#background practice ahoy

[blue-green-ghost]

The Beginning.

[strawberryspence]

sit with you in the trenches

Steddie Week / Day 4: Hurt/Comfort ( @steddie-week )

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Eddie paces around the small living room. All the lights are open, every single one. It’s the only thing that gives him comfort.

The television is murmuring softly in the background. The man is still going on and on about the names of the victims of the fire.

Eddie wrangles his hands, waiting to hear the worst news of his life.

“Hanes. Hanewood. Hawork.”

Eddie pulls on his hair, a breath of relief caught on his lungs.

No Harrington. Steve’s fine. He’s just late. A day late. His “stickler for a schedule” boyfriend has been missing for a day and Eddie can’t even do anything. Can’t do anything because if he does anything it would raise questions.

There’s a crunch of gravel outside that makes Eddie jump, immediately opening the trailer door. There it is. The beamer.

Eddie freezes on his spot, a sound in between a sob and a cheer escaping his mouth. He watches as Steve comes out of the car, but the side door also opens, and— who?— Eddie squints. Robin Buckley comes out.

“Hey, Eds.” Steve greets him, his voice cracks, as soon as the lights hit him. Eddie gasps.

Steve’s face is swollen. Swollen is saying it lightly. His left eye is swollen shut, his lips busted. He’s still wearing the damn Scoops Ahoy uniform.

“Oh my god, swe— Steve.” Eddie pulls the door open, but his eyes stray to Robin who’s glued beside his boyfriend’s side.

Steve pulls her closer, “Eddie, you know Robin, right?”

“Yes.” Eddie trails slowly.

“We were in the fire together and she didn’t want to leave my side. But then, I wanted to go see you.” Steve says, “She’s safe.”

Robin nods earnestly, “I am a lesbian.”

“Oh.” Eddie whispers, blinking before saying, “Oh. Come in, come in.”

He opens the door wider for the two of them. They both stumble inside the trailer like conjoined twins, falling immediately on the couch.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, though he is afraid to hear the answer.

“There was a fire.” Steve answers, “I saved Robin and a few other people. Hence… my face.”

He moves to get an ice pack for his face and blanket for Robin. Eddie doesn’t fully believe it, but it doesn’t really matter right now.

He’ll ask tomorrow and Steve will tell him the same thing. Eddie will learn the truth by himself, in a few more months, a floating cheerleader in front of him.

“Here,” Eddie sits beside him, putting the ice on his boyfriend’s eye, “Robin, do you need anything?”

Robin stares at him with owlish eyes. So different from the girl he had band practices with. He always had his inkling that she might be one of them, but he never thought he'd find out this way.

She shakes her head slowly, accepting the blanket and wrapping it around her arms, “No. This is good enough. Thank you for letting me stay."

They all sit in silence for what could’ve been hours, and Eddie doesn’t really believe in God, but he thanks some kind of deity for letting his boyfriend come home safely.

“I am sorry.” Steve breaks the silence a few minutes later, taking the ice off his eye.

“For what?”

“For being late. For making you worry.” Steve says. Eddie turns to Robin to check on her, but she’s dead asleep on Steve’s lap.

“Does she know we’re dating?” Eddie asks.

Steve smiles shyly, “Yeah. It was a big bonding moment. She thought I was talking about her, leading to her coming out to me and then I told her about my wonderful, metalhead boyfriend.”

Eddie smiles, brushing his hand through Steve’s hair as he lays on his side with a sigh of relief.

“You did good, baby. You just adopted your first lesbian.” Eddie jokes, making Steve crack a smile.

“Does anything hurt? Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” Eddie asks.

“No.” Steve says immediately, like he hates the prospect of going to the hospital, “I just— I just wanted— wanted to see you. I know if I went then you won’t be able to come.”

Eddie smiles fondly, “Alright, Stevie. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you guys wake up.”

Steve hums in response, but he’s already drifting into sleep, falling deeper into Eddie’s arms.

Eddie kisses the crown of his head, pulling him closer to him. The relief of having Steve here beside him, safe and alive, is something he will never take for granted again.

Tomorrow, Eddie will shower him (and Robin) with love and care. But right now, he tightens his embrace around him and let’s the relief sweep him off his feet.

[boldlyvoid]

Heartbreak Princess

Summary: After breaking up with her on the phone and ignoring her, Y/N and her band, decide to play a special gig at the hideout... right before Eddie's set to go on and play.

Warnings: childhood friends to lovers to ex's. Angst with a happy ending. background Jancy breakup, mentions of Ronance, the drummer is Gareth's little sister, (hastily proofread)

SET LIST

Word Count: 2.5k

Ah, childhood romance, one of the most precious things you can have… Flirting on the playground, getting married with 25-cent machine rings in the 5th grade, kissing for the first time at a Sadie Hawkins dance, losing their virginity to each other in the middle of the summer between freshman and sophomore year… in their Senior year, they won prom king and queen even though they weren’t on track to graduate at all. In their 5th year together they just had fun, they really stopped trying to pass at that point, but Y/N did anyway. She graduated in Steve Harrington’s year, it was weird accepting her diploma without Eddie, but she did it. 

She graduated, she got into hairdressing school, she took out some loans she got an apartment and she was living in Indianapolis with the preconceived notion that Eddie would try this year and move in with her once he was free of Hawkins High…

And now she’s sitting in her room, alone, without a best friend or a boyfriend because he’s an idiot. Something happened over his march break, something that he wouldn’t tell her about, something that caused him to be on an FBI watchlist. And then something in him said they should break up because he was holding her back… from what? She had no fucking idea?? He just dumped her. Like it was easy like he had no problem doing it, on the phone in 27 seconds and then he was gone. 

It’s not like she had huge life goals and they both knew success in high school didn’t translate after… just look at Steve Harrington at scoops ahoy? And now the video store? He was on track to be the most successful just because he was the most popular at school, where was Y/N on that list? She didn’t know, but it was probably closer to the bottom. 

She calls him again, not getting him, only Wayne. “Dude, I’m in hairdressing school it’s not like I’m going to be the fucking president? What does he mean holding me back?” 

“I don’t know,” Wayne sighs. “I can’t keep telling ya his secrets, you’re gonna have to talk to him about it.” 

“He won’t talk to me?!” 

“He’ll have to if you just showed up here?” 

He was right. She knew it. “okay.. I’ll see what I can do.” And she left him alone after that. 

She couldn’t get back to Hawkins for a while, she knew he wouldn’t be in Indianapolis for the unforeseeable future, so she just had to sit and stew in her feelings. Something she wasn’t really good at doing. She didn’t like to keep them in and she no longer had him there to tell everything to. She hated it. 

She wanted to get the feelings out so she picked up a pencil and started scribbling out her feelings, noticing how some of it fit and rhymed and made sense more as a song. A breakup song, mildly angry, mostly confused… but a song nonetheless. 

She was tapping on her desk, humming, “call me, say it’s over… I was your best friend we were the perfect shade… out of every colour, how did our love turn, how did our love turn grey?” She sings to herself. 

With some of his stuff already at her apartment, the place he was supposed to move into next month, she finds his first ever electric guitar and his old amp, the ones that mean the most to him (much like how she felt) and plugged them in. She couldn’t stop herself from finding a riff, bounding her leg along, imagining hard drums, the kind of music she and the boys used to pretend to make in Gareth’s garage.. and it makes sense. 

And it’s good. 

So the plan changes, she makes a few phone calls, and then she has a band and then they’re coming over for practice and then it becomes a real song. She knew a few girls from the school band that had their hearts broken, she knew they’d be able to bring the energy that she wanted to this song and they sure fuckin did. 

Gareth’s little sister, Gretchen, was her drummer, she was just as pissed off at Eddie for breaking up with Y/N as she was, and even angrier that the whole mess resulted in Jason breaking her brother's hand. Buckley could read notes, so transferring from trumpet to Key’s was easy for her and she really enjoyed it. She even added some extra sounds, synth, sandbags, and a cowbell? It brought another level to the song she didn’t know they needed, and the finishing touch was someone she never even knew had any musical talent, but Robin vogued for her. Nancy Wheeler could play guitar and she was fucking awesome at it. And also incredibly pissed at her ex, Jonathan. So it helped. It helped a lot. 

The 4 of them were all angry and talented, and so the song reflected it. 

So, on a stormy Tuesday, with all their stuff piled into the back of Nancy’s station wagon, they drove from practice in Indianapolis all the way to the Hideout in Hawkins. She knew they had a gig, or Eddie did, they weren’t a full band with Gareth’s hand still in a cast, so the boys just sat in the audience, turning his crowd from 3 to 6. 

When Y/N called the hideout and booked their spot she gave them direct orders to not advertise who else was playing before Eddie’s spot. They didn’t care, it was a weird request but they kept their word. Eddie had no idea when he walked in that his ex-girlfriend would be coming out in a few minutes with his old guitar in his old clothes, singing a song about how he fucking hurt her for no reason. 

He gets a drink to calm his pre-show nerves like always, sitting at the bar and watching the roadies set up the stage. It’s not unusual for him to not know who was playing, it was however for no one working there to give him a hint or a name, or anything really about who it was. For some reason he thought it was someone famous, he thought maybe the town being on the news brought someone new in, and the growing crowd fed his suspicion. 

And then people he knew started coming in. 

Steve and Dustin, who had a blue wristband on to let the bartender know not to serve him. “What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, Robin's playing tonight,” Steve shrugs it off. 

“She joined a band?” 

He laughs, not knowing that Eddie didn’t know yet. “Yeah, with Nancy and Y/N?” 

“What?” He barely has time to get a response out of Steve when the lights dim and the curtain closes. 

Steve places a hand on his back, “get ready, man.” 

“Fuck…” his heart drops to his stomach, he feels absolutely sick about having to see her… but he also wants to cry because he’s missed her so fucking much. Hating himself for the choice he made from the second he hung up the phone, he hasn’t been able to face her in the wake of everything. 

He just couldn’t ruin her life being associated with him that closely. 

When the curtain opens again the lights turn red and blue, making her glow a beautiful purple as she stands there with his guitar swung around her shoulders. He makes his way through the crowd to the front, watching her with big eyes as she introduces everyone. 

“Hi,” she smiles, unable to see past the blinding lights, she had no idea he was this close to the stage. “I’m Y/N, and we’re Heartbreak Princess… and we’re really excited to share our first song with you guys.” 

She turns around singling to Gretchen to start the song, it was really happening now. With light drums, she turns back to the mic, eyes closed, she takes a deep breath, “Everything was simple, I was your best friend. We were the perfect shade. Out of every colour… How did our love turn, how did our love turn grey?” 

She steps away from the mic, biting her lip as she prepares for the reaction, “Fuck yeah!” Robin shouts as the beat drops and the song kicks in. 

Stepping back in, playing along, she sings: “I’ve never known the glitter and gold or why I feel numb at 20 years old? Oh, why do I always do this again, again?

Tried to fill a boy who was empty inside. Traced around the edges, started crossing the line. Don’t just tell me it’s all in it’s all in my head.” 

“It’s all in my head!” The girls sing backup.

“Call me, say it’s over. I was your best friend. We were the perfect shade. Out of every colour, how did our love turn, how did our love turn grey?"

Gretchen fucking kills the drums, angry as possible, really making it hit. 

Letting Nancy take over as she mimes along… “Here we go, we’re at it again, I need a little time, could you pencil me in. I’ll make you hate me just to see if you can,” she puts in the dramatics.

“Let’s see if you can!” The girls sing back.

“Out of every colour,” Robin sings, first, followed by Y/N, “You were my favourite.” “We were the perfect shade,” they sing together into the silence. 

And then the base drops and she jumps, singing loud enough still that the mic picks up her cry, “Oooh! Oh!” 

Gretchen goes off! Nancy shreds so hard a press on nail pops off onto the stage, and the whole room erupts into chaos! It’s incredible. 

“How could you say it’s over? When I was your best friend and we were a perfect shade. Out of every colour, why did our love turn, why did our love turn grey?”

She steps away, joining Nancy in the most epic guitar solo known to man, the two of them facing each other, letting Robin sing the rest of the song as they played together. 

“Why did our love turn grey?”

She plays out the last few notes, turning back to the microphone as the band stops but the room doesn’t go quiet. “Thank you.” 

He’s absolutely dumbfounded. 

Standing in the front, bombarded by people rushing to the front in the heat of the moment, just absolutely blown away by how amazing she is. 

He had no idea she had that in her, and by god was he proud of her for doing it. He claps and cheers, whistling so loud she locks eyes with him and knows he’s there close to the stage. And it pisses her off a bit. 

“That was for my dickhead ex, this one is for me,” she announces before they start another song, a cover this time, Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks to be exact. 

She has a whole set to finish before he’s allowed to talk to her before he can say sorry, so he backs up into the crowd and gives the front to someone who wants it, letting Y/N have her moment. 

And he’s gotta give it to the girls, Gretchen is kicking ass almost better than her brother… and he’s spent a lot of time playing in front of Gareth to know. Nancy is fucking awesome, he didn’t even know she knew how to play and he bet she could play better than him with those delicate fingers. And Robin can sing. Like really sing! Singing most of Edge of seventeen, hitting every high note of the background music, it was fucking amazing. 

And with the song fading to quiet, Robin shows off again with her piano work as an all too familiar favourite of Eddie’s comes on. Head Over Heels, by Tears For Fears… it’s like she’s singing right into his soul. 

He was wasting time. He took her heart, he broke her heart and he threw it away and she didn’t want any of it. 

Like she’s singing right into his soul, he can’t believe he’s hurt her like this all for his own peace of mind. She didn’t give a fuck if he actually killed those people, she’d still come to knock on the glass and hold that prison phone each week to talk to him. She loved him more than anything. 

He knew that now. 

And in their last song, bringing them to the end of their 20-minute set, Nancy switches place with Y/N to sing Separate Ways by Journey. Which is when Eddie sees Jonathan head towards the door and right out of the bar. 

All the girls up there were going through something. Eddie knew more than most people in the crowd, that confusion that Nancy was singing about was her newfound interest in Robin and her betrayal from Jonathan, changing the plans they had. And she lets out every feeling on that stage because of it, Nancy Wheeler is a rockstar.

There’s a 25-minute interval after gigs, a random playlist is played to fill the silence as everyone mingles back to the bar to refuel and Eddie heads backstage, waiting for her to come out and talk to him like she’s been dying to. 

“I’m sorry,” are the first words to leave his mouth when he sees her.

She takes off her, well, his guitar and places it in its case before she pays him any mind. He can’t take it so he walks over to her, crowding her space but not touching her, “I’m so sorry.” 

“You better be,” she crosses her arms and looks up at him. “That was so fucked up, you know? Not everyone in the world hates you, and so fucking what? I don’t! Let me love you, you fucking idiot.” 

“Okay,” he doesn’t fight her. “I am an idiot, I really thought you wouldn’t want to go through life associated with me…” 

“I don’t care what people say, and you shouldn’t either, we both know it’s not the truth,” she reminds him, stepping closer to him and placing her hands on his chest as she looks up into his eyes. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” he cups her cheek in his one hand, caressing her with his thumb. “It’s been so hard ignoring you I’m literally so fucking stupid, I can’t believe I—

“It’s okay now,” she takes a deep breath and gives him a smile. “But I’m still going to perform that song all the time.” 

He laughs, “as you should it’s fucking amazing. You’re amazing.” 

He leans in for a kiss, pressing their smiling lips together as their noses bump. He breathes her in, the kiss softens and his hands both wander to her back to pull her in flush with him. She holds him back just as tight, very content with him back in her life. 

Of course, all it took was a song for him to get that they were meant to be together forever. But at least he got it now.  

Taglist:

@fightingdragonswithwho @mrs-dr-reid @kyomito @reidselle @venomsvl @nomajdetective @girl-with-an-orange-cat @stevesmunsons @blairscott @sweetyyhippyy @wroteclassicaly @reidsbookclub

[onstrangerthighs]

👑 After Billy encounters a demodog while on his way to pick up Max from a sleepover, Steve takes a walk to Cherry Lane with a flashlight to check on him, and it soon becomes an unintentional routine. Billy has yet to call him out on it, so Steve isn't sure if he knows (he does). Steve doesn't know how to bring up what he's seen through Billy's window. He's starting to understand what Billy meant when he said that he's no stranger to monsters. He also starts leaving a light on in his house to let Billy know he's always welcome. Steve may be facing a different kind of monster, but they're all the same in the end. They thrive in the dark and prey on the lonely. Billy won't be lonely anymore; he'll make sure of it.

📸Jonathan sees the bruises that Billy's jacket can't hide. He follows Billy whenever he can, like a friendly shadow. If Billy notices, he doesn't say anything. He does, however, walk around with a small smile and a pep in his step. He's a walking masterpiece that sticks out from the drab background plaguing everyone else in Hawkins.

🤝No one understands Billy better than Patrick and Jonathan when it comes to his life at Cherry Lane. They just get it. Patrick has a curfew, so he can't stay up late, and both Jonathan and Billy have work, but they find a way to meet up whenever they can. Patrick and Billy are partners in lab and in pranks. Patrick calls Neil regularly, pretending to be a scorned ex-lover. Billy calls Patrick Senior at his job (accountant) just to annoy him. They're also on the basketball team together. Patrick secretly enjoys watching Billy get under Jason's skin. Jonathan occasionally stops by to watch them. Billy asks him if he wants to join the team. Jonathan looks at he and Patrick, all sweaty, and goes right back to his sketchbook.

📔Nancy meets Billy at the library every night at a certain time, so if he doesn't show then she'll know something is wrong. She also gives him Murray's address just in case he needs a place to go. She and Billy have a book club with Patrick and Eden, where they suggest different books to read every Wednesday. Sometimes they read to the little kids.

📢Heather covers for Billy at work if he can't come in. She'll stay with him at the pool after closing times. She helps him with his injuries and doesn't ask questions. When he's ready to talk, she'll be there. She switches shifts with him so he won't have to deal with Karen and the other creepy mothers.

🍍Argyle is always up for talking with Billy. Most of the time, it's just Argyle going on about the first thing that pops into his head. Billy chimes in whenever he feels like it. Argyle always has a story about annoying customers, and of course, everything is funnier when they're both high as hell.

🫧Carol lets Billy borrow her makeup. She takes him to the mall and they try on clothes together. Sometimes, they sit in his car, and she tells him he can let it all out.

🥋Tommy takes him to their favorite diner. Whenever Billy is filled with extra energy, Tommy lets him use his punching bag. They watch cartoons and throw chips at each other.

📣Chrissy fixes his hair into braids and ponytails. Billy reminds her that Neil doesn't like that, and she replies, "You want it. Do you really care what he wants? I don't." If he wants a hug, then she's more than happy to give him one (or three). Chrissy is also kind of a cuddle bug, and Billy is her favorite person to cuddle with because he's warm. They both talk shit about their parents. "Neil's mustache looks fake," or "Are you sure your mother's hair isn't a dead skunk?".

She drives Billy to her safe place, a hill under the stars. She says they can share it. She tries teaching him cheer routines and even gets out a uniform for him whenever they sneak into the gym. Patrick occasionally joins them to practice his free throws.

🍨Robin lets Billy into Scoops Ahoy, and they eat ice cream. They talk about crushes. They have inside jokes about their fellow classmates. Sometimes, Robin brings alcohol from her mother's stash and puts some in the ice cream for them to enjoy.

[she-is-juniper]

Put It Into Practice — Steve Harrington x Reader (chapter four)

Pairing: Scoops Ahoy era Steve Harrington x f!Reader (she/her/hers pronouns, AFAB)

Rating (by chapter): M (Mature)

Summary: “King Steve” Harrington had been the subject of swooning for every girl in their right mind back in high school. But when his sexual dexterity comes into question the summer after graduation, Steve is not about to let his reputation become marred quite so easily. Luckily, Steve is offered the help of his new friend—to give him advice, a few pointers, and maybe a bit of healthy practice…

Word Count (by chapter): 9K

Content: sooo much fluff, very dialogue-heavy chapter (you’re going to love Steve even more than you already have), some angst, some cursing, Steve and Reader finally hash everything out lmfao

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Stranger Things or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized.

A/N: Hi friends! I'm so excited for you to read PIIP chapter four! I’ve literally never struggled so hard to finish a chapter ever... It wasn’t even necessarily hard to write; I’ve just been beyond wiped out from my new job. I’m on my feet 6-7 hours straight during the day (and getting BANK for it) but it’s been simply exhausting. I find that I have absolutely no mental or physical energy left when I get home to write with the same intensity as I had earlier this summer. So I just wanted to say, I’m really sorry to everyone that I haven’t been churning out as much content in recent weeks 🥺 I still absolutely love writing and I’m excited to continue doing it! But I really really appreciate your patience with how slow/inactive I’ve been ♡ This chapter is verrrrry fluffy and dialogue heavy. It's becoming a bit of a slow burn which I know we all will love 👀 and I pinky promise there's smut in the next chapter!

And as always, PLEASE comment if you enjoyed this, for the love of all that is holy—your powers supercharge me!!—thank u in advance ♥ Love, Juni

chapter one \ chapter two \ chapter three

NEXT CHAPTER TBA (or check my masterlist)

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“Hi, sweetie, how was the fair?”

You glance up at your mother as you close the front door behind you and kick off your shoes. She’s in the living room with a novel in hand, from which she’s hardly looking up to even acknowledge your arrival. In the reclining chair, your father is asleep, and his snores are drowned out only by the background noise of the television.

How was the fair? you think to yourself. Which part? The part where Steve Harrington and I got each other off in the Hall of Mirrors? Or the part where we made plans to sneak out tonight to see each other again?

“It was fun, Mom,” you say instead, as simply and calmly as possible. Inside your chest, your heart races with anticipation. You mentally go through a checklist. Tell her goodnight. Take shower. Pretend to sleep. Sneak out window. 

“That’s wonderful,” she says absently as she turns the page of her novel. 

“I’m going to shower and head to bed, I’m super tired,” you lie as you walk to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water to bring upstairs. It was part of your nightly routine, and you didn’t want her to be suspicious at all. Not that you had any reason to worry. Your mother, as expected, seems completely unsuspecting of your clandestine evening plans. 

 You go to her, kiss her on the cheek, and say, “Night, Mom.”

“Goodnight, Y/N, sweetie,” she says back. As you head up the stairs to your bedroom, you hear her turn off the TV and shake your father awake, telling him it’s time to go to bed.

That’s one of the perks of being the normal, trustworthy teenager of two overworked parents. When you really wanted to break the rules, they wouldn’t even bat an eye. 

You’d always been a good kid, but that’s not to say you havent been involved in your fair share of teenage mischief. You’d simply gotten highly skilled at evading the less-than-watchful eyes of your workaholic parents. It had been all the usual, harmless milestones of teenagehood; underage drinking, going to parties, hooking up in cars. Nothing really out of the ordinary or truly egregious. For a while, the craziest thing you had ever done was sneak onto the roof of the high school gymnasium at midnight to smoke weed with Carol and her rowdy friends during your sophomore year.

Now, a new deed takes the cake; hooking up with Steve Harrington in the Hall of Mirrors at the Fourth of July fair. 

It had been reckless, certainly. And illegal. But the thrill of getting caught, combined with the added tension between you and Steve from your prior argument, had made it all the more exciting.

You and Steve are now more than just friends.

You could have stayed in that Hall of Mirrors with Steve forever, just holding him and kissing him among the endless reflections, blissfully poking fun at each other for the mess you’d made in between your thighs and on his hands. But the sound of the security guards nearby had spooked you, and you and Steve hastily exited the attraction and booked it to the parking lot, giggling even more uncontrollably as you ran. 

Neither of you had wanted to go home. But while Steve’s parents couldn’t have cared less about what their son was up to, you knew you had to at least make an appearance at home so your parents wouldn’t worry. And that was where the plan was hatched; you would tell them goodnight, convince them you were going to bed, and then sneak out your bedroom window. Admittedly, you’ve never snuck out of the house before, but there was a first time for everything.

You make haste in showering and shaving, keeping a close eye on the clock; Steve had promised to pick you up at 10:30. Every time you think of him, your heart gives a little flip. His doe brown eyes, his playful smile, his stupidly perfect hair. Now that your feelings for each other are more or less out in the open air, you’re bristling with new and exciting feelings for him. 

Before going to your room, you wrap a towel around your chest and pad downstairs to check on your parents again. Their bedroom door is closed with the lights off, and your father’s snoring continues. Perfect . You tiptoe back up to your room and scour your closet; what is one supposed to wear when sneaking out of the house to meet up with her no-longer-just-friends friend? You consider another sundress, but you settle on a pair of jeans, a tee shirt with the logo of your favorite band, and your trusty white sneakers—the ones you remember Steve complimented once, a few months ago. Back when you had been just friends.

What are you now? Will he want to talk about it tonight? Or will tonight just be for… well …?

You don’t know what to expect from Steve tonight. He had been hesitant yet enthusiastic to help you sneak out of the house— “You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, but fuck, Y/N, I’d love to see you later,” he’d said. And of course, how could you have said no? 

And for you, you’re eager to continue where you’d left off from your earlier escapades in the Hall of Mirrors… but you’re also itching to talk about what’s going on between the two of you.

It’s nearly 10:30. You stuff a few pillows haphazardly under your comforter in the shape of a sleeping body, on the off-chance that one of your parents would check on you during the night. You turn off your lamp, and with a breath of courage, you heave open your bedroom window and creep onto the roof over the back porch. The summer night’s air had become slightly brisk, rife with adventure and youth and the residual smell of gunpowder from the fireworks at the fair. You carefully meander down the lattice wall above the garden and land with a gentle thud. Smiling to yourself, you make your way out the side gate, squinting down the quiet, suburban Hawkins street.

Right on time, a car pulls around the bend, flooding the street with its headlights. Steve’s BMW. You smile a bit nervously and saunter over to it.

As you approach, Steve steps out and leans on the driver’s side door, looking you over with excitement. And then, as if he’s come to some realization about your approach, he rushes over to the passenger door and opens it grandly. “Your chariot awaits,” he says with mock formality.

“Ah, so now it’s your ‘chariot’?” you call out. “Robin told me you always call it it your ‘Babe Mobile.’”

“Hey, watch your mouth,” Steve jests back, rubbing the burgundy exterior. “She’s a she, not an it. She’s sensitive. And besides, is Robin wrong? I mean, you’re a girl, and you’re about to get in the car, sooo…I’d say the Babe Mobile’s living up to her title.”

You laugh. Steve’s smile grows with yours. Witty banter, just like old times, back to normal. It’s as if the whole argument from earlier never happened. 

“You’re such an idiot,” you giggle as you hop into his car. You’ve ridden in it a few times before, mostly during hangs with Robin to and from work or each other’s houses. You could never forget the first time you ever heard Steve’s god awful singing voice; it was at the beginning of the summer, and he had taken you and Robin out to pick up pizza and VHS movies after a long work week, and he had turned the radio on and started belting along with Don’t Stop Believin’ in a manner that more closely resembled a dying cow than a human voice. You remember the way you and Robin had groaned and laughed at him before joining in with your own voices. It was one of those summer memories that would last forever.

And looking over at him now, as he hops into the driver’s seat and gives you an easy smile, you wonder if this will be one of those forever summer memories, too.

“So you managed to sneak out without them noticing?” Steve asks as he shifts the car into drive and accelerates down the empty street. 

You nod. “Not that they care enough about me to notice, anyway,” you replied lightly.

But Steve’s brow furrows a bit. “Oh, come on, I know your parents care about you.”

Knowing Steve’s rocky relationship with his parents, you realize you probably shouldn’t have exaggerated like that. “They do,” you amend, “but they’ve both been so busy lately that I’m probably the last thing on their mind. All that to say, we’re in the clear tonight.” 

“Good,” he smiles as he drives. You notice he’d showered too, his hair still slightly wet, no longer perfectly styled in his usual way, although you decided you almost preferred seeing it damp and slicked back so casually like this. And he’d changed clothes from the attire he’d been wearing at the park. He’s wearing a new pair of jeans and a yellow crewneck sweatshirt that fits his torso perfectly. He smells like soap and linen and spice. 

The radio’s on, softly playing Drive by The Cars—what a perfect song for this moment—and Steve’s got the windows rolled down so the summer breeze ripples through the car, bringing a slight chill to your arms. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, realizing then that you hadn’t discussed a plan for where��or what, just when he’d pick you up. 

“You’ll see. I’ve got something fun we can do together.”

“Oh?” you ask with a suggestive tone.

Steve glances over at you and grins before drawing his eyes back to the road. And then he bites his bottom lip, and you can’t tell if it’s from excitement or nervousness. “Do you like surprises?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say apprehensively.

Steve chuckles at your tone. “Wow, what didn’t sound convincing at all.”

“I kind of hate surprises,” you admit.

“I figured,” he laughs. “Alright. Well, in that case, we’re going out into the woods. There’s this field I know—”

“The woods?” you interrupt him. “A field?”

“Don’t freak out,” he says. “I’m not going to, like, murder you or anything.”

“Oh, whew, that’s a relief,” you say sarcastically.

“It’ll be fun. I’ve got a buddy who works at the fireworks tent off of Randolph,” Steve explains. He gestures to a medium sized box in the backseat. You twist around in your seat to peer inside; it contains about a dozen assorted fireworks.

“I guess it is still the Fourth of July,” you muse. Setting off fireworks with Steve in the middle of the woods did, actually, kind of sound like fun. 

“We gotta be pretty smart about it, though,” Steve admits as he pulls onto Cornwalis—one of Hawkins’ main road—and starts driving north. “The cops in this town are like hawks about fireworks this year. But I know a place where we won’t get caught.”

Won’t get caught… You wonder if his words have a double meaning.

“Alright, alright,” you drawl, deflecting from the sudden wave of awkwardness that washes over you. ”But if we get mauled by a bear in the middle of the woods and there’s no one around to hear us scream, I’ll kick your ass in the afterlife.”

Steve laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll fight it off any bears for you.”

You give him a level look. “You? Fighting off bears?”

He gives you a face like it’s obvious. “Uh, yeah. Easy peasy.”

“Oh, really? With what weapon?”

“Well…I’ve got a baseball bat spiked with nails in my trunk, so I think I’d probably use that,” he says.

You stare blankly. It had obviously been a joke up until now, but this didn’t sound made up. He’d answered too quickly. “You have a baseball bat spiked with nails in your trunk?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why?”

“...You don’t wanna know.”

You let it go. “Alright, I guess that makes me feel a tad bit safer.”

“Good.” Steve’s hand that was resting on the gearshift inch has now inched across toward you. You notice now that his pinky is barely brushing against the denim on your thigh. You feel butterflies in your stomach. “You changed clothes,” he notes.

“I did.”

“Looks good,” he compliments.

You smile shyly, letting his compliment wash over your senses. “You changed, too,” you said. “I like it.”

He looked pretty good a few hours ago with his hair all messed up and his cum all over his hands, too, you think to yourself. But you suppose the yellow sweatshirt look would do, too.

“We were kind of a mess back there,” he says with a sheepish grin, almost as though he had read your mind. 

“We were,” you agreed—both in the literal and the metaphorical sense. His acknowledgment of the incident brings back vivid memories of it. You crossed your legs and squeezed your thighs together absently.

There’s a lot more that you want to say, but you don’t really know how to say it or where to start, so you and Steve drive in a comfortable quietness down the road. Eventually, he passes all the establishments in the central part of town—the schools, the arcade, the library—and continues on into the woodsy north neighborhoods.

 When I Wanna Know What Love Is by Foreigner comes on the radio, Steve shifts his hand from the gearshift so it’s next to yours on the passenger seat. You flip your palm over in a silent invitation, and he takes it in his own, squeezing his fingers. The action feels overwhelmingly intimate and romantic. You realize you’d be content just holding his hand like this forever. His touch brings you a strange feeling of reassurance, despite the uncertainty of your relationship thus far.

Hawkins looks strange tonight, the trees taking on a carefree sort of quality beyond Steve’s headlights. Maybe it’s the excitement from the earlier festivities still resonating through the town. Maybe it’s the thrill of sneaking out, despite the fact that you’re an adult and graduated from high school. Or maybe it’s just your imagination, overactive from the adrenaline of being with Steve again. You stick your other hand out the open passenger window and flatten your palm against the wind, riding the wind with your hand like a surfer on a wave, just like you used to as a kid.

“Hey, Y/N?” Steve asks after a while.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say… I’m, uh, I’m really sorry.”

You turn to observe his expression; his brows are furrowed as he glances between you and the road. “Why?”

“I’m just sorry for, uh, what happened back…there. I wish it hadn’t happened.”

Your heart thuds, and you fight to mask it. Did he mean the argument, or the hookup? When he hesitates to continue, you struggle to think of a response suitable for either meaning. “Things did get a bit, uh, heated, didn’t they…”

He squeezes your hand again. “I really shouldn’t have raised my voice at you,” he says. “Or said, like, half the things I said. I really wasn’t saying what I was meaning, like, at all.”

So he is talking about the argument. You squeeze his hand back before releasing it, and then you’re wringing your hands together in your lap. “You and me both, bud…but I’m sorry, too. I took things way out of proportion.”

“Well…” He combs his newly freed fingers through his hair. “I could see why you were mad at me.”

“I wasn’t mad at you—I’m not mad at all,” you reassure him. “It was just…the whole situation.”

The whole Steve-going-down-on-you-but-then-weirding-out-when-you-offer-him-a-blowjob situation. And the Steve-kissing-you-in-the-hallway-and-then-completely-avoiding-you thing. And then the Steve-never-got-over-Nancy-Wheeler bombshell that Robin had dropped. And then there was the whole Lisa-R-coming-onto-Steve-in-front-of-you ordeal.

Jesus, no wonder you had snapped back there.

“A lot had happened,” you continue, “and I was just…overwhelmed, I think. But I’m not mad at you, Steve.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay,” he says with relief. 

“Are you mad at me?” you ask in turn. 

“No, not at all.”

“Okay.”

There’s a lot more you want to say but you can’t find the words to express your thoughts. Looking over at Steve, you imagine he’s feeling the same way. It means a lot to you that he apologized about the argument, but the whole thing still doesn’t sit right with you. You know a solid, honest conversation is in order for tonight…but it might take a few fireworks before either of you will be able to find the right words.

“I’m in the mood to light some shit on fire,” you say, segueing into a lighter topic.

“Oh, yeah, well, you know what they say,” Steve remarks. “When the goings get tough, the tough…light shit on fire.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely the saying,” you say sarcastically.

“I think we should get that printed on a shirt and everything.”

“ You’d definitely wear that shirt,” you jest.

“Oh, absolutely,” he says. “Unironically. That’d be a dope ass shirt.”

“Yeah, maybe for pyromaniacs.”

“Hey, you’re the one that said you’re in the mood to light shit on fire. So you started it.”

“It was your idea to bring fireworks in the first place, dingus.”

“Don’t call me that,” he groans. “I already hear ‘dingus’ enough from Robin. She’s rubbing off on you too much.”

“What else am I supposed to call you when you’re being a dingus, then?”

“Uh…how about, just ‘Steve’?”

“Okay, Just Steve, but I think we’re gonna need to get you a better nickname.”

“Oh, yeah?” he says with a mocking tone. 

You pretend to ponder. “Hmmm…maybe doofus?” 

“That’s literally the same thing as dingus,” he complains.

“No, it’s different.” You gaze at him with mock seriousness. “Doofus. Yeah. That works perfect.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling under his guise of annoyance. “You women and your nicknames.”

“Well, I can’t always call you baby, I gotta have some variety,” you giggle.

You’re referring, obviously, to the way you and Steve had called each other baby —at first, in your basement last week, and then most recently in the Hall of Mirrors. In both instances, the term of endearment had kind of just…slipped out. But it felt right, in those moments. But baby was just one of those nicknames reserved for cringey couples in love. And, on occasion, for the casual hookup. But only in that context and never outside the bedroom.

Or basement. Or Hall of Mirrors. Whatever. 

Point is, you’re wondering when you and Steve would call each other baby again. And under which context…cringey couple, or casual hookup?

Right on cue, Steve’s expression changes, and he admits quietly, “I like it when you call me that.”

“Really? You do?”

“Yeah. Don’t get all weird about it, though” he says defensively. The pout on his face is so irresistible.

“Don’t worry, I won’t, baby,” you tease. He groans. You laugh at him. “Sorry, sorry.”

“No, I like it… Maybe a little too much.”

You can’t fathom the meaning of his words, but he doesn’t elaborate. You deflect the awkwardness again, shifting back to your teasing tone of voice. “I’ll use it sparingly, I promise. But doofus?” You shove his arm playfully. “I’ll be using that one a lot.”

“I really thought you were more original than that,” he taunts. “I mean, c’mon, stealing Robin’s M.O.? What a copout.”

“I’m sure Robin would be honored.”

Your conversation is halted by a police cruiser driving past in the other lane. Steve straightens behind the wheel, although the cruiser passes without a hitch. You snicker at him.

“Right here, he’s right here, cops!” you jeer. “The pyromaniac with the high-maintenance hair!”

He runs his hand through it self-consciously. “You love the hair,” he says conclusively.

You couldn’t lie. “Yeah, I do,” you sigh, taking a chance and running your own hand through it. His face softens and he leans into your touch. It’s becoming far too addicting to touch him. “Why do you think the police will care about us setting off fireworks, anyway? They set off a bunch at the fair.”

“Noise ordinance, I think,” he responds. “You know how the cops in this town are. They got nothing better to do. They’ll impose any rule to keep the ‘meddling kids’ off the streets,” he adds with air quotes.

“Well, if we’re gonna have to drive out the middle of nowhere, where no one can hear…I guess we’ll should just make the most of it, then, yeah?”

You didn’t intend to sound suggestive, but as the double meaning of your words settles between you, Steve fights a grin. You can’t help but smile, too, knowing full well that you and he are thinking of the same thing. 

Steve pulls off the main road and onto a short residential street that ends in a col-de-sac, beyond which extends a dense-looking patch of woods. He parks along the curb at the end of the street and moves to get out until he sees that you’re frozen in your seat.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Are we…hiking?”

“Just for a bit.”

“We’re hiking…through the woods…in the pitch black…at 10 pm…?” 

“Don’t worry, I came prepared,” he grins, pulling out a flashlight and clicking it on. Even then, you still feel apprehensive. Steve touches your hand softly. “It’s not very far, I promise.”

“What is ‘it’, exactly?” you ask as you hesitantly exit the car. And then it hits you. “Oh my god,” you realize. “Please don’t tell me you’re taking me to Skull Rock.”

Skull Rock is this infamous makeout spot in the woods. In fact, rumor has it that Steve practically invented it. Gross. The idea that he would take you where he’d taken countless other girls makes you scowl at him.

But Steve just laughs. “No, no, we’re not going to Skull Rock. That’s in the other direction.”

“Wouldn’t you know,” you mutter.

He just gazes at you endearingly like he finds your anger adorable. “C’mon, trust me. There’s a huge clearing, just north of Lover’s Lake. It’s just a few minutes walk from here. Just follow me, okay? It’s really cool. You’ll see.”

He gives you a warm smile before locking the car. As soon as the car’s headlights go off, the scene around you and Steve becomes engulfed in darkness, save for the dim yellow streetlamp and the moon on the horizon. Steve hands you the flashlight since he’s holding the box of fireworks. You try to keep it steady as he leads the way into the woods, where the cacophony of summer insects and birds swells like a nocturnal symphony.

After a few moments—and at the sudden hoot of an owl that makes you jump—you finally say, “Steve, not to be dramatic, but who do you think will be speaking at our funerals when we inevitably die tonight from an angry bear?”

“We’re not going to die,” he reassures you with a laugh. “But…I guess if we did, Robin would probably do a pretty decent job at a commemorative speech. And Dustin. Probably your parents—”

“I didn’t need to hear that,” you groan, tightening your grip on the flashlight. 

“You asked!”

“I’m just saying, it’s not too late for us to turn around and grab that spiked baseball bat you were talking about.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “If anything comes for us, I’ll just show them my super slick ninja moves, and they’ll get scared and run away.” He attempts a really bad roundhouse kick on a nearby tree, muttering, “Ow.”

“Loser.”

“Hey, there’s a new nickname.” He straightens and adjusts his grip on the box. “Wasn’t that hard being creative with it, huh?”

You know he’s trying to soothe your nerves about being in the forest at night, and it’s working, but only a little bit. “This better be worth it,” you mumble.

“You know me, would I ever take you somewhere that’s not guaranteed to be super cool?”

“There was that one time you made me and Robin meet you behind the mall to look at a satellite in the sky because you thought it was a UFO.”

“It was totally a UFO!” he retorts.

“Satellite.”

“...Fine, whatever, but what if it was a real UFO, and you and Robin missed out on it? Then you would have really been pissed off at yourselves.”

“Ooh, yeah, and maybe then the aliens would have abducted you and we would never have to hear you mope about working at Scoops Ahoy ever again.”

“Oh, come on, if I got abducted by aliens, you’d miss me and you know it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself too hard, Harrington.”

“Just stating the facts.”

At last, you can see a break in the trees ahead. Once you and Steve emerge, you realize you’ve reached the town’s power lines, a series of tall metal poles connected by soaring wires. The trees have been cut back width-wise from the power lines, leaving a huge clearing in the woods as far as the eyes can see in either direction. Above the huge poles, the moon is bright and almost full, washing everything below it in a pale blue light. 

“This way,” Steve says as he leads you under the lines and across the clearing. You keep right behind him for another few minutes as he follows the path of the power lines. After a few minutes, you see a large divet of clearing out to the right, where the trees have been cut back even further. As you near, you realize it’s a wide field, perhaps an old patch of farmland, beyond the horizon of electrical wiring. The field is about a football field across in length and width, with no poles or trees to obstruct it. Peculiarly, at the other end of the field is an old flatbed truck.

“Wow,” you note, looking around with your flashlight. “How did you know this field was here?”

“Tommy and I found it a few summers ago,” Steve replies. “We used to skip school and come out here to smoke, drink, hit golf balls in the woods, do stupid shit like that.” He leads you across the field to the old pickup truck.

“Do I even want to know how this got here?” you laughed. 

“It’s Tommy’s uncle’s,” he explains, slapping the roof of the truck with a metallic thud. “Basically just scrap metal at this point. It doesn’t run anymore. But” —he grins at you as he sets his box on the truck’s bed— “This is where we’ll sit to watch the show. Best seat in the house.”

You try once and fail to hoist yourself up onto the open truck bed, which just gives Steve an excuse to help you up onto it with his hands on your waist. His close proximity means that you can smell the cologne on his neck. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes as he lifts your hips onto the truck, and you think to yourself that it should be illegal for a boy to make you feel this delirious. 

Steve doesn’t remove his hands from your waist right away when you’re finally sat on the truck bed. He keeps his hands there, his fingers pressing curiously into your skin through your shirt as he situates himself between your legs, which are now dangling on either side of his body. He looks so good from below you, his body outlined by the dim flashlight, his teeth glistening, the slightly nervous expression on his face. Oh my god , you think as he suddenly leans in, and you fear—fear?—he’s going to kiss your lips. But he’s much too far down for that, so instead he kisses the top of your thigh. First the right one, then the left. And then, casual as ever, he backs away, grabs a firework and a lighter from the box, and says, “Time to light shit on fire, baby.”

Your mind still spinning, you just choke out, “Okay.”

He trots out into the open field with his supplies. You follow his path with the flashlight, and when he realizes where you’re shining the light, he turns to you with a playful expression and places his hands on his backside. “Don’t look at my ass!”

“How could I not? It’s right there.”

He tries covering it with the firework in his hand and you snicker. Once he reaches about fifteen paces away from the truck, he turns toward you, gives you a cheeky grin, and sets the firework in the ground. Once he has it lit, he sprints back and launches himself like an energetic child onto the truck bed beside you. You giggle even more. 

The firework launches into the air and bursts into golden stars. The whish-boom is so loud that the birds and crickets stop for a second. 

“Cool,” you whisper. 

“Another one!” Steve announces. He repeats the process, trotting out to the field with a firework, lighting it, and then speeding back to the truck to propel himself onto it beside you. You and he both look up to watch it in the sky. 

“You know,” you say after the boom of the firework—red and green this time— “you don’t have to sprint back over here every time.”

“But I wanna sit next to you to watch them go off,” Steve says. 

Your heart swells, and because you don’t know what else to say, you respond, “Okay, fine, doofus.”

He nudges your shoulder with his before hopping down to repeat the process again. He lights firework after firework, coming back each time to sit right next to you to watch it explode in the sky together. It’s really quite endearing of him, even though he’s starting to pant with the exertion of running back and forth. You’ve not seen this side of Steve before tonight—so silly, free-natured, smiley, with almost a boyish sort of energy. But you love it. 

Some of the fireworks are the typical ones that launch into the air like a rocket and explode in a circle; some crackle like a massive sparkler, illuminating the field in rivulets of golden light. One firework even launches a multitude of glowing stars that spiral into the air and dissolve. You and Steve make conversation about them, commenting on your favorite colors and patterns, making jokes with each other. Before you know it, he’s down to the last two fireworks in the box.

“Okay, so this one’s me… And this one’s you,” he says, designating one of the cylinders for each of you—red for him, blue for you. 

“Are you gonna light them both at the same time?” you guess. 

“Yeah, and whoever’s goes higher, wins.”

You scoff. “Oh, it’s on.”

“That’s exactly what a loser would say.”

“Wait,” you say, scowling at him. “How will I know you’re not cheating by lighting mine after yours?”

“Because…” —he pulls out a second lighter from his picket and waggles his brows— “You’re gonna light it yourself, at the same time as me.”

“Hmm. Seems fair. And what does the winner get to do?”

“Oh, by winner, you must be referring to me.”

“Don’t get so cocky, Harrington. You’ll regret it.”

“When I win,” he says, leaning in threateningly toward your face, “I get free chocolate chip cookies for a month from you at work.”

“I already give you free chocolate chip cookies,” you complain. “And you already give me free ice cream. That’s a stupid reward.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Steve admits, tapping his chin. “…How about…” His gaze grows devilish. “Loser has to take off their shirt.”

You look around wildly. “In the middle of the woods?!”

He shrugs. “Not like there’s anyone out here to see.”

“That’s so not fair. You’re a guy . It’s completely different when you take off your shirt.”

“Hmm, sounds to me like something someone who’s scared of losing would say. Are you scared? Is that it?”

“No,” you huff with a competitive smile, rubbing your arms. You think but don’t say aloud that you’d tear your shirt off for him right here right now if it means you’d continue where you’d left off in the Hall of Mirrors…but now you’re determined not to lose this game. “I’m not scared. You’re going down, Harrington.”

He looked smug. “Hmm, we’ll just have to see about that, you dork…”

You follow Steve out to the middle of the field, the two of you shoving each other with playful competitiveness. You crouch down side by side, and Steve counts down from three. When he reaches one, you hold the lighter up to the fuse at the exact same time as Steve, and the two of you fall back, wringing your hands with anticipation. 

The fireworks shoot off together, in two broad arcs that at first seem to repel each other before arching back and crossing paths. The red explodes first, followed by the blue, which soars high into the air before bursting. 

“Ha!” you cheer, jumping up and down. “You lose!”

Steve clenches his fist and sighs, “Shit.”

“You know what that means, Stevie boy…”

You mime taking off your shirt with a suggestive face. Steve huffs a dejected sigh and pulls off his yellow sweatshirt and the white tee he’s wearing underneath in one swift movement. He looks good, of course, but mostly he looks absolutely pitiful with his bare shoulders sagging and the look of sheer defeat on his face. You can’t help but giggle at the way his plan had backfired. 

You jump up on the truck bed again, this time helping Steve up by giving him a hand for leverage. The fireworks show had served their purpose at dissolving whatever residual awkwardness had still remained from your argument with Steve earlier at the fair. You feel elated, now, even as the echo from the thunderous fireworks has subsided and the quiet stillness of the night has returned in full force. And as Steve situates himself beside you—even as he balls his sweatshirt up in petulance and throws it at your face like a child—you wish you could bottle this feeling up forever. 

“Gotta say, ‘Loser’ looks pretty good on you,” you jest, giving him a once-over with your eyes. The light from the flashlight, which you had propped against the side of the truck bed, was enough to illuminate the details of his torso. His chest hair, the hollow of his throat, the trail on his tummy, his lean shoulders. 

“That was actually my plan all along, so joke’s on you,” he pretends to boast. 

But the bravado of your earlier banter seems to fade like the smoke from the fireworks in the evening breeze. What is left between the two of you is a strange, mutual sort of buzzing…the hyper-awareness of his body next to yours, his familiar clean fragrance, the way his leg dangles off the truck bed so close that you can feel it brush against your skin. He’s utterly alluring. And something in his eyes indicates that he feels the same about you. 

You switch off the flashlight and sit in comfortable silence beside Steve for a few moments. The sounds of the forest resume their serenade, and the afterimages of light in your eyes from the fireworks start to fade. As you adjust to the dark, a new source of light catches your attention. 

“The stars,” you exclaim quietly, gazing up.

Steve follows your gaze, and the two of you watch in awe for a long time. There seems to be a million times more stars out tonight than any other old night in Hawkins, despite the moon on the horizon. Perhaps it was just that you’ve finally become aware of the stars again long enough to sit and observe them. Perhaps it was a message from the universe or something cheesy like that. But for whatever reason, the sky is truly dazzling tonight. 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” Steve says after a while. You nod your head, and he continues. “I…used to be a Boy Scout.”

“No way.”

“Yeah. For a few years.”

“Why’d you quit?” you wondered. 

Steve shrugged. “My parents got busy, so they couldn’t take me to meetings anymore.”

“That sucks.”

“It’s whatever.” Steve lies on his back on the truck bed, heaving a sigh. “I didn’t really like it much anyway. But I did get my Astronomy Badge before I quit.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“Please tell me you’re not about to point out the constellations right now for me like we’re in some cheesy John Hughes movie.”

“What? No.” He smiles. “Ew. No. I would never do something that sappy.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.”

A breath of silence. “But, let’s just say,” he says, “for the sake of the argument…that we actually are in a John Hughes movie…”

“Oh no.”

“And if we were… I’d probably lean in close, like this…” He leans his head closer to yours and points to the sky. “And I would show you the star Vega…and there’s Altair…”

“Oh my god, Stevie, so romantic,” you say in a mocking voice.

“Here—” he takes your hand in his and manipulates your fingers so you’re pointing now. And he shuffles himself closer to your head so you could share his line of view. “So there’s the Big Dipper…and if you follow the star right here on the corner and draw a line…you’ll find the North Star.” He tilts his head towards you and smiles. “But it would all just be a ploy, a plot device.”

“A plot device for what?”

“For the boy to get close enough to the girl so he could kiss her.”

Out of nowhere, he leans in toward you, still smiling, and plants a single kiss on your lips. Although your mind reels, you manage to keep your composure at the feel of his warm lips.

“Or something like that,” he whispers. “I dunno. John Hughes movies are kinda cheesy, aren’t they.”

“Kinda?” you echo, giggling. “That was the cheesiest thing you’ve ever done.”

“You loved it though, didn’t you.”

You did love it. “Steve Harrington, you are such a cliché,” you joke. 

But the joke doesn’t go over very well, it seems. He hesitates, and then the energy changes a bit. He lets his hand fall with yours but doesn’t let go of it. “Do you think that, for real?”

“What?”

“That I’m a cliché.”

You blink at him in the darkness. “I was just joking, I promise,” you reassure him. 

“I know, it’s just… Someone told me that before, a long time ago. And I’ve thought about it ever since.”

“Someone told you that you’re a cliche?”

“Well, granted, I kinda was , back then.” He scratches his head. 

You ponder that. “Was it…was it Nancy?” you guess. 

Steve nods. “Yeah—how’d you know?”

“Just a guess,” you say. Steve and Nancy had been an unlikely pair when they had first gotten together. Nancy was always quiet and kind, smart, never dreamed of stepping out of line. Steve was always loud, brazen, handsome, dripping with charm and wealth, too cool for school—and too cool to give most people the time of day. Of course, though, they both seem to have changed drastically since those days.

You’re curious to know more, but you decide against asking him. It isn’t your place. Instead, you say, “I don’t think you’re a cliché, Steve. Anything but, really. I think you’re pretty…extraordinary, to be honest.” You squeeze his hand and look over at him, before gesturing up to the sky. “And I actually really like hearing about the stars from you, jokes aside. Every girl secretly loves the cheesy romantic stuff, deep down.”

It’s probably the most candid you’ve ever been about your feelings toward him. And it felt good to say it aloud, but you feel shaky with adrenaline now. 

“I knew you couldn’t resist a good ol’ romantic stargazing moment,” Steve grins.

“You got me.”

Steve sighs deeply again. “I don’t really wanna be that person anymore…the person Nance said was a cliché. I’m…” —he shifts uncomfortably— “...I’m not proud of a lot of things I did back then.”

You wonder what he meant by that. “That was a while ago,” you reassure him. “You can get a fresh start now that high school’s over.”

“Yeah, there’s just a lot of things I wish I had done differently, though.”

“With…Nancy?” you ask softly.

You can’t see it, but you can tell by his voice that he’s frowning. “Yeah, but just…overall. I was kind of a dickhead… And with Nance, I felt like a better man when I was with her. But I was still… I guess I get why she broke up with me, is all. She definitely deserved better than me.”

“I feel like you’re not giving yourself enough credit,” you respond with genuineness. “I mean, there was a reason you stayed together for almost a whole year, right? Relationships are…they’re two-way streets. And I’m willing to bet you were probably a really good boyfriend to her.”

“I got better, I think…” Steve seems to come to his senses, then, as if he realizes who he’s talking to and what he’s been talking about. “God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up. That was really shitty of me—”

“No, no, it’s okay. It’s okay. I promise.”

He squeezes your hand and brings it up to his chest. You’d almost forgotten he still isn’t wearing a shirt; his bare skin feels warm against your hand. There’s a reinstated moment of silence between you two, and yet, a thousand thoughts swim around in your brain.

Carefully, you break the silence again. “I’m glad we’re talking about it.”

“Yeah, but I just know how it feels when you have to listen to someone complain to you about their ex.” He laughs humorlessly. “I mean, at this point, I’m just being pitiful. It was six months ago, and she’s moved on, and I’ve moved on, too. I mean…” He rubs your hand with his thumb. “I mean, I wanna move on.”

“Listen,” you say. “I can tell you really cared about her, Steve. And that you still do. And…I can tell it still hurts. And that you’re still grieving it.” You roll over so you’re on your stomach, propping yourself up with your elbows so you can look at him in the moonlight. “And I want to be here for you. But I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“But Y/N…” Steve brushes your hair out of your face. “I like you. A lot. I really, really like you.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard him say anything so definitive. Your face heats and you smile to yourself. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“For a while I really wasn’t sure that you did,” you admit.

“You’re a doofus. Of course I fucking like you.”

“Well, I don’t know! I mean…god, I was so confused, Steve. I thought that you did, but then you, like, ignored me for a whole week.”

“Yeah, I’m an idiot.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Things just got really… real for me all the sudden, last week.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if you knew this or not, but I…hadn’t really been with anyone since Nancy. Not seriously. Not until…you.”

So Robin had been right. Of course she had. Was Robin ever really wrong about anything? You need to start giving your mutual friend some more credit, you realize.

“You haven’t?” you ask.

“Nope. That’s why I freaked out in your basement last week…and ignored you for a week…and then blamed it on you. Wow. I really fucked this up already, and it hasn’t even started yet.”

You lean down to kiss his arm gently. “You didn’t fuck anything up.” Steve shivers at your touch; you realize then that the temperature has dropped. “You can put your shirt back on if you want,” you giggle.

“Thanks,” he whispers and sits upright to pull his tee shirt back on. Not the sweatshirt, though. “Do you wanna wear this?” He offers it to you.

“That’s okay,” you decline, although the night air has brought goosebumps to your arms.

“Don’t be silly, your hands are freezing.” He nudges you with the sweatshirt until you give in and pull it on over your head. It smells so deliciously good. “It looks good on you,” he compliments.

“Thank you, Steve.” You shimmy next to him again; he stretches out his arm like a pillow for your head. Being this close to him feels like heaven. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” he murmurs. “You’ve been nothing but patient and forgiving to me, even if I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve it, dummy. And for the record, I really like you too.”

He shivers again, and you snuggle closer to him. With the arm that’s nestled under your neck, he plays with your hair absently. “I don’t want you to think that the stuff with Nancy changes anything between us.”

You don’t say anything at first.

He stirs beside you. “Y/N?” he prompts.

“What…exactly… is between us?” you ask him.

You’re thinking back to the stupid rules you and Steve had set for each other back in the basement last week. Rule Number Two, stay friends no matter what. There’s nothing you fear more than losing Steve as a friend. Which is why the idea of being more than friends terrifies you as much as it excites you.

“I don’t know,” Steve replies with a smirk, “but I’m down to play it by ear if you are.”

Play it by ear. “That doesn’t sound half bad. But…Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I get the feeling that it’s not really just about Nancy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean… All summer, you always joked about how you’re a washed-up version of the Steve Harrington you used to be. I don’t think you’re washed up… I think you’re pretty amazing as is. But I don’t think you really think you’re washed up either. I think you’ve come a long way from who you used to be. And you should be proud of that. But I also get the sense you feel a little lost…like you don’t know who you are if you’re not the same Steve Harrington you used to be.”

There’s a breath of silence as Steve shifts beside you. “Damn, alright, Sigmund Freud.”

Yikes. You probably shouldn’t have said that much. “I’m sorry… That was really out of line for me to say, wasn’t it.”

“No, I mean…you’re not wrong. I guess I don’t really know who I am anymore.”

“There’s no rush to figure out who you are.”

“But, like, I don’t even know what I like, or what I’m good at.”

“I could tell you one thing that you like and that you’re good at,” you say suggestively. “...Sorry, bad joke.”

But he laughs and kisses you again, out of the blue. It’s a shallow, almost chaste kiss that still manages to steal your breath away, but before you know it, he’s trying to roll on top of you, planting kiss after sweet kiss on your parted lips.

“Hey,” you laugh. “We were…having…a conversation.”

“It can wait.” Steve pins you against the truck bed with his body, attacking you over and over again with his lips. Oh, how you’ve longed to feel his body weight atop yours like this. Each kiss brings a feeling of indescribable lightness, like the feeling of a giggle bubbling up from your belly, like the drop of a roller coaster, like gravity has gone away. 

As much as his pecks bring you joy, you long for that heavy feeling you got in the back hallway of the mall when he kissed you as if his entire life depended on it. So, right when he’s no longer expecting it, you push Steve’s shoulders off of you and roll on top of him, trading places. His eyes are wide in the moonlight, and you plan a kiss above each one, on each of his eyelids. 

“Kiss me like you mean it,” you command.

“I do mean it.”

“Then prove it.”

Steve snakes his arms around your back and holds you securely as he pulls you down to kiss him deeply. Fireworks, just like the ones from earlier, seem to pop off between your bodies, and you’ve never felt so irrevocably his until this very moment.

“See, I told you, you are good at something,” you murmur when he finally breaks away.

“How can I make a career out of this?” Steve feels up and down your body with open palms and an expression of sheer reverence.

You laugh and brush his hair from his face. “There are plenty of careers you could have,” you say seriously.

The conversation from earlier resumes. “Yeah, but…” Steve’s lips purse in thought. “It just feels like, while everyone else was figuring out who they were in high school, I was stuck trying to be what everyone else thought I should be, and I didn’t let myself explore who I wanted to be.”

“Well…What were some things you were good at in high school?”

“Nothing,” he insists. “I sucked at every subject.”

“Did you suck, or did you just not try?”

“...Okay, fine. I didn’t try. But I didn’t really care about school anyway. It never interested me. Still doesn’t, really. Like, I am not looking forward to community college.”

“Okay, well, what were some things that you did find interesting?”

“...Sports…parties…”

“I mean, we can work with that. You’re a people person, Steve. You like people. And you’re good with them. And from what Robin told me, you’re good with the kids, too,” you add with a jab to his side. He twists away and scowls.

“Yeah, I know, my only friends for the last part of high school were a gang of middle schoolers. Tell me that’s not the most uncool thing you’ve ever heard.”

“Actually, it’s not. You’ve got a heart for the youngins; so what?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, I’ve got a good direction for you.”

“What is it?”

“...Little league coach.”

“Actually, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It was either that, or ‘Stay-At-Home Dad.’”

“...That doesn’t sound too bad, either.”

You laugh and kiss both corners of his mouth. “I don’t really know what I want to do either, for the record.”

“Yeah, but you were at least good at school. Like, weren’t you telling me that you got into Purdue?”

You did get into Purdue, but there was a distinct reason why you weren’t going in the fall…that reason being money, primarily. “I still don’t know what I’m doing with my life, though,” you insist. 

“Is it bad if I say I’m kinda glad you’re not leaving for college in August?” he smiles shyly. “We get to spend more time together.”

“No. Not bad. I’m glad, too.” You had deferred your acceptance to community college so you could work full-time for half a year. And the idea of spending as much time as possible with Steve during that time was more than a little exciting. You kiss his lips once more before rolling off of him, resuming your position in the crook of his arm. “I’m just saying, you and I have time. There’s no rush.”

“To figure out what we’re doing with our lives, or to figure out what we are?” Steve asks.

“...Both.”

“You’re right.” Steve kisses your head beside him. “Hey.”

“Hey what?”

“...I know what happened back there at the fair was kind of a lot… Really sexy, don’t get me wrong...”

“Really sexy,” you agree with a giggle.

“But is it okay if we take things a bit…slow?” he asks. “Maybe, like…warm up to the rest?”

You nod understandingly. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

“Okay,” he sighs in relief. “Good. Maybe in the meantime…we could go on a date. Like a real date.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Steve Harrington?”

“Hell yeah I am,” he says. “We’ll do the whole shebang. The fancy dinner, the movie. I’ll get you some roses and shit.”

“Now that’s cliché,” you laugh. “But I kinda love the idea.”

“Friday night?”

“Pick me up at 7?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gazes down at you. “But…is it okay if I kiss you again?”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

And so he does The novelty of the feeling of his kisses is starting to fade, but the bubbly feeling inside your stomach remains. You could kiss Steve Harrington like this all night long—nothing more, just kisses, laughing with each other, and the stars. Simple as that.

And that’s exactly what you do.

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

A/N: Helloooo! Yayyy, they finally had an honest conversation LMFAO. I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

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[puppyluver256]

Iiiiiit's that time agaaaiiiin, time to look back at the art I've done over the year hehe :3 I was so desperate to get that Taion pic done tonight so I could include it cuz I really like how the Mondo turned out o:

January - BIG SHOT | I'm gonna go over these and try to remember why I put them in here, so here's the first one. Uhhh, I think I was just really proud of how Spamton Neo came out, 'specially for my first attempt at drawing either form of Spamton seriously, as well as...whatever that technique's called where something in the front (ie. the Fun Gang/Sh-- Squad/Lancer Fan Club here) gets blurred to keep your focus on the Main Subject, that turned out well too c: February - On Wings of Golden Skies | I'm not the best at drawing complex birds, especially big complex birds, so Ho-oh looking as good as they do makes me happy considering my second main-series game was Gold, even if I was more of a Crystal player eventually. That and Bell Tower looks nice too :D March - Wave o' Babies | Oh boy. For something semi-serious made off the back of a dumb method of attacking one of the titular Teen Girl Squad gals, this was fuuuuunnn and cathartic. April - Winter Delight | Had some fun figuring out how to shade snow with my insistence on keeping my brush use more varied now :3 Also, was good practice for drawing black people with more realistic black features, just the lips here as lightened palms are kind of hard to see underneath mittens hehe. May - Frigid Coffin | Ice effects. 'Nuff said. Also Lief is cool, no pun intended c: June - Macaroni and Bees | Love how the honey turned out! Both in this art and in real life! Please try honey in your macaroni, it's Nice, also barbecue sauce but maybe not at the same time until you've figured out whether or not you like both. July - In Pursuit of Power | I'll be honest, I included this one solely because of the art theft fiasco, all to give said thief one last symbolic middle finger >:3c August - I Shall Not Bow | Textless version featured in this review preview, this one was chosen both due to how important the message was to me and also how I was pretty proud of how yahweh's stupid face turned out. September - Overcoming the Odds | Backgrounds, man. I keep improving with backgrounds and this one's a good example in my eyes. October - Team Snakemouth | I just like them okay!! :D November - If only I could hug you back | ...idk, I really don't remember why I picked this one, selfshipping ahoy? XD December - Hazy Figure | Taion best lad. Also, like I said at the start, I just REALLY like how the Mondo look here. Yeah, it's copy-paste of a single piece and motion blur, but it works so well!!

All characters featured belong to their respective creators, more information in the links above. All artwork featured © PuppyLuver Studios

[chaos-monkeyy]

I've been wanting to get back into short-fic writing practice because it is not my strong suit. Do you have any short-fic recs that you thought were really good not just as a story, but as a short fic? Maybe with a reason why?

AND!

Please let at least one of them be by you. 💙🙏

Sorry for the homework assignment, feel free to pretend it doesn't exist 😂💙

Oh boy, fun homework!! 🤩🤓

Okay so I thought about this pretty much all afternoon and evening 😂 And I've picked a few that I think are good examples of different types of short fic, as well as being good fic. And also came up with silly category names because I could.

(I'm afraid some of these will be a little out of your fandom wheelhouse, but I do think they're good examples so I hope that's alright 🙈)

The wanky drabble

I learned this one from @revakah, who's still the master of 100-word-witchcraft in my books. Playing with formatting and throwing any concept of sentence structure out the window in favour of pure unadulterated vibes; and somehow winding up with a story that spans way, way more time and feelings than it should be able to. Two of Rev's I particularly like for that:

Blank Space (100 words - Sylvie & Mobius - Loki Series - Sads ahoy)

Grounded (100 words - Kaladin/Dalinar - the Stormlight Archive - Fucking Hot ahoy)

That One Scene

This is probably my own favourite and most frequent sort of ficlet / short... where you take the established world/canon and either situate readers with the summary itself, or with like one or two quick lines-- and write literally just that one single scene or idea and nothing. else. Leave the finer details of exactly how they got there and what happens after up to the reader's imagination. If those are even relevant, they might not be 😂 I love these cause they're so flexible-- they can be introspective, they can be kind of a character study or a What If, they can leave people pondering implications and going ..oh, they can be a quick n dirty little smut scene or powerfully moving angst or pure happy-making fluff; or any combination of the above.

A universe all its own by @jewelliffer (647 words - Thranto - So Fluffy I'm gonna Die)

Unending by saisei (405 words - SGA vegas!Sheppard/Todd the Wraith - impossible levels of characterization, canon backstory, and post-canon story for that many words)

In time by me (200 words - SGA one-sided Sheppard/Todd the Wraith - I'm just really proud of how creepy and not-quite-human I managed to make this Todd POV one)

Longfic speedrun

For when you have the idea for a long fic but don't actually want to write the whole thing. Instead, take the most important, core bits of key moments over time, and just... don't write the rest. It has a particular feel to it that's kind of hard to describe, but they tend to leave me feeling a little stunned. Because I only read one or two thousand words, but somehow they've beamed a year's or a decade's worth of story time directly into my brain.

The Taste of Him by @draculard (~2.5k - NightThrawn with background/nonromantic Thrawn/Palpatine - okay yes this is on the longer side for a short fic BUT in my defense it's incredible and oh yeah OW heartbreaking)

Still there is my attempt at a slowburn speedrun (~1.3k - more SGA - vegas!McShep post canon)

~waits patiently for homework assignment to be graded~

[hxlyhead-harpies]

Fearless (S.H.)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: Steve tries to make your ruined prom night a little bit better. Based on Fearless by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 2,1k

Warnings: None

A/n: this was previously posted on my old blog @/kissingsucks. I deleted that blog a while ago but I want to repost some of my old work from there. It’s been slightly edited because it kind sucked lmao

You honestly didn’t know why you thought this night would go well. You’d spent hours getting ready; perfectly curling your hair, painstakingly applying makeup, and slipping into your beautiful deep red dress. You and Robin had sat giggling in your room and listening to music, preparing for the night ahead: prom. You hadn’t wanted to go, but Robin insisted. Neither of you had gone to many dances throughout high school and she decided that the two of you needed the ‘experience’. So you begrudgingly agreed and bought a pretty dress from Macy’s at the mall the next town over. After getting ready the two of you sat on your porch, waiting for your ride. Eventually, Steve pulled up in his car and stuck his head out the window.

“Wow, you two clean up nice!” He yelled. You and Robin laughed before hopping in. You called shotgun and Robin climbs into the back, mumbling under her breath. Steve turned up the radio before speeding off towards the school. 

•••

Steve pulls up in front of Hawkins High and turns to you and Robin. 

“Ok both of you,” he says in a mock authoritative tone. You see Robin roll her eyes and a smile creeps across your face. 

“No drinking, no drugs, and you must keep a three-inch distance between you and your dance partners,” he says, listing each rule off on his fingers. 

“Ok dad,” Robin replies sarcastically. You chuckle before jumping out of the car. 

“We’ll be fine Steve,” you assure him. He sighs before reminding you that he’ll pick you and Robin up at eleven. The two of you wave and he drives off.

“I wish we could’ve convinced him to come,” you say to Robin as the two of you make your way to the front door. Robin shrugs before replying, “he graduated last year he’s probably too embarrassed to show up here”. You nod, knowing that it’s probably the truth. But deep down you wished he would decide to come along. When Robin had suggested attending prom, you had imagined the three of you dancing in the middle of the dance floor. Steve in a gorgeous, well-fitting suit. It was a silly fantasy. A result of an even sillier crush on Steve Harrington. It had developed over the summer. You had worked at Scoops Ahoy along with him and Robin, and there was just something about watching him flirt with girls in the stupid sailor costume that made you blush. You thought you did a pretty good job at hiding it but you were convinced Robin knew. Though Steve still seemed oblivious, and for that you were glad. You didn’t want to destroy your friendship. You and Robin push open the doors to the gym and step inside. The dance was themed “city lights” and the gym was adorned with metallic streamers and colorful lights. You smiled widely, and step in, high hopes for the night ahead.

•••

But here you are, an hour later, sitting alone on the bleachers. Prom had been fun for about fifteen minutes. You and Robin danced to Duran Duran and you were practically squealing with happiness. Then you went to grab a cup of punch. The line was long, it took you nearly five minutes to grab cups for you and Robin. You turned around, only to see her huddled in a corner with none other than Tammy Thompson. She was smiling wide and the two were speaking in hushed whispers. You sighed, realizing you couldn’t interrupt her now. If you did you know she’d kill you later. So you trek up the bleachers and drink both cups of punch. And you sit. And sit. And sit. You were too scared to dance alone, and nobody seemed interested in asking you to dance. Robin and Tammy were still off in their own world and there was no hope of stealing Robin back anytime soon. So you found the closest chaperone and asked to use one of the office phones. 

•••

The phone rang once before he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Steve it’s (Y/n),” you reply. 

“Hey, is everything ok?” He questions.

“Um…” You’re unsure how to answer. “Can you just come pick me up?” you say. You hear shuffling on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah give me a few minutes and I’ll be over to pick you guys up,” he replies.

“It’s just me,” you tell him. “Robin is staying.” The shuffling stops.

“Oh. Well, I’ll be there soon anyway,” he says before the line goes dead. You smile at the chaperone and head outside to wait

•••

A mere fifteen minutes later Steve’s car pulls up. It had begun to rain and your hair had lost the artificial curls you’d spent hours perfecting. You sit on a bench out front, your hands crossed against your chest. As soon as you see him you jump up and practically run to the car. As soon as you got in Steve gives you a questioning look.

“Jeez y/n what happened to you.”

“Nothing Steve, it just got boring,” you reply in a huff. Steve furrows his eyebrows.

“Where’s Robin?” he questions.

“She’s talking to Tammy,” you reply and Steve nods, understanding dawning on him. 

“No one else to talk to?” he questions. You shake your head. 

“I only danced for like ten minutes it was so stupid,” you reply, letting your annoyance show in your tone. You heard Steve chuckle beside you. You steal a quick glance at him. He’s staring down at the steering wheel in front of him, hair in his eyes. Under the soft glow of the singular street light of the parking lot, he looks almost angelic.

“Well that’s not a real prom experience,” he says turning towards you. You shrug before averting your eyes, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. You sit in comfortable silence for a moment, and you wonder when Steve is going to put the car in drive. But instead, he suddenly turns up the random Janet Jackson song playing on the radio and throws open his door. He steps out into the rain, practically soaking his t-shirt immediately, and runs around to your side of the car. He opens your door and extends his hand to you.

“What are you doing Steve,” you question. He smiles widely before grabbing your hand and pulling you outside.

“I’m giving you the full prom experience,” he answers mischievously. You stand in front of him, feeling the cold rain run down your shoulders. Steve begins dancing badly, wildly jumping around and swinging his arms.

“Steve!” you yell, scanning the parking lot to make sure no one can see you.

“Come on Y/n! Have some fun!” he yells back at you. You hug your arms close to your chest. Not quite sure what to do. Steve runs over and grabs your hands, forcing you to jump along to the music with him. You giggle which causes Steve’s smile to widen. Eventually, the two of you are drenched, laughing wildly, and clumsily dancing with each other. The pavement seems to glow under the streetlight and the thunder rolling in the background makes the moment feel magical. You stop for a moment to catch your breath and you grasp Steve’s hands. He holds them to his chest. Staring at you, smiling and breathing heavy. His hair is wet and matted against his forehead, his cheeks are a deep rosy red, most likely from the cold, and he has never looked so beautiful. Suddenly the radio crackles, a commercial break interrupting the music. And the moment is broken. Steve drops your hands and straightens quickly. You blink, the magic you felt only moments earlier dissipating. 

“I should uh, get you home,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You nod, and head for the car. Your soaked dress squishes as you lower yourself into your seat and you make a face. You hear Steve chuckle slightly beside you. 

He puts the car in drive and heads off towards your house.

He drives along the road, the radio quietly playing, filling the silent air. You look at him, trying not to be too obvious. He runs his hands through his wet hair and you feel a pull in your gut; yearning. You had been kidding yourself. It wasn’t simply a silly little crush. It was a butterflies explode in your chest kind of crush. A sweaty palms and averting eyes kind of crush. A type of crush that is always in your mind, occupying your dreams and thoughts. The kind of crush that never gives you a moment to breathe. The kind of crush you’d dance in a storm with, ruining your best dress, just for the chance to be close to them. And as you’re lost in your thoughts, Steve looks over to you in the passenger's seat and gives you a small smile. You’re frozen, unable to look away from his deep brown eyes. And for a moment he looks like he wants to say something but then the light turns green and he turns back to the road. You look away, your cheeks burning, and stare at your hands. 

A few minutes later, Steve pulls into your driveway. 

“Well here we are,” Steve says, staring up at your house. You turn slightly towards him.

“Thanks for the ride. Sorry I made you leave early to get me,” you say quietly.

“Hey don’t worry about it. I’ll always be around to give you a ride if you need it,” he says, turning towards you. You glance at the clock on his dashboard and curse under your breath. Steve furrows his brows and glances at the clock himself. It is ten forty-five.

“I should go inside, you probably have to pick up Robin now,” you mumble, fumbling with the door handle. 

“Here I’ll walk you up,” Steve says, unbuckling his seat belt. 

The two of you walk up the walkway towards your front door. The silence that hangs between you is awkward, something that has never happened with you and Steve before. You arrive at your door and you dig in your small clutch for your keys. You find them and put your key in the lock before turning to Steve. 

“Thanks for picking me up early,” you say to him. He shrugs, his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah no problem,” he says, kicking a rock off your porch. You start to turn towards the door but stop yourself.

“And thanks for the mini dance party back at school. You stopped my night from totally sucking,” you say with a slight laugh. Steve smiles slightly, looking at the ground.

“Yeah of course, glad I could help,” he replies. You smile, waiting to see if he’ll say more but he doesn’t. For a fleeting moment, you feel brave and you lean over and give Steve a quick peck on the cheek. He jumps back, eyebrows furrowed. 

“(Y/n) I…” He looks at you, confusion clearly written on his face. You cringe before turning to escape into your house. You wonder how you could’ve been so stupid, thinking he might’ve felt the same way. But before you can step into your house a hand grabs your arm and pulls you back. You turn and lock eyes with Steve. His eyes are soft but determined and his face is tense. Before you have a moment to think his lips crash into yours. For a moment the kiss is awkward, teeth knocking into each other. But then the two of you find a rhythm and it’s flawless. You pull away, gasping for air. Steve smiles down at you, his eyes blown, a soft smile gracing his face. For a moment the two of you stare at each other, the air practically buzzing. Steve leans down and kisses your forehead before pulling away. 

“Well I guess I better go pick up Robin,” he says, chuckling.

“Yeah she‘ll kill you if you're late,” you say breathlessly. Steve squeezes your hand before turning and heading back to his car. You stand at your door and watch him climb into his seat. Before he drives away he sticks his head out the window. 

“I forgot to tell you earlier, but you look beautiful!” he yells to you. You giggle, feeling like a schoolgirl with her first crush before thanking him. He pulls out of your driveway and drives off. You finally open up your front door and collapse against the door frame. And you sit and wonder why you thought this night was going to go horribly. Because it turned out to be the best night of your life.

[myundeadgayson]

Ahoy, We are Castaways AU, but not really because Gunk and Ishmael find Pirates:

@bluwards So.... I mayhaps wrote an entire thing for your idea?

For anyone wondering, here’s the link to the OG au idea post: https://bluwards.tumblr.com/post/661885099380506624/au-where-tommy-and-wilbur-were-part-of-a-pirate

This might not be exactly what you were hoping for of this, but I had an image in my mind and just went HAM on it. Like, I mean that as in I started this at like... 1am last night and I finished at like 4pm today??? I’m not saying I wrote that entire time, but I am saying that I literally just NEEDED to finish this because it’s SUCH A FUN IDEA. (I’m sorry for writing so much by the way! I got excited.)

Notes: None of this is historically accurate to literally anything, especially history and pirates. Instead, we’re gonna image this is some fun fantasy world where like. Pirates are out chilling in the world stealing shit and royalty exists somewhere enough you can be like “yeah, i’m royal. try to prove i’m not bitch.” (Also, I’ll post this on Ao3 later and edit with the link after I sleep. For now, please enjoy!) Words: 5160 Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit, Philza Minecraft, and Technoblade

The heat must be getting to him.  It must be because there’s no way that’s a ship he’s seeing out on the horizon. It seems to be drawing closer, but it’s not near enough to tell, not that it would matter anyway. It’s not real.  It’s not real, he tells himself. It has to be a mirage. As if their luck would ever be that good.

 Wilbur rests his head back down into Tommy’s mess of curls. The two of them are curled together underneath the shade of the treeline. His back is pressed against the rough, uneven bark of a palm tree with his bare feet digging into the sand. Tommy’s eyes are closed. His little brother is tucked tight against his side, dozing softly as the slight breeze ruffles his dirty hair.

 If Wilbur tried, he could pretend Tommy was just resting. He could pretend this was the two of them relaxing on some beach that they’ve gotten all to themselves. He could imagine that Tommy tuckered himself out, now the two of them were peacefully dozing off in the shade on a lovely Summer day as the gentle sea wind blew.

 In that fantasy, they would have chosen to be here on this beach. A beach would make for a good day trip, he thinks. He imagines that it would be a beach off the coast of a small town. He’d take Tommy early in the morning down past the docks and watch Tommy hop along stones down a path leading towards the sand. Wilbur would make him carry a basket of bread and other treats that they might have gotten from a kind baker that didn’t mind that their pockets were a little low. Wilbur would smile and promise to repay them, and it’d be a real promise instead of a sharp-toothed lie.

 He’d bring a threadbare sheet because they’d have one to spare for it. He’d spread it along the sand and bask in the sun’s rays. He’d open his eyes occasionally to Tommy’s excited shouts as his brother pulled odd shells and tiny hermit crabs from the ocean, then laugh as Tommy shouted obscenities when they inevitably fell from his hands because Tommy was anything but careful. A few shells would be saved though, and Tommy would make a small pile of them on the corner of the sheet for them to keep.

 Tommy would eventually tug Wilbur up to join him. Wilbur would laugh and pretend to be reluctant as his brother guided him down towards the water until the warm waves lapped at their feet. Tommy would grin at him, bright as the sun overhead and his hair sparkling like strands of gold. He’d look so proud of himself as he showed Wilbur more shells and other interesting things he found.

 Along the way, one of them would splash the other whether it be accidentally or not, and it’d start a war. Wilbur would laugh until his ribs were sore as he smacked water Tommy’s way and listened to the younger shout insults back at him. It’d all be in good fun and it’d show in Tommy’s toothy grin as the blond would get some harebrained idea of how to “win” their little game and it’d end with them both falling into the water. They’d be soaked to the bone and Wilbur would playfully smack water at Tommy’s face for getting them both wet, but it’d be fine in the end because they would sit out in the sun until their clothes dried. In this fantasy, Wilbur could imagine it wouldn’t matter anyway because once they went home, they’d have more clothes to change into and one pair wouldn’t be missed for a day.

 When the sun started to set over the horizon, Wilbur would gather them up to leave. He’d gather up their food and make Tommy carefully fold up the sheet. It’d end up balled up instead and Wilbur would tease Tommy for his shit folding skills. They’d stay an extra few minutes to stare off at the sunset as it glistened over the calm waters. All would feel peaceful until Tommy ruined the moment with some joke that’d make Wilbur smack him upside the head, even though he’d laugh all the same.

 They’d walk home with Tommy’s shells tucked safely into their pockets under the soft pink skies. A perfect background to a perfect day.

 It would be nice, lovely even, because in that world they’d go home to some nice place Wilbur managed to keep for them in some nice town. It’d be real and theirs, and they’d each have a warm bed to sleep in and food in their stomachs. It might be small, but small was okay because they’d both be happy and they’d have nothing to fear.

 If only life were ever so kind.

 It was a nice daydream, but if Wilbur were to look down, it’d shatter. It’d shatter if he listened at all to the way Tommy’s breathing sounded off. With every low breath, his brother’s chest would shutter. Wilbur could feel it every time.

 Tommy’s nose was red and peeling, as were his cheeks and shoulders. His freckles were hidden beneath the furious scarlet and white flecks. His skin had gotten tanner, but the dark rings under his eyes made him look ghastly. Wilbur was sure that he looked about the same himself, but seeing it on Tommy was different.

 The boy was thin enough before they’d gotten stranded, but now his limbs looked just too small. Wilbur could practically see the bones poking through. If it weren’t for the blaring sun overhead tanning their skin, Wilbur was sure that Tommy would look more like a walking skeleton than a teenager.

 They’d got thrown overboard days ago. Wilbur lost track of how many. He stopped really caring when he realized there were other things to care about, like keeping them alive.

 Luck had never been on their side. Wilbur had known that since they were little and a twelve-year-old found himself in charge of a five-year-old.

 The world’s always been against them. It started early with a mother too young to be on her own with a child. She was struggling enough as it was to keep them fed that when that one child turned to two, the odds for any of them getting by turned minimal. Even with Wilbur doing his best to help, swindling and snatching up food and loose change off of oblivious folk in the city, hope was running thin.

 It was amazing she’d ever gotten so far. Wilbur hated to see it that way now, but it was the truth. The fact she’d ever made it to Tommy’s fifth birthday was incredible. When the sickness set in though, no amount of Wilbur’s efforts could seem to help her. Eventually, she’d stopped waking up entirely and Wilbur was left on his own to care for his little brother.

 Luck ran out, but they made their own with time.

 After losing their mother, Wilbur packed them up and they were off. He taught Tommy every trick he knew. They traveled endlessly, hopping from place to place just to keep moving whenever it seemed like any townsfolk around started catching onto their games. Wilbur tried a few odd jobs every time for money in places, and Tommy was tiny enough that he could sneak bread and other foods off vendors to bring back to whatever tiny hole they’d called home at that moment.

 As they both got older, the tricks got better. Their stories were perfected and their act was flawless if ever they needed to talk someone into lending them a place out of pity, or a new job.

 When Wilbur caught sight of a ship though, he’d thought they were golden. Sure, he only knew vaguely about working them. He’d taken on a few jobs on some docks before, but he’d never been on a ship himself. The thought was meant to be that if he could get on that ship for a job, he could bring Tommy along with him. They’d stay there and hop off at the first chance they could once they’d landed in a new country, then they’d start over for real. They’d start over fresh in a new place entirely and everything might be okay! They could make life whatever they wanted because no one would be able to know otherwise!

 And everything did feel okay for a while. Turns out the ship Wilbur found was a crew of pirates, but like always, Wilbur managed to talk his way through. Tommy played along perfectly, and before they knew it, they became crew. Perhaps they were there for nothing more than playing clean-up, but they would take what they could get.

 Their luck was turning up. As Wilbur started working his way through making connections with the crew, he was starting to think maybe he’d found a place for them. They wouldn’t stay, of course, but it made sense, didn’t it?

 The constant traveling and plundering— that kind of life was meant for them. However, there were also rules to follow and heavy risks in not doing so. Neither of them were good at following rules, but they were good actors all the same that could fake it until their last breath. But for a short time, it felt like a good fit and Wilbur remembered telling Tommy as such.

 Tommy was much more reluctant. He was getting by, but he didn’t like it there. Maybe Wilbur was succeeding, but Tommy was younger. His limbs were all thin and gangly, and it made him look weaker than he was. The crew would shove him around and they’d always be too loud in his ears. Tommy was rather loud himself, but when you’re trying to hold your tongue to survive, it wasn’t like he could exactly defend himself.

 So maybe they didn’t see eye to eye about it, but that was fine. Wilbur agreed they’d only be there a little longer because the moment they docked somewhere new, they’d be off and onto wherever life would take them next.

 Unfortunately, their luck ran out.

 It all happened in a blur. Wilbur remembered when the storm hit. It was rougher than normal. He remembered fighting with the rest of the crew to take care of the ship. They were fighting hard to stay afloat as the waves rocked the ship from side to side so hard that Wilbur feared they would tip.

 The ship didn’t tip, but Tommy did.

 He could still vividly remember Tommy slipping. He’d watched in horror the way his brother scrambled for purchase on something, anything. He’s just barely caught the side of the ship.

 Wilbur went after him, not caring in the slightest for whatever task he’d abandoned. He’d tried to help yank Tommy back aboard. Tommy, who held on with white knuckles and fingernails digging into the wood with fear in his eyes. Wilbur tried to reassure him, but he was sure his words got lost in the raging winds. He’d tried to pull Tommy back onto the deck, and for a moment, he was succeeding. He almost managed to pull Tommy back on board.

 Right as he thought he’d gotten Tommy back though, the ship hit another furious set of waves. The brothers got thrown hard, and suddenly they were both going down.

 It was a miracle they didn’t drown.

 Wilbur sighed, closing his eyes once again. He tried to block out the memories of rushing water and Tommy’s screams of his name. He could still taste the seawater on his tongue as it tried to flood his lungs.

 They’d gotten tossed endlessly in the waves. The ship was forgotten in the battle to just hold on to each other.

 He combed his fingers through Tommy’s hair. The boy didn’t even respond. He must have finally fallen asleep, Wilbur thought to himself. Sleep hadn’t been easy to find since they’d woken up ashore. Though the island seemed abandoned, neither of them could be sure there wasn’t some hidden danger lurking somewhere. Their sunburns didn’t make it easy either with the way their skin would ache. Even in the shade or the dark of the night, they’d struggle to find enough comfort to rest at all.

 He was glad Tommy was getting some sleep now. He was getting rather tired himself. As much as he’d like to give in, one of them needed to stay awake just in case.

 Wilbur groaned as he forced his eyes to peel open once more. As his vision started to clear, he noticed the mirage was getting closer. The blurry shape of the ship was getting bigger. It was looking like it was getting ready to dock at the edge of the island at any minute. Or at least it would if it were actually real.

 Wilbur huffed, resting his cheek on Tommy’s head. He watched idly as the ship grew closer and closer to the edge of the shore. It wasn’t coming straight towards them. It was heading more towards the left edge of the island where the trees were a bit more scattered, but the shoreline was still mostly clear of rocks.

 It wasn’t until it was starting to look suspiciously more and more lifelike that Wilbur started to get more intrigued.

 Furrowing his brows, he lifted his head. He pulled away from Tommy some to sit up further. Tommy groaned in protest. The motion caused the boy to slide down, his head resting more on Wilbur’s chest than shoulder. Wilbur wanted to hush him and whisper soft apologies for disturbing him at all. Unfortunately, the ship’s drawing nearer by the second and Wilbur could feel something akin to hope bubbling up in his throat.

 He frantically nudged at Tommy’s side, “Tommy. Tommy, wake up.”

 “Augh…” Tommy rolled his head, burying his face further into Wilbur’s shirt with an annoyed whine. He weakly smacked at Wilbur’s arm, “Fuck off, Wilbur… M’tryin’ to sleep, asshole…”

 As much as Wilbur wished he could agree, he needed Tommy’s eyes. “Get up! I think I see something,” Wilbur urged. He shoved Tommy off him until the boy got the hint to sit up on his own.

 The blond looked absolutely pitiful. Tommy rubbed at his tired eyes with his fists. Wilbur’s chest ached with remorse for having bothered him, but he told himself that again, it could be for good reason.

 “What the fuck’re you on about?” Tommy mumbled irritably.

 “Look! Look there,” Wilbur hissed, pointing out at the ship. It seemed to be getting ready to dock. Tiny figures could be seen moving along the deck, grabbing at ropes and such. “Do you see that?”

 It took a moment for Tommy to follow where he was pointing. The boy was still getting his bearings on being awake again. Wilbur almost turned Tommy’s head himself to see though. Patience was growing thin as their potential hope of being able to escape was growing stronger, but he needed to be sure. It could be his mind playing cruel tricks on him. The exhaustion could finally be taking its toll, and maybe Tommy would be of no help because he could be seeing nothing as well, but the chances of them imagining the same ship with the same little people had to be high.

 “See wha’?” Tommy’s voice was still groggy from sleep. The boy’s eyes slowly followed Wilbur’s finger towards the ship. Wilbur watched as the recognition clicked into place and all at once their hope seemed more plausible. Tommy’s eyes widened, “T-That’s— Wilbur, that’s a ship!” His head whipped around to look up at Wilbur. “That’s a real ship, innit?! Please tell me that’s real!”

 The brunette was already grinning and nodding along with that same spark in his eye. “Oh, thank fuck! You see it too then! I thought maybe I was just imagining it.”

 For the first time in days, Tommy looked excited. “Holy shit, Wilbur, we might be saved!”

 He tried to stagger to his feet. Wilbur had to rush to catch him before he stumbled to the ground, “Tommy, careful!”

 He caught the boy before he could fall. Tommy winced, teeth gritting to bite back a cry. Wilbur noticed it instantly. He dropped Tommy’s arms at once, moving to take the other’s wrists where the burns were less present. The younger steadied himself on his feet with Wilbur’s cautious guidance. Once he was stable, he passed Wilbur a sheepish grin, “Heh, oops?”

 Wilbur heaved out a sigh. There was no way he could be mad at that, not that he ever planned to. He shook his head, letting go of Tommy completely now that it seemed his brother could stand on his own. He straightened up, looking out towards where the head of the ship was disappearing behind the treeline. Taking a deep breath, Wilbur ruffled a hand through his hair before looking back to Tommy, “I think they’re planning to dock on that side. If we go now, we might be able to get on.”

 “Then what are we waiting for?! Let’s go!” Tommy shouted excitedly. With that, he turned to march ahead.

 He barely got a step before Wilbur was catching him by the wrist to stop him, “Wait a second! I wasn’t done yet!”

 Tommy practically whined as he was stopped for the second time. He turned back on his heel with a loud groan, “What? The ship’s right there, Wilbur! We need to go!”

 Wilbur could understand his enthusiasm. He wanted off this island as much as Tommy did, but if they were going to get onto that ship, they needed a plan.

 “Listen to me. I’m not sure we’ll be able to sneak on without getting found out and I don’t know about you, but I really don’t feel like getting tossed off another ship,” Wilbur told him honestly.

 Tommy’s nose wrinkled at the reminder. Sniffing, the boy turned to face him better, “Then what? You want us to go and just ask them? Like ‘hi, Mister Captain, sir! Could we please jump on this here ship you got? I know you don’t know us and it’d be really to leave us for dead, but I think if you’d really just considered it for a second deep in your heart’— honestly, that’s sounds really stupid, Wilbur. No one’s going to fall for that!”

 Wilbur sputtered, trying not to choke on a laugh. “No, no! As if that’d ever work.” He cleared his throat, pulling himself back together quickly. “We don’t know what kind of ship we’re dealing with yet. I say we go stake out the ship first and plan from there. But if we get caught, I think I already have a few ideas in mind. But whatever we do, we just have to stick to it well enough to get to their next stop.”

 Tommy rolled his eyes, “Sounds easy enough. Now can we just go already? I’m so tired of all this stupid sand.” ****** ****** ****** ****** ****** ****** ******

 “So…” Phil dragged out the word. Techno remained tense behind him, leaning against the side of the ship. Phil didn’t need to look behind him to know the man was glaring at the pair of boys in front of them, searching for some sign to not trust the two. Phil held up a hand as if to silently gesture his first mate to settle down. He could handle this. “How about we start with your names, alright, boys?”

 The two young men before him traded a look. Whatever mental conversation the two had ended in the span of seconds before the older of the pair was clearing his throat. The brunette was suddenly holding out a hand, “Captain Ishmael. Honor to meet another Captain”

 “Ishmael?…” Phil slowly repeated, taking the man’s hand. He’d give it to the kid. For someone that was clearly on the verge of exhaustion, he had a good grip. “Really?”

 “Uh huh!” Ishmael took his hand back with a rather proud grin, “It’s a family name. Passed down from generation to generation! I’m Ishmael the 3rd actually, in case you wanted to know.”

 Phil did not. He couldn’t care less about this man’s history, but he did care about the fact that he could have sworn the man didn’t have as much of an accent before. And it seemed to be growing thicker with every word (as if “Ishmael” was getting his bearings on his new voice).

 “As you can probably guess, we’re a very long way from home, you know?” Ishmael went on without missing a beat. “We had a ship of our own, but huge storm took it out with the rest of our crew and, well, you can see how things turned out.”

 Phil only arched a brow further. He was sure the disbelief was heavy on his expression, “Right…” He turned his attention to the young boy beside the self-proclaimed captain. He’d been mostly quiet since boarding. “And what about you, mate?”

 “Gunk,” the boy croaked up after a moment. His voice was incredibly hoarse. He had the same accent as Ishmael, lending slight credit to their tale, not that Phil believed either of them in the slightest.

 “Gunk.”

 The boy hummed, leaning heavily on the young Captain’s shoulder. “Yep. And that’s Gunk Gorbachev to you,” the kid added, weakly lifting his head enough to shoot Phil a glare, pointing a finger as well in a way the older blond assumed was meant to look threatening. “Heir to the Gorbachev throne, I’ll have you know.”

 Phil only stared blankly at the kid. Blinking slowly, he settled on a simple,  “Okay… So, we have Captain Ishmael and Gunk…”

 “Gorbachev,” the kid corrected.

 Phil nodded, “Gorbachev. So tell me why exactly should I let you on my ship?”

 Ishmael cleared his throat first, “Well, as I mentioned before, our ship got destroyed in the storm. I know you’ve got no reason to believe us, but I assure you when we get back to the nearest mainland, I can find you all the proof I can to prove Gunk’s father is a highly influential man. He would waste no time to give you as much money as you wish for his son’s safe return.”

 Before Phil could answer, Techno was doing so for him. “If he’d only send an amount for the kid, then why should we bother to keep you?”

 To Ishmael's credit, he held his own well. Phil knew exactly how intimidating Techno could be, especially when he was trying. The man could make most men cower with a single look. Ishmael, however, held Techno’s look head-on, lips stretched into a firm line, “Well I’ll have you know, I’m one of King Gorbachev’s most trusted Captains. I’m now Gunk’s primary caretaker as well, seeing as the rest of our people were taken down in the waves. The bounty for my safe return will be high. Not as high as Gunk’s, but it’s still more bounty for you, isn’t it?”

 “But you still crashed his ship,” Techno bluntly pointed out, much to Ishmael’s disliking. “Someone who can’t take care of their own ship and out of their crew, only manages to keep themselves and some kid alive doesn’t sound very worthy to me. At least, that’s not someone I’d wanna take back.”

 Ishmael narrowed his eyes sharply, “I think as someone who lives their life on the water, you would know how unpredictable the sea can be, Sir…”

 “Technoblade,” the said man gruffly answered.

 “Technoblade,” the name almost sounded cruel on Ishmael’s tongue, “I’m sure you know exactly how unfair the tides are. You can’t always predict the storms when they come, neither can you always get away from them in time. I’ll have you know, Technoblade, I did my damned hardest to save my crew, but the waves separated us and took my ship down with it. You don’t think I haven’t spent days searching the shores for signs of my crew? Because I have.” Ishmael’s voice was getting louder and more emotional with every word. “The best I could do was to do my sworn task, which was keep Gunk here safe…”

 Phil could see the sheen of tears behind the young captain's eyes as he choked on those last few words, and if he was lying, Phil had to admit the kid was a pretty damn good actor.

 Ishmael’s arm was wrapped protectively around the Gunk’s shoulders, keeping the boy close to his chest as if it really were his sworn duty and he couldn’t handle the thought of failing another task, especially one so crucial.

 Gunk was in on it as well. The boy played a pretty convincing part of the sad child that’s lost his people. Phil might feel bad if it turned out to be true because he did look awfully pitiful. He had his head tucked against Ishmael’s chest. His eyes weren’t closed, but they stared ahead, unblinking yet filled with sadness as if he were reliving the painful memories.

 “Now I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk about my loss,” Ishmael finished, squaring his shoulders once more. The man’s dark eyes were hardened over in a way that almost made Phil believe his story. That was a soldier’s look if he knew one. “It isn’t as if I haven’t been thinking about them enough for the past few days… How would you like it if the seas turned on you and took your crew?”

 Techno seemed to have nothing more to say to that. This talk seemed to have turned much more emotional than he planned. He crossed his arms with a grunt, breaking Ishmael's gaze to glower at the deck instead.

 Ishmael broke the gaze as well, huffing loudly before turning his attention back on Philza. “Now as I was saying, you can offer me up as well. If the king offers you nothing, you can kill me, that’s fine. But I think you’d be wasting your effort if you did so now and lost even more bounty. You seem like two very smart men, so I don’t think you’d want to pass up on a good deal for nothing, would you?”

 “I suppose not…” Phil hummed, leaning back in his seat. “But how do you know we won’t kill you after the payment?”

 Ishmael shrugged, “Then that’s the risk we’ll have to take, isn’t it? It’s sure better than dying alone on an island, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Fair enough,” Phil decided. He pushed himself to stand and motioned to a nearby crew member towards the boys, “They can stay. We’re keeping the same route as we were without them.”

 “You can’t be serious,” Techno spoke up, standing up to follow after him. A few crewmen were already passing them by to start prepping the ship for departure once more. Techno dodged between them, growling as he hurried to catch up to Phil’s side, “Please, Phil, you can’t really believe any of that, can you? That was the fakest story I’ve ever heard! C’mon! I mean, did you even hear that sob story?! The kid’s claiming to be a prince?!”

Phil only hummed noncommittally, “Now, Techno, I don’t think I ever said I believed them. I said I’d let them stay.”

 “Phil, that’s two extra mouths to feed,” Techno sneered back. Phil didn’t need to spare him a glance to know how disgruntled his companion looked. “That’s two extra people wasting space that we don’t need! We could have just left them there! No one would notice! We probably won’t even get any bounty from this! It’ll just be a waste of time!”

 “Then I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Phil answered, patience holding strong as ever. He’d already prepared himself for Techno’s barrage of questions. He had a feeling his first mate wouldn’t be thrilled about keeping a new pair of strays, especially ones that tried to lie their way into staying. “They’re only a couple of kids, mate. They’ll only be here a few weeks at most, then we’ll be rid of them for good. It won’t hurt us to babysit for a while.”

 “I didn’t sign up to be a babysitter, Phil! I don’t even like kids!” Technoblade was starting to sound more exasperated by the second. It took everything for Phil not to smile. His normally composed partner was throwing a fit over a couple of stowaways, as if their crew wasn’t built off similar strays. Though Phil supposed the difference was those strays were a little more honest. Phil couldn’t tell if that was the problem, or if Techno was taking difficulty sharing space with more newcomers. Apparently he wasn’t done, so Phil would soon find out.

 “I mean, really, Phil. We could take in so many other things. But you choose a couple kids lying that one of them’s some fake king’s heir and the other’s a— a fake captain? Who fakes being a captain! You’ve gotta agree with me here, Phil. ‘Cause I’m sure lying about being a captain is normal,” Techno snarked, “totally normal kid things.”

 Phil sighed, and paused in his step. Techno paused with him, just a step behind. Phil turned to face his partner. Techno only stares back at him, expression stoic as ever, but Phil could see the heavy annoyance in his eyes. If Phil hadn’t known him for all the years he had, he would never guess the man was only about as old as the self-proclaimed captain. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t starting to show currently, which Phil deemed for better or worse. For as old as he tried to seem, Techno was still quite young.

 Phil placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “You worry too much, mate. Yes, it is probably a lie. Honestly, I can’t say I ever believed even a second of any of it, but you saw how they looked. They were sunburnt and thirsty, and likely going to be stranded for the gods only know how long. Do you really think if you were stuck in their situation, you wouldn’t try to say anything you could to make sure you stay alive? Even if it sounded absolutely ridiculous?”

 Techno went silent for a moment. Phil watched him mull over his answer. Finally, his partner averted his gaze towards the horizon. “Well I wouldn’t be as obvious about it…”

 Phil cracked a laugh, “Oh, I wouldn’t either. It was really obvious, wasn’t it?” He chuckled, and gave Techno’s shoulder a soft squeeze before pulling away to continue walking, “We’ll keep a close eye on them. You can watch them as closely as you want, if that makes you feel any better. If anything seems too suspicious, then we’ll handle it. For now, let them recover. Let them rehydrate and eat, and we’ll just listen to see how their story changes. Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll be worth their weight after all. It’s just a few weeks.” (Spoiler: it was more than a few weeks and Dadza Phil did the Dadza attachment thing as always.)

[legobiwan]

Alright people, I am finally caught up with the Mandalorian Season 2. My reaction thus far:

(spoilers ahoy)

So far, this season doesn’t seem to have a strong direction. It’s mostly Din getting sent from sidequest to sidequest featuring “this week’s special guest stars(s).” I realize that this is all supposed to be building up to something, but I hope the payoff is worth it. 

I love Cobb Vanth. This is probably because I love Timothy Olyphant. I dearly hope he returns and gets a bit more material to work with before the end of the season. Kind of annoying that we had to go back to Tatooine again, but Star Wars just can’t seem to kick its legacy characters (which is something I’ll get into later).

Speaking of Tatooine...while I loved the introduction of the idea of the moisture farmers and the Sandpeople working together, we never really...saw any of it happening? Show, don’t tell, as the old adage goes. While there wasn’t time for a treatment of Tatooine’s complicated social issues as was done in the Kenobi novel, the whole concept seemed pretty perfunctory as a way for Mando to blow up a krayt dragon.

(and I had to laugh, whatever “prize” organ the Sandperson found was 100% one of those bouncy balls you’d find in Ralph’s or Von’s or something at the beach sale bucket for $4.99. Along those lines, the effects - both practical and VFX - have not been anywhere near as high quality this season.)

Frog episode. Fun! It was one of my favorite episodes even though it accomplished very little in terms of pushing the narrative forward. Funny characterization of baby Yoda (I kept expecting him to go full-on Yoshi with those spiders), great introduction of the Frog species, and the spiders were pretty cool.

Bo-Katan episode. A PORT CITY! Something DIFFERENT! Finally!

Mando seems to suffer from power creep and relapse which is a persistent issue in Star Wars in general (see the Ahsoka episode for more discussion revolving around that). He blew up the krayt dragon almost single-handedly, fought off all those spiders, and yet was pretty taken down by the Mon Calamari pirate gang. 

I had no issue with Bo-Katan showing up, and I think her reference to Mando being in a religious cult is fascinating and I would like to know a lot more about that. (Also interesting in how it can also be an oblique reference to the Jedi who were considered, by some, to also be an esoteric religious cult.)

So because of this, does Mando seriously not know who Bo-Katan is? I’m guessing all that history was erased, even something as simple as the fact that Bo-Katan was the sister of a Mandalorian ruler.

And funny enough, I feel kind of bad for her. She wants that Darksaber, wants to rule Mandalore and it feels like she has been fighting the same fight with the same words since we were introduced to her in TCW. I don’t know if that was the intended effect (likely not), but she strikes me as a character almost stuck in her own narrative, unable to move on. Although I do appreciate that she still seems rather morally grey here, which is a nice change of pace from characters who masquerade as morally grey (read: Mando and clan) but who are really coded as the “good guys” (fighting - again - against the “bad guys”.)

(Which gets me into a whole other discussion in that I find that only the Prequels and TCW really delve into that uncertain area where the good guys - even the Jedi - are not 100% good. And that the Legends material really dug at the fracture while the new material - books, movies, shows - tends to shy away from moral complexity. It’s frustrating, as the ambiguity is what is so appealing about the whole damn thing.)

So if the Frog Couple’s children were the last of their kind, was Baby Yoda about to perpetuate a genocide because he was hungry? Because, that’s honestly pretty damn funny.

Oh, the New Republic isn’t learning from the Old Republic. Much like Russia, you never try to invade and control the Outer Rim. It just ends up in tears.

Okay, the macaron scene was pretty damn funny and wholly superfluous and petty use of the Force that I could see...wait for it...Obi-wan perpetuating in his youth. 

So. Clones. M-blood. Shadows of Jen Zanna Arbor and Plageius’s experiments. Plus Gideon looking on at his Death Trooper clones who look a bit like Vader. Is Gideon trying to create a Force-sensitive army that can be controlled via these suits in TIE Fighters that look A LOT like Thrawn’s defenders? Does Gideon know about the Chiss Navigators and is this how he got the idea? Because that would tie some things together. 

Alright. Ahsoka’s episode. Sigh...

Dave Filoni needs to let go. I love Ahsoka, she’s a fantastic character, but at this point, she sucks the oxygen out the room for any other storyline. I never liked the way she was brought back in Rebels, I thought her existence on that other plane after the battle of Malachor was a perfect ending for her. 

(I’m not going to get into the costuming too much. It didn’t work. Disney has enough money to do effects, I don’t why they couldn’t have touched this up just a hair while keeping with the “gritty realism” aesthetic of this show. The whole thing was rather jarring.)

And the thing is, she’s taken on Vader, has come back from the dead twice, has defeated Maul and then suddenly this weird Magistrate Lady is giving her issues? Like, I get getting older and not being as on top of your game but if Ben Kenobi of the desert could take down Maul in three slashes, you would thing Ahsoka wouldn’t be having these issues.

Along those lines, that fight sequence was painful to watch. I’m 1000% certain Filoni was referencing either some Western or Kurosawa flick which I am too film-illiterate to know offhand, but it just...didn’t work. Especially seeing as the VFX wasn’t strong enough to support the questionable choreography/blocking. 

I have no issue with Ahsoka coming to terms with the Jedi at an older age, that’s what happens. You have to drop at least some of your grudges. And I don’t even mind Mando and Grogu meeting up with a Jedi like this. But I wish it had been a different Jedi or maybe one we hadn’t even known before. 

And that’s the thing. Star Wars gets so bogged down in its legacy characters (see: the Sequels) that it gets in its own narrative way. (And ironically enough, most of these “legacy” characters are from the much-maligned Prequel-era). Look at the popularity of Rebels, of Fallen Order, of the Thrawn books (and ELI VANTO, ahem). There’s so much room to expand and play with new themes, new ideas rather than fall back on this “good rebels” vs. “evil empire” with the “very good Jedi” helping mystically along the way. Give me more religious cults, more conspiracy theories, more politics and taxation and trade routes. That’s what made the Prequels so great. I’m hoping this Moff Gideon storyline will go off in an interesting direction as will Mando’s culty background but we’ll see.

So...five episodes into the season I give it a 6/10 so far. We’ll see how it all goes. 

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Not Your Type

Steve Harrington x Reader

Read part 2 HERE

Word Count: 6,669

Warnings: Swearing, Smoking, Drinking, Sexual Assault mention

Tag List: @carolimedanvers @moonstruckhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hotstuffhargrove @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @hipsmcgee @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @balladblood @ashescilev 

“You’re not her type, Steve.” 

“You can’t say that till she meets me.”

The two had been arguing for days on the subject, without a clear answer in sight. Robin had promised, after weeks of watching Steve fail at getting girls, first at Scoops Ahoy and now at Family Video, to introduce him to a girl. Not just any girl, a girl like her. Steve had finally admitted that Dustin was right and he needed to go after girls who could make him genuinely happy, not just a girl who fit his popular mindset. He had tried his luck with Robin, and easily accepted the loss due to her own sexuality, and now he was set to try again. And Robin had been hyping up this friend of hers for weeks. She was cool and funny and smart like her and she was straight. That was all he was looking for. Whoever she was, she sounded perfect. 

But Robin was holding out on him.

His turned halfway to look at her, leaning his elbows on the counter to watch her shelf VHS tapes of music videos by the checkout line. She kept her back to him, rolling her eyes at his last comment. He was so pig headed most of the time, it was honestly annoying.

“Robin, you made this big deal about her, you said she was perfect, that I’d want to marry her on sight, and now you’re holding out. You gonna tell me what the deal is or not?” he asked with a brutal sigh. 

Robin didn’t turn around “Look, I might have...overhyped her a bit...like she’s amazing but she might...not be interested.” she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, turning to look at him with an embarrassed grimace.

“What?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Look...she likes Billy Idol types. She probably would’ve gotten along with Billy Hargrove if...well, you know.” Robin said, trailing off at the end. Both nodded softly, Robin swallowing as if her throat was dry. Maybe it was, the memory was certainly hard to swallow and even harder to forget.

“Right...so?” 

Robin scoffed “You’re too squeaky clean for her.” 

Steve slapped his hand on the counter, his hair bouncing excitedly with the quick movement “Oh come on! Do you remember me? I’m Steve ‘Hair’ Harrington! I was the coolest guy at Hawkins High.” he puffed up his chest proudly, like a peacock.

“And the most modest.” Robin stood up, dusting off her knees from grim from the carpets sticking to her bare skin. The only perk of working at Family Video was the lax dress code. The store’s air conditioning had broken in June and had turned the place into an oven with its big windows that couldn’t be shaded to hide the marquees and cardboard cutouts in the windows. Keeping the front door open and wearing as little as possible helped. 

“But seriously, Steve, I don’t want you to get your hopes up about her. She might not be interested.” Robin replied, planting her hands on her hips.

“I got it, now when can I meet her?” Steve asked.

Luckily for him, you were already on your way.

You had no idea why Robin had been so insistent on you visiting her at work. She never had been before, she’d made you promise not to visit her at Scoops, which was strange since you only worked a floor above at Claire’s, piercing children’s ears with ugly silver butterflies and flowers, only for them to buy big plastic hoops and balls to shove into the unprepared holes and get them totally infected. It was fun, you got to use a piercing gun. You’d almost gotten fired for trying to pierce your nose with the gun. You were glad that you didn’t, it would’ve totally ruined your nostril, but you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t totally worth it to see the look on your fat manager, Marge’s face. She was such a bitch, you were glad when that damn mall burned down. The one in Carmel was better anyway.

When Robin insisted on you coming to Family Video to meet her for her lunch break, you weren’t insanely apprehensive about it. It wasn’t until her tone changed when she mentioned meeting her coworker and friend that you started getting that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach. She was trying to set you up with someone. Again. She always did this when she wanted something. Last time she did it, it was with that awful Keith to try to get him to give her his poster from The Godfather, which he’d nicked from the back storage at The Hawke while it was still open. Whatever she wanted, you weren’t going to be used to get it. 

Still, you showed up. You promised that you would after all, and you were a person of your word. Parking your car in front of the store, you saw the almost empty parking lot and the wide open door signaling the open store. You sighed softly to yourself, grabbing your purse off the seat next to you and stringing it over your shoulder, popping the door and climbing out.

“Robin? You here?” you called as you walked in.” the store was empty and far too quiet for your liking.

“Welcome to Family Video, where we bring movie magic to you! Can I help you with anything today?” Steve asked from the counter, startling you. You practically jumped out of your skin, your hand coming to clutch at your heart as you whipped around to meet the soft expression of Steve Harrington. He looked slightly bemused, clearly trying to not laugh at your over the top reaction. You rolled your eyes, walking up to the desk.

“Is Robin here? Robin Walker.” you asked, looking him over with a calculating eye.

“Yeah, she’s just in the back, wait here.” Steve stepped out from behind the desk, pulling at his stiff, polyester golf shirt. The shirt was so white and blindingly bright that it hurt to look at, but the large black logo for the store broke it up enough to make it easier to watch Steve leave as it was to watch him walk away. 

Steve didn’t even make it all the way to the stockroom before Robin emerged, already changed out of her uniform and was grinning like an idiot. “Hey! You made it just in time!” she said, tossing you her purse and sweater. You caught them easily, relieved to see your friend and get out of there. 

“Steve, this is my friend Y/N. Y/N, you know Steve, right?” Robin said, gesturing between them with her now free hands. 

“What up, Harrington?” you asked boredly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Robin gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut and pulling her lips into a straight line. This is exactly what she thought would happen. Every time she’d introduced you to someone, no matter how genuine she was being, you turned into a brick fortress, completely impenetrable. Gone was your bubbly, snarky personality and quick wit, replaced by sneers and eye rolls and sarcasm. You weren’t nice or warm or open when you met the boys Robin decided you’d like. You weren’t yourself.

This wasn’t you. Robin knew it, she was certain that deep down you knew it. But Steve didn’t know it. Robin was certain that he had no idea who you were. And that made it worse. He had no background to you other than her own descriptions. And that wasn’t enough. This was not going to end well.

“You ready to grab food?” you asked, drawing Robin out of her mind.

“Huh? Oh yeah definitely. Burger in a Basket cool?” she replied, her eyes darting strangely between the pair of you.

“Sure, I’m not vegetarian this month. Accidently ate a fish stick last weekend while babysitting Todd Carther again. Total shit head but his parents pay me so much money to do it.” you replied, handing Robin’s things back to her. 

“Hasn’t he scared you off yet?” Robin asked, tying her grey sweatshirt around her hips.

“Nope, almost got me by dumping a whole jar of electric blue paint on my head. But the stuff is non-toxic so it didn’t mess up my eyes or skin and it let me know that dying my whole head blue isn’t going to be a good look for me.” you replied with a giggle, flashing a strand of faded blue hair to her. “The stupid paint did dye some of the bleach though, which totally sucks.”

“You babysit Todd Carther?” Steve asked, drawing your attention back to him and indented a hard frown onto your face. Robin caught the look and wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders, squeezing them too hard. 

“Oh yeah, Y/N is utterly fearless.” Robin announced with a grin.

“I know his older brother Matt; wicked dude, total party animal. He threw the best parties at the end of the basketball season. Totally rad…” he trailed off with a doofy grin, clearly imagining the fun times he’d had at some shitty house party.

“I know Matt too. He groped Sylvia Newman in the middle of freshman English for a stripe of Fruit Stripe gum. He assaulted her and didn’t even get detention for it.” you replied stonily, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh… bummer.” Steve tried. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “No, I’m serious. I didn’t know about that, that’s really fucked up. I don’t hang out with him anymore, but if I did I’d stop.”Steve said more confidently this time, running a hand through his overstyled hair. 

That...wasn’t the answer you were expecting. It knocked you out of your senses and you took a moment to respond. “Yeah...well I take money from his parents so I mean nobody’s perfect. And that whole family’s fucked up anyway.” Steve smiled slightly and you tried not to notice it. He just looked so proud of himself. It was almost endearing. But not enough to make you want to care.

“So, anyway, Steve? You go on break yet?” Robin asked.

Steve furrowed his brow, looking at Robin as though she’d grown a third head. Robin nodded her head towards you strangely and suddenly Steve blurted “That’s the girl? Really?”

You whipped around to look at Robin, utterly appalled. You had a sinking feeling that the whole reason you’d been invited out today was to be introduced to some guy, but you had no idea it would be so quick and for the guy to be Steve motherfucking Harrington. You couldn’t believe it. I mean he was the dumbest, more generic guy at Hawkins High. You swore he’d won the metal for stupidest questions in your Home Economics class in freshman year. He was just…such a dork! How he’d gotten so popular, you had no idea. Maybe this town was such so void of charm and charisma that even the most empty, callus boy could become a god with a wink and a smile.

“What does he mean that’s the girl?” you asked, your face pulling into a look of sheer anger that could stop a man in his tracks.

“Oh great work, Harrington, now you’ve done it.” Robin sighed, pulling her purse across her chest, smacking his arm roughly.

“Robin, what does he mean? What did you do?” you snapped, forcing her to look at you. Her face pulled into a look that you knew too well. Regret, embarrassment, and just a little bit of fear.

“I might have promised Steve that I’d introduce you to him.” You groaned loudly, your head falling back to look at the white tiled ceiling. Robin pressed on, her face turning into a look of sympathy, her smile made of rubber. “Because you’re so great! He doesn’t have many friends his own age anymore and I just thought-”

“Oh I know what you thought.” You bit out.

“Well, are you coming or not?” Robin turned to Steve, completely ignoring you.

Steve’s face turned sour and surprised and he looked between the two of you and then to the clock above you. “I mean…I kind of have some stuff to finish up here and I should really wait until Keith gets here before I go on my break…don’t want Mr. Mueller mad at me again.” He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging awkwardly.

Robin clicked her tongue “Since when do you care?” Steve simply shrugged again. “Y/N, can you wait for me outside?”

You nodded, turning on your heel and heading out just far enough to be out of sight. You wanted to hear whatever they had to say.

“Dude what the fuck? You wanted this!” Robin whispered violently.

“Yeah but I didn’t want her!” Steve replied. You didn’t see the smack, but you sure heard the sound of skin hitting skin and the embarrassing yelp Steve let out.

“Yeah well, you’re going to come with us and you’re going to be nice. Because I did this for you. And now you have to accept it.” Steve didn’t respond, which must have been a good sign for Robin.

“Remind me to never do anything nice for you ever again…” Robin muttered as their footsteps charged closer to you and you scurried out the open door, choosing to lean against the burning hot glass, crossing your arms over your chest and knocking the sunglasses from the top of your head to your face again.

“You ready to head out?” You asked, standing up straight, smiling at Robin.

“Yeah, just waiting for Harrington to put the sign.” Behind her, Steve was hanging the tiny clock shaped sign on the door, trying to figure out what time it would be when they got back.

“Just put four fifteen, Steve, Keith will be back by then and your shift will be over like immediately anyway. You clocked out, right?” Robin said quickly, turning to you to add “Keith is a menace; he doesn’t like to work with anyone and kicks everyone off the floor whenever he can.” You nodded boredly, you’d heard this when she worked with him at the arcade; she quit whereas he got fired, it was a point of bragging for her.

“Yes, Robin. I did what you said. I don’t like this idea, I need this job more than you do.” He muttered bitterly. You raised an eyebrow curiously. Bitter looked decent on him.

“Oh, will you relax? Let your hair down a bit, dingus.” Robin grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The three of you headed down the street to the cheesy diner Burger in a Basket. The whole place was themed after a fifties diner, complete with neon and pastel colours and fifties nostalgia on the walls. Bikes, hoola hoops, records, pictures of dead icons like Elvis and Marilyn Monroe, movie posters-the whole shebang. You didn’t go there for atmosphere, no, you went for the food. Robin insisted that it was the best burger she’d ever had and you’d be hard pressed to find one better in Hawkins. You didn’t know if Steve had been initiated into the burger ritual yet, but you didn’t really care.

Entering the teal and pink dining room, you nodded to the poor young thing in the giant black beehive wig and roller skates, you and Robin heading towards your normal booth. Steve followed behind, wide eyed and a little bit horror struck. You slid into the booth and grabbed the menus out of the rack at the table, handing them out wordlessly. Robin pushed Steve towards your side of the booth and he begrudgingly slid in, much to your dismay.

“You dragged me out of work…to go to a cheesy themed diner?” Steve asked incredulously.

“Just wait till you try it, Steve, it’ll change your life.” Robin said with a grin, flipping open the menu. You knew that she always ordered something different each time you came. You always ordered the same thing so you didn’t bother to open yours. Steve cautiously followed Robin’s example, flipping around with a wide eyed, innocent expression.

“Alright, welcome to Burger in a Basket, I’m Sylvia, how are you guys doing today?” the voice above you asked. You grinned as you saw Sylvia standing there in the stupid uniform. It was a comfort to know that her life was a little worse than yours. After all, she was such a bitch to you most of the time. That Matt Carther thing gave her plenty of room to get away with being a complete bitch, and it gave you something to use as a tester with guys in town. If they didn’t know who she was or they laughed, then they weren’t worth your time. Sure, you felt bad for her, but she treated you like dog shit for a year before dumping your ass to hang out with Macy Clarke and Nancy Wheeler.

“Hey Sylvia, we’re doing alright.” You said with a slight smirk, resting your head on your palms. Sylvia cringed slightly, but her eyes landed on Steve’s and her whole expression changed.

“Hey, Steve…” she murmured, pulling her lip into her teeth, grinning slightly.

“Hey, Sylvia, how’s it going?” he replied. Of course he’d go for her, you thought to yourself, she’s exactly his type. Just dumb enough to be cute but just pretty enough to hold your attention, with the slightest stink of desperation. You wanted so desperately to roll your eyes, but Robin was watching you with the knowing look, so you maintained your composure.

“I’m good! Can I get you a drink? Or are you ready to order? Do you need a minute?” you wanted to laugh; this was the best service you’d ever gotten at the restaurant. And it was all thanks to Steve.

“I mean…are you guys ready? I think I’ve got it figured out.” Steve said, gesturing to Robin with a nervous expression.

“Yeah, I’ll get the Fourth of July burger with mushrooms and can I get no mustard? Oh, and a diet coke.” Robin said, smiling confidently at Sylvia, who took down the order boredly.

“Sure, and for you, Steve?” she asked sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

“Um…I need a second more, Y/N can you order?” he muttered, leaning over to you. You nodded, surprised that him being closer to you didn’t upset you. It was almost…nice.

“Yeah sure…I’ll get the double hula burger with extra cheese, no pickles, no ketchup, and a triple thick chocolate shake.” You rattled off quickly, enjoying watching her struggle to get everything down.

“Alright, you ready, Stevie?” Sylvia asked and you noted the distinctive blush forming on his cheeks. Sylvia seemed too proud of her work and you wanted to wipe that look off her face. Pride was a bad look for her.

“Can I just get classic burger with mayo and extra tomato? And a coke?” he asked awkwardly, still clearly very unsure of himself.

Sylvia nodded “Perfect! I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment.” She said, turning and skating off, waving coyly to Steve as she headed back into the kitchen. You and Robin snickered, Robin rolling her eyes as soon as Sylvia disappeared.

“Oh my god we should have been bringing you since day one, they never give us that much attention!” you cried with a loud laugh.

“Dude, she wants you so bad oh my god!” Robin added, reaching out to slap his shoulder. Steve lowered his head, shaking his head.

“I totally remember her now…she had a thing for me in junior year, covered my locker in paper hearts. I wasn’t supposed to find out but I did. It was very uncool.” He muttered, shaking his head. You remembered that too, how she’d planned it for weeks, forcing you to help cut out pink, purple, and red hearts. You thought the whole thing was so cringy and weird, but she was dead set that he’d be intrigued by the mystery and sweetness of the action. She thought it was so cute. Barbra Holland unintentionally started the rumor that it was her, but you wished it was you to tell the world. Watching her slink home was worth the afternoons in the library with her calling you stupid for not cutting the heart out perfectly.

“She was just trying to put her feelings out there!” Robin replied incredulously.

“No, Rob, she was being weird. She could’ve shoved a note in his locker, send him a candy gram and Valentine, they do that every year for lacrosse team. She did something unnecessary and creepy to get attention. You’re just a hopeless romantic.” You grinned, reaching out to touch the bright red heart drawn in permanent marker on her wrist. You knew she had a thing for Jennifer Buffet, who worked at the now defunct Starcourt movie theatre. She always drew that little heart on everything whenever she had a crush, it was like she was trying to get caught, you didn’t get that; you always wanted to hide your crushes until the other person showed any interest in you. You wouldn’t usually agree or defend Steve Harrington, but he was right for once. You didn’t mind agreeing if he was correct for once.

“I am not!” Robin cried, crossing her arms over her chest.

You leaned in to whisper to her “Tell that to Tammy Turner.” Robin turned bright red and she leaned back into the vinyl seat, looking away from you.

“Oh was it bad?” Steve asked with a wide, doofy grin. You were surprised to know that he knew about Tammy, but you didn’t question it. Asking questions could reveal something that Robin didn’t want known. You were used to being careful with her.

“Ohhhh yeah, it was a rough year with her pine after that muppet.” Watching Robin pine after Tammy Turner was so embarrassing, since the girl was so straight. I mean the Steve thing was one thing, but the girl dated Tommy H for two weeks between his forty-second break-up with Carol. That’s the epitome of straight bullshit: finding Tommy H’ s awful, crass, and downright sexist attitude and sense of humor attractive and desirable. How Robin didn’t see that was beyond you.

“That’s what I said! She sounds like a damn muppet! Like Kermit the frog or something!” Steve cried, smacking the vinyl and turning to look at you fully. When he wasn’t trying so hard, he was actually pretty cute. His eyes blew wide and his smile reached its fullest capacity, straining to not split his face in half.

“I thought more Ms. Piggy, like when she sang with Elton John. She always like pinching up her mouth at the end of her words, she looks like a wrinkly old apple.” You said, giggling slightly. “Don’t go breaking my heart…” you imitated, pursing and squeezing your lips together, making a tiny ‘O’ with your lips. Steve’s eyes grew impossibly wider and he laughed far too loudly, his head tossing back. You turned to Robin, who was blushing crimson, fully turned away from the scene you were making. Sylvia skated over with your food and drinks, smiling far too much. She placed each order in front of you, angling herself so her chest landed in Steve’s face when she handed his order over to him. He didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy laughing.

“What’re you guys talking about?” she asked, tossing your order in front of you.

“That time you made Steve’s locker look like the Valentine’s Day massacre.” You grinned back spitefully.

Sylvia paled significantly and she reached up to adjust her wig, looking away. “That…that wasn’t me…” she replied softly.

“Yeah…yeah it was…” Steve said between breathes, wiping tears away from his eyes. Sylvia opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She turned away quickly, skating out fast. You laughed hard when she ran off, hunching over in your seat.

“That was so mean!” Robin cried, looking between the pair of you with a stern look.

“She…she deserved it! After everything I dealt with from her, I get to have one!” you replied, shrugging softly as you recovered. Steve offered you a high five, which you took happily. You never thought in your life that you’d be laughing with Steve Harrington. Today was a weird day.

“Eat, both of you.” Robin snapped and you complied equally happily. You loved this place-everything was fresh and made to order. Sure, it was greasy and unhealthy, but you deserved a bit of comfort food once and awhile. Steve took his first bite and let out a very loud moan. You giggled, it was so stupid. And a little cute, you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t. And maybe a little hot. But you wouldn’t admit that.

“This is so good!” he said, muffled by his mouthful of food.

“It’s even better when you’re high.” You whispered, nudging his arm. Steve nodded in approval, clearly into the idea.

The three of you ate in silence, wolfing down your burgers without much of a hum save for the sounds of ice clinking in glasses and small slurps from straws. Burger in a Basket still had glass bottle of coke, the rumor was that they filled them up with every drink and washed them after, since they didn’t really make glass bottles of soda for retail sale anymore.

With only their fries left, the group returned to each other’s attention. To your surprise, Steve spoke first.

“Can I be like honest here?” he said, turning to face you once again. You nodded shortly, shoving a fry into your mouth. “I have like, no idea who you are. I really don’t.” you raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of how you were supposed to react to that news. You swallowed your mouthful, nodding to yourself.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” You replied “I remember you though.”

“Oh yeah, what for?” Steve leaned back in the booth, putting his arms over the seat. He looked to be ready to take in praise.

“I remember how shit you were on the basketball team. How shit that whole team was.” You replied with a chuckle, watching Steve deflate immediately.

“I was, like, the best player on the team!” he replied indignantly.

“That’s not saying much.” That line made Robin laugh and Steve curl further into himself.

“You really should’ve joined the track and field team. You were much better at that anyway.” You added softly.

“On what planet? I’ve never even done track and field.” Steve cracked bitterly.

“Yes you have, we all had to do it in middle school.” You said. Both Robin and Steve looked at you like you were crazy, so without any remaining shame, you pressed on.

“At the end of the year, every year of middle school, we had the grade-wide track and field meet. We all trained on basic stuff-long jump, cross country, shot put for the older kids, and high jump. Then, each grade would compete and the best of those kids would go onto the main competition. We all got a day off to watch and there were free freezies. It was one of the best days of the year.” You explained.

“Yeah, so what? I never competed.” Steve replied, watching you closely.

“Yes, you did.” Steve raised an eyebrow at you. You rolled your eyes and continued.

“You were in eighth grade and I was in seventh. You had won the long jump in your grade level because Jude Armstrong broke his ankle and I had won the high jump. So we both competed. I remember three things about that day: one; that I won the high jump against all the older kids and Tina tried to push me into the mud after I got my medal; that you and Tommy snuck off to smoke cigarettes during the high jump. You both pretended that you’d done it before, and maybe you had, but Tommy was coughing so hard even after that it was so obvious that he’d never even touch a cigarette before.  And three, that that was the year we were all forced to run the cross country race. Nobody had wanted to compete in the race, so they forced us to do it to set an example. I didn’t want to run it, I’m not a distance runner, but you were so confident. You didn’t look nervous at all. And when the whistle blew and everyone bolted, you held back. You came in third in the cross country race and second at long jump, against the odds on both. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.”

Steve nodded. You looked so pretty when you explained the memory, your whole face lit up and your smiled so softly. You looked angelic, it was truly a sight. But the memory itself turned his stomach.

“I remember that…” he muttered “What I remember about that day was my dad telling me that no other place matter except first and that I was absolute shit.”

You felt so bad, bringing it up at all. He looked so sad now, you regretting even commenting on it. “Oh…I’m sorry…” you said softly. Steve shrugged as if it meant nothing, as if he felt nothing. “God, what a dick and you were good too!” you cried.

“Nah, I kind of sucked.” Steve replied, pushing away the compliment with his hands.

“No seriously! We could have used you on the team, Jude Armstrong sucked ass after like freshman year! You showed real aptitude. And you’re built for it, strong legs and a good core. Let guys like Chuck Bronson stomp around the court, you should’ve came and competed with us, you would’ve won something.” You joked, kicking his shoe with your own.

Steve huffed “We got into the county semi-finals last year…”

“Yeah? We won country finals and got fifth in state. Half my team got into state colleges on scholarship based on that alone.” You replied haughtily.

“You gonna get one?” he asked.

“I might, I got a scout watching me. Don’t know if I’m gonna take it.”

“Oh yeah, why not?”

You grinned proudly “I’m hoping to follow in Emma Lancaster’s footsteps.”

“What she do?” Robin rolled her eyes at that comment.

“She got a full ride to NYU for fashion design.”

“You sew?”

You rolled your eyes “I’m the head of the costume department for the drama club.”

“It’s how we met.” Robin added proudly.

“Emma Lancaster founded and headed up the fashion club at Hawkins High and ran the sewing club. She wants to work for designer labels and head up her own one day. I just want to make costumes for plays. I’d work anywhere that paid and go to any school that offered money.” You explained.

“That’s cool, I hope you get it.” Steve said and you noted the slightest hint of sadness in his tone.

“How’s your planning going, Steve, got any ideas yet?” Robin asked, clearly catching onto the tone Steve had in his voice.

“Well…” he looked a little embarrassed as he spoke, but did so anyway “I was thinking about applying to the police academy in Carmel…it’s not a clear shot, but I’d like it more than working for my dad.”

“My uncle works there, I can put in a good word with him if you want.” Robin said cheerily.

“That would be cool. I just don’t know if I’d be any good.” Steve muttered to himself.

“I’d think you’d be pretty good, I mean you’ve got strong morals.” You turned to Robin “Remember when he broke freak Byers camera? He deserved that fucking shit.” Robin nodded in agreement.

“I mean yeah, Steve, you care about people. Like you take care of Dustin like he’s your brother. It takes guts to be genuine and unafraid about hanging out with literal children.” Robin added.

“You hang out with Dustin Henderson?” you asked curiously.

“You know Dustin?” Steve asked, equally confused.

“Yeah, my sister Stacy made fun of him for like a week last year after the snow ball for asking her to dance. I wanted to smack the shit out of her for it, it takes guts to ask somebody out, especially at that age.” You explained, slamming your tall milkshake glass on the table, having just slurped up the last drops of chocolate milk and whipped cream.

“Yeah well he’s got a girlfriend now named Suzie.” Robin said. Steve’s attention had turned to the window and you heard a small gasp.

“Shit, Keith’s here, I gotta run.” He pulled out his wallet and slapped a twenty dollar bill on the table before sliding out of the booth.

“Don’t get in shit, dingus!” Robin called after him.

He spun around quickly, jogging backwards “If you get me fired, I’ll kill you.” He looked you over slowly, a lopsided grin pulling at the corner of his mouth “I’ll see you around, Y/N?”

“Yeah, sure.” You smiled. Steve nodded happily and his back slammed into the poor dish boy, stumbling slightly before scampering off.

As soon as he was gone, Robin turned to you with a devilish grin “He likes you.” She giggled, reaching out to poke your shoulder.

“Good for him.” You replied, trying to seem confident and uncaring about the whole situation. Internally, you were utterly rocked. He’d gotten to you. You’d drunk the Steve Harrington kool-aid. He was deeper, more genuine, honest, and cooler than you’d ever expected him to be. You were utterly intrigued and now you had to know more. But you weren’t going to admit it now, not when Robin was being so cocky about it.

“I think you like him toooo!” she said in a sing-song tone.

You scoffed “No, not really.”

Robin saw right through you. But there was no sense in arguing when you were like this. You had too much pride to admit it now, especially with Sylvia floating around, looking for any excuse to rip the rug out from under you. But she had an idea.

“So, listen, I’m not working tomorrow and we haven’t hung out in forever. Wanna have a sleepover tonight?” Robin asked, pulling out cash from her wallet to cover herself and you, since she owed you money from the last time you’d gone out to eat.

“Sure, I’m not babysitting the brat tomorrow.”

“Great! You want to rent a movie or something? I get a discount at Family Video.”

You knew what she was doing, but you went along with it. No sense in calling her out now when she had a plan, it wouldn’t stop her anyway.

“Eh, whatever. I’m good either way.” You replied breezily.

“I wanna rewatch Carrie so let’s head over. Maybe grabbed some snacks too, I want some sour belts.” Robin said, climbing out of the booth and grabbing your hand, pulling you out. You didn’t really like horror movies and you really hated sour belts, they weren’t even sour, so you knew Robin was milking your ambivalence for all it was worth. What she didn’t know is that you actually kind of liked Carrie and you had a new dress that needed fitting and Robin would be the perfect model for it. Karma was a bitch.

Robin dragged you all the way to Family Video and inside, grinning at Keith and watching him blush as you passed by. He’d told you that he loved you the first and only time you hung out. You never called him back and Robin had to explain to him that saying I love you on a date that wasn’t even a date is the wrong move. Now, he wouldn’t even speak to you, which you didn’t mind.

“Y/N! Go gather as many packs of sour belts as you can get your hands on! I’m gonna find Carrie in the back!” Robin instructed.

“Get something fun too! Like the Princess Bride or something! Something I’ll actually watch!” you called after her. Robin flashed you a thumbs up and you sighed, turning on your heel and heading to the checkout line, grabbing lime green packs of rainbow striped, sugar coated candies off the rack and clutching them to your chest.

Robin found Steve in the back and, with very little pushing, sent him out onto the floor to talk to you. It only took two tries from him to get the courage to go and talk to you.

And again, he scared the shit out of you. He tapped you on the shoulder and you jumped a foot in the air, dropping all the sugary treats.

“Shit sorry!” Steve cried, dropping to his knees to clean up the mess.

“It’s okay!” you replied quickly, following suit. He shouldn’t have to clean up your mess after all. Your hands both rushed to grab the packages and when they brushed one another over the last packet, you couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t nice. The briefest chance of touch set your heart aflutter. You felt like you were ten years old again. He handed the packages over quickly, standing up just as fast. He offered you a hand up, which you took, if only to hold his hand for the briefest of moments. God, who even were you? You pulled it away fast.

“So…what’s with all the sour strips?” he asked, looking over the armful of candy you had.

“They’re Robin’s favourite. She told me to grab a shit ton, so I did. She’s grabbing the movies for tonight.” You explained.

“What movies?”

“Robin wants to watch Carrie. I’m hoping she gets something fun too, like Fast Times at Ridgemount High or The Princess Bride. Something funny.” You replied. You’d never smiled so much in a day, your face was starting to hurt but with Steve you couldn’t help it!

“Oh yeah? Having a sleepover or something?” that cocky Steve Harrington attitude was coming out, but it wasn’t making you as nauseous as it usually would, which was very odd.

“Yeah kind of. Which means Robin’s gonna wanna watch horror movies, eat so many of these until she pukes, and sneak malt whiskey from her father’s liquor cabinet.” You said, not hiding the slight disdain in your voice.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna hem the dress I made for the Roenke County theatre’s production of Romeo and Juliet, sip vodka from my flask, and take away the sour belts when Robin gets sick.”

“Sounds fun?” Steve questioned.

“It probably won’t be,” you chuckled “But it’s not the worst way to spend a night.”

“How’d you think an evening with me would chalk up? In comparison I mean.” Steve asked, his hand coming to the top of the low black shelf to lean into you.

“Well I guess it would depend, what’s your plan?” you asked with a grin.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured softly, smirking far too confidently. You didn’t mind though, you knew what was underneath it all.

“Well, I’d have to think about it…how about you call me sometimes and we’ll talk about it.” You replied slowly, looking him up and down.

“Anytime, you got a pen?” Steve said. You nodded, pulling one out of your purse and grabbing his arm. You scribbled out your number on his palm, trying to make it as legible as possible and ignore how big and warm his hands were.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, that cool?” he said as you watched Robin saunter up too confidently, too proud of herself and of what she’d done.

“Sounds good.” You smiled, ignoring Robin’s cocky leer. “You ready to pay for this shit?” you asked as she walked up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Gimme the belts, I got this.” Robin said, eyeing up Keith like she was going to beat him up. Maybe she was. “Wait in the car, okay? I didn’t bring mine, so you’re driving me home.”

You nodded “Got it.” You turned to Steve, smiling softly “I’ll see you around, Harrington.”

“Definitely.”

[vtscasefiles]

Case File # 321-5

Trigger warning: blood, gore, violence, death, firearms, injury, rape mention

Case begun: 5/09/20**

Case Concluded: 5/11/20**

Case Locale: [REDACTED], Florida

Marked as Closed

I arrived in Florida, the humidity already fucking with my sinuses. How anyone can live in this swampy shithole I will never understand. But I was offered a job, and my bank account was practically beating me over the head with it’s need to be filled. The pay was too good to turn down, so I loaded up my gear and headed out.

What I wasn’t expecting was a fucking ghost pirate. I mean, of all things, how fucking cliché can you get? The client, Rosie [REDACTED], welcomed me with that famed “southern hospitality” that I’ve heard so much of.

“You the girl with the gun? I expected you to be bigger.”

Fuckin’ peachy. “Yes. I’m the girl with the gun. You got a haunting problem?” I replied, trying not to let my irritation get the better of me. I’m fucking 5′9″. I’m not that small. For fuck’s sake, I can bench two hundo with no problem. Why the -- 

[Editor’s note: this continues for fifteen minutes. For your convenience I have removed VT’s rant.]

After getting a brief rundown of the case, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Everything pointed to a simple haunting, it wasn’t something I was considering a challenge, or even something that’d take longer than a few hours.

After doing this job, you think you’ve seen just about all the SC* has to offer. My two best friends are a lich and a witch. Yes, they rhyme, shut up. Point being is that I have never seen a haunting manifest on such a massive scale. Usually it’s restrained to a building, or a patch of land, but this...the whole fucking coast line was haunted. It wasn’t even a Cluster**, it was one. Singular. Spirit.

My first day, as the usual, was spent at the library. The spirit in question, one Captain Fresni, was an infamous pirate in the seventeen hundreds. Played a role in the American Revolution, albeit a small one. According to the books I’d found (mostly useless, but I did manage to glean some insight), his ship The Crooked Jess, was riddled with canon fire by the British. Captain Fresni, a violent fighter if ever there was one, realized there was no way out...lit every barrel of gunpowder he had on board and rammed his ship into the oncoming fleet. The following explosion wiped out three ships, packed with soldiers and set fire to another six.

I was impressed. If the spirit was Captain Fresni, as Rose claimed, then it could simply be a case of the body dying so suddenly and violently that the spirit didn’t realize he was dead. There was one passage that stood out, I won’t repeat it due to it being hella long, but in summation it stated that near the southern tip of Florida there was a hidden cove that served as the pirate captain’s base. Might as well start there.

It was around 9pm on the tenth before I even stepped foot in the cove. Immediately, the air changed. Despite it being disgustingly humid, the air turned frigid and dry. I walked up and down the coast to find a spot that wasn’t freezing, but to no avail. The whole place was a spook zone. We’re talking a good three hundred acres of land completely under the spirit’s influence. Even by a Cluster’s standards, that’s a massive area.

This area was mostly undisturbed, being a historical site. Being in the profession I am, meant that didn’t mean a roasty pile of dogshit. If I got caught disturbing anything here, it only meant one thing: prosecution, if not a bullet through my head. I’m aware of what my ethnic background means; prejudice, racism, outright hate. Hell, it’s dangerous to drive, let alone stand somewhere that I shouldn’t. So I try to be subtle. Try not to pack too much ordinance. Today I only had my duffel bag full of Elinor’s*** special ammo. I’d say it “kills” ghosts, but you can’t kill a spirit. You can however, force it to reconcile with it’s past.

The worst part about this job was I was going to wind up in the water. I hate swimming. Forget what chlorine does to the dye in my hair (red. Blood red. Always.), but just the thought of driving across the country with my clothes soaked in salty water was already putting my teeth on edge. Looks like I’d be hitting a thrift shop on the way home.

I dropped my duffel bag on the beach and sat in the sand next to it, pulling off my dad’s old combat jacket and stowing it inside. I did a quick inventory. I hadn’t brought anything major. Salt. Blessed water (courtesy of Ramona****). A black beeswax candle and, my trusty companion, Peace.

Peace is the name I’ve given to my custom-made revolver. All together, the setup weighs about three pounds. Each part bears a custom engraving that’ll combat just about any supernatural force...even so, there are some things that Peace can’t solve...even with the right ammo. But I had one solution sitting in the backseat of my car: a can of kerosene. If bullets don’t solve the problem, a liberal application of fire will.

The time was midnight, the opening of the “Witching Hour”. I had until 3am to get something. Anything. The spirit wasn’t answering to any of the usual callouts (their name, questions, requests for an audience), so I settled in on the beach to doze. Wasn’t much else to do.

Mother fucker, I wish I hadn’t.

When I woke up, it was to the freezing cold iron around my wrists. The bob and weave that told me I was on the sea. The air smelled of something...something that every fucking time I smell it, I almost lose my lunch.

Corpses.

The deck outside my cell was slick with blood and viscera. I’ve seen my share of gore, don’t get me wrong, but this was a massacre. What was worse...it looked (and smelled) fresh. The good captain had been busy, it’d seemed. What began as a simple haunting was quickly turning into something more sinister. Rosie hadn’t mentioned that the spirit was violent...though I should have assumed, given the amount posted on the job. Even still, this was...a little more than I’d prepared for.

But first there was the matter of the shackles on my wrists.

Lockpicking is an artform that every PE invests time in learning. But that’s usually deadbolts or doors made post 1970. The manacles on my wrists (though they looked brand new) were easily something seen in the eighteenth century. There was even a maker’s mark next to one of the keyholes. I’ll spare you the details on how I got out, but my thumbs ache to all hell.

The second I laid hands on the bars to my cell, they swung open...I’d never been locked in. This worried me. The spirit wanted me free...the manacles were just a precaution. Each step I made was met with the squishy splort of combat boot on viscera. I took my time, as I didn’t relish the thought of slipping and falling into the mess beneath my boots. Proud to say that I didn’t fall. Not once.

[Editor’s note: judging by the stains on VT’s clothes, she fell.]

As far as I could tell, I was on the lowest deck. The stairway didn’t lead up into the fresh air of day, but rather into what I assumed was a galley. Tables and benches had been scattered, and cooking implements rusted on their hooks. Dangling from one of those hooks was my firearms...just waiting for me.

I expected a trap, I anticipated the trap. By that I mean I picked up a piece of busted bench and hurled it at my gun. It fell off the hook with a loud clatter which had me willing myself to fade into the shadows. Nothing. Nothing but the creak and groan of the ship.

Well, I say nothing, but I distinctly heard laughter from the top deck. Feminine, bright laughter. I picked my gun up off the floor, holstered it and climbed the stairs.

There was no ghost crew, as I’d anticipated...but at the helm was a sight that still gives my heart a jolt. It’s no secret that I’m gay. I love women. But what I saw at the helm...fuck me, sideways. She was tall. 6′6″ if she was an inch. Her raven hair captured the moonlight and practically sucked it in. Her breasts were bared to the wind, heavy tattoos that seemed to glow covered just about every inch of bared flesh. I’d have thought her living if not for one thing: her eyes. Pitch black like the void.

“Ahoy, mate.” she purred, setting my teeth to clench. “Found you on my little hideaway, snoozin’ like an infant. Come to join Captain Fresni’s crew, little pet?”

“I ain’t your pet.” I snapped, glowering up at the spirit. “You’ve been killing people, Captain...and everything I’ve read says that you’re a man. Are you actually Captain Fresni, or is that just some title you picked up?”

“Funny how men’ll give the most vicious fighters a cock in death that they never had in life, hm?” the pirate snickered. I took notice then that her arms were like two thick pythons that, any other time, I’d like to see just how much weight they could hold. “I offered my services to old Georgie and he thought me funny. At least until I broke his nose.”

“Georgie? As in Washington?”

“Ye know of him? Interesting. He refusing the afterlife, too?”

Everything I’d assumed about this spirit was wrong. Captain Fresni wasn’t a man, for one. Not to mention she knew very well that she was dead. That still didn’t answer the most pertinent question on my mind. “The bodies...or what’s left of them. Was that you?”

“Aye.” she smiled, wickedly, but offered no further explanation. I was being baited.

“Can I ask why?”

“Ye just did.” a hard spin of the wheel almost sent me tumbling. “But I suppose I can oblige a pretty little thing like you.” I fucking hate being demeaned. And all attraction for this undead bitch was flying out the window faster than you could say “eat my ass”. 

I can’t remember most of her explanation. Looking back, now...it’s like the whole of that night is just a drunken fever dream. What stands out to me is her reasoning. “I only murder the dregs, girlie. Rapists, mostly. Kidnappers. Violence done to women is met with brutal retaliation. It’s the simplest way to clean up this world, savvy?”

Oh, I was savvy. Quite savvy. If anything, I agreed with her and her method. Trash like that shouldn’t be allowed to breathe, let alone exist. “If that’s all you’re doing, Cap, then I see no reason we shouldn’t go our separate ways. You have your work and I have mine.”

“Aye? And just what is your work, lovely?” I didn’t detect any further demeaning playfulness...only curiosity.

“I’m a PE. A Paranormal Eliminator. Usually, I’d have to ask or make you pass on, but as it stands...I think we can say live and let live. Well...live and let un-live.” she’d laughed at that. A warm sound that had my guts twisting around my stomach like some sort of horny serpent.

“So, you came out all this way to end the dread Captain Fresni...only to find a kindred spirit, is that what I’m hearing?” she asked, grinning like the Cheshire Cat with a Glasgow grin. “And now you want to leave, just like that. Don’t a get a kiss or a nice romp? I think I’m owed something after all. I didn’t kill you for trespassing.”

That raised my hackles. Again, this pillar of muscle was underestimating me. What I’d fought, what I’d killed. For fuck’s sake, I’ve killed enough Wendigos to put half the men in my profession to shame. There was that weird case where the woman who hired me was fucking the Wendigo, but...that’s another story for another time.

[Editor’s Note: We’ve never discussed the Wendigo-coitus case. I sincerely want to hear it.]

“Fuck you. You got the drop on me, like a coward.” I regretted the words the instant they left my mouth. I was on her ship and at her mercy. She could sink this ship and I had no idea which way shore was...let alone the hazards that went with swimming in open water.

Instead she’d only laughed. “Little girl, I’m a pirate. I’ve no intent to fight head on when I can sneak up on someone. Honor is a man’s game. It’s what gets them killed, more often than not.” Again, I agreed. I’d put enough bullets in the back of a head to know that stealth is preferable than a face-to-face fight.

“Look, I lost my temper. Can we just...end this and I can go home? We both agree on your method, and I see no reason to stop what you’re doing. Sure, the “authority” of the living world won’t like it...but no one likes them, so they can eat a steaming pile of shit.” I said, frowning. “I don’t want a fight. I just want to get paid and go home.”

The look about the spirit changed, marginally. The tattoos seemed to be rippling along her flesh(?) and her smile faded into a frown. “Missy, we still have a glaring problem we’ve yet to address. I’m one woman...and I need a crew. So, unless you’ve got a solution to that particular snag, you’re it.”

All my like for this spirit (begrudging as some of it was) vanished in an instant. “So I’m being kidnapped.” I responded, feeling my heart start to hammer in my ears. “Just like those men you killed. So, what I’m hearing is, you’re no better.”

“Watch your words, girl. Your pretty face won’t save you from my blade.” she’d snarled. It took all that was in me not to balk, though my teeth desperately wanted to chatter.

“I’m using your own words against you, Captain.” I responded, hoping I sounded calmer than I felt. “Don’t blame me if they don’t line up the way you want.”

“One more word out of you -- “

“I’ll give you two: get. Fucked.” that had torn it. The rippling gave way to something that I’d come to expect. This was no run of the mill spirit: Captain Fresni was either a wraith or a revenant. The only real difference between the two was the level of violence capable. A wraith tends to hunt one person, or their family. A revenant hunts whoever they want...and now I was on the list. I couldn’t fight her here, not out in the open. She’d tear me to shreds. Already her jaw was gaping, revealing razor teeth. Her nails, cut short, were lengthening into something akin to talons...and believe me when I say those things hurt. 

I feel no shame in saying I sprinted below deck and ducked into the galley proper. I wish I hadn’t. She wasn’t just killing people, she was eating them. Body parts, half chewed, dangled from the ceiling and littered the ground. My hand clapped over my mouth and nose to keep the smell out and my dinner in. I heard her footsteps and, as silently as I could manage, I checked my firearm. Peace was still locked, cocked and ready to rock. Well, not cocked. Gun safety, kids.

I pulled one of Elinor’s special bullets out of the cylinder. What made these so special is that, instead of lead, bone served as the projectile. The easiest way to deal with something dead is by using something dead against it. I don’t ask where Elinor gets her bone, and I think I’ll be perfectly happy to continue not knowing.

[Editor’s note: I know. It’s horrific.]

“Little pet, little pet, where are you?” she crooned. Well, I say crooned...more like...rattled. A revenant’s physiology is strange, but once they reveal their form it’s almost as if their bodies begin to decay. I peeked around the corner to see her back facing me. I took aim and...nothing. My gun clicked loud enough to sound like a scream in an empty hallway, but no roar of igniting gunpowder. She turned and...smiled. I think. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” I responded, standing on shaking legs. “Soup’s on, Captain.” she ran at me, talons held out at her sides like sabers. I did the only sane thing I could think of: I ducked as she swung. Luckily, the big swing didn’t hit me. Unluckily, she had another hand. Claw. Whatever.

So, there I was, a talon embedded in my shoulder and blood gushing from the wound like a waterfall. A little known fact about revenant wounds: leave the talon in. If it’s withdrawn the wound will immediately fester and become gangrenous. A lot of PEs have died that way.

I slammed the barrel of my gun against the base of her claw and it snapped off. She screamed her pain and rage and took another swipe at my torso. I barely managed to get far enough back in time. The fact I had to compensate for a long talon still imbedded in my shoulder didn’t mean much, as I was operating off a cubic fuckload of adrenaline. She did however manage to shred my tanktop. Which sucked, because I loved that thing. Said “Boss Ass Bitch” on it and everything...I guess I could see if Ramona would make me another one...

[Editor’s note: RIP tank top. Ramona is making another one at the time of writing.]

I sprinted past her, she’d over balanced and given me time to escape. I went down, back to the cells. I was soaked in a cold sweat by now and thankful that my hair tie had held, despite my panicked movement. I smoothed the strands away from my sweat soaked face and looked for a place to hide. Nothing was presenting itself...but an idea struck. It was a stupid idea. A terrible idea. I ran into a cell and pressed my back to the wall.

When Fresni reappeared, she was smiling. “Ran out of room to run, little rat?”

“Seems that way.” I panted. My head was spinning from the loss of blood. Thankfully, that brief moment I spent pressed against the wall had redoubled my courage...and helped me remember one little fact. “Look, Cap...I’m dead. We both know it. The second this talon is removed, my life is over...so...I guess I’m askin’ if that place on your crew is still available.”

That shocked her, if only for a moment. “You can’t lie your way out of this one.”

“No lie. Kill me now. I’d rather just go ahead and get it over with, thanks.” I said, praying that this would work. If it didn’t well...you wouldn’t be seeing this, would you?

She approached, brandishing those eight inch talons. She clicked them together, thoughtfully. “Stand still, then.” she snarled as I held my breath. “One through the heart, and it’s all over.”

Three more steps. Two. One. I stepped in and latched onto her arm, and...I bit down. I felt fetid blood fill my mouth and choke me. I immediately began to gag and then...voided my stomach, all over my aggressor.

A revenant’s true power isn’t from the change they make, though it definitely looks it. A revenant is best known for it’s insidious way of making the unreal real...so long as its concentration remains undisturbed.

When I finally finished tossing my cookies, I looked up. No ship in sight. Just a revenant, me and glorious land. The sand was disturbed, probably from all my running, and my blood left trails showing my passage. I’d been running in circles for the last hour...while she just watched.

“Shouldn’t play with your food.” I coughed, wiping my mouth. “It’s how you get killed.” she screeched in rage, her partially coagulated blood oozing from the bite mark I’d left. The talon was still lodged in my shoulder. I reached for my gun, ready to put an end to this only to pull out... “A fucking banana? Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

She roared and charged. My weapon, my baby was strapped to the rotten leather of her belt. She’d touched it. No one touched my weapon except Ray***** and myself. Not even Ramona. 

That pissed me off in a way that nothing else does.

Naturally, I charged straight for her. She took a swipe with her injured arm, but instead of dodging out of the way, I leapt into it. She made contact, but only with her palm. I felt one of my ribs crack and gasped in pain, pure instinct was the only thing that drove my fist into the shredded flesh on her arm, courtesy of my teeth. She balked and I snatched.

Peace was in my hand, albeit barely. She noticed and lunged again, sending us both into the sand. Her pirate nature showed in the way her head collided with my nose, sending fresh gouts of blood over the both of us. She thought me stunned. An easy kill. She thought wrong.

“Any last words, my pretty?” she cackled, her maw open wide. She wasn’t just going to kill me...I’d pissed her off enough that she was going to bite me. My death wouldn’t just be painful, but slow...and my soul would erode right along with my body.

“Yeah.” I croaked, feeling the end of my stamina quickly approaching. “Choke on it.” I rammed Peace as hard as I possibly could into that gaping maw, hearing her gargle in rage around it. My wrist jerked as I fired once, twice, three times. Bam. Bam. Bam. A faint gargle, a twitch...and about two-hundred pounds collapsed on right on my cracked rib, finishing the job her arm had started and broke the damned thing.

I wheezed beneath the re-corpse for...ten, fifteen minutes? When I finally managed the strength to push her off of me, I immediately emptied the last three rounds into the ruined mess of her skull. Say what you will about my methodology, but I like to be thorough. 

It wouldn’t have done just to leave her body there, for a mundane to see. The SC likes it’s secrecy and to risk exposing it? There was no faster way to end a career than to leave a loose end behind. I made the long trek back to the car and returned with the kerosene can. I stood by the raging fire until there was nothing but ash and blackened bone...though I know a certain lich who could make use of revenant bone.

All in all, a happy ending. Had a vampire doc fix up my shoulder to avoid dying of infection. Rosie paid me what I was owed and Elinor bought the bone off of me for further profit. Sure, my shoulder still hurts so damned bad that I can barely lift it, but...thanks to Ramona, it’ll be healed up in no time. Probably.

Yo-ho-ho, mother fucker. Case closed.

Editor’s farewell: This is the first case file VT asked I upload. It’s one she’s particularly proud of and one with a satisfactory ending. There may be names or terminology that you are unfamiliar with, but I have taken the time to star each of them as to explain. They are as follows:

SC*: Supernatural Community. This is self explanatory. Includes all beings, regardless of death, undeath or birth. IE vampires, ghosts, revenants, werewolves

Cluster**: A colloquial term amongst PEs. Used in reference to a small locale with a massive collection of spirits. Usually all working as a coordinated group.

Elinor***: Elinor Lyktor. Lich. Proprietress of Ellie’s, a shop frequented by PEs for their gear. Specializes in Osteomancy.

Ramona****: Ramona Torrez. Witch. A close friend of VT’s. Offers support, healing and consultation. A good 75% of VT’s equipment is blessed by Ramona.

Ray*****: Raleigh Kane. Gunsmith. Took the name Ray from her father, proprietress of Ray’s Armory. Forced into the Supernatural Community by VT during a case. Since, she has dedicated her craft to making weapons to deal with the malignant forces that threaten the community as a whole. Extensively researches customers and will not sell her works to those she does not trust.

[404fmdminjung]

famed idol life / career meme

notes: i started doing responses one by one, but then i thought it’d be better to do one big mass-post instead of flooding dash all at once. thank you to all that sent in! appreciate u all :~) (if anyone has any numbers they need, please feel free to like this or just let me know, even if i already sent in an ask!)

2. what are your favorite b-sides/non-title tracks you’ve released?

“i like diana. there’s something moody, sultry about it with a touch of elegance. it’s almost like cheap wine on a long friday — contrasting, but it somehow fits. plus, sooah helped out on that track which becomes the cherry icing on top. perhaps, there’s something better coming out on my next album, where there’s too many b-sides that i’d cherry pick myself to be my favorite. for that, look out at the sea, captain.”

3. what is your least favorite song (title track or b-side) you’ve released?

“i don’t think there’s a least favorite. if there were, then i wouldn’t have partook in any of it — my personality’s in it or out of it. there’s no in between, especially where my voice plays a part. i don’t want to touch things where my heart doesn’t lie, that’d just be cruel. wouldn’t it? if it doesn’t relieve my soul a bit, then i don’t think i’d dip my toes in those waters.”

6. what is one thing (a concept, a genre, an outfit, etc.) you would least like your company make you do?

“i’d like to do house funk, maybe house-pop. you’ve seen elements in it in knight’s old releases, and even the oldies like decipher’s done it. unity’s dabbled in it somewhat in their b-sides, and considering fuse has amassed a long bridge of different concepts — the spectrum’s large. i’d like to wear hawaiian t-shirts and prance around to some summer house-funk, and that’s something i think the general public can all dance around in their rooms to.”

8. if you could be in any idol group, which one would you choose?

“i’ve grown accustomed to fuse — i like being in fuse. i don’t think i’d fit anywhere else, though i would say bee would be a nice change for the summer fun. i’d even enjoy myself to be in unity had i been a boy. can you imagine? the fun that would come out of belting welcome to my playground, and singing the tunes to touch. that’d be a girl’s dream come true.”

9. if you could say one thing to your ceo, what would it be?

“you’re the prettiest person i’ve ever seen. in the whole country, out of all the women in the world — you’re the standard of beauty. but i’m sure the whole world knows that by now, don’t they? i thank you for giving fuse some of the best songs, and though i’ve never met you face by face, i’d like to believe you’re better than what’s shown from face value. but, still — my wannabe face is you but no amount of plastic surgery would turn me into you, would it?”

10. if you were auditioning for your company today, what would you perform for your audition, or what would you change from your original audition?

“i don’t think i’d repeat the dance, nor attempt to dance to something like seo taeji and boys. if i recall, i did h.o.t’s we are the future, and snsd’s kissing you with a ruler i had in my back pocket. in retrospect, that was my standard of dancing — if only i’d known it’d become a bad memory to highlight the work i have left. maybe, i’d only stick to kissing you, ruler version while singing something more melodically acceptable than finkl’s now.”

11. if you could do any special stage, what would it be and who would it be with?

“i don’t know — i don’t know many things when it comes to these mix and match scenarios. i know i’d like to make a stage where i can dance freely as if i’m in the comfort of my own home. perhaps to a song like gee, or even oh — even willing to dabble in lipstick’s genie if it means dressing up like a sailor and going ahoy. i’d want to do the stage with jeonghwa, sooah, and well — i don’t have that many friends to give you a special stage, oops.”

13. if you could become a model or ambassador for any brand, what would you choose?

”again, i’ve been blessed and satiated with each and every opportunity given. working with dior has been a smooth sailing ride as well as cartier — perhaps, given the option i wouldn’t opt for pathere de cartier but a different line. still, nothing really takes away from the heart and soul of their jewelry, which i appreciate with my cup of tea. i’d continue to work with dior, and if hermes would ever take the punch — i’d even have an affair with them.”

14. if you could be on any variety show, which one (or which type of one) would you want to be on?

“knowing brothers — i really watch that show. or even, 전지적 참견 시점 — those are the shows i keep tabs of on a weekly basis. i'd love my manager to have her time to shine and steal the hearts of the world with her variety work. she’s a very funny person you know. as for knowing brothers? that’s a given knowing how quick the crowd is on their feet and the little mini-games that come from each episode. i hurt my stomach each time from laughing along so many times.”

16. what changes would you implement if you were the ceo of your company?

“a free-for-all. i’ve never wanted to become a ceo, but had i been granted the opportunity to rule on all floors, i’d implement a few things. mandatory art classes, and creative freedom to the album jackets for all my artists. no dating-bans, let it all air out — most of all, i’d let them do as they wished as long has it harmed nobody else and they could handle the aftermath. no restrictions, roam free, bunnies.”

17. what do you do to relieve the stress of idol life?

“call me pretentious or call me a sell-out, i do what any other normal person does. i like sitting in the cafes with my notebook out, sketching. i sketch people that come in and out, or the people that decide to sit next to me. if i’m home, i’m painting on canvas with my record player crooning in the background or knitting a sweater to wear next winter. on a really adventurous day, you’ll see me playing the pole or stretching my limbs at pilates. but that’s on a non-lazy day.”

18. what tips would you give to a trainee about to debut?

“wear your skin like armor, and let it thicken as time goes on. no need to get hurt by words, and instead roll with the punches — learn to accept the hate that comes, and be scrutinized underneath a microscope. sometimes, you don’t know if it’s really reality, but the faster you assimilate yourself, the quicker you learn to glide past your career. think of everything as a catch-22, only there’s no real safety net.”

19. what was the hardest part of being a trainee?

“getting along with the other people and have them stay away from getting to know me. it’s obvious, the trainee life is temporary — there’s going to be those that debut and those that don’t, so why pry further than you have to? everyone should’ve been given the basic privacy instead of trying to play formalities and get along. other than that, i hated dance practice and i still do. dance isn’t a strong suit, and having someone force me to follow a tempo i can’t march to was no fun at all.”

20. did you enjoy the lifestyle of a trainee or of a debuted idol more?

“i liked being a debuted idol far better, only because there was a layer of privacy given to me. ironically, i was suddenly in the public eye. yet, it still allowed some layer of anonymity within the inner circle and the day to day people i interacted with. starting from a sea of trainees, and having it dwindle to a group of my members — it all made it easier to handle in the end. besides, i was getting no sleep regardless trainee or not.”

22. describe your dream sub-unit (members and concept).

“take the fuse darker concepts — peekaboo, bad boy, psycho. and merge it into one, all while getting rid of the dresses too short to dress in. wrap it all together, and you get my favorite concept. i like mystery, and latent meanings behind pretty tunes, and being able to do that each comeback would be a dream. surely, the audience might get bored of it, but i wouldn’t and i’m allowed to be selfish, aren’t i? my dream sub-unit, i’d take sooah. without sooah, i don’t know what i’d do, really. she’s like a mini-mom, three years younger. then, i’d take kiana for the dance that sooah and i can’t handle. i suppose i’d add suji in there because i don’t think anyone can belt like she does, no offense to kiana. but there’s a heartier belt when suji does it. sorry to our leader, i guess.”

23. out of the following six options, would you rather be allowed to play a major hand in the lyrics, production, choreography, styling, music videos, or concepts you release?

“i started off in lyrics, so i’ll stay loyal till the end. i’ll keep to the lyrics, so i can continue to write the stories my heart wants to say. sometimes, i’ll fall into cliches, but that’s okay. if it’s not in music production or the general content of the song, i suppose i’d take a dabble in styling — and stop dressing myself in the short skirts making it impossible to dance. really, those are the only two things i’ll be selfish for.”

25. what is your least favorite part of being an idol?

“waking up early, not having enough time to draw — those would just be the superficial things, right? but really, there’s pros and cons to any jobs, just ask any office worker with a nine to five. however, if i’m given a sliver of honesty to wave my grievances, i’d like to mention that i don’t like working in short skirts that get shorter each comeback. i don’t like getting mauled by the public of who i make eye contact with or who i work with — i don’t like getting over criticized and the list goes on.”

26. what is your favorite part of being an idol?

“i’ve always been a story teller. i like crafting stories and telling my world for how i see it, and given this opportunity in music, i’m able to do so. i like playing with instruments, sketching out things for an album idea — the creative process while meeting new people along the way. it’s a journey, an adventure and most of all, it avoids stagnation. i’m on the move, go go go.”

27. would you rather be incredibly famous with a terrible reputation and hated by most or be fairly unknown with a good reputation and adored by those who know of you? why?

“i’m already disliked by most — they don’t like the way i dress, who i’m friends with or the manner in which i present myself. but i’m given the opportunity to ignore these things along the way, and learn to handle things bit by bit. given the choice, i’d rather hide in anonymity with the few around me enjoying my presence. i’ve learned by now, public opinion doesn’t correlate to much as it’s nothing more than a crow perched far away as poe would say.”

29. what have you learned about yourself and/or society since becoming a celebrity?

“i’ve only been taught life skills, such as time management and patience. in hindsight, i’ve learned how cruel people are to judge things from what they see at surface level. the world’s superficial — that’s a bitter pill to swallow. i don’t know much about myself as i haven’t gotten that part figured out. instead, i’ve just learned that the world is cruel and the people in it amount to little to no positivity — go figure.”

[ghostspideys-moved]

All For The Best

Chapter Five

A/N: So, tumblr is being a little bit of a bitch, but I finally managed to get this chapter posted.

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairings: Steve Harrington x OC, Nancy Wheeler x Jonathan Byers x OC

Summary: Getting trapped in a Russian elevator is about as fun as it sounds, and River doesn't quite know what to make of it.

With so much happening in the short time River had been back in Hawkins, she hadn’t really taken much time to worry about her basic needs. A habit she fell into more often than she’d like to admit. She felt it was safe to assume the rest of her friends had done much better than her. 

Naturally, she offered to get everyone food while they talked out their plan, if they even had one. She figured it might be a good opportunity for her to think and have a moment to herself. Deciding it would be quicker, she headed over to Burger King, knowing it was pretty close to Scoops Ahoy, and brought back enough food for everyone. 

The four of them sat in the break room, eating and putting together whatever intel Dustin had after his own personal stakeout earlier today. Supposedly, he’d spotted a keycard, which would be a good way to get in. Except trying to take something like that was a suicide mission.

“That keycard opens the door, but unfortunately, the Russian with this keycard also has a massive gun,” Dustin explained as he paced. “Whatever’s in this room, whatever’s in those boxes, they really don’t want anybody finding it.”

River sighed. “So, we’re back to square one basically.”

“But there’s gotta be a way in,” Robin insisted.

“Well, you know, I could just take him out.” For a brief moment, River thought Steve was joking. The serious look on his face said otherwise.

“Take who out?” Robin asked. She was glad she was not the only one concerned with his plan.

“The Russian guard.”

River scoffed and shook her head. “Yeah, if you wanna get yourself killed.”

“What? It’s not that hard. I sneak up behind him, I knock him out, and I take his keycard,” Steve insisted. “It’s easy.”

“Did you not hear the part about the massive gun?” 

“Yes, Dustin, I did. That’s why I would be sneaking.”

“Well please, tell me this, and be honest. Have you ever actually won a fight?”

River easily recalled how terrible of a beating Steve took after his fight with Billy, not that she’d been much help herself. But after that, there was no way he could take an armed Russian guard all by himself.

“Okay, that was one time.”

“Twice. Jonathan, year prior.”

“Listen, that doesn’t count.”

“Why wouldn’t it? Because it looks like he beat the shit out of you.”

“Sorry, Steve, but Dustin has a point,” River agreed. “You got the shit beat out of you too many times.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Dude, I hate to break it to you, but you don’t have a winning streak, and adding a gun into the mix is probably just going to get you killed.”

“Wait. why can’t you do it?” Dustin asked.

River’s eyes widened. “Wait, why me?”

“You’ve got powers and shit. Can’t you use them to take the keycard?”

Steve shook his head. He was not having that idea. “Okay, woah. Not happening.” 

“Why?”

“Because, Dustin. It’s just a bad idea.”

“It’s better than your plan.”

“What? So, risking River’s life instead of mine is better?”

“No, but she could do it without anyone knowing.”

“That’s way too risky, and I’m not letting her get hurt-”

It was very hard for River to get a word in edgewise, but before she could really question that last part, Robin was taking off, grabbing whatever was in the tip jar.

“Hey, Robin. What are you doing?” Steve was up the moment he noticed her leaving.

“I need cash,” Robin said, as if it was obvious.

“Well, half of that’s mine. Where are you going?”

“To find us a way into that room. A safe way.”

River sighed in relief. It was a good thing someone in this group had the brains. Robin left them to look over the shop in the meantime. Hopefully she’d come back with a much better plan.

Steve sighed and tried to keep up with the workload by himself in the meantime. River and Dustin kept him company, especially once things slowed down enough for him to get bored. 

“Where do you think Robin went?” he asked. 

River shrugged, leaning against the back counter. “Where she said she was going. To find us a way in,” she said. “Better than either of us getting ourselves killed.”

She couldn’t help thinking back to what he’d said earlier before cutting himself off. From what she could tell, he was thinking about it just as much as her. He even seemed a bit antsy, busying himself to distract himself.

“Did you mean what you said?” she asked. 

Steve didn’t look up from the spot of the counter he was cleaning meticulously for no reason at all. “Which part?”

“The part about not wanting me to get hurt.” River knew he was just trying to avoid it, and she couldn’t really tell why. But clearly it was bugging him just as much, and she felt it needed to be addressed. 

“Well, yeah. Of course I did.” Steve finally set down the rag and turned to her. “You’re my friend, and after you almost died trying to save me last year? The last thing I want is for you to needlessly injure yourself more than you have already, if not worse.”

He sounded so sincere, as he always did. It was hard to ignore the fact that her heart skipped a beat at his words, but she tried not to think about it. For as good as that was doing her so far, she felt it was probably for the best.

“Well, someone had to keep you from becoming Demodog food,” she joked, lightly nudging him. 

Steve laughed. Somehow, River never quite noticed just how nice his laugh was. Even if he never ended up reciprocating her feelings, making him laugh felt like a worthy mission on its own. Especially while they waited for Robin’s return. The rest of their time was spent messing around as much as possible without making a mess or getting Steve in trouble. Somewhere along the line, Dustin joined in. She noticed the way he would give them weird looks every now and then, though she waved it off. As long as she wasn’t being obvious.

Robin didn’t take nearly as long as River had anticipated. What they hadn’t expected was for her to bring a friend along. Dustin, of course, had some complaints. 

“The whole town is going to know by the end of the week,” he mumbled. 

River was just glad to have another familiar face to keep her company in this chaos. If they were going to bring anyone into the loop, Annie Hardwick was probably the best person for it. They’d messed around in class together enough times to be considered friends, she supposed. 

“Well, she helped me get this, so she can help all she wants.” Robin waved a roll of paper in his face before she laid it out on the table. A map. “This is Starcourt Mall. The complete blueprints.”

Dustin looked genuinely impressed. “Not bad.” Maybe he would change his mind about Annie yet.

Robin grinned and pointed out a spot on the map. “This is us. Scoops.” She pointed to where the storage unit should be. “And this is where we want to go.”

“I mean, I don’t really see a way in,” Steve pointed out.

River couldn’t make out any visible entrances either, unfortunately. “Yeah, it looks like the only way in is past the guard,” she agreed. “There’s no way in.”

“There’s not, if you’re talking exclusively about doors.” Robin peeled away the map and revealed one that looked similar, though it looked like it was marking the vents.

“Air ducts,” River and Dustin said simultaneously. They were so lucky Robin was actually thinking all of this through more than them. 

“Exactly. Turns out this secret room needs air just like any old room.” Robin continued, grabbing a marker. “And these air ducts,” she said, drawing a path to Scoops Ahoy, “lead all the way here.”

She circled the store, and they turned to vent high up on the wall. Steve was quick to grab a ladder, and River handed him a screwdriver as he climbed up. Even as he was taking it apart, she had a feeling it might be too small to crawl through, even for Dustin.

Steve moved the flashlight around the entrance and shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t know, man. I don’t know if you can fit in here,” he said. “It’s, like, super tight.”

Just as she feared. 

“I’ll fit,” Dustin insisted. “Trust me. No collar bones, remember?”

River raised an eyebrow.

Robin seemed just as confused. “Uh, excuse me?” 

“Oh, he’s, uh, got some disease.” Steve climbed down and let Dustin take a shot at squeezing in the air duct. “Chry...Chrydo, um…something. He’s missing bones and stuff. He can bend like Gumbo.”

“You mean Gumby.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s Gumbo.”

River wasn’t really sure where this act of his was coming from, but she knew better. In the short time they’d spent studying together, he’d proven pretty quickly that he was by no means an idiot.

“Steve, just shut up and push me!”

“Okay!”

Steve sighed and climbed back up the ladder where half of Dustin’s body stuck out.

“So, these are your friends?” Annie asked.

River shrugged. “Yeah, unfortunately.” Though, she wouldn’t change any of this for the world. 

In the background, Steve was trying his best to push Dustin in as much as possible, to no avail. 

“Not my feet, dumbass. Push my ass.”

“What?”

“Touch my butt! I don’t care!”

Annie laughed at the two of them. “Quite the bunch,” she teased.

“Yeah, sorry you had to meet them this way,” River snorted.

So far, it looked like Steve and Dustin weren’t having any success, which meant they’d have to come up with a plan B. She might have offered to try it herself, seeing as she was the smallest one, unfortunately, except she was claustrophobic and would rather she didn’t have to try. Thankfully, Robin seemed to have another plan. 

Convincing Erica to help was going about as well as River would have expected. Which was to say, not very well at all. She could already tell Steve was annoyed, and she couldn’t blame him. Erica sent back practically everything he brought her.

Robin was trying her best to talk Erica into helping them, which wasn’t going any better. Because, yeah, Erica wasn’t wrong. Their plan was pretty half-baked. 

Dustin’s attempt didn’t go over much better.

“Know what I love most about this country? Capitalism.”

An odd statement, River realized, from someone who had been mooching off the free sample system this whole time. She couldn’t help thinking about it as Erica went on.

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but this is the opposite of capitalism,” River pointed out, gesturing at all the ice cream laid out on the table for her.

“Look, it seems to me that my ability to fit in that little vent is very, very valuable to you all,” Erica said. “So, you want my help? This USS Butterscotch better be the first of many.”

River sighed and shared a defeated look with the rest of her friends. “And I’m talking free ice cream. For life.”

It seemed like a miracle that they even managed to get Erica in on this. Robin had a walkie-talkie out to talk to Erica while they kept watch. 

They were so much closer to getting into that secret room, and the idea made her both nervous and excited all at once. There were so many ways all of this could go terribly wrong.

Steve seemed to sense her nerves and turned to her while Robin and Erica went back and forth.

“You okay?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

River offered a smile and nodded. “Just fine.”

“You know, you don’t have to help if you don’t want to.”

Sure, this was probably going to be really dangerous, but she couldn’t imagine leaving them on their own. She’d feel terrible, and to say she wasn’t curious herself would be a lie.

“No, I want to,” she assured him. “You guys might need my help, anyways.”

It would probably be pretty beneficial to have a non-evil Russian with them, she figured. Steve hesitated for a moment before nodding. She’d been worried he might think it was far too dangerous and risky for her given his reaction the last time she tried to save him. 

River turned the moment Erica walked through the doors, the five of them sharing a shocked look. She laughed and shared a high five with Annie. 

They didn’t waste any time in rushing down to meet Erica. As she’d confirmed, the room was full of the boxes they’d seen the night before. Steve quickly cut one open as they gathered around to take a look. He revealed a metal container of sorts, which he opened with some slight apprehension. 

“Maybe you guys should stand back.”

Normally, she might argue, but there was no telling what was in that container. Dustin, however, was less willing to obey orders this time around.

“No.”

“Just step back, okay?”

“No.”

“Step back, seriously.”

“No! If you die, I die.”

Steve gave up trying to stop him and pulled out something...strange looking. River wasn’t even totally sure what she was looking at, but it was green and looked like it was some sort of liquid. Whatever it was, it didn’t look good.

“What is that?” Robin asked.

River shook her head, and before any of them could come up with a guess, the room jerked unexpectedly.

“Was that just me, or did the room move?” Dustin asked, looking around.

“No, it definitely moved” River agreed.

Erica glanced between them. “Booby traps.”

Robin quickly grabbed the weird goo, River and Annie rushing around to help her take what they needed. Dustin was struggling to open the door, and Steve wasn’t having any more success. 

“Just open the door!” the girls exclaimed as they finished packing up.

None of the buttons were doing anything, and suddenly the room moved again. River scrambled to hold onto something as they suddenly plummeted with the rest of the room. The room was a goddamn elevator.

There was so much screaming around her, and River was definitely contributing to the chaos herself. The elevator was dropping alarmingly fast, and no amount of button mashing was doing them any good. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the elevator stopped, and River lost her footing. She fell back, landing on her hands. Steve fell close to her, a box landing on him. She groaned and shook off her pain before she went to move the box off of him with Dustin’s help.

“Is everyone okay?” Robin asked, rubbing her head where she hit it.

Steve got up, clearly agitated. “Yeah, I’m great now that I know that Russians can’t design elevators!” he exclaimed.

“Gee, thanks. I’m right here,” River huffed.

Steve pushed past her and Dustin before pressing all of the buttons frantically.

“I think we’ve clearly established that those buttons don’t work,” Robin said.

“They’re buttons, they have to do something!”

“Yeah, if we had a keycard.”

“A What?”

“It’s an electronic lock. Same as the loading dock door. If we don’t have a keycard, it won’t operate, meaning-”

“We’re stuck in here.”

River sighed and slid down against the wall. “Great. Who knows how long we’ll be in here.”

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

River rolled her eyes and rested her head in her hands. That wasn’t happening any time soon.

Steve seemed just as fed up as the rest of them were. “I don’t care about Tina! Or Uncle Jack’s party! You’re mom’s not gonna be able to find us if we’re dead in a Russian elevator.”

He let that sink in. 

Dustin pointed up to the roof of the elevator. “Hey. What if we climbed out?”

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