been watching him adoringly as he rambled, giving him an unrestricted view of your sleeping face. For a moment, an emptiness fills his chest. Although he can feel the rise and fall of your torso, you look awfully similar to how you did as you were losing consciousness, also while in his arms. Briefly, he feels a wash of cold come over him at the memory and the tips of his fingers prickle, almost like they’re going numb. Then, he decides to match his breathing with yours; your deep exhales in time with his keep him from completely succumbing to the anxiety. You’re still here with him. There’s nothing to be afraid of right now. Maybe tomorrow, but not right now.

He’s not sure how long you’re out for, but it couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes. Although your body’s grown more tired, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched, even while lost to a world of dreams. Adorably, you open one of your eyes.

“You staring at me?”

It’s more of a rhetorical question, because it’s incredibly obvious that Steve is. It’s crazy how comforted he is upon the sight of your irises peering back at him. He doesn’t even try to deny it.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

Your mouth begins curling into a small smile. Steve jokingly rolls his eyes, “Don’t sa-”

“That’s dangerous.”

He scowls and shakes his head as best he can. Steve leans forward to press his lips to your cheek, leaving quite a few kisses indented onto your skin. Your nose scrunches up at the feeling and a tiny giggle escapes when he doesn’t relent, propping himself up above you so he can continue his attack all across your face.

Although you had expected more sleep to come tonight, it’s hard to complain when it’s replaced by a golden haze, as if both of you were dipped in pure honey; it’s all slow and soft movements and even sweeter words to keep you stuck together. It’s nothing and everything all at the same time.

“Steve.”

“I’m not done,” He whines as he peppers what feels like another one hundred kisses onto every square inch of your forehead and along the bridge of your nose. A chaste peck to your lips seems to satisfy him.

Suddenly, his expression shifts to something far more stoic; that crease in his brow begins to make a reappearance, as well as the firm clench of his jaw. His eyes go sad, almost like he’s looking through you instead. When your hand rises to caress his face, Steve cracks.

“I’ve never been so scared.”

Creel House — you know it instantly. You can hear it in the tremble of his voice. You did this to him. You gave him the most traumatic moment of his life.

“M’sorry I scared you,” You mumble, gently running the back of your index finger along his cheek, “I can’t… can’t even imagine…”

You get choked up thinking about if the roles were reversed, if you had been clutching Steve’s dying body in your arms. It’s possible you would have been too frozen to do anything other than sob, just wail into his chest as he slipped away from you.

You tut softly, remembering that the stubbornness of the man above you is the only reason you’re still here. His love for you saved your life.

“You’re so strong, Steve.”

It takes every ounce of self control he has not to break. He’s not sure anyone’s ever said that to him before. He shakes his head, biting down on his bottom lip as he wills the tears away. He swallows harshly when your eyes grow watery.

“I’m not. Thought I was dying too. Would’ve torn out my own heart right there and given it to you.”

His brow furrows, “That’s a… little bit dramatic maybe but… you know what I mean. You always do.”

As his left hand rises to cradle the top of your head, you allow the hint of a smile to grace your features, “I like when you’re dramatic.”

Steve smiles too.

“It’s not your fault, baby,” He answers lightly, wishing to absolve you of any guilt you might harbor over this, “Just glad you’re with me now. That’s all that matters. Never letting you go.”

As you melt over his words, you notice the exhaustion is starting to make a home in him. You know Steve takes the role of your protector very seriously, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t get time to recharge. He’d argue you deserve all the sleep you can get, so it’s only fair he gets some too, especially as your body grows sore with every passing minute.

“You can get some rest too, Stevie,” You card your hand through his half-dried hair, pushing his natural waves back from his drooping and tired eyes, “My love.”

“My love,” He laughs lightly, his voice a bit teasing, “That’s a new one.”

“What, you don’t like it?”

“Actually, I love it,” Steve replies. His voice is as sincere as his touch, which shifts away from your hair. Beginning at the divot below your cheekbone, he traces the back of his index finger along the line of your jaw. His thumb lightly skims your bottom lip when he reaches your chin — caramel eyes study the path along your skin, like a golden line has been tattooed into your skin.

“My love.”

After a kiss to your forehead, Steve shuffles beneath the blankets to drape himself over you, almost like you’ve swapped places. His legs tangle with yours as he tucks his head into the bend of your neck, while one of your hands cups the back of his and your fingers drift into his hair. He sighs happily when he throws his arm across your chest and finally relaxes against you.

Although his body is tired beyond all reason, his thoughts are running over themselves endlessly. He raises his head to sleepily peer at you, blinking slowly.

“Do you have any of your books here?”

You nod against the pillow, “Yeah, why?”

His hesitation is spoken in the silence that follows. He licks his lips nervously, “Can you…”

You nod again when he doesn’t finish, “I can read something to you, yeah. Of course.”

With a comforting kiss placed to his forehead this time, you reach over to your nightstand, careful not to anger any of your wounds. You stumble upon one of the old blue-spined Hardy Boys mysteries you’ve had since your childhood; it might not be as sophisticated as some of the other books you’ve read, but this has always remained one of your favorites.

You both fall asleep shortly after you start the third chapter — the book is slung across his back when you doze off. Steve snores lightly against you. Rest has finally found you both.

—

#steve harrington x henderson! reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #almost paradise

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longlivefanfic-net · 2 years

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I Wanna Dance With Somebody

Summary: Your boyfriend, Steve Harrington, has a party at your shared apartment and invites his ex, Nancy Wheeler. You get jealous and do your best to make Steve jealous too. Steve Harrington x reader

Content/Warnings: Marijuana use, drinking, also some light Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: This fic does include mention of Steve, Eddie, Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Dustin, and Argyle. The Duffer brothers may murder whomstsoever they wish on Friday but in my head they are all real and alive thanks! Also: this is just fluff. I wrote too much and had to break it up into two sections, so this can be a standalone fluff or you can wait a day for the next part (or read the first two parts) for some smut. PS if u want to tell me Steve wouldnt smoke weed, first of all its implied that he does in S3 and second of all argue with the wall babe this is my world ur just livin in it

When you first started dating Steve Harrington, you had no idea you would end up like this. You knew it would be different than your usual relationships, sure–you weren’t the type to date jocks or prom kings. You just hadn’t expected Steve to be so…normal once you got to know him. He had won you over with his charming smiles and goofy laugh (and the fact that you had nursed a sweet spot for him ever since he stopped in an empty hallway to help you pick up your books after your backpack ripped the first day of Freshman year didn’t hurt either), but the more you got to know him the more you saw past that layer of Harrington-ness that he would so expertly apply before going out into the world. Although, maybe it wasn’t so much that you could see past it as it was that he had started to relax, to lower that protective shield around you, the shield of charm and polite interest that made him the ideal boyfriend to bring home.

The more time you spent around Steve’s friends, the more sure you felt you finally knew the real Steve. You saw the dorky references he would make when he picked Dustin up and brought him over for Atari marathons, and you also saw the care on his face while he contemplated whether Dustin had had “more of a Doritos week or a Lays potato chips week.” When he spent time with Jonathan and Eddie, he came home smelling of weed with at least two new cassettes with songs he wanted to show you; the first time he came home reeking, you had basically developed a contact high because you were just so excited to see Steve stoned. On the nights Robin came over to your shared apartment, Steve would bring out clean blankets and extra pillows to strew across the couch, making it look as if they were always there, so she wouldn’t have to ask for them before making herself cozy on the floor to watch whatever VHS she or Steve had picked out. He would then spend the rest of the night bullying her for sitting “like a weirdo,” cross-legged alone on the floor and complain about having to reach down to her every time he wanted food (Steve, famously, was not allowed to hold the snack bowl anymore after Robin had pinched his leg during Nightmare on Elm Street) (Steve objected to this rule, saying that the only fair decision would be to outlaw Robin’s scare tactics). With you, Steve was quiet and gentle, and, in his sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes first thing in the morning, you saw how sensitive and delicate he was. That’s how you fell in love with him: seeing these different pieces of him come together into one man. He was beautiful, funny, charming Steve Harrington; he was also nerdy, soft, caring, “just Steve.”

That’s why you didn’t hesitate to say yes anytime he asked about inviting his friends over. You loved seeing Steve with his friends–and you had become pretty close with most of them as well, although you had caught Dustin asking Steve if he was “allowed to start getting attached” to you the first time you had said you would stay the night before Steve drove him home (you still didn’t know the answer, but the kid had grown on you so you hoped it was a yes). When Steve mentioned having “the guys” over this weekend to check the crackling noises the stereo had started making, you had assumed it would be Jonathan and Eddie. Then, at the grocery store, Steve had thrown two packs of M&M’s and Nerds into the shopping cart, a sure sign Robin would be over at some point. You had started to question what, exactly, you had agreed to when he put four twelve packs of beer into the cart–Steve, Eddie, and Jonathan could finish off a twelve pack, sure, but four? That seemed excessive. It wasn’t until you watched him grab a bottle of white zinfandel and two packs of wine coolers that you really started to grow suspicious of what you had gotten yourself into.

But Steve had taken care of everything–as he so often did, always loading the dishwasher and wiping down the bathroom counter before bed–and so you decided to let him go on with whatever he had planned. If you were going to see Byers and Munson get shit-faced on wine coolers this weekend, that was fine by you. When the two of you had gone to bed last night, you had turned on your side and curled against him, wrapping one arm over his broad chest and scratching your nails back and forth over his rib cage. “Baby,” you had asked, “Who’s coming over tomorrow?” “Just the guys and some dudes from work,” he said, fingers lightly pulling through your hair. “And the guys drink white wine and wine coolers now?” You had asked, tone light while your eyebrows scrunched together out of his line of sight. “Well, the girls will, yeah, I think,” Steve spluttered, “Or do girls not drink that stuff?” “Depends on the girl.” There had been a moment of silence as you listened to his heartbeat under his skin. “Steve. What girls are coming to our home?” You had sighed, mildly exasperated that you had to break this down for him. “Oh! Robin, duh, a few girls from work, and Nance,” he laughed. “Is that what you’re mad about? You didn’t know who was coming over?” “I wasn’t mad,” you said, instantly flushing at how easily he had seen through your fake cool. “It’s just a few people,” Steve had said, fingers dancing along the taut skin of your neck. You murmured something that you hoped sounded casual and buried your face in the warm skin of his side, hoping to bury your concerns about Nancy with it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Nancy. Back in high school, you had wanted to be her–picture perfect, straight A’s, Head Editor of the newspaper, and when she suddenly ditched Steve (back when he was “King Steve”), she had shown up somehow looking older, more mature than all the rest of you. But you couldn’t let go of her past with Steve, as ridiculous as it was. She had been his first love. He still kept one of her bras in a shoe box, for God’s sake–admittedly, it wasn’t because of Nancy, as he had explained to you, but it still made you feel a little sensitive. If Nancy was going to be there tonight, you were going to spend the entire evening trying to prove yourself to her, to Steve, that you weren’t just the girl he was with but the girl he was supposed to be with.

Battle armor, you thought, staring into the closet you and Steve shared. Your clean work uniforms were hung up beside jeans, t-shirts (many stolen from Steve), and a few blouses your mom had bought you to wear to your classes at the community college. You also had a few dresses tucked away in the back–mostly things you hadn’t worn since high school, things you weren’t even sure would fit you any more. What would Nancy wear? You thought, chewing on your bottom lip. Except that’s not right, is it? You need to prove that you’re not Nancy, not that you can be her. When the black pleats caught your eye, you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over your face. Pulling the skirt from the back of the closet, you held it up against your body. It seemed like it would still fit, and the length came down just above your knees to show slightly more skin than Wheeler ever would. Flipping through the blouses your mom naively dreamed of you looking professional in, you grabbed a cropped black button down with a wide collar from where it was hidden between fluorescent tops. This–this would work.

Emerging from the bedroom an hour later, you fidget nervously with your nails. You had painted them dark red as soon as you had picked your outfit, blowing on them to dry the shiny liquid before it could smudge. Steve had his back turned to you, digging in the refrigerator and making the glass bottles inside clink. “Hey babe,” he called loudly without turning around, “do you think I should go buy more ice? Will anyone want ice in their drinks?” “Yeah, probably,” you answered casually from behind him. Starting, Steve stood up hurriedly and whipped around. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, hand over his heart. “I didn’t realize you–whoa.” Steve’s eyes scanned down, then back up, then back down your body. “What’s with the outfit?” “You don’t like it?” You asked, tugging anxiously at the hemline of the skirt. You had paired the crop top and skirt with a pair of black shoes with a short heel, and you had finished the outfit with the chain necklaces Robin had given you and hoop earrings. The cherry on top, so to speak, was the red lipstick that perfectly matched the dark red satin of your nails. “Who the fuck said that?” Steve asked, eyes widening. “You look incredible.” You felt a light blush pulse its way into your cheeks and Steve fixed on the color as it spread. “You look good, too,” you said, returning the compliment.

He was wearing the maroon sweater you had given him for Christmas last year, along with a pair of jeans that seemed almost too tight to be comfortable. You couldn’t help but notice that his bulge seemed tightly pressed against his pants, and you hoped he hadn’t chosen this pair of denim for anyone in particular tonight. “Hey,” Steve said, making your eyes meet his. The soft brown flickered for a moment, alight with wickedness. “What are you wearing under that outfit?” He asked, voice soft. You almost rolled your eyes–he was so predictable sometimes. When you had seen the outfit in the mirror, seen the slit of skin between the bottom of the shirt and the top of the skirt, you had known he would immediately begin thinking about getting you out of your clothes. You had changed from your everyday cotton briefs into something more…adventurous for this exact reason. A tiny smile hinted at the edge of your mouth. “How about,” you said, voice smoky, “you spend the rest of the night trying to find out? Without getting caught by your friends?” Steve’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “Really? We’re going to play games tonight?” He seemed incredulous, leaving you with only one possible response: “I’m going to play a game tonight. You’re going to try to play it with me.”

Jonathan had shown up first with Argyle, gently knocking on the frame of your open front door. “Nancy will be here later,” he had said quietly, gently nodding his head in greeting. He, Argyle, and Steve had gathered around the stereo system, making the occasional grunt as they spoke quietly about the crackling sounds coming out of the speakers. Steve clapped his hands enthusiastically, patting Jonathan on the back over-zealously, when he pressed play and crystal-clean sound came through. Eddie and Robin showed up at the same time, though Robin’s first words as she walked through the door were “We did not come together, just at the same time,” which made Eddie snort and shoot you conspiratorial looks. “Oh, gross, Munson,” Robin growled. “I brought beer and tunes,” Eddie said, holding up a six pack and a cassette. “Eddie, we’re not listening to your music at my apartment,” Steve said, “I don’t want my neighbors to think we’re sacrificing virgins in here.” “Who said anything about virgins?” Eddie joked, elbow tickling your ribs as he passed you on his way into the kitchen. You followed behind him to put the six pack he had brought into the fridge.

“Here,” you said, handing Eddie a bottle out of the ice-and-drink-filled sink, “a cold one for you.” You jumped up to sit on top of the kitchen counter, pulling from a brown bottle yourself. Jonathan flipped through the mishmash collection of vinyls next to the stereo while Robin and Steve joked about something stupid one of their coworkers had said that day. “Who’s is this?” Jonathan asked, holding up a bright pink album adorned with the image of Dolly Parton. You giggled, and Steve held up his hands, shooting daggers at you. “I plead the fifth,” he said, mock seriousness in his voice. Jonathan laughed, hard and loud, before pulling a random cassette out of the box next to the stereo system. He loaded it into the cassette player, pressing play, and quiet music began to fill the apartment, floating out the open doorway to invite your neighbors by. Eddie reached behind you, long arms brushing against yours, as he pushed the window over the sink open part way before clambering clumsily up onto the counter next to you. He reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a preroll and a lighter, and lit up.

“So,” Eddie asked, turning his head towards the open window as he blew out a stream of smoke. “How’s life with the babysitter?” You tilt your head back to laugh, your grin stretching your face. “It’s good,” you answer, cocking your head to the side as you look at Eddie. “Living with a boy isn’t quite as disgusting as I thought it would be.” “Oh yeah?” Eddie questions, a look of pure delight crinkling the corner of his eyes. “Does Harrington clean every weekend? Maybe in a little maids uniform for you?” You splutter around the mouth of the beer bottle, choking on the cool malt beer at how close Eddie has come to guessing the truth. Steve doesn’t wear a maid’s outfit–not that you’d be opposed to seeing him in one, you think, making a mental note–but he does wear silk. And lace. And satin. Basically, if it’s women’s underwear in his size, Steve will wear it at least once for you. He’s gotten picky now, rejecting a few pieces here and there for being uncomfortable, but he wears everything you pick out together for at least one night.

“Relax,” Eddie crows, slapping you on the back as you recover from the shot of malt up your nose, “I was kidding! Unless he does have a maid’s outfit, in which case I’ve got to see it.” You laugh as you regain your breath. “No, no maid’s outfits,” you giggle as Eddie pulls an over-the-top pout. He takes another pull from the joint in his fingers, holding it out to you. You take it from him, pulling the smoke down into your lungs where you hold it for a minute before turning to release it out the window. Munson looks borderline impressed, but he stops you when you go to take a second hit: “Strong shit. Maybe go slow for a minute,” he says, plucking the joint out of your fingers. “So,” you ask, forcing your tone to be light, “What has Steve said about living with me?” “Oh, he’s a big fan,” Eddie laughs. “Really?” You can’t help the slight blush that burns your face, and you hope the combination of makeup and low light will keep Eddie from seeing it. “Absolutely,” he says, “Every time I see him now, it’s ‘Did you know girls wash their towels’ and ‘Girls actually wash the sheets on their bed even when someone’s not coming over.’” “Ewwww,” you groan, shoving Munson’s shoulder, “That’s not true! Steve didn’t have to learn to wash his towels from me.” “Alright, maybe he was just trying to pass on some friendly advice,” Eddie laughs, rolling his eyes.

Eddie leans towards you conspiratorially, placing his hand on your knee to steady him before he falls off the countertop. “Actually,” he half-whispers, “Steve’s made it pretty damn clear how he feels about you to me, Jonathan, and Argyle. We’re talking an Aragorn and Arwen level of crazy about you.” Your cheeks burn again, and you smile gently at Eddie, taking the joint he extends to you with a nod of approval. “Did Steve make that Lord of the Rings reference or did you have to teach it to him?” “The guy’s not dumb–maybe a little distracted, but not dumb.” You laugh again, smoke blowing out and lean closer to Eddie’s face, eyebrows raised. “Okay, okay,” Eddie laughs. “Maybe Steve would say it’s a Han and Leia type thing.” You start to lean back, laughing again. The friendship between Steve, Eddie, Argyle, and Jonathan never fails to surprise you; you wouldn’t have guessed Munson was a Tolkien fan, and his ability to recognize that Steve would prefer a Star Wars reference warms your heart. Suddenly, you’ve leaned too far–you almost lose your balance when Eddie reaches out, putting a hand on your waist to pull you closer to him and steady your balance. “You okay there?” He asks, eyebrows in his hairline and half a smile on his face. “I told you it was strong shit, didn’t I?” You blink slowly, the mixture of your second beer and Eddie’s weed making your brain feel smooth and slow. Eddie pulls his hand back from your waist, and you notice a familiar ring amidst the others on his fingers. “Hey!” You say, grabbing his hand with your own. “Steve has this same ring!” “Yeah,” Eddie says, “I got us guys all the same one last year. Brotherhood, blah blah blah,” he says, turning crimson. You peer up into his face, lips pressed together into a smile. “That’s actually very sweet, Eddie,” you say, placing his hand on your knee where you pat it gently.

“Hey!” A voice jars across the kitchen. “What the fuck, Munson?” You turn your head slowly to see Steve standing in the kitchen, an empty beer bottle in his hand. Eddie barely even moves. “Calm down, Harrington,” he says, turning to him. “We were just sharing a joint and, you know, some feelings.” Steve’s face scrunches up in incredulous confusion. “You don’t have feelings,” he says, minutely shaking his head. “I know,” Eddie says, tapping the end of his nose, “We were talking about yours.” “Oh, fuck that,” Steve says. “Come on.” He pushes Eddie’s hand off your knee and grabs your hand, pulling you down off the counter where you sway slightly on your feet. Steve pulls another beer out of the ice pile in the sink and then turns, pulling you behind him to the living room. “Here. Sit,” he says, gently pushing your shoulders so you sit down on the couch. “Keep Robin entertained or something, you lightweight.” He’s joking, the little glint in his eye telling you how entertained he is by your inability to hold your substances, but the line of his mouth is hard. “Anything for you, my baby,” you say, doing your best to look like a soft, delicate version of yourself. “You need water,” Steve says, half laughing at your attempt to be fragile and disappearing from your line of vision.

Robin is on the floor next to your legs, her usual place of honor, making quiet remarks about each person who comes through the doorway. “Oh, who the hell invited Tommy?” She mutters under her breath. Suddenly, a slender, petite frame appears in the doorway. “Wheeler!” Robin cries, jumping up a bit too quickly for you to track with your eyes. She darts to the door, throwing her arms around Nancy’s neck. Nancy hugs her back, tightly, and pulls back, smiling. “Buckley,” she says with affection. She drops her hands from Robin’s neck to her waist. “So,” she says, casting her eyes around the room. “This is Harrington’s infamous love den?” Her eyes alight on you, laying a bit too comfortably on the couch. You straighten up, trying to look more prim and proper than usual under Nancy’s eyes. Steve rounds the corner, glass of water and a napkin full of pretzels in hand. “Here you go, my lady love,” he says, simultaneously sarcastic and simpering, as he lowers himself to your height, placing the glass in your hands and the pretzels on the end table next to you. “Steve!” Nancy cries from the doorway. “Hey, Nance!” Steve crows. “My girl!” He moves swiftly to her side, pulling her out from under Robin’s hands to wrap her in a tight embrace. You try not to notice the sinking in your heart at the idea that anyone other than you might be “Steve’s girl.”

People are milling around, creating small clumps of conversation throughout the apartment. Steve brought Nancy and Robin both back to the couch with him, where he sat in between you and Nancy while Robin took her spot on the floor, leaning up against Nancy’s legs. Jonathan, Argyle, and Eddie had eventually made their way over to your small group, all three reeking of Eddie’s weed, and crowded close. Eddie was on the floor, leaning his back against the coffee table so he could watch the conversation; Argyle had sprawled out next to him, long legs blocking the space from anyone else’s attempts to come closer; Jonathan had pulled one of the chairs out of the kitchen to straddle backwards, beer bottle tapping lightly against the back of it in time to the music playing. The conversation had been flowing pretty smoothly without much help from you so far, but as it lulled you felt peace in the quiet. Good friends, you thought to yourself, although, at least half of these people have fucked. You snort quietly at the thought, and Steve turns to you. “More water, baby?” He looks at your mostly-empty glass and grabs it, standing up. You tilt your head up to look at him. “I’ll be right back,” he says before disappearing back into the kitchen. You can hear him greeting other friends who have showed up, the sound of back slaps and light laughter following him.

“Who would have guessed Harrington was such a softie?” Eddie asked. Robin laughs. “He’s not a softie, he’s pussy-whipped,” she says, reaching over to pinch your legs. You blush a little, but this has become Robin’s favorite joke and you don’t pay it much mind. A quiet scoff makes you turn to Nancy. “Something to share with the group, Wheeler?” Eddie asks, a look of delight on his face. She blushes, and you hate that the crimson only makes her look prettier. “No!” She says, motions jerky as she recoils. “It’s just, well, Steve has always been a sweetheart.” Jonathan’s eye roll can be physically felt, and Nancy hurries to say “When he’s screwed up.” Robin cocks her head at Nancy. “I mean,” she says, starting to gesture with her petite hands, “He was a great boyfriend when we dated. But he was his best when he had pissed me off and was trying to get back on my good side. He’d bring flowers, help me study, whatever I wanted, if he thought he would get back into my good graces.” “And,” Argyle’s voice looms up from his position on the floor, “is Harrington out of your good graces?” He rolls his head to the side to look at you, and everyone else turns to look at you too. “No,” you say. “Definitely not.” You shake your head lightly and then giggle quietly at the sensation of your eyes shifting. “See,” says Argyle patiently, “She’s just wasted. Steve is taking care of her, like a true gentleman.” The sound of his voice makes it clear that Argyle approves of Steve’s actions–but the moment is ruined when Jonathan starts to laugh and everyone follows, including you.

“What’s the joke?” Steve asks, returning with your water and more snacks. “You are,” Robin says, grinning at him from the floor. Steve groans, as he puts your water down and sits down next to you again. He swings his arm over your shoulders, casually, and you try not to pay attention as his warm fingertips begin to sweep, slowly, back and forth over the cool skin of your exposed arms. “Why am I the joke this time? Robin,” he says, eyes steely, “I did not have rabies, for the last time–” Steve is cut off by her laugh. He looks around in confusion. “We were talking about how particularly gentlemanly you’re being tonight,” Jonathan says, answering his searching look. “Oh,” Steve says. “Why is that funny?” “Well,” Robin says breathlessly, “Nance said that you’re only nice when you mess up, but she–” Robin points to you “ –said you didn’t do anything wrong, and then Argyle decided you’re a gentleman, but I mean, Argyle is never not high so it’s just hard to take him seriously, you know–” Robin is cut off by Steve’s shocked look. “I didn’t ‘mess up’ –I think,” he says, glancing back at you, and you nod empathetically. “I just love my girlfriend.”

There’s a moment’s pause. Steve had never said this to you before–months of dating, living together for most of them, and he’s exposed even his most delicate and sensitive secrets to you, but he never said he loved you. You’ve known you loved him since about your second week of dating, but you’ve kept it to yourself; you’re not the type to say it first, even though you feel it, because you can’t handle the possibility of a stilted, awkward conversation instead of reciprocation. Before you can say anything back, Argyle’s voice comes from the floor again. “See? Gentleman shit,” and everyone dissolves into a fit of laughter again. You lean forward amidst your giggles, wrapping your hand around the nape of Steve’s neck, and press a soft kiss to his shoulder, holding his eyes with your own. Suddenly, the music changes and Robin screeches.

“Oh, my God!” She yowls, jumping to her feet. “It’s our song!” She grabs Nancy’s hand, pulling her by the wrist to standing and pulls her out to the middle of the living room that has been avoided by all the other clumps of people. “Poor old Johnnie Ray,” Robin croons, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him to standing despite his grumblings. She pushes him to the center of the room, turning back for Jonathan and Argyle, who is already wiggling his hips casually. “That’s the spirit,” Robin says, pointing to Argyle. She comes back for you and Steve now. “No one’s sitting this out,” she orders, pulling you to your feet. You’re much steadier than you were earlier, and the rush of blood to your legs provides you with more clarity. “Come on Eileen,” you sing, slightly behind Dexy’s Midnight Runners on the tape, as you turn and hold your hand out for Steve expectantly. The rest of your group has started dancing, Robin trying to force Jonathan to loosen up, Eddie shuffling his feet with Argyle, and Nancy, eyes closed, in a world of her own. Steve takes your hand, his rough palm sliding against yours, and stands up. You lead him to the impromptu dance floor, and he presses his broad chest and stomach against your back, wrapping his fingers around your hips as you sway. Other guests have started to join the dance as well, and Robin takes Nancy’s hands in hers as Tommy reaches out for her. You can feel Steve’s breath as he leans his head on your shoulder, the warm puffs blowing your free-floating strands of hair. Together, the two of you watch your friends drop the hardnesses they have wrapped around themselves, around their hearts, and simply laugh and dance together. Robin brings Eddie into her and Nancy’s dance circle, and he drags Jonathan with him. Argyle joins in quickly too, and you watch the four of them let go of whatever hurt and sadness they have carried with them and melt into radiance, into joy.

The song switches over to rhythmic clapping as Whitney Houston “Whoos!” into the laughter and scattered voices in your apartment. Eddie and Jonathan beg out quickly, saying they’ve done their required dancing for Robin, but Argyle, Nancy, and Robin continue to dance among other people. “Hey,” Steve says, turning you around to face him. “Want to dance with me?” “Obviously,” you say. He wraps his arms around you, bringing your hips to press against his. “Steve,” you laugh, “this isn’t exactly a slow dance song.” “Whitney asked if we want to dance, and this is how I want to dance,” he replies, shaking his head at you like it’s obvious. You slide your hands up around his neck, interlocking your fingers at the base of his spine, and he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. Steve closes his eyes and sighs quietly, contently. You keep your eyes open, watching the soft glow of the lights in the room sway and dance over his sweater, catching in his hair, looming around his form so he looks like a painting of a fairy tale character, a brave hunter come to rescue the woman who’s been locked in a tower, alone for too long. He did save me, you think, the thought cutting through the rest of brain fog sharply, he rescued me from myself. Your fingers tighten slightly, digging your nails into his neck, and his eyes pop open.

“You okay?” Steve asks. “Yeah,” you say, “Fine.” He looks searchingly at you for another second. “If it’s about earlier—what I said—it’s not like you have to say it back or anything. I didn’t say I love you to make you say it too; I said it because, well, I love you. That’s all.” He’s not looking at you now, eyes on the floor as his hips continue to sway pressed against yours. Something about this feels so middle school, so simple and innocent and exciting, that you feel bubbles bounce against your heart as you reply, “Okay.” He looks up at you, a small smile on his lips. “Okay,” he says, nodding his head in relief. “I do love you, though,” you say, completely casually. You’re not nervous to tell him this; it feels like answering the question “what’s your birthdate?” or “where did you grow up?” You don’t have to think about it at all. It just is the answer, simple and true. You love Steve Harrington, and, apparently, he loves you too. “You, um, you what?” He asks, blinking at you quickly. “I love you,” you say, head mocking his own surprised shake. “You’re stoned,” Steve says, eyebrows raised. “A little,” you answer, “but that’s not why I love you.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve says, a glimmer in his eyes. He leans in close to you, lips brushing your ear as he whispers “and why do you love me, baby girl?” One of your hands traces down his shoulder to his chest, pushing him lightly back so you can look in his eyes. “Because you’re kind. And you’re funny. And you think about others all the time, but you still tell me what you need so I can take care of you. And you ask to take a walk with me when I really piss you off and we just walk in silence. Also, you make me coffee every morning and you remembered exactly what I like in my coffee after the first night I spent here. And, you know, you’re actually kind of smart, Harrington, because you’ve chosen some really great people to surround yourself with.” Steve stares at you, unblinking, and you notice that his eyes have started to water gently. He cradles your face in his palm, tilting his head slightly to the side. “I haven’t found a single reason not to love you, Steve, so why wouldn’t I?” At these words, Steve leans down, brushing his lips gently over yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs over your skin. “I love you.”

The song is still playing and the two of you continue to sway, revolving in the center of the room amidst your friends. You press your face to the side of Steve’s neck, breathing in his scent. “Steve?” “Yes, baby?” “Why do you love me?” He scoffs, the quick flex of his diaphragm echoing through your body. “I don’t have to outdo what you said, right?” He asks. “No,” you laugh. “Just say whatever you think.” “Okay, I love you because you made friends with my friends and you bought me panties to wear with you. And also you don’t think I’m Steve Harrington in the way other people do but you know me better than anyone else in the world. Also, you’re…kind of a badass and not in a scary way but in a cool way where you tell me what I’m going to do in, uh, certain moments.” He blushes, and you can feel the heat snaking up his neck where your face is pressed against it. “You’re kind of like…the Leia to my Han.”

You burst out laughing. “What?” He asks, “What the hell's funny?” “Nothing,” you choke out in between giggles. “Something Munson said.” “I’m going to kill him,” Steve says, whipping his head around behind him to look for Eddie. “Don’t,” you say, bracing a hand against his chest. “Will you walk me to the bathroom?” “You’re still that out of it?” Steve asks, laughing. “Just need some guidance, I think.” You smile up at him, willing him to believe the faux innocence you’ve plastered over your face. “Alright, baby girl, to the bathroom we go.” He wraps one arm around your waist, the other around your shoulders. You stumble a few times as you walk down the hallway, trying to sell the “drunk girl at a party” bit to any of your friends who might wonder where the two of you have gone in a few minutes. Outside the bathroom, he leans you against the door frame. “You okay, babe?” He asks, concern over his face. “I’m okay,” you say, stretching up on to your toes. You press your lips against his cheek, and he anticipates you, turning his head to try to meet your mouth. You end up pressing your lips against the corner of his mouth, which is turned up in a slight smile. “Let’s try that again,” he whispers, leaning down to your face where his lips meet yours.

#my fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #jonathan byers #argyle #nancy wheeler #stranger things #steve harrington series #sub!steve harrington #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington stranger things #fruity four #Steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #feral fics

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americaswritings · 2 years

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Headcanon: Heading into battle with Steve while having a crush on him

also this scene is just *chefs kiss* Steve looked so good in vol. 2 (the whole season obviously, but that leather jacket was a game changer)!!

Masterlist

You have been in love with Steve for a while now but you never admitted your feelings to him

You're too scared he won't reciprocate them and that it would make things awkward between you two

And you share your friends so you don’t want to make it awkward for them either

Also you secretly waited for him to tell you he has a crush on you (because he has always been pretty straightforward with his feelings)

But he never did??

So you lost hope at this point

Surely, if he would have feelings for you he would have told you by now?

And with Jonathan moving to another state you fear that Nancy and Steve will get back together

They are both your friends so you try to be happy for them but it still hurts

A lot

Sometimes you think Robin catches onto the truth (because you can’t keep your eyes of Steve, smile at his stupid jokes, always asks if he comes too when you have plans and try to get close to him. Tbh you are pretty obvious but you can’t help it)

but you always make sure to come up with an excuse

“I just thought it would be a good idea to ask Steve, if he wants to join our movie night. You know he lacks in that department and he works at Family Video! You should know first hand he doesn’t know what the hell he is doing”

“I might have been looking at him, but have you seen his hair today? It’s like it gets more voluminous every day! How much time do you think he spend on that anyway! Must be more than any girl!”

You wish you could tell her the truth about your feelings

but you can’t

Because Robin and Steve are so close and you know the girl can't keep her mouth shut

Especially if she's nervous

You debatted on telling Nancy

But you wouldn't want her to feel guilty, if Steve and her become a couple.

So you don't

Instead you bury your feelings and pretend they don't exist

You thought another fight against the creatures of the upside-down might distract you

But instead you are terrified, for Max, your friends and for Steve to get hurt

He always puts himself in front of all of you and you are scared he will get hurt

You can't lose him

He makes your life so much better

Steve always brings a smile onto your face

And you feel so comfortable around him

You know you can tell him everything (except that one truth) and he won't judge you

Although he is a goofball he can be very serious

And you know he feels comfortable around you too (he even confided in you about his strained relationship with his parents and his uncertain future bc of his grades and college)

You always try to make sure that he believes in himself (after graduating high school and losing his title and status as king Steve he has become a little insecure and it’s obvious he doesn’t think he is smart enough)

Also Steve remembers the little things (like your ice-cream order, the film you get when you had a bad day or your favorite song)

Besides, Steve makes you feel safe. Even though you know he can't protect you from Vecna you feel less scared and hopeless when is with you

And you know he will do anything to protect the kids, his friends, you

But your heart is still pounding like crazy as you're suiting up and preparing to head into the upside-down

Into battle

At first Steve refused to have you on “his team”

He wanted you to stay with Max claiming they would need someone to look after them

But there is no way you're letting him go down there without you

Especially after he nearly got killed by Demobats the last time

The images still sent shivers down your spine although you have to admit seeing Steve without a shirt was definitely a look

Nancy and Robin are the ones that convince him that you are capable of taking care of yourself

but it still makes you feel hurt and a little humiliated

Apparently he doesn't believe you're good enough of a fighter

You're trying to hide it but of course he notices that you're a little off

“You have been acting weird. Everything okay?”

“Is that a serious question? We just walked through a portal into another dimension filled with monsters. Aren’t we all acting- weird?”

You brush it off at first but Steve knows you and that something is wrong

He keeps sneaking glances at you that you pretend not to notice

Nancy and Robin walk behind you, giving the two of you two a little space as you walk through the dark forest

You're starting to think they are doing it on purpose

Eventually you tell him what bothers you and he is so surprised and immediately reassures you that it's not what he thinks

"But why did you want to leave me behind then? You know it sucks to be the babysitter!"

He looks a little sheepish when he admits that he doesn't want you getting hurt

"But you're going too! And so are Nancy and Robin. We can use all the help we get!"

"But I can't protect you here!"

You notice there is something very serious in this tone and find his eyes flicker to your lips for a second

"I can protect myself, Steve!" He lets out a sigh. "I know you do. But the thought of you getting hurt- it just-"

Your heart is beating like crazy when you wait for him to finish that sentence.

"I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you. I can't lose you, okay?"

You feel like your whole body is melting under his intense stare and the emotion in his eyes. And his vulnerability gives you courage

"I feel the same way!"

Boy is actually shocked. You nearly laugh out loud. "You mean like-?"

"I like you, Steve Harrington. I have for a while now."

He is so surprised. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You bite your lip, feeling insecure again. But hell if you're going to die you want him to know the truth.

"Because of this-", you gesture around, "and you never said anything so I figured you didn't feel the same way and I didn't want to make it awkward."

Steve frowns but there is relief and the hint of a smile on his face

"I never said anything, because I didn't think I would ever have a chance with you. But I gave you hints all the time!"

"Hints?"

"Yeah, like when I asked you to watch that movie with me- back to the future? And you turned it into a group thing. Or when I hinted that my parents aren’t home or a while so we would have the pool for ourselves but you full on rambled how upset you are at my parents for leaving again”

Now it's your turn to be surprised. But all that matters is that Steve feels the same way. Even in this cold and dark forest your heart swells with warmth

"Also Dustin has like the biggest crush on you. But he would kill me if he knew I told you."

You laugh out loud at that, so relieved, touched and hopeful even though you are about to fight Vecna

"Is this the part where you kiss me?"

He smiles and leans in and you don't care that Nancy and Robin are right behind you, you kiss him back like your life depends on it

Suddenly the battle seems much less scary

Because Steve likes you too

Tags:

PERMANENT

@capkilljoy @fairytalesforever @hamartocado @choke-me-sweet-pea @sleepinginthegarden7 @thenoddingbunny-blog @ttalisa @hallecarey1 @Not-jay-c @sunwardsss @writingrem-blog @the-pink-petite-princess @wanniiieeee @part-time-patronus @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @theshortegg @not-reptilian @msdrpreist @alisonhepps @hallecarey1 @thatfangirl42 @dustyinkpages @ellabellabus07 @iluvjj @wayward-hunter @sweet-texas-girl @rosie-posie08 @ @olsensnpm @meyocoko @alexxavicry @shhh423 @dumb-fawkin-bitch

STRANGER THINGS

@mysticgardenpolice @petalqueen15 @missvanjiii @buzzybree @geyellow

Add yourself to my taglist!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things steve harrington #steve harrington headcanon #stranger things #stranger things steve #stranger things season 4 #stranger things 4 #joe keery #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #stranger things headcanon #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #nancy wheeler #robin buckley

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neonghostlights · 1 year

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Don't Fear The Reaper Ending #2

:Summary: Dani Crawford didn’t expect to spend her days wandering around Hawkins, Indiana as a ghost. She also didn’t expect her only chance at peace to come from local metalhead Eddie Munson. When he becomes all she can rely on in hopes of solving the cause of her demise, the lines between life and death become blurred.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!oc (OC is given a name but NO physical descriptions are used)

Warnings: Death, blood, Season 4 vol 2 violence, goodbyes, grief, bittersweet ending. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 1k

Series Masterlist

Ending #1 here

Dani sat beside Eddie's head as he laid on the cold, hard ground of the upside down.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. There had been a plan. And although the plan itself wasn’t perfect, it was supposed to go a lot better than this.

He had made it halfway up the rope before Dani saw the determination in his eyes. He had cut it in swipe before she even had the chance to talk him out of it.

And now she was sitting beside him while he bled out in Dustin's arms. Unable to even reach out and comfort him.

He gave his goodbyes and words of advice to his friends before his eyes focused on Dani’s devastated face. He gave her a sweet, tearful smile.

“I love you, Dani. I’m sorry I never said it sooner and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you cross over,” he coughed out weakly.

Dustin stared down at him confused but didn’t interrupt. Noticing how his friend's gaze was trained into the blank space beside them.

“I love you too, Eddie. You helped me more than you’ll ever know. You’re a hero,” Dani said softly, hand reaching out to rub his cheek but never touching his skin.

More tears welled his eyes as he smiled widely at this. Despite his current state, he was still able to smile. She would give anything to feel him. How desperately she wanted to reach out and kiss him before he went.

He opened his mouth to say something else but the words never came out. His breathing stuttered and stopped completely. One second he was there, so full of life and confessing his love, and the next second he was gone completely. Just like a flame snuffed out in the wind.

Dustin grabbed Eddie's jacket, pulling him in closer as he sobbed into his chest.

Dani sat and waited. Hoping that she would see him appear in front of her. But, of course, Eddie would have no reason to stick around and haunt the town that hated him.

She watched the poor boy in front of her. No one that young should have to experience everything he had been through.

“I’m so sorry, Dustin,” she whispered, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hear her.

Dani stayed with Dustin even after he made it out of the upside down. He sat on the mattress in Eddie’s living room with Eddie’s guitar pick necklace clasped tightly in his hand.

She wanted to offer him comfort, some profound words to make the pain go away. But even if she could be heard she wouldn’t know exactly what she could say to fix this.

Steve, Nancy, and Robin finally made it back to the trailer, and by the looks on their faces it didn’t go well for them either.

It only took one look at Dustin for Steve to rush to his side to comfort him as Dustin stumbled out what happened to Eddie in between his cries.

She couldn’t stay in that trailer anymore. There was nothing keeping her there. Eddie was gone, and so was her only tie to this world. The only person she had ever loved, and she didn’t even have enough time. Fate was cruel.

How long would she be stuck in this awful eternity where the only thing she would have were the memories of him?

She wished they had spent less time trying to help her cross over, and just more time being together. The universe knew what it was doing when she made Eddie Munson the only one that could see her. She would forever be grateful for even the small amount of time she had with him.

Hopefully Eddie was enjoying his time on the other side. She hoped he missed her wherever he was.

Steve ushered Dustin and the rest of the group out of the trailer with rushed words on having to check on Max, who seemed to have a close call herself but managed to pull through uninjured.

Dani took one last glance around the messy trailer that had become her home over the last few weeks before she stepped outside into the night.

Where would she go now? There was no reason to stay in Hawkins just to watch her dad drink himself to death.

Dani scrunched her eyes closed, trying to think of where she wanted to go next. Technically, the opportunities were endless. But what would the point be if Eddie wasn’t there beside her, cracking jokes and finding the joy in everything.

“What’s got you looking so down?”

Dani’s eyes popped open in surprise to find Eddie standing at the bottom of the trailer porch steps. Arms crossed with a grin on his face.

“Eddie?!” she choked out in disbelief.

The blood she had just seen covering his body and face were gone. His ripped shirt was mended again. He looked just as he did before.

Dani couldn’t stop herself as she ran down the trailer steps and crashed into his chest. Eddie quickly wrapped his arms around her and held her tight to him. Dani took a inhale, breathing in his scent.

“I can finally feel you,” he murmured, squeezing her impossibly tighter.

“I thought you were gone,” Dani sobbed while squishing into his chest.

“I couldn’t leave without you,” he said while pulling her face up to look at him. He traced the features of her face with his fingers, memorizing how her skin felt.

His eyes zeroed in on her mouth before he pressed his lips to hers in a deep kiss. Sparks flew underneath Dani’s closed eyelids. This is what she had been missing all of this time. She needed Eddie.

“I love you,” he whispered as he pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers.

“I love you too. Who knew death would make you such a romantic,” Dani laughed.

He playfully shoved her shoulder before stepping back and holding out his hand.

“Well, my lady, are you ready to go?” he said in a goofy voice.

“I’ve never been more ready,” she said back, grasping his hand.

He smiled down at her before giving the back of her hand a quick encouraging kiss.

Hand in hand, Dani and Eddie disappeared into the night.

The End

#eddie munson au #eddie munson x original female character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic

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sailorzakuro · 1 year

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Actually I'm going to use this space to put all these thoughts down cos I keep thinking about it and idk maybe someone can relate but although I'm still very much a part of fandom culture (I recently joined the Stranger Things fandom if anyone's at all interested) I really just Don't give a fuck about shipping. Like it's not even like I'm actively trying to not care about it. I truly don't give a fuck.

So for example, I joined the Stranger Things fandom (very late I know I'm sorry I watched the whole series I'm obsessed with Robin Buckley if you want to see me talk about that my twitter is smalltownrobin) and that show is like ships galore, especially with the group of characters I have the most interest in. The "older teens" group of characters (like Robin, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Eddie, that lot) get most of that, and I've just never found myself caring. People heavily debating whether Nancy will "end up" with Jonathan or Steve? I don't care. I'm chill with either, I'm chill with none. Even people who ship Nancy with Robin, or prefer Robin with Vickie, honestly I just want Robin to kiss a girl I don't give a fuck who it is. THE STEDDIE RAMPAGE I'm glad it's making people happy but I'm fine either way, and I don't actively seek content for it out. I'd say the only pairing I care about on that show is Robin and Steve's platonic friendship, THAT I love I am obsessed but like. they've already reached the "goal" of their relationship so it's not like there's any official title that the show writers or fans can give to them or take away. It's an easier life overall and I'm pretty happy.

I really don't know what's done this to me, cos I used to LOVE shipping, I remember in high school my friends and I used to have seriously intense conversations about which Fairy Tail characters worked best together. I made two entire videos on why people should ship Cheryl and Veronica from Riverdale (and even now ages after I stopped watching and it turns out they had a 100% platonic fan service kiss I DON'T CARE THAT IT HAPPENED). The point is something's just happened to me since those days and now I just don't care. Maybe it's cos my main fandom is kpop where shipping is Not okay and I don't wish to involve myself in the romantic lives of real people dictating to them what I think they should do with their personal endeavours, but yeah. I don't care. It's not a bad thing if you are into shipping, you know, enjoy yourselves, if it brings you joy and it's not hurting anyone go ahead.

All that being said I still very much care about Thasmin but we're never going to get any more of them now so. fuck.

Did anyone bother to read that I'm sorry 🙃 I know I barely post on here anymore, I converted it to my SCD blog but then couldn't be bothered talking about it so this is kind of empty now. I talk about the fandoms I did talk about on here on my twt so I guess if you're still interested in my fandom opinions go on there? I cannot promise I'll convert this blog to anything to make it active again I might just pop in every so often and rant about something completely random ✌️

#seriously wtf do i tag this with #shipping?#stranger things #i guess so #update?

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trash-gobby · 2 years

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∞ When You're a Stranger ∞ Chpt. 2

Summary: The Emerson family has been through enough in Santa Carla. With the looming threat of David's vampire gang hanging over their heads, the family flees to the cooler and hopefully quieter town of Hawkins, Indiana.

However, what they think is going to be a peaceful fresh start turns out to be anything but. New school, new life and a new terror waiting for them in Hawkins.

A/N: This feels a lot rougher then the first chapter, so any feedback would be awesome!

Chpt. 1 <--- Back a Chapter ∞ Forward a chapter ---> Chpt. 3

Word Count: 3.3K

Pairing(s): Will be revealed as the story unfolds.

Character(s): Michael Emerson, Sam Emerson, Lucy Emerson, Laddie Thompson, Star, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Will Byers, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove, Joyce Byers, Jim Hopper, Eleven/Jane Hopper, Mike Wheeler

Link: The Lost Boys, Stranger Things

Rating: PG

Warnings/Triggers ⚠️: None.

______________________________________________________________

The bell on the door chimed merrily, with the strong mouthwatering smell of freshly brewing coffee and sizzling pancake batter. Even in the afternoon, Brenda's Diner was still stacking them up high and sending them out to hungry customers.

A beleaguered looking waitress dodged a young couple as they were leaving, carrying four plates of food, two on each arm. How anyone could balance that much while moving at the speed she was, pure magic and willpower.

It was a rather popular spot, tons of locals parked at the counter which wrapped around almost like a bar looking into where you could see part of the kitchen. A pair of western saloon style doors separated the customers from the rest of the workers in the kitchen from the distraction of the busy lunchtime rush.

The '50s style decor hadn't changed much since the place first opened back in '52. All the gaudy black and white tile floor and vinyl red booth seats had definitely not aged well. Although the jukebox from the period was still in perfect working condition and had been updated with the latest hits. However, despite the shortcomings in appearance and the occasional issues with the plumbing in the washroom crapping out (no pun intended), the food was always right on point, the staff were kind, and Brenda was a local staple of the neighbourhood.

It was a Sunday, so the place was packed full of people. Families, people getting off work or taking their coffee breaks and young teens either hanging out with their friends or there on a date. The energy was that of any other Sunday, light and filled with mirth.

However, at a table tucked into the back-most corner of the diner, tension and gloom had latched itself into the atmosphere. The couple sat quietly over their food and drink. Both were deeply taken up, wrapt in conversation.

"I know it hasn't been easy, but I'm sure once your finished with it, and let me have a look it won't be as bad as you think." Reaching over the table Nancy took Steve's free hand in her own as a gesture of comfort. She hoped at least that he would see it that way.

"I just hate writing. I can never really get what I want to say across right. I wish they had scoring a perfect three-pointer as something for college applications instead of this torture." Steve ran the fingers of his free hand through his perfectly quaffed hair.

Nancy wanted to be more comforting for him. To be there in the way a girlfriend is supposed to be. However, no matter how much she tried to be present her mind was simply not fully able to be there.

Barb was gone? That's what that girl, Eleven, had said right?

What did that mean exactly. Gone could mean the obvious. Dead. However, gone could mean other things to. It was to vague, not concrete enough to make it truly real.

On top of that there was also the matter of what to say to Barb's parents. How was Nancy supposed to sit there and say nothing to them. Leaving them with nothing but their own thoughts on the matter felt almost cruel.

"Would you kids be wanting the bill or some more coffee?" Nancy was snapped out of her thoughts by Laurie, and older waitress who often wore an excessive amount of makeup caked onto her face. She looked more clown than woman.

“No thank you, the check is fine,” Steve answered.

“One bill?”

“Yes, thanks,” he answered before Nancy could even object. It had started to bug her a bit, him always paying for their meals. It was such a small menial thing, but it made her feel like a child that needed to be helped, not someone who could be self sufficient.

“Alright dears,” Laurie snatched up their plates, turning to Nancy before she left.

“Do you want a to-go box for this?” Nancy had basically spent most of their little date picking at her BLT, only managing to get through a quarter of it.

“Yeah sure.”

“You alright, you seem kinda.. like your not really here,” Steve leaned forward, one of those compassionate worried expressions he’d been giving her ever since he really figured out what had happened to Barb was plastered on his face.

“Sorry, thinking about finals,” Nancy hoped the lie sounded convincing enough.

“Those aren’t for months.”

“Yeah, but it pays off to be prepared.”

“You know, over preparing can sometimes be just as bad as not being prepared. You cram all that stuff in your head and it all just gets mixed in the end.”

“Speaking from personal experience,” Steve and Nancy both chuckled at this comment. He had been studying like mad to the point where he’d been exhausted after his finals. Said he’d probably forgotten most of the information he’d soaked up working together over the weeks leading up to them.

“Here you are dear,” Laurie swooped back in with the packaged food placing it in front of Nancy and the check in the centre of the table.

She made to casually snatch it but Steve’s reflex’s were much quicker then hers.

“It’s on me,” Flashing one of those winning smiles.

“It’s always on you, let me cover it for once,” she hoped that her playful tone and return of his smile would circumvent the mild frustration she was feeling.

“I’m the one who had a part time job in the summer, I should cover it,” He was insistent and as much as Nancy was bothered by it, she didn’t want to push the subject.

Steve placed the cash on the table, counting out the crisp bills from his wallet and leaving a change tip, before the both of them made their way through the busy diner and out the front doors.

Brenda's was located right in the heart of town, so exiting the building, Steve and Nancy looked out onto the semi-crowded local streets. The local supermarket was fairly close and the parking lot was nearly completely full. Typical for the day before the start of the working week.

Steve had managed to snag a pretty good spot across the street from the hardware store at the end of the block which Nancy and Steve were currently on. Taking in the cool fall air, they both made their way to the car.

"Oh, have you seen the new people who were moving in across the street yet?" Steve asked curiously.

"No, I just saw the sign and that's really it. From what the Carmichael's told my mom, they ended up getting a really good deal from one of their friends in California. That friend had some family members who were looking to relocate and they worked out a reasonable price. But I have no idea who exactly is moving in."

"If the Carmichael's know them, then they're probably just as boring as them," Nancy nudged Steve playfully at this snide comment, earning a warm smirk in return.

Reaching the corner of the street Nancy walked around to the passenger's side of the car as Steve unlocked it. For a moment her eyes caught sight of someone she recognized, stopping in her tracks. Mrs. Holland was leaving the supermarket, a brown paper bag of groceries supported in the crook of her arm. She looked thinner and haggard. The lively colour which once graced her skin before was now gone, replaced with a waxy waned complexion.

God, what Nancy wouldn't give to change the past. Make things turn out differently. If only she'd been there for Barb.

"Nancy," Steve this time brought her out of her distracted state leaning over to the passenger side and looking to her through the window at her.

"Sorry, I just... I thought I saw someone I knew. It's fine." Sliding into the seat quickly, Nancy ignored the concerned look of her boyfriend.

Hopefully they could find something to talk about on the way back to her place. More and more their time together seemed to start being filled with awkward silences instead of the kind of comforting silence that once could fall into with their partner.

Pulling out onto the street the couple began their way back toward the nice suburban area of town where the Wheeler home was located. The streets were straightforward, simple for a town which should feel just as simple and safe. However, after all which had occurred last year Nancy didn't know if she could Hawkins either of those things.

Would it ever be the same again? What if all the bizarre otherworldly crap just kept coming back up to the surface? A literal other world underneath their own was something unpredictable, and if those strange creatures which Dustin Henderson dubbed the Demogorgon could come through, then what else?

It had been five months since all of the horrific bizarre events had occurred and for a while the anticipation had started to ware Nancy thin, but now that sense of tension had just become numbed by all the 'real world' stuff she had to deal with. Exams, tests, assignments, Steve. It all took up the space which that tension and fear of the unknown was meant to occupy.

"So, do you think you'd be able to look at my paper before school tomorrow? I have to go help my dad before he goes off again on another business trip," Turning onto the long stretch of forest road which came before reaching Nancy's neighbourhood, Steve caught her eye in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, that's totally fine. We can get there early, maybe get some coffee along the way." She could see the nervousness written on his face.

Eventually it would be her turn to figure out what she would have to do for her future, and now that she thought about it... She wasn't so sure what she even wanted. She knew she didn't want to settle for being a housewife to a man she didn't love. The very thought made her want to toss herself into the quarry. Nancy didn't want to make the same mistakes as her mother, living life stuck in limbo.

"Do you ever think about just leaving?" The thought just came out before she could even stop herself.

"You mean leave Hawkins?"

"Not just Hawkins, all of it. Just leave all the garbage here and get out, for good," Nancy studied Steve's expression carefully as he took a moment to pause and think. His eyebrows scrunched slightly in contemplation of her words. He looked more concerned then deep in thought about what she was asking.

"I'm not completely sure I'm following."

"What I mean, when you think about what you want out of life, do you ever feel like you could get that literally anywhere else but where you are."

"I mean, I guess I can see where your coming from. Sometimes I feel like that, but then I remember that you're here and it makes all the stuff we deal with worth it," Steve said, looking over to Nancy, with an expression of genuine affection before focusing back on the upcoming turn into the residential area.

She didn't feel like he was really following her. Was she really the only thing in his life making the monotony of staying in Hawkins worth it? Did she want to be that only thing?

Bringing her eyes back to the road, she watched as Steve turned onto Piney Wood Lane. The houses were spread out enough that there was plenty of room for kids to explore and play.

Nancy could remember being around Mike and his friends age. She used to do all sorts of fun things, but she also didn't have the kind of friends Mike did. That tight knit group who had so much imagination geared around exploring every nook and cranny of the town.

The woods had started to creep in more and more over the years, to the point where some people had to come out and do some remodelling of the amount of trees around the homes. Nancy liked their presence though. Strangely it was more comforting than invasive. Even with her little experience being sucked through that portal located in a tree the year previous.

As they passed the last gap of forest, they came up to the former Carmichael house. It was one of the smaller houses on the street, which suited the former occupants well. They had been an older couple who often weren't in town as much as the other locals. They travelled a lot and had longed to move for a while. Only fitting that they finally got their wish.

Parked in the driveway of the house was a off-white volvo with red detailing. The trunk was open and Nancy could make out a young boy crouched in the back and hauling out a duffle bag. He was wearing an offensively brightly coloured pattern shirt and board shorts. Typical of the loud Californian style, and in deep contrast to the much more subdued Hawkins colour palette.

The front door opened and a older boy who looked around Steve's age lumbered slowly out with a box in his arms. He had sharp defined features, a handsome face which was surrounded by shorter curly dark brown hair. He called out to the younger boy in the back of the car something which Nancy couldn't make out.

However, she was jolted from her staring by Steve's BMW braking suddenly, causing both of them to be thrust forward against their seatbelts.

Nearly in front of the car, a large husky was standing in the middle of the street with a chew toy between its jaws. Standing next to the dog was a small child, probably a couple years younger then Nancy's brother. He looked wide-eyed up at the at Steve and Nancy.

"Jesus, I didn't even see him," Steve said as he rolled down the window.

"Laddie!" A young woman had now appeared from inside the house and was jogging over to the boy in the road.

She was striking. Nancy hadn't seen any girl in town like her before. Opening the passenger door and getting out of the car, Nancy hung by the open door.

"Why are you playing in the middle of the road, you know that's dangerous," the girl said sternly, her brows thuroughing in concern.

The young boy, Laddie, rushed to her side with the husky following quite unconcerned behind him.

"I'm so sorry, I told him to be careful." Her eyes were a deep brown like Steve's. However, they seemed warmer in colour. Her hair was long and curly almost wild in it's quality.

Nancy had also never seen someone who dressed like her. A jacket that looked in part like it had stitched on additions from golden fringe on the shoulders to similar colour embroidery around the opening collar. Her long flowy dark maroon skirt flowed against her hips and legs with the light breeze.

"I-it's okay. Sorry, we didn't see him at all. We should have been paying more attention," Nancy said, composing herself as best she could. For some reason this stranger made her feel self-conscious. Nervous.

"Hey, yeah, I'm so sorry. Is everyone alright," Steve was leaning out the window on his elbow looking between Laddie and the girl looking as nervous as Nancy felt.

"Don't worry. No harm was done."

"What's he done now?!" The boy from crouched in the back of the car had seemingly finally noticed this interaction. Nancy hadn't noticed that he was wearing headphones, which was why he hadn't reacted to the sound of Steve's loud brakes. The other older boy had, having finally jogged up behind the girl.

"Sam, just get your stuff inside," The older boy called over to the other one, before addressing the group: "Everyone alright?"

"Yes, no one's hurt."

"Your the people moving into the Carmichael's old place right?" Steve asked, from what Nancy could see, sizing up the older boy.

"Yeah. I'm Michael, Emerson." The older boy introduced himself, holding out his hand to Steve, which he shook in turn.

"Steve Harrington, that's my girlfriend Nancy."

"I live right over there," Nancy pointed a little farther down across the street to where her house was located not far away.

"That's great. We'll be able to get more acquainted then. I'm Star, this is Laddie and this is Nanook," Star looked down to Laddie ruffling his hair as she each of them. She then landed her eyes back on Nancy with a small smile.

Her smile was infectious, causing Nancy to shyly return it. She must be the kind of girl that gets all sorts of attention from boys, Nancy thought to herself. She seemed welcoming and much more mature. Comfortable in the way in which she carried herself.

"You guys must have had a long trip coming all the way from California," Steve said, interrupting Nancy's thoughts once again.

"Yeah, it was pretty brutal, but we survived," Michael, the older boy replied.

"We should be getting back to unloading though, as much as it would be nice to chat for longer," Michael added, looking back over to the still mostly half full Volvo and the overturn box he must have dropped when he stopped to come over and check that no one had been hit by Steve's car.

Nancy could see that Steve was sizing Michael up, staring intently but trying not to be too noticeable about it. She wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he was trouble, although he certainly had a bit of a rebellious look. At least he was nice, in fact they all seemed nice as far as their short acquaintance had revealed.

"It was nice meeting you, even if it was a bit odd," Star addressed Nancy as she said it, smiling once again. Returning the smile Nancy ducked down through the open car door to say goodbye to Steve.

"Hey, I can just walk home from here."

"You sure you don't want me to walk you to the door?"

"No it's alright. I'll see you tomorrow before school to look at your paper." Before Nancy could duck out again to begin her short walk home, Steve reached out and took one of her hands in his.

"Hey, thanks Nance. I really couldn't do this without your support." Leaning in Steve kissed her gently, before leaning back.

"You'll do fine. I'm sure It'll be a lot better than you think," Nancy said before finally leaning back out of the car and making her way towards home.

As she heard Steve's maroon BMW's engine gearing up, and doing a u-turn to head back to wherever he needed to be for the rest of the day, Nancy looked back over to the former Carmichael's home. Star and Laddie had disappeared, presumably back inside, but Michael had gathered up the box he had been holding earlier and was rummaging through the back of the car for something.

What an interesting family. Nancy wondered what their stories were. If they could be that different to her experience growing up in the mostly average forgettable town of Hawkins.

Mostly she was curious about that girl, Star. What a strange name. It seemed fitting though. She gave off an energy which Nancy couldn't quite put her finger on. Whatever it was, it felt a bit magnetic, intriguing.

Before Nancy looked away from the house, she caught a glimpse of a woman opening one of the large sets of windows on the second floor, letting out the stale air. Catching sight of Nancy, she waved. Nancy waved back politely, before turning up her driveway and putting her focus back onto getting home.

Inevitably, she would end up meeting the new family again when her mother decided drag Nancy and Mike to bring them her famous 'welcome-to-the-neighbourhood' fruitcake or lasagna dishes.

It would inevitably be awkward, but a part of Nancy was looking forward to it. The idea of meeting people who had come so far and from somewhere as alien to her as California had an appeal.

However, for now she needed to focus on the immediate issues of her life. Steve, Barb's parents and school.

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jadegreengemini · 2 years

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Before part 2 of stranger things releases I just want to put my thoughts out there as someone who has only seen pieces of the trailer and never seen them voluntarily:

Things I want to get out of the way

Steddie and Ronance aren’t going to be things.

I hate to say it guys, but it’s not even that we’re being queerbaited in that front, there’s just nothing there.

Steddie, while cute, is not gonna happen. Steve and Eddie barley talked but when they did talk it was either in a group or a one on one situation where Eddie was pushing Steve towards Nancy. Eddie is queercoded but Steve is (and it kills me to admit) painfully heterosexual. It’d be cool if they got together but it’s very… very… very unlikely.

As for Ronance, as much as I love that ship name (and I will be stealing it for an oc couple in the future), Nancy is, again, so painfully heterosexual she’s been in a love triangle three out of the four seasons of this show and Robin has a completely separate love interest literally introduced this season to be her love interest. I kinda wish I’d see more fancontent of that or even just edits of Barb and Robin because although I don’t really ship it, I think they’d be pretty cool.

Realistically I think they might have Steve and Nancy get together but there’s just as big of a chance that they might keep her and Jonathan and fix that relationship by moving the Byers back to Hawkins. It’d be cool for Robin to actually get with Vicki though.

Will is either going to be confirmed gay or just heavily queercoded.

Since we’re talking about queer character: Will Byers is so freaking gay. “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls” was the biggest clue, but people have been talking about him being queercoded as long as I’ve been watching the show (though to be fair I started after season two). Based on some interviews and how giggly everyone’s sounded talking about this I don’t think they’ll outright say anything. Chances are they’ll have Will give Mike the painting but it’ll be all “oh no it’s not cause he has a crush on Mike it’s cause they’re best friends” so they can keep on making his sexuality ambiguous so as to not alienate homophobic fans more than they already have with Robin. I think the writers are jsut queerbaiting us. That said, I’m not saying there’s not a possibility-all the interviews could’ve been red herrings but they may very well have been genuine. Only time will tell.

Character deaths in order of how likely I think they are to happen 🙃

Lucas, Robin, Hopper

They don’t have enough black or gay characters to kill Lucas or Robin and I’m pretty sure the Duffers know the of backlash they’d get if they did. Don’t worry. As for Hopper, they wouldn’t do a fake out kill only to actually kill him a season later. That’d be very stupid of them.

Jonathan and Will

Jonathan might die but I’m pretty sure Will is safe. Jonathan has a not so great relationship with his girlfriend and I could see them killing him to push Nancy towards Steve.

Characters I think could die on vibes alone:

In order of least to most likely: Nancy, Mike, Argyle.

Max

She might be safe but there is still a change Vecna’s gonna kill her. We’ve spent too much time with her this season and it just feels like the letters are gonna be really important.

Steve

One interesting thing about Steve is that we haven’t really seem too much of him as the cast of characters has expanded and i think it might be that the writers just don’t like writing for him. The writers might prefer him dead. This idea is based partially on that one Duffer Bros interview and partially on Eddie.

Steve could be passing the babysitter mantle over to Eddie. Based on the similarities we’ve seen between those two (especially their relationships with Dustin), Eddie having known Steve back when he was, to put it frankly, a dick, and some comments Eddie’s made about admiring Steve, they just might kill him off.

His death could also be a catalyst for Nancy and Jonathan getting back together: you can’t have a love triangle if one of the points dies and having Steve out of the way

All of that being said, I think they might just have Steve and Nancy kiss and then have Jonathan show up and pretty much spend season 5 repeating that trios dynamic in either season 2 or 3. I don’t think Steve’s gonna die.

Eddie is probably gonna die. I don’t want to be right but I think I am.

1)We’ve seen this pattern before: likeable side character people relate to/generally enjoy is killed off in the same season they’re introduced in. Barb, Bob, Alexi. (You could theoretically argue Billy should be on that list but I fucking hate Billy and he wasn’t introduced in the season he was killed in so o don’t want to count him. The death might be that Argayle or Russian guy too but I don’t know if anyone cares about him because I barley payed attention to the Hopper plot.)

2)Eddie doesn’t really have a way back to his normal life. The entire town thinks he’s a serial killer and his death/“disappearance” could wrap that up nice enough. If they kill Eddie they don’t have to deal with the town being ready to condem/physically murder a high schooler and therefore not have to deal with the moral implications. (Or they might go the Teen Wolf route where the town finds out about the supernatural but don’t trust the heroes. That could actually be a cool idea for season 5.)

3)Eddie has got the right setup for a dramatic sacrifice death. I mean just think about it: he’s had various lines talking about being a coward and admiring Steve’s willingness to fight and take risks with his own well-being. Eddie could very well sacrifice himself to let the others be free, much like Bob and Billy before him. It would be cool if this time the character who does this lived because third times the charm and all…

General thoughts and predictions

Nancy and Mike

I think Nancy’s gonna have a boyfriend in the end of this and while I don’t think it should be Steve, I don’t want Nancy in a relationship right now. Nancy needs time to mature and white women are always forced into relationships like love and romance will fix everything and I hope they let her be single. Mike is probably gonna be with El but unless they have a decent conversation I don’t think it’ll last long before we see another big fight.

The Byers

Personally I don’t like Joyce and Hopper (season 3 ruined them for me) but I do think the writers might write their relationship well and it could have the added benefit of getting that family back in Hawkins. We also talk a lot about what Hopper means to El but I think in theory he could be a good father to Will and Jonathan. Speaking of, Jonathan has too fucking much on his plate right now and really deserves time to process his own trauma from this whole chaos. I like the idea of Hopper joining his family because it’ll take some pressure off of my boy who is self medicating hard core and I’m really worried about him. When it comes to Will, I think we’ve had our cute moments between him and Mike this season so we’re pretty much done with him by this point. He might be a part of the family reunion but probably not gonna play a huge role.

I am prepared to eat my words(especially on my Will and Byler points), but it might take some time because I really need to sleep tonight and I’ve got plans tomorrow so I won’t see the actual show until Friday evening/very early Saturday morning.

#stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things 4 predictions #stranger things 4 part 2

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empress-of-snark · 11 months

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Hey I love your fic!! I know you were thinking about including TOW the Flashback where everyone almost hooks up with someone else; if you are writing that (and don’t mind spoiling) who do you think would try to hook up? It was easy in Friends because there were 3 straight men & 3 straight women, I’m curious how would it work with Robin and Eddie in the mix.

(Ignore me this is just me brainstorming) I can def see Steve and Nancy perfectly matching the Joey and Monica story bc that just really feels like a Steve move, but idk abt the rest of them. I guess if you avoid Eddie/Chrissy it would either be Chrissy/Jonathan & Eddie/Robin or Chrissy/Robin & Jonathan/Eddie. I feel like either Eddie/Robin or Chrissy/Robin could go with the Rachel/Chandler story. I could see Robin trying to make a move on Chrissy (maybe she overhears her talking to her friends about how she regrets not experimenting in college at all bc she kinda went straight from Patrick to Jason) and I could also see Eddie trying with Robin before he knows she’s gay. I could maybe see Jonathan/Chrissy having a moment similar to Ross/Phoebe one, like maybe back in college they bumped into each other while Chrissy was upset about Patrick and Jonathan was upset about Nancy and something almost happened. I agree w you abt Jonathan/Eddie having potential: maybe when they first met Eddie thought Jon liking Bowie was a signal that’s he’s gay/bi. Or I could see a younger Jonathan potentially being interested in experimenting w Eddie when they’re high esp if he’s sad abt Nancy. Anyway this is just me rambling, I’m sure whatever you write will be amazing and be the most true to the characters. Have a great day!!

Thank you so much!!

I actually have SO MANY thoughts about the potential of this episode—you’re so right that Robin’s sexuality definitely throws a wrench into the plans (I say with love). It’s what’s kept me from being able to come up with a concrete outline.

That being said…

Totally agree that Steve/Nancy is a given (although I’ve talked plenty about the potential of Eddie/Nancy). They already have a romantic history in canon, so it makes sense. I can definitely see them having a brief infatuation when Steve first moves across the hall before realizing very quickly that they don’t make sense together.

(For context, I don’t completely hate Stancy, but I don’t like the idea of them being endgame. He wants a big family and she doesn’t—neither of them should have to compromise on that)

I absolutely adore the idea of Jonathan and Chrissy maybe finding comfort in each other when dealing with their respective romance woes. I have a soft spot for them—I think they’d actually make a really cute couple, being so similar. Chrissy kind of needs someone to look after her and Jonathan’s very good at looking after people (it’s rotten work/not to me, not if it’s you vibes honestly)

The comedic potential of Eddie hitting on Robin or Jonathan before finding out they’re not interested… amazing 😂

However, I am also into the idea of both Jonathan and Chrissy experimenting with their sexuality a bit. I can just picture Robin overhearing Chrissy’s comment and immediately tripping over herself like “hi yes, I’m Robin, I’m very gay and I’m more than happy to volunteer my services”

I also had an idea that Robin might be feeling low after getting rejected by a straight girl and thinking hell, maybe she should give men a try, after all. But after one extremely awkward, stiff kiss with Steve (think Chandler and Phoebe in ‘the one where everyone finds out’) she’s like “nope, still gay”

Ugh, there’s so many good possibilities! I wish I could write them all!

Thank you so much for the ask! Hope you have a lovely day as well!

#asks #personal #stranger things #friends #like I’ve been there before #do I even bother tagging all the ships mentioned here lol

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buck-buck-boose · 3 years

Text

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, mild violence

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: Big things are happening y'all

Chapter Twenty-One: The Super Soldier

March 19, 1943

Dawn crept up on Camp Lehigh in a thick haze of fog, the chirp of crickets its only whispered greeting. A late-winter frost bloomed across what little grass remained, the majority having been trampled underfoot by platoon after platoon of soldiers. Winter was quickly fading, giving way to a promising spring, but the bitter chill still latched onto those dewy mornings to remind Camp Lehigh’s inhabitants of the cold season they’d just nearly escaped.

Although sessions of training were not due to begin for hours, warm bodies were stirred from slumber in their barracks, meeting the cold, stale air of their poorly-insulated lodgings. The nurse’s barracks was lit by a lamp's dim glow, which splayed a flush of golden light across the room. Five women quietly and nimbly dressed, none of them wishing to break the silence that balanced among them; the early morning was sacred to them, as it seemed to be the only time apart from nighttime in which one could be alone with one’s thoughts.

Lottie deftly pinned her mousy curls beneath her white cap, caring little for their arrangement or appearance. Once upon a time, she’d tamed her curls with gentle finger waves and carefully pinned back strands, desperate to look the part of a fair woman like Ginger Rogers. It was a quieter, more joyful time in which she had the time and desire to put ample effort into her appearance. How simpler life in Brooklyn seemed, in retrospect. She only had to care for Steve or Bucky’s wounds, usually from some street brawl instigated by Steve and ended by Bucky; now she had soldiers to care for. Soldiers who would one day be covered in great, gaping wounds, some so deeply ingrained within their souls that neither the highest of morphine dosages nor the strongest suture could soothe them.

Lottie made swift work of fastening her blue cape around her neck, situating it so that the inner red lining wasn’t peeking out. In her peripherals, Mary smoothed a hand down her white skirt in a weak attempt at combatting its wrinkles while Betty gave her face a once-over in a battered compact that she always seemed to have on her person. Lottie was downright envious of her ever-red lip and sultry gaze, they seemed to turn the heads of all the young privates on base, which earned them more than a few reprimands. It was only a few weeks ago that Betty had explained her reasoning for putting such effort into her physical charm, even in the middle of the war.

“Nurses are supposed to provide comfort, care, right?” She sat across from Lottie at their table in the mess hall, smoke curling from a freshly lit cigarette resting between her fingers. She puffed on the cigarette for a moment and slowly exhaled the smoke, “Well these boys have been stuck in a war for over a year now and they probably haven’t seen a pretty face in a while. They’re probably missing their sweethearts, fiancées, you name it. Either way, they’ve gotta be awful lonely out there, so what’s the harm in being that girl with the pretty face that can make them a little less lonesome?”

Before anyone could raise a question, she continued, “I’m not talking affairs or anything illicit, sometimes they just need a pretty face and a nice voice to remind ‘em of home, to ease that loneliness.”

Betty’s little sermon drew Lottie’s thoughts to Bucky. He was a fiercely loyal man who would stop at nothing to protect or care for his closest companions. For his own sake, Lottie hoped that he’d found a sort of comradery with his fellow soldiers, a bond to strengthen him while they were separated by an ocean. He’d always had a habit of flashing her his trademark grin and ruffling her hair, all while declaring something silly like “You ‘n Steve are all I need, Little Lottie. It’s always gonna be the three of us, ‘til the end of the line.” Lottie could only hope that Bucky had found a bond like theirs with his fellow soldiers as a source of comfort and a respite from loneliness.

“Lottie dear, Dr. Erskine’s waiting for us.”

It seemed that the other nurses had filtered out of the barracks as Lottie was lost in thought. Only Gladys remained, waiting for her expectantly at the doorway. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun, with her white cap nestled daintily atop her head, held in place with a handful of pins.

“Apologies, Gladys, I’m coming.” Gladys gave her a small smile as she caught up, nerves keeping her from forming her true toothy grin. All the nurses were nervous, to be truthful, as it was a significant day. Their serum was finally being put to use; they had found their first Super Soldier in Steve Rogers.

When Lottie had received the news of his selection to receive the serum, she’d nearly fainted with shock. Steve was a man with a heart of gold, she’d always known that, but it only served to heighten her self-doubt with regards to the serum’s efficacy. If the serum went awry as it did with Schmidt, Lottie wasn’t sure how she would be able to live with herself.

Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips’ debriefing as to why Steve had been chosen to become America’s first Super Soldier was a source of comfort, though. The two men had cornered the five nurses outside their barracks right as they were heading inside to turn in for the night.

The scientist had been the first to speak, “Ladies, we wanted to catch you as soon as possible. Colonel Phillips and I have decided upon our candidate for the serum. Private Steve Rogers will report to our facility in Brooklyn promptly at ten hundred hours tomorrow. We will need to depart camp at six hundred hours so we have abundant time to become accustomed to the equipment that will be in use. Mr. Stark will be joining us there.”

Lottie was sure there’d been spots in her vision, the announcement had nearly knocked all the wind out of her.

“I expect you ladies to uphold the same sense of secrecy and vigilance that you’ve had up until this point,” Colonel Phillips interjected, “This is only the beginning of our mission. We must continue to protect Project Rebirth, no matter how hopeless it may seem.” His voice was laced with bitterness, obviously doubtful of Steve’s abilities.

Nancy furrowed her brow, “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Private Rogers the ninety-pound asthmatic? Why him and not someone more… reliable, like Private Hodge?”

Lottie bristled slightly, as she did not take kindly to critical remarks regarding her friends.

“Need I remind you that the serum is not focused only on the physical?” Dr. Erskine fixed Nancy with a level gaze, “He is not the most well-built soldier, I admit that. But as you have seen yourself, the serum is capable of incredible cellular change that will only strengthen him. It will also amplify the qualities that he already has inside of himself. He has proven himself to be a good soldier and a worthy recipient of the serum.” Lottie glanced at Colonel Phillips, whose face was twisted into an awkward grimace, though he did not comment.

“During training today, he exhibited qualities of strength and humility that I have yet to see in any other soldiers thus far. Would Private Hodge throw himself over a grenade to protect his fellow soldiers? He showed me today that he would not, but Private Rogers would.”

Colonel Phillips muttered something along the lines of, “Still skinny,” though the bitterness seemed to fade. All of the nurses came to accept the news, trading in their expressions of shock and concern for ones of uncertainty and anxiety. It seemed that reality had hit for all five of the nurses at once; their work had finally come to fruition, making the road ahead even more daunting than before.

There was little conversation in the nurse’s compartment on the train to Brooklyn. There were moments of brief chatter among the women, but they were all too lost in their thoughts to carry on a proper conversation. Lottie shifted in her seat every few minutes, the poorly-cushioned seat providing little comfort during the duration of the train ride. Beside her, Gladys flicked through a stack of paper, which she’d pulled out of a manila folder that had been stamped with the word “Confidential” in large red letters. Ever the levelheaded academic of the group, she’d decided to look over their notes on the serum and its activation procedure one last time.

Across from her, Mary and Nancy were busying themselves with embroidery, an activity that a few of the nurses had picked up to improve their abilities with stitching. Lottie pictured a frayed handkerchief in her mind’s eye, a tattered old thing covered in clumsy pink flowers with a “JBB” monogram stitched carefully onto its corner. She wondered if Bucky had taken it with him overseas. He’d always kept it on his person back in Brooklyn, “Never know when a dame’s gonna go all misty eyed on me,” he’d say, humor in his eyes. There wouldn’t be many women for him to comfort overseas, but maybe he’d need it for his tears someday.

Betty sat to the right of Gladys, scanning the pages of a battered copy of Gone With the Wind. She’d never struck Lottie as a bookworm, but more often than not, she was the last of the women to fall asleep at night, usually engrossed in a novel for an hour or two past lights-out.

Two hours passed uneventfully; its monotony was only interrupted by the transferring from one train to another. Lottie’s heart seemed to pound in her ears as they approached Brooklyn, the tall buildings in her window becoming more and more familiar to her. Her heart swelled at the sight of it; she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the city until she returned after all that time. Of course, she’d been gone from the city for longer while she was in nursing school, but it tugged at her heartstrings even more than before because a damn war was what kept her from her beloved borough.

It wasn’t long before the train had arrived, initiating a flurry of movement out of the train car and toward a car that sat at the curb, waiting for them. All five nurses clambered inside, with Dr. Erskine following behind in his car. The car ride was a short one, though Lottie took the time to observe her surroundings; she wanted so desperately to drink in the familiar alleys and side streets before she had to return to Camp Lehigh, to war.

Their car stopped abruptly in front of a cozy antique shop; one she’d never paid much attention to. Dr. Erskine’s car had arrived just a few moments before theirs, so they followed him inside. Once inside, they were faced with an aged woman, who greeted them with a casual question, though her eyes betrayed a deeper glimmer of suspicion, “Wonderful weather this morning, isn't it?”

Dr. Erskine responded promptly, “Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.”

They were quickly led through a false bookcase, which hid a vast laboratory full of all that was needed to complete the transformation that would occur in a few hours. There were dozens of monitors and gauges, all for measuring Steve’s vitals and the Vita-Rays that were intended to activate the serum within his cells. In the center of it all, there was a bed on which Steve would lie, and when injected with the serum, the bed would be surrounded by a chamber while the Vita-Rays were projected into him.

Lottie and her peers stood at the top of the stairs, taking it all in, while Dr. Erskine descended the steps toward a control panel. He glanced back at them briefly, “Shall we all get accustomed to this now, ladies?”

Over the past few hours, Lottie had tired herself by calibrating various instruments, readying the equipment, and arranging several vials of serum within the transformation chamber. Throughout that time, doctors, higher-ranking soldiers, and members of the SSR slowly filtered into the room, some even gathering in the observation booth that looked down on them from above. She knew that Steve was due to arrive with Agent Carter at any moment. Frankly, she was terrified— mortified, even.

Howard Stark flitted about the laboratory, checking up on the various devices that would be used throughout the process. The Vita-Ray chamber was his brainchild, so a majority of his morning was spent double and triple-checking its minute parts and its stability.

At precisely 10 o’clock in the morning, Agent Carter and Steve stepped into the laboratory, two metal doors held open by guards for their entrance. Silence quickly descended upon the scientists and personnel who had been moving about the room in a sort of organized chaos. Lottie knew that most of them were looking at Steve in confusion, and in some cases dismay, but she made sure to send her best friend a reassuring smile. Even if the bullheaded scientists in the room were doubtful of his abilities, Lottie was with him. She believed in him. Her only doubts were in her abilities.

The staff quickly returned to their business as Agent Carter and Steve descended the steps and approached the center of the laboratory to meet with Dr. Erskine. They shared a brief greeting before Steve was ordered to remove his hat, tie, and shirt; Mary waited beside him with a kind smile, accepting his shed clothing. Agent Carter stood a few feet behind Steve, respectfully averting her gaze as he partially disrobed. Lottie took a special interest in their interactions, examining the way in which she treated Steve. She didn’t ignore or belittle him as some women did, she treated him with more dignity and respect. For that, Lottie was grateful.

Lottie busied herself with sterilizing several glass syringes as she impatiently awaited the initiation of the transformation. She could just barely make out a conversation that Dr. Erskine and Steve had shared about schnapps, but before she could quite figure out what was said, the scientist turned to the inventor beside him, “Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”

“Levels at one hundred percent. We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we’ll ever be.” Mr. Stark stood in front of the chamber where Steve now lay, projecting an air of confidence despite an uncomfortable look in his eye.

Agent Carter was dismissed to the booth to join Colonel Phillips, who was seated with several other seemingly important men that Lottie didn’t care to know. Dr. Erskine addressed the crowd in the booth using a microphone, explaining the purpose of Project Rebirth. Meanwhile, Lottie and her fellow nurses prepared the Vita-Ray chamber; she’d just situated the paddles on his chest when his gaze met hers. They’d been in a similar position so many times before. There were countless times over the past decade when she and Bucky had shown up at his apartment, soup and medicine in hand, to make him feel better during his latest bout of sickness. Bucky would always sit on one side of the bed, leaning on the mattress as he tried to distract Steve with idle conversation. She always kept vigil on the opposite side of the bed from Bucky, pulling Steve’s sheets up to his chin no matter how much he complained of the heat. She would never have to do that again, Lottie realized, as the serum would (hopefully) strengthen his immune system to the point that it would nearly be impossible to get sick. He wouldn’t need her or Bucky to look after him anymore. It pained her only slightly; she was overjoyed that he would be strengthened and healed by the serum, but it felt like the end of an era for her. She wasn’t truly needed anymore.

When the scientist’s speech to the booth had concluded, Lottie disinfected Steve’s shoulder and injected a syringe of penicillin into it; beforehand, she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, warning him for the pain of the jab. She felt him sigh in relief, “That wasn’t so bad.”

Lottie bit back a giggle while Dr. Erskine looked down at Steve with a furrowed brow, “That was penicillin.” The scientist gave her a look and without missing a beat, began the countdown.

Five

The doctors and scientists that were scattered around the laboratory rushed to their control panels, monitoring Steve’s vitals and the Vita-Ray levels that would soon be harnessed for the serum’s activation.

Four

Those that were observing from the booth looked at the scene below with bated breath; they either anticipated either a predictable failure or an unlikely success.

Three

The five nurses gathered around the Vita-Ray chamber, monitoring the serum infusion. Two mechanical arms latched onto Steve’s biceps and embedded several syringes deep into his muscle.

Two

Dr. Erskine placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Lottie met Steve’s gaze once more, she was that little girl at his bedside, sitting her vigil for one last time.

One

A switch was flipped and several syringes of the serum were injected into Steve’s system. Lottie could already see the strain it was putting on his body, his face contorted and he grunted in pain as he felt the serum begin its work in his body.

When given his signal, Mr. Stark flipped a lever to encase Steve in the Vita-Ray chamber, which maneuvered Steve into a vertical position before he was completely locked into the machine. Dr. Erskine knocked on the metal, “Steven? Can you hear me?”

A muffled response came from within the metal, “It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?” Lottie snorted, only Steve would make a terrible joke at a time like that.

The scientist faced Mr. Stark, “We will proceed.” Below him, Mr. Stark slowly turned a dial and donned a pair of goggles. Lottie and her peers followed suit, as the luminosity of the Vita-Rays would cause vision damage if their eyes were left uncovered.

Lottie worried her lip as Mr. Stark slowly increased the radiation levels by turning a wheel that was mounted on the control panel. Next to him, a doctor carefully monitored Steve’s vitals; he reported that they were all normal, which calmed Lottie a tad.

At around the seventy percent mark, cries began to ring out from within the Vita-Ray chamber. It was as if screams were being torn from Steve’s throat, they were so hoarse and raw. Dr. Erskine rushed to the chamber while Peggy quickly descended from the booth, urging the personnel to cease the radiation. Lottie stood in shock, stuck in an internal impasse. She worried deeply for Steve’s safety, she always had and always would. Simultaneously, she needed to trust in the years’ worth of work she’d put into Project Rebirth. She and her fellow nurses had worked day after day, slaving over the Super Soldier Serum and Vita-Ray theories to develop the perfect transformation method. If she couldn’t trust her abilities and research, what could she trust?

But when Steve’s cries seemed to echo throughout the laboratory, she knew that his safety superseded whatever pride she had in her research. Lottie had just opened her mouth to call for an end to it when Steve insisted from within the Vita-Ray chamber, “Don’t! I can do this!”

A burst of warmth bloomed in Lottie’s chest; Steve trusted their work and he was fighting to see it through. Mr. Stark continued to raise the radiation levels until they had reached one hundred percent. The staff and observers from the booth could only look on in shock and wonder as the light from within the chamber continued to glow brighter and it began to give off a steady humming noise.

Without warning, sparks began to spray out from the control panels as a result of the copious amounts of electricity being funneled into the transformation. Lottie cried out, ducking down with Mary to avoid the sparks that showered down on them from overhead. Across from them, Nancy, Gladys, and Betty assumed similar positions, clutching their white caps as they attempted to shield themselves from the onslaught.

As quickly as it started, the sparks ceased, as did the humming of the Vita-Ray chamber. The laboratory was far dimmer than it was earlier, with the light from the radiation gone, and nearly half the bulbs in the laboratory having been blown out.

All eyes were on the Vita-Ray chamber as they all awaited the final result of Project Rebirth. The chamber hissed open and released a gust of air, revealing an exhausted-looking Steve.

Lottie could barely believe it, not only was he exhausted-looking, but it seemed as if he’d gained nearly 8 inches of height and a few dozen pounds of muscle. Gone was that scrawny blond boy who’d gotten lost in crowds far too easily, here was a man— a Super Soldier —who was perfectly enhanced on a cellular level.

The SSR agents and politicians who were previously gathered in the booth rushed to meet with Steve, barely able to contain their excitement. They clambered over each other, all of them desperate to be the first one to speak with America’s first Super Soldier.

In all the chaos, Betty had sidled up to her, her jaw nearly touching the floor, “Hot damn, Lottie Green. Hot damn.” She ogled at Steve as she took in his new physique. Lottie rolled her eyes, “Just because he’s got more muscle doesn’t mean he’ll be able to talk to you any better. Or that he won’t step on your toes if you get him to dance.”

Steve stood in the middle of a crowd of men, though Agent Carter stood in front of him, attempting to look at anything but his chest.

“I think you might want this, Stevie,” Lottie moved in to stand beside Agent Carter and offered him a shirt, which he accepted gratefully. He smiled down at her gratefully, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you, Lottie.”

How odd it was to be looking up at him. It was certainly something that Lottie wasn’t used to, she’d gotten quite used to looking down at him, in fact. By age sixteen, she’d gained about two inches on him, and though he was loath to admit it, she knew it pained him to be the shortest of the three of them. Luckily for him, his new height delegated her as the most diminutive of the Brooklyn trio by far.

Amid the jubilation following Project Rebirth’s success, grave mistakes were made. Gladys had left her manila folder of notes— all the notes that the nurses had ever taken during their research —on one of the control panels closest to the stairway, just close enough to the exit to be snatched up by a discreet hand. An extra vial of Super Soldier serum sat in its case, at the ready for its eventual use; it stood unguarded and unwatched.

The once-unassuming Fred Clemson hung back from the crowd, a lighter in hand. Dr. Erskine was the first to notice his position apart from everyone else; the scientist opened his mouth as if to say something, but before he could form a sentence, Clemson had flicked open the lighter and triggered an explosion from the observation booth.

Screams rang out from the middle of the laboratory as glass rained down on them. Sparks even worse than before began assaulting them and left stinging burns in their wake. Lottie grunted as she felt minuscule shards of glass tear at and become embedded in her skin; it would surely be a pain to treat such small cuts and remove the pieces of glass later on. It was shocking, really, how quickly the mood of the room had shifted. Just moments before, she’d been looking at Steve in awe, fully processing all that the serum had accomplished. Her sentiments of excitement and pride quickly evaporated, replaced by a growing sense of panic and dread.

The force of the explosion had thrown Lottie and some of the other nurses to the ground, so she scrambled to her feet in an attempt to take action against the man. It was all in vain, for as soon as she regained her footing, all she saw was the bespectacled man diving through the crowd to grab the last vial of Super Soldier serum and the thick manila envelope that Gladys had brought with her. Lottie’s stomach dropped in terror; she opened her mouth to cry out for backup, but Dr. Erskine was one step ahead of her. He commanded the man to stop, but the only response he received was several gunshots in the chest.

Deep red stains formed across the front of his shirt and seeped into his lab coat, his vibrant blood was a sickening contrast to the crisp white color of his lab coat. The scientist fell to the ground, his legs sprawled out before him and his arms at his side. Lottie knew that there was no hope for him— there were no exit wounds and she was more than certain that at least one of his lungs had been punctured. His breathing was labored, his chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Lottie didn’t need to perform an examination to know that the wounds would be fatal. There was no time for an examination anyway, gunshots continued to ring out across the laboratory, and Agent Carter was in hot pursuit of the offender.

Mary looked at Lottie for some sort of reassurance of direction, her mouth agape, “Lottie, he's— he’s gonna die if we don’t do somethin’. C’mon, we’ve gotta help him.” Her voice came out in a whimper and her hands shook as she searched the floor for any fallen bandages. She took Mary’s trembling hands into her clammy ones, “Mary, look at his breathing. You know there’s nothing we can do for him now.”

She knew it was a heartbreaking thing to say, but Mary was a brilliant nurse; she already knew all the signs of a punctured lung. Lottie knew that she was having a hard time processing the information due to the shock that was no doubt obscuring her senses and rational thought. What Mary needed was a calm voice to guide her back from the brink of hysteria, a friend to bring her back to reality.

The nurses learned a jarring lesson about reality’s harsh nature that day; they learned of its cycle of gains and losses, successes and failures. The five nurses of Project Rebirth had achieved all that they’d been dreaming of for more than a year, they’d proven themselves to be reliable and even stellar researchers in their field. It had all been ripped away from them in a matter of moments, with the loss of their notes and serum, as well as the brutal death of Dr. Erskine. All they could do was clutch each other helplessly as they watched Steve follow the man in hot pursuit— the man who had stolen everything from them. Lottie, Mary, Betty, Nancy, and Gladys had certainly entered a new era in their careers as nurses, an era of uncertainty. With nothing left from Project Rebirth besides the Super Soldier himself, their futures were left in limbo until the Strategic Scientific Reserve could figure out what to do with them next.

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itsonlystrange · 3 years

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It’s late and I feel like talking about ST characters trauma

I feel like most people only focus on Will’s or El’s (which both are very valid ! ) but I think we both need to remember that:

1: characters exist outside of their trauma. If you believe that all a single character is is their trauma, and that they deserve no further character depth, you’re psycho

And 2: all characters in this fking show are traumatized. All. Of. Them. At this rate, I think Lucas is the most unscathed mentally, yet he ALSO has so much trauma! Which nobody ever talks about!

I love Will and El, however I feel like other characters (especially the females) deserve more expansion on the sh!t they’ve been through.

I WANT TO ALSO SAY:

This isn’t me narrowing down characters with the “most trauma” as I simply cannot put every character in this post and go on a full analysis rn as its 4:00 am. And also, trauma isn’t a competition. I am sick of people saying “so and so is more traumatized than so and so.” Or “so and so is the most/less traumatized.”

All trauma is valid.

People will trauma of any kind know that it doesn’t matter if someone lost 2 legs and half their brain, but you only broke your foot. That’s still gonna be painful! Mentally and physically! It isn’t a race. I don’t want to see ANY of that anymore. It’s disgusting and undermining other characters traumas to benefit others. All characters trauma is V A L I D. It all is! There is no “well so and so is the most traumatized so the others don’t get to complain.” NO! NO NO NO! That’s not how it works! This isn’t a game!! And don’t ever feel bad about not having gone through as much as your friend, your trauma is yours and all experiences are valid.

ALSO REMINDER: characters exist outside of their trauma and ab*se and I know that! This isn’t me belittling or shrinking down people to only a component to their trauma. It’s me pointing out their trauma rather than having their trauma he their whole character. I just think we need more people to talk about other ST characters, especially right now.

Now, without further a do:

MAX:

Max’s dad left fairly early on from what we’ve seen, however she still had some contact with him for at least a few more years as she seems to remember him and miss him quite a lot. We don’t know much about Mr. Mayfield, but we do know Max mises him a great deal. We also know that she has most likely witnessed a lot of physical and verbal ab*se from her stepfather. It’s never stated if Max is a handle to this ab*se either, but she’s definitely witnessed it. Which is why I believe she pushes people away, she’s afraid to get latched on. Because If she does she’ll start to care, and then they’ll just leave like almost everyone else, like her old friends and her father. She puts up walls and feign strength and a somewhat high ego to keep up the hallucination that she doesn’t care about what others think, when she really does. Not to mention she literally witnessed Billy die right before her eyes. Do you know how traumatizing that is? She’s also seen multiple others die aswell, making it worse. Now with Billy gone, Max will most likely be the center of Neil’s ab*se, and Will distance herself from everyone, and will probably spiral into a severe depression. She acts all tough on the outside when in reality she just wants to be loved and accepted, by her friends and family. She gets critiqued quite a lot, especially for being a girl, and you can tell she definitely has gotten the short end of the stick most her life.

KALI:

Do I even need to explain this one? She was literally ABDUCTED AS A CHILD, then adopted, then her adoptive family DITCHED HER, she was forced to see others get hurt or to hurt others for experiments, she’s seen multiple people d!e, and she feels like the only way for life to get better is by k!lling people. Although she’ll never show it, she feels so alone in the world. With no real family, and only her friends, she has nobody to turn to. Kali was so hated upon, which in a way, I understand. I don’t entirely agree with her morally but I do see where her intentions lay and I don’t think she’s as bad as a person as everyone says she is. She’s just a broken girl that deserves to be loved. And she’s so distant from love because she’s afraid of getting hurt. But she deserves happiness, and I wish the Duffers would allow her that happiness, too.

JOYCE:

Nobody EVER talks about Joyce’s trauma as much as they talk about Will’s or El’s (which I’m not invalidating either of theirs I’m just pointing out Joyce’s)

Joyce is said to deal with frequent panic attacks and anxiety. She was verbally and probably physically ab*see by her husband leaving her with severe trust issues. For awhile the whole town thought she was crazy, and we’ve seen her be treated like an outcast. She doesn’t fit in. Back in the 80’s, single moms were looke down upon. Will is constantly referred to as “Lonnie’s Boy”, because that’s what people see him as, even when Lonnie ditched Will and hurt him more than Joyce ever could. Joyce works/worked multiple jobs, and had to keep up her family of two boys. It got so bad even Jonathan had to get one or two jobs just to keep a roof over their heads.

Joyce really deserves happiness. She’s always alert now and her anxiety has only gotten worse. She’s constantly looking for things that aren’t there and although she may have been right about the magnets, it’s worrying that she saw a pattern there, anyways. Her life has given her the short end of the stick multiple times. She’s seen multiple people d!e, her son get possessed, her son get exorcised and be in so much pain, the love of her life (Bob) die right in front of her, the other love of her life (Hopper) die right infront of her, she’s been losing herself since season one, and knowing it’ll only get worse in season 4 scares me so much. She deserves to settle down and find a happy family. She deserves love and support and therapy. And she deserves support system that will listen to her and be there for her. Joyce is so strong in so many ways, she has always percerviered through the thick and thin, and life has ever gone in her direction yet she stays there, for her boys, and doesn’t give up. She is so kind and loyal, she took El under her wing, she was there countless nights when Lonnie was screaming, protecting Will. She was there, staying up all night to make sure Will went to bed safely. She worked two jobs and has tried to get enough money for Jonathan to go to college, and yet life has never given her anything back. This woman has been through hell, she deserves to be loved with no consequences. She deserves to be happy without it backfiring. Joyce is such a dimensional character. She’s had her ups and downs, and she’s somehow always found ways to keep on pushing forward past where most people would break. THATS Queen shit

NANCY:

Now, it looks like Nancy had a fairly peaceful upbringing. While I don’t think she has as much trauma as Mike, I feel like a lot of people over look her and her existence and immediately write her off as “selfish” or a “brat”. And while I do agree that she does have some selfish or self centered moments, she’s always grown from those. Character development, people!

Nancy, the oldest of 3, definitely got the most love from her mother. I don’t think her home life has ever been bad. Although Karen and Ted aren’t the perfect happy couple, they don’t seem to fight much, and they seem pretty peaceful. So I don’t think Nancy’s home life is bad necessarily, and from the outside it could almost be described as “perfect”.

However, there is so much beneath that.

Nancy was stuck in a loveless relationship for about a year. She did the best she could at school to fit in or “be popular”. She wanted to stay with Steve because that seemed like the most logical option. He was popular, rich, he’d be the perfect guy to settle down with. But her heart was telling her to go else where. Jonathan was poor, unpopular, and isn’t necessarily the perfect guy to settle down with financially. Her parents put pressure on her to be the perfect housewife (more so her dad, I don’t think karen did as much.) so when Nancy falls for someone the exact opposite of what she should be going for, she’s in denial. She’s torn between the two. She had a perfect life ahead of her. Great friends, popularity, a loving boyfriend, but she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to settle down and living a boring life just like her parents.

Besides all that, she’s been pulled into an alternate dimension, she’s seen multiple people d!e, she’s nearly been k!led MULTIPLE times. She’s had to k!ll people for her own safety. She’s had to watch her boyfriends brother get excorcised, and also stab her boyfriends brother with a flaming hot rod. She’s had to live with the guilt of Barbara, her best friend, dying while she was sleeping with Steve. She feels so much guilt, survivors guilt, for not doing anything that night. She’s had to live with the fact that her bestfriend since she was little passed on right outside where Nancy was, and Nancy could’ve done something about it, which is the worse part. She’s been harassed by misogynistic coworkers for the fact that she’s a female, lowering her self esteem. And it seems that whenever she does something good in the world it always backfires. She feels like an outcast even though she has so many “friends”, or so it seems. She has the perfect house at the end of a culdesac. What can she possibly be sad over? Her life seems seamless. Yet there is a lot buried under there. She seems like she’s in denial over a lot of things, and constantly in a stage of grief. Nancy deserves to not feel ridiculed. She deserves to be a winner, and to prove those misogynistic @ssholes wrong. She shouldn’t have to fit this cookie cutter ideal. She’s a badass. She’s experienced way more than I feel like most people realize, and has been put in the center of absolute insanity yet still was able to come out of it intact. She deserves to live the life she wants to live, without Survivors Guilt, without the feeling of being an outcast, without low self esteem. Nancy is such a strong young woman in more ways than one, and I feel like so many people hate on her solely because she isn’t doing what most of these girl next door characters usually do. She subverted her own trope. And most people are angry that she isn’t this cookie cutter girl the way she’s “supposed to be”. She gets overlooked, and most people prefer the men of the cast, over her. And yes, everyone is entitled to their opinion, however I’ve seen people hate on Nancy for stupid misogynistic things, which isn’t a valid reason to dislike a character. And most people assume she’s just a spoiled, self obsorbed, ditzie girl, but she really is just someone trapped inside a box trying to get out. Nancy is a baddie. She’s always defended her friends. She’s always defended her brother, and has fought interdimensonal demons before. SHE IS SUCH A BADASS! She learned how to use a gun at the age of 16, despite most woman in the 80’s not even slowing themselves to touch a gun. She grew independent and learned to work for herself and not for others. She cracked a major story at the Hawkins Post, and even when people didn’t believe her, she still pursued it, and was right! She doesn’t give up, and people should be looking up to her and aspiring to be her. She literally beat up someone with a fire hydrant while playing a game of Marco Polo. Why does nobody talk about that! She will kick your ass into the next dimension. THATS Queen shit.

That’s all for now. I will touch back up on this later with some more characters traumas (probably Mike’s, Dustin’s, Lucas’s, and more.) but this is it for now. I really think we should pay more attention to the woman in the ST cast and their characters. A lot of focus is usually on the boys, which is understandable, but I wanted to point out how strong all these girls are and how much I admire them. I love Will and el as well, but I’ve already made several posts talking about them and how badass they are, lol. I wanted to shine light on more people that usually don’t take the spotlight very often. I’ll be back with more, later! As I said above, I’ll totally touch on some more people’s trauma as well, as there’s a lot beneath the surface I feel like most people don’t pay attention to.

SORRY FOR SUPER LONG POST

PS: I began writing that at 4:44am, then fell asleep. It’s 11:45 am now.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #nancy wheeler #joyce byers #kali prasad #max mayfield

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bethhxrmon · 3 years

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passed down like folksongs, chapter six- steve x reader

[gif credit to @flyingrichardgrayson]

chapter six- they say ‘move on’ but you know i won’t

series summary: Living in Hawkins was never easy for anyone. However, it becomes ten times more difficult than usual when you catch feelings for one Steve Harrington. What should be a simple schoolgirl crush ends up being complicated by your step-brother, Tommy Hagan, and the mysterious goings on in the town of Hawkins. [masterlist]

pairing: steve harrington x female! hagan! reader

chapter summary: Convinced there is nothing left for you to do, you spend a bulk of your time searching for Barbara Holland. A search that leaves you with nothing.

warnings: swearing, angst, the usual!

word count: 3.1k

a/n: Well, you can tell I was certainly going through it while writing this chapter <3 and because the steeb tag hates me *insert dudebro youtuber voice here* smash that like button and let me know what you think!

~*~*~*~

By the time March came around, you rarely got a few hours of sleep a night. You were trying to look for any sort of clues Barb may have left behind to be found. There had to be something. It was a long while ago since she left, but you didn’t have anything else to do in your free time. The last of your greenhouse ended up dying off and the winter was still going on at the beginning of the month. You would have to wait for weeks to try planting anything again.

You thought of every possible route at the bus station in the city, tracing lines all over a cheap map you bought at a gas station. It wasn’t that you thought it would be easy to do this, but you thought you would have had some type of lead by this point. As it turned out, you were by no means a great detective.

Still, you had a couple of ideas, and you worked on that map all hours of the day and in any free moment you got. That meant some people saw you tracing a map of the country, but no one ever asked what it was for. Either because they thought you were crazy already or they truly couldn’t care less about what you were doing at this point.

If you had anyone to stop you, they probably would have by now. The one perk of not having any friends was that you could focus on anything else that you wanted to.

That was until Tommy and Carol caught onto what you were doing. They came up to you while you were in the library one day. You were starting to get a good feeling that Barb ran off to Chicago. That just sounded right.

“What’ve you got there?” Tommy asked.

You were quick to try and fold the map shut, but Carol snatched it up, “She’s probably planning to run away.”

“I’d give you the money to get the hell out of here,” Tommy said with a laugh.

You shook your head, “I’m not running away.”

“Then what’re you doing?” Carol asked.

Tommy was quick to put everything together, “She’s looking for Barb! Hawkins Police couldn’t do it so she thinks she can!”

“Oh, sweetie, maybe we should take care of this for you. You’re never gonna find her and I think we all knew that,” Carol said, starting to rip the map.

You leapt up to get it out of her hands, “No, stop! You can’t do that!” “You’re gonna drive yourself crazy looking at this all day. I’m doing you a favor, Y/N,” Carol said, tugging it back.

You tried to pull it back, putting a massive rip in the paper, “What did you just do?!”

“We did you a favor. Come on, you didn’t think she was actually going to come back, did you? She left and she doesn’t wanna be found. Deal with it,” Tommy said with a shrug.

Carol looked over the half of the map she took, “I think I’m gonna use this to start a fire when I get home. Thanks for the kindling, I might use all the dried up shit in your garden next.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from crying when they walked off with the other half of the map. They weren’t wrong, that was the worst part. You knew that there was no way you could find her on your own, but you had to try. Didn’t you?

A part of you wished that Barb had said something about running away before. Except, she never even talked about getting out of Hawkins any time soon. There were a few places she wanted to go to college after graduation, but she didn’t have her heart set on anything. You wished that she had a place she obviously loved to go to.

You hoped that she figured out that place and that wherever she was that she was happy. That was all you could do. Unless you went all the way to that bus station yourself and asked anyone who was there if they had seen Barb. The police may have done that, but they didn’t know Barb as you did. Maybe what led nowhere to them would give you something to grasp at.

While you didn’t have a car, you did have a bike. That would just have to do. The city was a long while away, but no one would really notice if you were gone for that long. At least, you would be able to buy yourself enough time to get to the station and ask some people what they had seen all those months ago. You could only hope that someone remembered her.

It was simple enough to leave the school. No one batted an eye as you went through the front doors and got on your bike. After that, you were off. In a way, it was the closest thing to feeling okay that you had felt in a long time. There was just something about the cool air hitting your face as you pedaled.

Although, that feeling of slight elation only lasted so long. Your legs started to burn while you were somewhere on the side of the highway. A part of you wanted to stop and hitchhike, but that felt too risky. It was either turn around or keep going. You had to keep going. No one else was looking for Barb so it had to be on you.

That thought was enough to keep you pedaling as hard as you ever had before. At least, until you felt a pedal go out from under one of your feet and heard it clatter on the road.

You skidded to a stop as you clutched your brakes. A swear left your mouth as you tried to twist it back onto your bike. All you had on you was your backpack. It didn’t have anything that would help, so you used your hands to screw it back on and went on your way again.

How long you were off for was beyond you. It never occurred to you that your bike wasn’t meant to go quite so far like this. Though, that realization hit you like a bus when you heard an odd noise and one of your bike tires flattened.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you muttered and looked over your bike.

This, without a shadow of a doubt, sucked. You were never going to find Barb and all anyone was ever going to think was that you were crazy. Maybe you were but at least you didn’t give up like everyone else had.

Around that same time, Steve had gotten into a bit of an argument with Nancy. It was over everything with the Upside Down, because it always was. He loved her and wanted to be there for her, but it was hard to do when she wouldn’t tell him how she felt.

It wasn’t the worst fight they had, not by a long shot, but he went on a drive to clear his head, getting on the highway to do so. That’s when he saw you, standing on the side of the road, staring at your bike as though if you stared at it for long enough, it might just fix itself. Having not seen Steve’s car, you were pretty sure this was the part where you walked home.

What were you even going to say? How could you explain that you were biking to Indianapolis? Your mom would freak out and Tommy would have a field day. You were so screwed.

You jumped when you heard a car grind to a stop almost right next to you. For a moment, you thought you were in one of those dumb horror movies where the girl had to run away from a crazed murderer. However, you would have recognized Steve’s BMW just about anywhere. In a way, this was the second-worst option.

“Hey, uh, do you need a ride?” Steve asked.

You pursed your lips and nodded, “Yeah, I- I guess I do.”

“Get in, I’ll get your bike.”

“I can get it.”

“I got it, just sit down,” Steve insisted.

You couldn’t argue too much with him, so you got in the passenger seat of his car. He probably thought you were crazy too. Not that you cared all that much about what he thought or what he had to say about anything.

Steve didn’t complain or make any snide comments as he just barely managed to get your bike in the back of his car. Then again, saying hurtful things right off the bat wasn’t quite his style. You just hoped that the drive back could stay as quiet as things currently were.

However, you didn’t have much luck with that as he got back on the road. He kept driving away from Hawkins.

“I thought you were taking me home.”

“Is that where you were headed?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Well, no, but-”

“Where were you going?”

“You’re gonna laugh.”

Steve glanced at you, “I promise I won’t laugh. What is it? Were you trying to run away?”

“No, that might’ve been a better idea, though… um, I was trying to look for Barb,” it was dead quiet and you were quick to continue on, “I- I thought maybe I could get to that bus station in Indianapolis where they found her car and that maybe someone saw her and might’ve remembered where she went to.”

The car was still quiet and Steve knew he had to say something. He wanted to tell you everything, but he couldn’t bring himself to. You’d never believe him anyhow.

He sighed, “Do you still wanna go?”

“I- I can get there myself.”

“I think you got a flat tire. What were you even gonna do?”

“Well, I guess I’d walk or hitchhike if I had to. There’s gotta be something there.”

“Do you actually think you can do better than the police have?” he asked.

You shrugged, “They gave up and they don’t know her. Maybe I’d have better luck. A- and even if I don’t, I have to try. I don’t have another choice. Tommy took all the work I’ve done so far and I can’t just start from scratch again.”

“Y/N, don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t you think that if she were still around someone would have found her by now?” he asked.

The truth was, you had thought of that. You thought of it so many times, but you couldn’t accept it. Barb had to be out there somewhere. If she wasn’t then your best friend was dead and, in a way, it was your fault. It was easier to bike all the way to Indianapolis and back than accept that.

You stared at your hands folded in your lap, “I- well, it’s worth looking, isn’t it? No one else is, it’s like everyone’s forgotten that she disappeared. And if I don’t do this, then no one else will. I- I know it’s crazy and stupid, but I have to try looking.”

“You just wanted to talk to some people at a bus station?” Steve asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, that’s all, you don’t even have to go around with me. I mean, if you ever thought that you were going to take me there.”

“I don’t have anything better to do,” he said, “And I’m not letting some serial killer pick you up in their car either.”

Steve knew that if he didn’t take you that you would try this all over again. And when you did, he wasn’t sure that you would get any help if your bike broke down. He knew there wasn’t going to be anything where you were looking, but he couldn’t say that. Maybe it would be easier to let you figure it all out for yourself. That was his theory.

The car ride was mostly quiet. You didn’t ask what he was doing on the highway. He was probably just driving around to think. You knew he liked to do that. Steve turned on the radio so the silence wouldn’t get too awkward.

You did get a chance to go to the bus station and ask a couple of employees if they had ever seen Barb. None of them even recognized her name or appearance. It was a dead end. She must have really wanted to be gone. You wished that someone would tell you why.

Steve knew that when you didn’t find anything, you wouldn’t take it well. That didn’t make it any easier to see you just on the verge of tears when you got back in the car. He knew better than to ask if you found anything out. That felt like such a cruel thing to ask.

“They’ve never seen her before,” you said softly as you sat in the passenger seat, “It’s like Barb was trying to just disappear without a trace.”

Steve kept his eyes on the road, “It’s been a few months, they see a lot of people.”

“I know, but this feels more and more hopeless. And now I feel like I really have to find her because I’ll just look even crazier if I don’t,” your voice cracked, “I just wanna know what I did wrong.”

Steve winced a little, “Nothing, you didn’t do anything wrong. Whatever happened with her, it’s not your fault.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not. I know you won’t believe me, and maybe you shouldn’t, but this isn’t on you and you don’t have to fix all of this either.”

“I’ve put too much time into this to stop now. My garden’s totally gone because I kept forgetting to water it, I don’t have any friends, Tommy never gives me a break anymore, everything’s just getting worse and worse and I can’t stop it,” you let out a sob, burying your head in your hands.

Steve pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the car, “Hey, it’s gonna get better.”

“You don’t know that! I’m the one who’s been dealing with all of this on my own and it’s not going back to normal. You were right, okay? Maybe I should just give up.”

“I told you, I shouldn’t have said that. And maybe things won’t go back to how they were earlier, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t get any better. Things can change. You can plant another garden soon. Maybe that’s a place to start.”

You shrugged, “What’s the point if it’s all just gonna die off?”

“Don’t you like it? I mean, I guess I don’t know what you like anymore, but you always seemed to like that sort of stuff before.”

“I do… I just don’t like it as much as I used to. I don’t really like anything all that much anymore. All I’ve had for months now is looking for Barb and I can’t even do that right,” you buried your head in your hands, “Sorry, this isn’t your problem.”

Steve frowned and put a hand on your shoulder, “Maybe it’s not, but I still care about you. You know it’s okay that you can’t find Barb, right? She’s been missing for months and no one’s found her. Including people who actually know what they’re doing.”

“But no one else is looking for her! Hopper said it’s a cold case and that’s just such bullshit! He gave up on her just like everyone else and I can’t do that to her. She wouldn’t have done that to me.”

“But maybe it’s time for you to start moving on,” he paused in case you were going to argue and then continued, “I don’t mean you have to forget about her, but I don’t think Barb would want you to tear yourself apart trying to find her.”

You nodded, “Maybe you’re right.”

A part of you still desperately longed to push Steve away, knowing that nothing good could come from letting him back in, but you couldn’t do that right then. Not when he was actually being helpful. You still couldn’t figure out why he would take you all that way and back without batting an eye. Maybe Nancy made him a more considerate person or something like that.

By the time Steve pulled up to your house, it was already past dinner time. You knew that, but you were still glad Steve got you home either way. Though, you were still trying to piece together a good excuse for being out so long in your head.

When you walked in, your mom rushed right to the entrance of the house, “Where have you been?!”

“Um, I was studying at school and lost track of time. I was biking home and my bike got a flat so I had to walk the whole way back,” you explained.

Your mom let out a sigh, “Why didn’t you call?”

“I didn’t think about it,” you said weakly.

Tommy’s dad walked in, “How were you at school when Tommy said you ditched the last half off the day?”

You stared at the floor, “I um… I- okay I wasn’t at school, I was riding around, I needed a break away from everything.”

“Oh, you need a break from your failing classes?” he asked, “What could you possibly need to get away from? You never do anything. What do you even do while you should be at school?”

“Nothing,” you said, clenching your jaw.

Your mom glared at him, “There’s a plate for you in the oven.”

You took that as your cue to get out of the entryway and go to the kitchen. Why did Tommy have to say anything about you? A part of you wished that he would just ignore you. That had to be better than everything he had done lately.

While you made sure your food was warm, you could hear the arguing just the next room over. It was about you and you didn’t need to catch any of the words to know that. Who else could they be talking about? They were arguing and it was your fault. Maybe Steve was wrong about things getting better.

Once your dinner was heated up, you went straight to your room to eat. You caught a glimpse of your phone and had half a mind to pick it up. Except, who in the world were you about to call? The only person you could think of was Steve and you felt like you unloaded enough on him for a lifetime. This was simply something that you would have to take care of on your own. You could do that. You had done that every single day for the last few months.

After you finished your dinner that night, you figured out what you were going to try to plant in your greenhouse for the spring.

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