#nancy burne

[seeinganewlight]

you’re here, that’s all i need to know

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[xspeter]

TIME AFTER TIME

steve harrington x reader, better than the movies au, fake dating, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, slight jonathon x reader, no upside down, fluff to angst to fluff, happy ending, canon-divergent characters, slow updates

♥︎

Steve Harrington is practically the bane of your existence. He’s god awful and he knows it. But when your childhood crush comes to town, he’s the only one who can help you win him over.

But soon enough the lines between hate and love become blurred, and suddenly you find yourself falling for someone you never thought possible.

♥︎

🝮

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Chapter one ❣︎ uh oh, i’m fallin’ in love

Chapter two ❣︎ i’ve got a blank space, baby (and i’ll write your name)

Chapter three ❣︎ that boy is mine

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Just wanted to let y’all know that I’m about to get real busy for about a week. I’ll do my best to post on the 3rd or 4th, then again on the 7th or 8th. Thanks for understanding! ❤️

Tensions rise the longer El sits, motionless, in front of the staticky TV. Finally, she speaks. “I see her.”

Steve holds up a hand, stopping all conversation. “Is she alive?”

“Yes. Scared. I- I can’t reach her.”

“That’s okay. Is she safe? For now?”

“For now,” El agrees. “But not for long.”

“How long do you think we have?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. That’s okay. Can you look for Will, or are you too tired right now?”

“I’m tired. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be, it’s alright. I know how this ends already, remember? Here, want me to take the blindfold off?”

“Yes, please.”

“Robs? Tissue for her nose?”

Robin sprints off as Steve kneels behind El to untie the blindfold. “You did great,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”

“I looked.”

“Which is more than any of us can do,” he reminds her.

“Quick question,” Eddie says, raising his hand. “What in the hell is going on?”

“She’s got superpowers,” Steve says. “Hey, El, want us to blow up the labs while we’re at it?”

Eleven manages a shaky smile. “That would make things easier.”

“So, yes?”

She chuckles and leans into him. “I don’t know. I’m very tired.”

“Yeah, okay. Let me get you upstairs and into a bed, yeah?” She nods, looping her arms around his neck and closing her eyes. He chuckles. “I guess I’m carrying you, then?” He asks, but stands anyways, shifting her so she’s in a more comfortable position. “We can talk more once I come back downstairs,” Steve tells the rest of them, “as long as you can talk quietly.”

Nancy smirks. “That might be a little difficult for this group.”

Steve grins, shakes his head, and brings El upstairs. “My bed? Or there’s a guest bed that no one uses.”

She yawns. “Yours?”

“Sure,” he agrees, pushing open his door and tucking her in. “Y’want the door open or closed?”

“Open, please.”

“Alright. Need anything before I go?”

She shakes her head, smiling up at him. “Thank you, Steve.”

He winks at her. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favorite.” She giggles and yawns again, and he chuckles. “Okay, bedtime for real. Night, El.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

As he walks downstairs, he hears the group talking. He rounds the corner and sees Eddie, Nancy, and Robin in one conversation while the boys have a different one. “Okay,” he says, loud enough to get their attention. “First things first, we need food. If anyone has anything against pizza, speak now or forever hold your peace.” He raises a brow when the boys all start speaking over each other, yelling out their topping preferences. “I’ve known you for three years,” he reminds them. “I know what you want on your pizza.”

“Prove it,” Dustin says, spark in his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You just want me to prove even more that I’m from the future,” he says, but points to each of the boys in turn. “Pepperoni, meat lovers, pepperoni.”

Lucas narrows his eyes at Steve. “Lucky guess.”

“Christ, what is it going to take with you? You like basketball because you watch it with your dad. You want to try out for the team but are scared you won’t be good enough. You are, by the way, and I help you with some of that. Your little sister Erica is a brat and a loudmouth but you love her and her weird obsession with government.”

“Don’t forget about El,” Robin adds. “She’ll want pizza when she wakes up.”

“Yeah. Eddie? What do you want on your pizza?”

Eddie smirks. “What, you don’t know?”

“I don’t, actually, because we meet while you’re on the run from something you didn’t do. There’s not much time for small talk, and you deferred to the kids when it came to food.”

Eddie looks at him for a long second before nodding. “I like pepperoni just fine,” he says, and Steve nods.

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Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy

[hucklebucket]

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

my sibling is teaching me to crochet and i think the amount of rage i've generated towards tiny metal hooks and tangles of yarn has allowed my brain to see through the white noise of the universe and arrive at some unequivocal truths

[thaliagracesgf]

chapter two: the weirdo on maple street

an: chapter two!! i am flying with these first couple chapters just because i'm so excited about it. please please please do not expect this from future chapters, i am 100% bound to crash at some point. enjoy this chapter! it's pretty fun.

wc: 4.2k

general cws, not necessarily all in this chapter: drinking, alcoholism, drug abuse, smoking, cancer, hopper being kind of a deadbeat, usual canon violence.

masterlist (incl. series)

Your father didn’t get home until long after you had gone to bed, out with Will’s search party. You hadn’t bothered showing up at the meeting point. Hopper had said all he had to say back at the school, and you could see the argument that would ensue in front of half of Hawkins, so you drove home, building up an urge to do something and a nervous energy that nothing was quelling. 

The door slammed behind you as you got in. You stormed through the kitchen and the junkyard you called a living room before chucking your backpack at the floor and collapsing on your bed. You stared at the ceiling for an eternal few seconds until your limbs were jumping and your entire body itched, and you jumped to your feet to pace around the room. 

Slamming your way back through the house, you started pulling ingredients down from shelves with force that the box of sugar probably didn’t deserve. You think you blacked out for a few hours, because by the time your breathing was at a normal pace again, you’d baked six batches of muffins (a miraculous feat, considering the piece of shit kitchen you were working with),your calc homework for the next two weeks was done, and your bedroom looked like a tornado had run through it. 

But staring at the trays of muffins, you still had to do something. So you cleaned the house. Your father arrived home to muffins covering the counters, the entire trailer spotless, and you, absolutely crashed out in your bed with wet hair, holding your sister’s old teddy bear. You’d never had a more productive afternoon in your life.

You wake up feeling like your stomach is eating itself alive, and you realize that the one thing you forgot to do last night was eat dinner. You can’t fathom the thought of getting up, so you lay still for a few more minutes. You love your room, with your quilted bed, rugs overlapping on the floor over hardwood that would give you splinters, your bulletin board with pictures of your mom and Sarah, and your Dad. A picture Carol took of you, Steve, and Tina. A photo of Carol and Tommy, and a photo of Dustin, Lucas, and Erica from the first day of school that their moms gave you. You hold Cara a little bit tighter. 

You remember when the nurse gave her to your sister. You got one too, also named Cara. She handed them to you in your hospital beds, told you that she got them to remind you that they care-a-bout you. At four years old, you and Sarah thought it was the funniest thing in the world. 

You close your eyes tight, then force them open. You pull the blanket back, like a robot, and roll yourself upright, pulling the curtains open. Your trailer is pretty far from the rest of the park, but you can see Eddie Munson coming back from taking out the trash, and Mrs. Kim realizing that the storm last night meant all her clothes were still soaking wet. Her son left for college last year, and you’re getting a little worried about her ability to live on her own. 

You brush your teeth and tie your hair back before trudging your way out for breakfast, only to be met with the results of your frenzy from last night. The counter is still covered with muffins, minus the couple your Dad is actively chowing down on. 

“These are great,” he says, mouth full of food, raising a muffin in your direction. 

“Sale on pumpkins after Halloween,” you shrug. You pass him entering the kitchen, and pull out a container to start piling muffins into. 

“Hey!” He barks, in his very Jim Hopper way. “Where are you taking them?” 

“You do not need to eat six batches of muffins, Dad,” you say, continuing to box them up. He scoffs, offended. “I’m going to take some to school, and then to Steve’s tonight.” You really hope he just glosses over that last bit. 

Unfortunately, you hear him try to speak up, but there’s too much pumpkin muffin in his mouth to be at all intelligible. He sounds alarmed. For fuck’s sake. 

“Dad. I told you I had a thing tonight. I’m going, I’ve been planning on it for, like, a week.”

“Yeah, and I said you could go before a kid when missing, Y/N.” He’s raising his voice.

“I’m not stupid, Dad! I’m not going traipsing around town in the middle of the night! I’m going to Steve’s, for God’s sake.”   

“And I already don’t like that idea,” he says gruffly.

“Dad, we’ve been friends since we were six, you need to get over this. He literally has a girlfriend, anyway.” 

“And what about that Hagan kid?” he retorts. “I’ve had about six complaints about him in a month.” 

“Also has a girlfriend. I’m driving Tina, Dad, I can’t just bail.” 

“Well, she shouldn’t be going either!” he’s yelling. He’s always been this way with the idea that you might possibly, ever in your life, go on a date or hang out with boys. Naturally, you avoid this by never telling him, but he has got to get over this thing with Steve. It’s been nine years.

“For fuck’s sake,” you mutter. He ignores it. 

“Yeah, you’ll be thanking me when you don’t end up dead in a ditch,” he says angrily, grabbing his hat and jacket and storming out the door. 

“Well I guess we’ll never know, because I won’t have the opportunity!” you shout as it shuts behind him. Jesus Christ. You were really hoping you weren’t going to have to sneak out. 

It takes almost forty five minutes for you to pick out your outfit for the day. Fall is always when your fashion is at its best, and it comes at the cost of sifting through a gigantic collection of second-hand sweaters your mom sent you from the city every morning. Finally, you clasp your earrings, grab your muffin containers, and head out the door, keys in your mouth and backpack on one shoulder. You sigh in relief as you drop them in the passenger seat, before swinging around to the other side and starting up your car, which always takes a few minutes. 

You’re halfway to school when you have the idea to drop some at the Byers’ place. You certainly have enough. You pull a probably-illegal u-turn in the middle of the road, and head to the other side of town. 

As you pull into their driveway, you nearly slam your head on the wheel as you see the chief’s car, i.e. your dad’s car, in front of the house. Whatever. You’re just going to have to suck it up, as little as you want to see him again this morning. 

But as you walk up to the house, raised voices slow your approach. 

“No, it was him, it was Will,” Joyce’s distressed voice says. “And he was scared. And then something—”

“It was probably just a prank call. It was somebody trying to scare you,” your father interrupts, and your eyes go wide as you listen, standing on the porch. Is he serious?

“Who would do that?” Jonathan asks. Has he met the people who live in this town?

“Well, this thing’s been on the TV.” Hopper says. It has? You must have missed it in your cleaning coma last night. “It brings out all the crazies, you know. False leads, prank calls, uh…”

“No, Hopper, it was not a prank. It was him,” Joyce says, with a mixture of desperation and determination to convince your father.

“Joyce.” 

“Come on, how about a little trust here?” She shouts. “What, you think that I’m making this up?”

“I’m not saying that you’re making it up. All I’m saying is, it’s an emotional time for you.” He cannot be serious.

“And you think I don’t know my own son’s breathing? Wouldn’t you know your own daughter’s?” Oh. 

Oh.

That hits you like a bat to the chest. Because, no, you don’t know that he would. And you don’t know if she even means you. You know she knows about Sarah, the whole of Hawkins does. You’re too used to people acting like Sarah was your parents’ only daughter, that she was all they had before she died, and it’s infuriating. She wasn’t their only daughter. She was your only sister. 

The silence that follows is loud, and you decide you don’t want to hear any more. Knocking lightly, you push the door open and shuffle in. You don’t see your father around the corner, just Jonathan and Joyce standing together, Joyce with her face in her hands. 

“Um… hey,” you say, your voice small. “I brought… I brought you guys some muffins. Figured you might not have eaten… or something. I’ll just… leave them here.” 

You place them on the coffee table. Joyce is sniffling with her face covered, but Jonathan comes and meets you halfway. 

“I can… I can grab those.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Uh… no, thank you.” He takes the container and nods awkwardly. “I’ll… um, wash this and give it to your dad… or something.” 

“Yeah, no, take your time,” you don’t meet his eyes. 

“I’m sure he would,” he whispers, so your parents don’t hear. You give him a confused look. 

“Recognize… um…”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” You’re desperate to get out of here. You give an awkward wave, and head back out the door, not addressing your father.

On the car ride to school, you can’t not think about Jonathan’s words. Why on earth would he say that? He doesn’t know you, or your Dad. You know he was trying to be nice, but what the hell does he know about Jim Hopper? It’s playing over and over through your head as you walk into school. Who the hell is Jonathan Byers?

But you’re reminded of your Dad’s fit this morning as you approach your friends. 

“Ugh. Problem tonight,” you drag. “My Dad is freaking out, and I can’t drive over anymore. Unless he knocks himself out early, which I would love to count on, but can’t promise.” 

Tommy dives into your muffins, making a gigantic mess that leaves you and Tina giving him a disgusted look.

“Oh, fuck,” Tina complains. I was so looking forward to it.” 

“We can pick you up,” Tommy says, gesturing between himself and Carol, “but I can’t promise you’ll have a ride back.” He smirks disgustingly. Disgusting really is the best word to describe Tommy Hagan in most situations. 

“Ugh. I’ll see if my sister can drive us,” Tina says as you share a worried look for yourselves. The last thing the both of you want is to be sitting downstairs while Tommy and Carol have sex for hours in Steve Harrington’s parents bed. 

There’s a moment of silence, interspersed only with the loud chewing of Tommy on a muffin. “Oh my god,” you say. “Why didn’t I think of this already? I’ll just stay at your place, T. I’ll bring my car and we can go. I’ll tell my Dad we were working on a project super late, and I’m “scared to drive home”.” 

“Oooooooooh,” Tommy and Carol wiggle their fingers. 

“Thank god,” Steve interrupts them, shoving Tommy from the back of the head and turning to you and Tina. “I cannot do this with just them.” 

“Scared, Stevie?” Tina teases him. 

“Yeah, Harrington’s losing his virginity tonight,” Tommy chortles. You’re so glad he makes himself laugh, you think. He really needs someone to acknowledge the things he says.

“Oh, shut up,” Steve scowls. “Your mom knows that was a while ago.”

Wow, Tina gives you a look. Our friends are so witty.

“Speak of the devil,” Carol says as Nancy and Barb head down the hallway, flashcards in hand. Steve jumps up from his spot on the benches where you make yourselves at home (which is conveniently located under the trophy case, which his name is all over). 

The rest of you follow him over, you and Tina giving each other looks as you go.

Steve snatches the flashcards out of Barb’s hands, and she trails off on her question about molecules. “Hey!” 

“I don’t know, I think you’ve studied enough, Nance.” 

“Steve—” she protests.

“I’m telling you, you know, you got this.” He ignores the annoyed look in her eyes. “Don’t worry. Now, on to more important matters.” He clasps the flashcards, drumming his fingers on them as he talks before pocketing them. “My dad has gone out of town for a conference, and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause, you know, she doesn’t trust him.” 

You laugh as Tommy says, “Good call.” Steve’s Dad is the biggest douchebag you’ve ever met, and considering Tommy, that’s really saying something. Credit where credit’s due, even if it is the bare minimum, he’s never cheated on Carol. Steve almost laughs too as he looks over at him.

“So, are you in?” 

“In… for what?” Nancy looks genuinely lost. You would be too. Steve uses a lot of words to say very little. 

“No parents? Big house?” Carol looks at her expectantly. 

“A party?” 

“Ding ding ding.” Tina hits her, and you hit Tommy as he laughs at Nancy. 

“It’s… Tuesday.” 

“It’s Tuesday,” Tommy mocks. “Oh my god,” he and Carol are both laughing.

“Dude,” you roll your eyes, making eye contact with Tina. Such a dick, you mouth. 

“Come on,” Steve persists. “It’ll be low key, it’ll just be us. Are you in, or are you out?”

“Um…” Nancy’s thought is interrupted by Carol. 

“Oh God. Look.” You turn your head to where she’s staring. Jonathan. 

“Oh, God, that’s depressing.”

“Steve.” you glare at him. Cut it out. 

“Should we say something?” Nancy asks. You feel bad for him, but you are one hundred percent out after the disaster that was this morning. 

“I don’t think he speaks,” Carol smirks. 

“How much you wanna bet he killed him?” Tommy snickers. 

“Shut up,” Steve shoves his chest. Your eyes widen again, as if you cannot believe what you are hearing from him right now, but Tina’s laugh slips out, and you give her a pointed look. Obviously none of you are exactly great people, but you’ve never known your best friend to be cruel. Steve bites his lip as Nancy watches Jonathan, his eyes following her as she walks over to him. 

You don’t hear their interaction, but if you had to guess, it seems about as awkward as yours. Tommy gives him a wave as he looks over at you. 

The bell goes, and Nancy heads back over to you and your friends. Steve and Tina split for their art class, and you walk awkwardly beside Barb and Nancy as Tommy throws his arm over Carol’s shoulder. 

“Attention, faculty and students,” your principal comes over the PA system. “At eight p.m. tonight, there will be an assembly on the football field in support of Will Byers and his family. All are encouraged to attend. Volunteer signups for search parties are available in the office.” 

You hear the door slam behind you as Jonathan heads back outside the building. 

“Where the hell are you, exactly?” Your dad is predictably furious when he answers the phone. 

“Tina’s,” you reply, exasperated. “We went to the thing at school for Will, and now we’re studying for chem.”

“Didn’t you just have a test today?” 

Fuck. How on earth does he manage to pay attention to the most inconvenient parts of your life? “Yeah, um. We’re working on a project. Doing some math homework too. I just… you know. Studying lumps it all together, didn’t think you wanted the details.”

You mime yourself losing your mind at Tina across her bedroom, who’s trying to hold her laughter in. Since kindergarten, she has found lying to Jim Hopper to be the funniest thing imaginable. For this reason, you’ve banished her to the opposite corner of the room until you hang up. You hope he can’t hear the wide smile in your voice. 

“Dad. Please, please chill. I’m just going to stay over here tonight, I don’t want to drive in the dark.” 

He looks across the trailer at the random woman that came home from the search with him, and decides that maybe it’s for the best that you aren’t here. “Fine. But you’re home by seven tomorrow night, no later.”

“Sounds great. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye, kid.” 

“Bye.” You drop the phone on the stand in relief. 

“Yes!” Tina shouts.

“Tina!” you shout back, laughing and dropping your voice to a whisper. “Your parents.” 

“You know they don’t care,” she grins.

“Ok, well, help me decide what to wear.” You pull out your two bikinis, although you know you want to wear the red one.

“Oh, come on,” Tina laughs at you. “First of all, it’s November—” 

“His pool is heated.”

“Oh, you’re so right.” She turns and starts digging through her closet. “Second of all,” she adds, her head deep in the monster of fabric that is her wardrobe, “don’t act like I don’t know exactly why you brought that one.”  

“Which one?” you ask, feigning innocence and not meeting her eyes. 

“The Phoebe Cates one?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Ha! I knew it.” 

“Come on, just because there are no hot single guys there doesn’t mean I don’t need male validation,” you smile at her. 

“You’re a terrible person,” she laughs at you.

“I know.” 

She pauses. “I’m totally bringing mine, too.” 

The drive over is full of trying to predict exactly how this night is going to go. 

“Okay. One hundred percent Tommy pushes Carol in the pool,” Tina says, doing mascara in the passenger seat. “Hey! Easy on the road, I’m doing eye makeup over here.”

“Take it up with the mayor, or something. Fucking potholes everywhere. But, yes obviously happening. We should get in ourselves before they get the chance. This sweater cannot get wet.” You’re wearing your orange striped zippered sweater under the massive Hawkins Police jacket you stole from your father. 

“You and your fucking sweaters,” Tina snorts. 

You pull in in front of Steve Harrington’s massive house, definitely not running over the grass. 

As you get out of the car, a shout comes from behind you. “When are you going to learn how to park?” Steve calls from his front door. You look back at your car, which is sitting diagonally half on his lawn and half on the gravel driveway. 

“Oh, shut up,” you narrow your eyes at him as you push past into the house. “Raise a Little Hell” by Trooper is playing on his fancy speakers. “Have you been standing here this entire time?” 

“No.”

“Yes!” Tommy calls from the back porch. “He has, it's completely and utterly lame.” 

“Wow! Big word there, Tommy!”

“Yeah, your mom taught it to me.” 

The doorbell rings, echoing through the house, and the speed at which Steve jumps up and runs to the front door has the four of you in the kitchen all snickering. 

“Hello, ladies,” you hear, and you turn your head to see him leaning on the door. You really have to try not to laugh at him. 

The scream actually hurts your ears. You and Tina are standing in the pool near the edge, gossiping and observing your friends until Tommy picks his girlfriend up and swings her over your heads. 

“Tommy!” you both shriek as Carol screams. 

“One!” He shouts, “Two! Three!” 

“Stop it Tommy! No! Don’t!” 

“You’re going to kill somebody!” You hit his ankles, and he finally puts her down as Steve comes back out from the house with his pocket knife. 

You watch as he shotguns it. That sweater really suits him. 

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Nancy smiles at him.

“Yes,” Tina laughs. 

“Definitely.” 

Steve puts his cigarette back between his lips. “You’re not?” 

“You are a cliché, you do realize that.” 

“You are a cliché,” he lights the cig. “What with your grades, and your band practice—” 

“I’m so not in band!” Nancy shakes her head.

“Okay, party girl. Why don’t you just, uh, show us how it’s done, then?” He tosses you and Tina drinks as well, and you grab your keys from the side of the pool, putting out your cig beside them. You see Barb roll her eyes, and Tina nudges you, smirking. 

“Don’t be so mean,” you whisper at her. 

“What? I don’t even get why she’s here.” Carol gives the two of you a look, like right? 

“You gotta make a little hole right in—”

“I got it,” Nancy brushes him off, and he raises his hands in surrender.

“Yeah, she’s smart, you douche,” Tommy chortles. He crushes his empty can against his head before tossing it at the ground. 

You push yourself up out of the pool to sit on the edge. Holy shit, it’s freezing. “Here, Nance, let’s do it together,” your teeth chatter. “Like right now, too, so I can get back in.” 

You cut the sides of your cans together and raise them to your lips. 

“Chug. Chug, chug,” Steve starts, and the others join. “Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug, chug, chug, chug—” 

You drown them out as you finish your can before tossing it to the deck. Nancy’s done right after you, and she takes a bow. You laugh, meeting her eyes. You suddenly really hope that you can be really good friends with her. 

“Barb, you wanna try?”

The rest of you look about as surprised as Barb herself. “What? No. No, I don’t want to, thanks.”

“Come on,” Nancy pushes her.

“Yeah, come on, yeah!” 

“Nance, I don’t want too—” 

“It’s fun! Just give it a—” 

“Nance…” 

“Just…” she softens her voice. “Just give it a shot.” 

Barb takes the can and the knife from her, hesitantly standing up. She has an audience; Tommy and Carol look on, interested, and Nancy looks back at Steve to an apprehensive look as he raises his cig to his mouth. She struggles with the can for a second before it slips, and she cuts her hand. 

She gasps. “Gnarly,” Tommy laughs, and you hit his leg again. 

“Are you okay?” Nancy worries. 

“Yeah,” Barb shoots back, obviously annoyed. 

“Barb, you’re bleeding,” Nancy looks at her. Drops of blood hit the pool deck. 

“I’m fine,” she insists. “Where’s your bathroom?” She turns to Steve. 

“Oh! It’s… It’s uh, down past the kitchen, to the left.” 

“Okay, thanks.” 

“Do you want me to go with you?” You ask her, and she shakes her head without looking at you, walking back in the direction of the sliding glass doors. Nancy looks on, worried, as her best friend walks away and Steve points out the bathroom. Carol and Tommy are still laughing under their breath. 

Carol looks up at the sky, shaking her head and enjoying the moment as Barb goes inside. 

You see Tommy look her up and down, and before you have a chance to warn her he shoves her into the pool. She and Tina shriek as Tina ducks and Carol flies over her head. “Oh my god, what the hell, Tommy?” He drops his cig, grinning, and dives in after her. You jump back in with Tina, and begin to lose yourself in the splashing and screaming. Nancy laughs from the edge until Steve sneaks up behind her and pushes her in behind them, giving the most over the top jump in after her. Tommy and Carol kiss, you jump on Tina’s shoulders, and Steve grabs Nancy’s shoe and holds it away, teasing her. 

You’re so unbelievably happy, here with your friends. For the next hour, all your thoughts about Will and your father are totally out the window. 

“I’m freezing,” Carol shivers, wrapping herself in a towel in Steve’s living room. 

“Me too, holy shit,” you laugh and dry your hair. You and Tina are the only ones in swimsuits, and you’re looking at each other like thank god you brought them. The idea of trying to peel off soaking wet, cold clothes right now makes you shudder. 

“Hmm… well, I hear his mom’s room has a fireplace,” Tommy smirks. 

“Are you kidding?” Steve throws his hands up and you and Tina laugh. 

“Oh yeah?” Carol says, following him up the stairs. 

“Okay, well, you know, you are cleaning the sheets,” Steve calls after his friend and runs a hand through his hair. “You alright?” he turns to Nancy. 

“Yeah,” she smiles. 

“Yeah? Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes,” he leads her through the house. You and Tina pull on your clothes, finally something resembling not freezing, and grab your bags. 

You follow Nancy out to the front of the house, where she’s talking to Barb. 

“Nance!” her friend calls as she starts to head up the stairs. “Nancy. Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere! Just… upstairs.” Steve moves around her, back down to you and Tina. 

“Here, let me grab those for you.” He takes both of you out to your car while Nancy and Barb talk. You step outside, and you’re glad that for a second it’s just the three of you. You’re trying really, really hard to sort of back away from Steve, not do any of the things you’ve always done with him that might make her uncomfortable. But you think that a little bit, you might really miss him. 

As you fall asleep that night, next to Tina, you can’t keep him and that damn cigarette out of your head.

an: yay!!! chapter two!! i hope you enjoyed it. as always, any reblogs and other interactions are so highly appreciated, i love hearing what you think so so much whether in these comments or in my inbox! let me know if you would like to be added to this taglist <3

xoxo, thaliagracesgf

tags: @thisisourlovestory, @ladygrey03

[miwiromantics]

“TV Girl reference?”

[ronanceautistic]

That time the hair department called her hair crispy ruined multiple lives btw. It’s soft and fluffy and no one can take that away from me

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Steve Goes Punk Post Season 1

(I've been seeing all the art for this AU and I had to join in)

-After losing his friends and his position at school, Steve's left without any identity and it sends him into a bit of a spiral.

-Nancy barely comes over and without his parents home, Steve finds himself trying to, well, find himself.

-He's well aware of his nickname, Steve "The Hair" Harrington and decides to let everyone know he's not that by shaving the sides of his hair, leaving a short curly mohawk

-Steve's parents picked out every part of his life. Who his friends were, what sport he played, what he wore and now he's angry. Quitting basketball and burning almost all of his khakis and polos.

-He ends up buying a lot more jeans and band shirts. Picking up a leather jacket to complete his look, Steve comes back his senior year looking and acting very differently.

-Steve and Nancy breakup earlier and he retreats into music for comfort. Mostly The Smiths and David Bowie.

- It's only now that he finally starts to take notice of Eddie "The Freak" Munson, the older teen complimenting Steve on the Scorpions patch he haphazardly sewed on the sleeve of his jacket.

- They don't exactly hang out but they're more than acquaintances, Steve deciding to ask the kids he's started hanging around about the Dungeons and Dragons game they play to understand what Eddie's talking about half the time.

-Eddie's the one who takes him to the Claire's in the nearby strip mall to get his left ear pierced, giving him his hand to squeeze when the needle goes in.

"And you're sure the left ear's not the gay ear right?"

"Yes I'm sure. Why are you so hung up about this?"

"I just want to make sure!"

- It's as they're leaving that Steve notices Eddie's right ear is pierced.

[snowy0w1]

*throws gnp art at you and it lodges in your throat cutely*

also tw for gore and sh 😁

[scarletslippers]

Okay, I've been thinking a lot about the curse and how much of how the curse works and manifests is really dependent on how we define love.

Part of love is feeling, chemistry, attraction, yes, but more importantly, love is action. Putting another's good above your own, wanting the best for that person no matter what. Love is making choices that help do that.

So to understand the curse, we need to take the perspective of how the curse caster understood love. AKA, Temperance. Diving in under the cut because it got long.

Temperance did not understand love. Yes, she seemed hurt and betrayed when she relayed that Cora Down turned Charity and Charity's father against Temperance, but I think the root of that was more that they were no longer hers to manipulate. Even her mother's love for her child was not unconditional and about Charity's welfare. She states that from the beginning she was only concerned about Charity as a means to an end.

"You made your daughter into a key."

"I gifted her with a destiny."

Temperance calls Beckett Dow a "pedantic drip" and shows disdain for Charity's feelings for him. But what Beckett did, was truly incredible. This man, as his wife lay dying, brutally separated her soul to keep her safe for eternity, and then turned himself into an immortal terrifying heart-freezing entity as an insurance policy to make sure that Charity was never harmed. The man lived 150 years alone in a cell awaiting the day he would maybe have to live that purpose. Nancy was right. "It's always been about love." Sacrificial love, that is.

Circling this back to Nancy and Ace, Nancy fully understands and employs sacrificial love. She tells Temperance, "I can't let you destroy Horseshoe Bay. No." She sacrifices her future to keep the town safe - which Temperance didn't see coming because Temperance didn't understand Nancy's love for Ace or for Horseshoe Bay.

"Blind spots, Temperance. I choose this."

And then we see it all over 3x13 and 4x01 where Nancy avoids telling Ace about the curse or her love because she's dying to keep him safe and the best way she knows how to do that is to keep her distance.

So let's examine the curse:

"It will kill Ace if you ever act upon your feelings for each other."

What does 'act upon feelings' mean? That's the big unknown, right?

Nancy chooses the no contact, no discussion route to be totally safe, but really, isn't choosing to keep him safe an act of love?

Not by Temperance's definition.

Nancy spends every inch of 4x01 telling and showing how in love with Ace she is:

"I can talk about a platonic friend who I have to keep alive by never letting him know that I'm in love with him so that we don't act on our feelings for each other and activate a secret death curse."

Asking Bess and George how Ace is every chance she gets.

Telling Ryan "It's like my compass is off. My sense of true north."

Writing Ace's name on a paper stuck in a bottle for a town tradition so that "lovers' souls separated in death can find each other."

And yet none of those trigger the curse or a curse warning. Because all of those examples are on the intellectual, sacrificial side of love - wanting him to be safe, making sure he's doing okay, mourning the loss of him as a partner and friend in a relationship where they make each other better.

It's only when Nancy and Ace physically act on feelings from the chemistry/attraction side of things do we get curse warnings - almost kiss one, almost kiss two, almost kiss three, shirt grabbing, nose brush, forehead touch, etc. These all fall under Temperance's definition of love. And really, by her definition, you can see why she thought love was weakness. She prided herself on being someone in control of herself, her emotions, and the world around her.

"Feelings make your blind spots bigger."

Being so out of control so as to almost kiss someone three times even though you know it means certain death for them? Yeah, that kind of seems like weakness.

All this to say, I think it's going to be interesting how we see this play out this season, given Kennedy's comment about Nancy and Ace leaning on each other like never before. It seems like the curse isn't wired to prevent emotional intimacy, and now that the feelings are all out in the open, I can't wait to see where that goes.

[eskawrites]

Anyway Nancy hates cooking because she isn’t naturally good at it. There are very few things Nancy isn’t naturally good at, so when she’s 8 years old and accidentally dumps too much salt into the pan—and when Ted mutters something about how the food is inedible, despite Karen’s pointed praise of how Nancy made them dinner—she decides she’s never going to cook again.

That’s unrealistic, of course. Her mom all but forces her to help out in the kitchen, no matter how much it stresses out little 8, 10, 12 year old Nancy. She can chop vegetables and stir pots, but she refuses to touch the seasonings.

Once she’s a teenager, and her parents start leaving her to watch Mike and Holly once in a while, she finds herself floundering even more in the kitchen. After burning eggs, letting pasta boil over, and nearly poisoning her siblings with undercooked chicken, Karen starts making sure she always leaves leftovers if she and Ted are going out. It might be her imagination, but 14 year old Nancy swears her mother gives her a disappointed look every time she points out the leftovers in the fridge.

And once when she’s 16 and spending a rare night alone, she steps into the kitchen, determined to do this right at least once in her life. She ends up with little burns on her arms and a small cut on her thumb, frantically opening windows to get rid of the smoke. She gives up, fighting back angry tears as she cleans the dishes so no one knows she was even there. She goes to bed without eating at all.

Meanwhile you have Robin, who doesn’t really think she’s naturally talented at anything (even though she very much is) and so she doesn’t mind being bad at something at first. She’s creative and flexible, and the last thing she expects is perfection. If she messes something up in the kitchen—which she does, often—then she either comes up with a way to fix it or she tries again. She also has plenty of time on her hands with her parents either working or hanging out with friends so often. Her mother teaches her a few basic recipes, and by the time she’s 10, her parents deem her competent enough to feed herself whenever.

So she does. And, because she’s Robin and she gets bored easily, she makes a habit of finding new recipes whenever she can. She cuts them out of magazines or memorizes the ones she overhears other women sharing. Some of them take a few tries, but the more she learns, the more she enjoys cooking.

She loves it even more when she can share what she cooks with someone else. Once she learns Steve only gets home cooked meals when he has dinner with Dustin and Mrs. Henderson, she makes a point of keeping his kitchen stocked and cooking whenever she stays the night at his house. Which means she cooks for them—and for whichever munchkins are around at the time—nearly every day of the week.

So Nancy is hanging out with everyone at Steve’s one afternoon, and they dig through the abundance of leftovers in the fridge to make dinner. She asks when cooking became part of his babysitting resume, but the kids all jump to tell her that it’s Robin, actually, and how have you not had her food yet, Nancy, she’s such a good cook

A week later she goes over to Robin’s house to study with her and finds her in the kitchen, wearing an apron, a streak of flour on her cheek, beaming at Nancy when she walks through the door. “You didn’t have to make cookies just for our study date,” Nancy tells her. “I know. I wanted to. I like baking.” “What? Why??”

Cue Robin talking about how she loves cooking, loves the creativity, loves playing music and doing something that lets her move around a lot without thinking too hard, and especially loves getting to share with others, when so many of her childhood meals were just made for one.

“You don’t like cooking, I take it?” Robin asks. “Not my thing,” Nancy says quickly, not meeting her eyes.

Robin comes over for dinner at the Wheelers and brings a pie. Karen adores her just for the gesture, but when it turns out to be amazing, she decides Robin is her new favorite of all her children’s friends. Even Ted gives an absent compliment after taking a bite, and Nancy quickly excuses herself from the table.

Robin finds her upstairs later, pretending like everything is fine. She asks if the pie was really that bad, and despite holding back tears, Nancy laughs.

And it’s stupid, because Nancy knows she’s good at many things, and in the grand scheme of things she doesn’t give a fuck about cooking. But she’s just so bad at it, and she doesn’t like being bad at things.

Not to mention the fact that she doesn’t remember the last time she got a compliment from her father, but she sure remembers him insulting her food.

So Robin sits down beside her and tells her about the time she ruined her mother’s favorite pot by burning chili in it. She spent four hours trying to scrape a rock hard layer of beans and peppers and stewed tomatoes from the bottom before her mother found out. She had to save up for two months to replace it.

“But I’ve had your chili,” Nancy says. “It’s amazing.”

“Yeah, once I learned how to not turn it into charcoal.”

Robin tells Nancy, not for the last time, that her father’s an asshole. And the next time she cooks dinner for the two of them, she casually asks if Nancy wants to help.

Nancy doesn’t. Robin says that’s okay, too.

But Robin’s kitchen is such a pressure free environment. There’s music playing, and dishes everywhere, and she can’t use an ingredient without spilling it. So one day, Nancy nervously walks up behind her and wraps her arms around Robin’s waist. She stands on her toes and rests her chin on Robin’s shoulder and asks, quietly, “Can I help?”

Robin asks what she wants to do. So she chops vegetables and stirs the pot. Next time, she lets Robin guide her through stacking layers of lasagna. After that, they make Robin’s favorite vodka sauce. The next Saturday morning is spent trying to flip pancakes. There are plenty of mistakes and much more laughter, but even the ones that fall apart still taste good.

Nancy decides cooking really isn’t for her, but she doesn’t mind being in the kitchen with Robin one bit. Maybe, even, she learns a thing or two along the way.

[marvins-linguinie]

robin: so, what're you cooking for dinner, nancy?

nancy: i don't know. i don't really feel like cooking.

eddie: i can.

nancy: no.

steve: look, ill watch him, okay? it's better then rob watching him. neither of them can be unsupervised in the kitchen

eddie: can't you give me a little more credit than that, steve?

steve: let's go.

[steve tells eddie to get a pot of water boiling. surely nothing can go wrong with water, right?]

steve: hold on, ill be right back. keep watching the water.

eddie:

eddie: steve?

steve: what?

eddie: the toaster is on fire.

steve: the toaster- how?!

eddie: it was plugged into the wall, and then the water started boiling and then it boiled over the top, in which, is not my fault. so then, the water, started flowing towards the toaster, and i stepped back because im not trying to die today. there was a big spark, and it caught on fire. we should probably put that out though.

nancy: WHY IS THE KITCHEN ON FIRE?????

[teethroad]

random post of mine, I just covered my new closet with something I managed to print a long time ago

[thaliagracesgf]

Chapter Three: Holly, Jolly

wc: 5.7k

divider from @saradika-graphics, images from pinterest

general CWs, not necessarily all in this chapter: drinking, alcoholism, drug abuse, smoking, cancer, hopper being kind of a deadbeat, usual canon violence. not entirely proofread.

masterlist (incl. series)

a/n: wow. this chapter took so much out of me. it was intense. it’s been in progress for over a month (thank you for bearing with me! i was on vacation!) and i had a lot of important scenes in it that i wanted to do well. truly what got me through the last bit was chapter one of season four of @stevie-petey’s “come home” coming out last night (which you should go read, if you haven’t yet!). i hope you enjoy this!

You are absolutely fucking dead when you wake up. “Tina,” you groan. “Does your head also feel like a million nails are being drilled into it?” You look around her room, feeling absolutely attacked by the pink and the sparkles that you’ve seen a trillion times before. 

“Yes! How did you know?” She gasps sleepily, and you’re so sure she’s still drunk. “Owwww,” she moans, “that hurt.” 

“What, speaking?” you reply, and yes, it really does hurt. “Fuck me, I need to either drop dead right now or someone needs to feed me, like, all the food in Hawkins.”

“Ughhhhh,” she responds, your faces still in your pillows. “That sounds so good.” 

“We have to get up.”

“No, no no no no no no,” she cries. “We can skip today. Can we skip today?” 

“You can knock yourself out. My dad would actually lock me in jail, probably.” You don’t let yourself fall back asleep, because if you do, you know for a fact that you will not wake up again in time for class. You shuffle painfully to the edge of the bed, swinging your legs off as you continue to lay down, and eventually muster up the courage and strength to sit upright. The pain in your head gets a million bajillion times worse, and you moan again. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t do what I just did. It was so bad.” 

“I’ll suffocate you if you suffocate me,” Tina mumbles. “Then we definitely don’t have to go to school.” 

“I really, really like that plan.” You push yourself to your feet, fighting through the throbbing pain that feels like your brain is too big for your skull, and walk the two steps to your duffel bag before collapsing on the floor again. 

“I’m wearing your jeans,” you mumble to her. “I can’t wear my red pants two days in a row.”

“Wonderful,” she responds. You’re pretty sure she’s asleep again. You pull on a sweatshirt you’ve had since second grade—you can’t even remember where it came from at this point. 

You make it to school alive, by some miracle. And you definitely still look like a corpse when you walk into class, taking your seat behind Nancy. The bell rings, and your head starts to throb again. You take note of her concerned looking face, and assume she must be suffering similarly. At least you aren’t alone. 

That is, until she leans forward in her desk, “Hey Ally,” she gets the girl’s attention. “Where’s Barb?” 

“Um, shouldn’t you know?” the girl responds, turning back around.

“You haven’t seen her, anywhere?” Nancy continues. “At all?” 

Ally shakes her head, and Nancy slouches back in her chair, noticing you. Before she can ask you, you shake your head, biting your lip. This cannot be good. You don’t know Barb well, but she definitely doesn’t seem like the type to skip. 

You look ahead, forcing yourself to pay at least some attention to class, because you cannot for the life of you figure out the difference between antiderivatives and integrals, but you’re still running through possibilities of how or when Barb could have left Steve’s last night in your head.

You walk into the cafeteria, making your way over to your table in a headache-induced haze. You almost don’t notice the interesting look Steve gives you as you sit down, but you can’t figure out what it means. You manage to drown out a bit of the conversation as you think about Barb, Will, your Dad, Will, your grades, your headache, until Tommy raises his voice. 

“That’s why science doesn’t make any damn sense to me,” he says with food in his mouth, gesturing at Carol’s foot up on the table. It’s got some nasty thing on the ankle, and she’s decided that the best place to examine it is your lunch table. It’s making you nauseous the more you see it. You’re trying to avoid looking, but that’s only so possible when it’s next to your applesauce. 

“Nothing makes sense to you, dude,” you roll your eyes, and Steve snorts. 

“I swear, look at this. It’s totally frostbite,” Carol whines. 

Steve passes his applesauce over to Tommy, who thanks him before returning to his girlfriend. “It’s a heated pool,” he says dismissively.

“Well if it’s not frostbite, then what is it?” 

“Ugh,” Steve interrupts. “I don’t care what it is, it’s disgusting! Get it off the table. We’re eating here.” 

“What he said,” you add. 

Tommy touches it with his spoon, and Carol smacks him away. Much to the rest of your disgust, he continues to use the spoon for his applesauce. 

“Hey Tommy,” Nancy cuts in, trying and failing to ignore the spoon disaster, and narrowing her eyes. “When you left, did you see Barb?” 

“What?” 

“Barbara. She’s not here today.” 

“I seriously have no idea who you’re talking about,” Tommy snickers, and you roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair as he leans across the table. You’re trying to keep as far a distance between yourself and that spoon as possible. 

“Come on, don’t be an ass, man,” Steve says. “Did you… Did you see her leave last night or not?” He doesn’t actually look all that concerned with what Tommy has to say. 

“No. She was gone when we left,” Tommy says, as though he’s annoyed at Nancy and she’s asked him a million times. 

“Probably couldn’t stand listening to all that moaning,” Carol adds. The pair of them start mocking Nancy, loudly, turning heads in the cafeteria. You kick her across the table.

“Come on, that’s so disgusting, guys.” 

“You say that because you got out of there, Y/N!” she laughs. “It was bad.” 

“Can you… can you just cut it out?” You glare at her, and she gives you a puzzling look back, smirking at you. 

Your friend is trying to hide his smile, though. And it’s extremely troubling for you. Why are all your friends turning into extra special assholes this week? 

“Listen…” he turns to Nancy, not doing anything about how uncomfortable she looks as Tommy and Carol die of laughter across from them. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably just… she’s probably just, like, skipping, or something.” 

“Yeah.” Nancy replies, totally unconvinced. You catch her eye. “Yeah, probably.” 

You sit on the brick ledge just outside after Chem as Nancy tries to call Barb’s mom. You made the suggestion after class, after watching her skittish looks and jittery vibe for an hour, and offered to come with her. Now you fiddle with the fraying edge of your hoodie as she stands by the phone. 

The line rings. “Come on, come on, come on…” Nancy mutters.

You’re not sure what to do with your eyes, whether you seem uninterested and bored if you stare at the ground or a creep if you watch or check up on her as she calls. As you kick a rock on the pavement, you think about driving by Dustin and the Sinclairs’ houses tonight. You realize you haven’t seen the boys since Will went missing. Since you let him go home on his own. You blink back sudden tears in your eyes. You’ve been trying not to vocalize it in your mind, knowing it would send you over the edge, but you know Will’s disappearance is your fault. If you had just driven him the rest of the way, seen that Jonathan had eyes on him before taking off…

“Hello?” You startle at the faint voice of a woman who must be Barb’s mom through the phone. 

“Hi!” Nancy also jumps. “Hi, uh, Ms. Holland, it’s Nancy.” 

“Oh, Nancy, how are you?” the muffled voice returns. 

“Good… I’m good. Um, I was just wondering, is, uh, is Barb there?” her voice sounds a little higher than normal. 

“Mmm… no…” you can’t hear the rest of the sentence, but Nancy winces, so you assume she’s not there. A growing pit makes you sick to your stomach. Are you cursed? Are people you sort of hang out with doomed to go missing? Are you being incredibly narcissistic by thinking about that right now instead of Will and Barbara, their families? 

“But she did come home, right? After the vigil?” You can’t hear Ms. Holland anymore over a ringing in your ears. 

“Right. Yes. She did, sorry. I meant, did she come home this morning? I think she left some textbooks and she was gonna go pick them up.” 

“Oh, um, no, I haven’t seen her,” Ms. Holland’s voice comes back through. You fiddle with the edges of a food drive poster on the side of the phone box. 

“Do— do you know what? I just remembered… she’s at the library.” Nancy is not doing a great job at this, you hate to say it. You make eye contact with some sort of leopard or cheetah on a Battle of the Bands flier, and wonder briefly if Eddie Munson is doing it. You can hear his fucking guitar every single night at home. There was a point when you thought about starting a band together, when you were in fifth grade, but your music tastes were completely different. You argued for hours on what your band’s sound would be before finally calling it quits. You sort of drifted from Eddie, after that. He always thought you were trying too hard to fit in around Steve and Tina, trying to convince you to hang out with kids “like you.” I.e.: other poor kids.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will,” Nancy responds to something you missed. “Sorry to bother you.” She hangs up the phone and sighs. You bite your lip again, and the end of school bell rings. You grab her hand, in an attempt to comfort her, you guess, and the two of you start walking up to the parking lot. 

The pit in your stomach grows again when you see your friends at the top of the hill, leaning on what you recognize as Jonathan Byers’ car. Although, even if you didn’t know the car, you’d probably have been able to figure it out. Jonathan shuffles uncomfortably near them; his presence, especially, is the concerning part. Steve, Tommy, and Carol are rifling through some papers, and you hear Steve’s voice, sounding harsher than usual.

“No.” He rolls one and waves it at Jonathan. “No, this is called stalking.” 

“What?” You exclaim, and their heads turn to you and Nancy as you come up the slope. 

“What’s going on?” Nancy asks, a little hesitantly, observing Jonathan and furrowing her brows.

“Here’re the starring ladies,” Tommy jeers. 

“What?” Nancy adjusts her bag. 

“Jonathan?” you can see Steve grit his teeth as you address the other boy. You’re about to stop yourself and start on him when Carol interrupts. 

“This creep was spying on us last night,” Carol looks a little too happy to illuminate the pair of you. “He was probably gonna save these for later.” She passes you photo sheets, and the picture she passes you might honestly surpass all of the shitty things that have happened to you this week. It’s you, sitting on the edge of the pool, lifting your arms in the air as you shotgun a beer. 

Your red bikini top, here in black and white, is pushing up your chest, and to be honest, your first thought is that it’s a great photo of your boobs before you remember why it exists, and the world seems to come crashing down on your shoulders. 

Your headache worsens, and the tears you’ve been holding back throughout the day threaten dangerously to spill over, and you have to fight not to let them. You’re not going to cry in front of Tommy and Carol, and you don’t think you want to cry in front of Jonathan Byers right now, either. 

You glance at Nancy’s, and it’s somehow worse. It’s her, from the back, at least, pulling her shirt off in the window you know is Steve’s room. It’s sick. You knew they had sex last night. Jonathan Byers is a creep. You knew he liked her. You never want to see Jonathan Byers again in your life. You knew it was going to happen. You think you’re going to throw up, or cry, or both. 

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but…” Steve starts, clicking his tongue, “man, that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hardwired into them.” He ruffles Jonathan’s collar. He looks like a total douche. You don’t know what’s going on right now, what you’re thinking. You can’t breathe. “You know, they just can’t help themselves.” He tears up the photos left in his hands, and Tommy laughs. Nicole, the girl you’ve really only just noticed, crosses her arms smugly. You want to yell at her, of all people, right now. Why the hell is she here? Why is she pretending she cares about any of you, any of your friends? Who gave her the right to look at Jonathan the way she is? You want to slap her. 

“So… we’ll just have to take away his toy.” 

For some reason, that’s what snaps you back to reality. “No!” You think you shout but it comes out as a murmur. Steve looks at you incredulously, and Tommy and Carol snicker. 

“Steve…” Nancy starts. 

“No, please, not the camera,” Jonathan almost begs. It’s pathetic. You hate him. So much. He moves for the camera, and Tommy blocks him. 

“No, no, wait, wait,” he holds out his hand. “Tommy, Tommy.” The other boy backs off, and Steve turns from Jonathan to look at you. “Are you serious, Hopper?” There’s so much in the way he says it. You can read his voice like the back of your hand, now, after ten years of being his best friend. You hear him asking you what the hell has come over you, why you’re taking this pervert’s side. 

Then he addresses Jonathan again. “To be honest, man, you’ve got some balls, taking these of her.” Your heart is beating out of its chest, and the ringing is coming back around you. “I mean, do you know who her dad is?” 

“Steve,” you warn. 

“Oh,” he clicks his tongue again. “That’s my bad. I guess you’ve been spending a lot of time around him lately, huh?” 

“Steve!” You shout. 

“It’s okay,” he holds his hand out at you for a second, offering the camera out to Jonathan. “Here you go, man.” He reaches for it, but Steve drops it on the pavement, and you watch as the lens, and probably all the machinery you don’t understand inside, shatters. 

“Steve!” You cry out as it happens. You don’t really know what else to say. 

Will bought him that camera. Will bought him that camera. Will bought him that camera. 

“Y/N, do you have any quarters?” Lucas’s voice ringing in your head. “Will’s got nothing, he’s totally saving everything for this dumb Christmas present for his brother.” 

Steve Harrington is a rich asshole, and you don’t know why you ever thought he could be a good friend. 

The realization hits you like a million bricks, and you bend down to desperately scoop camera pieces up, in part to cover the tears that have actually started rolling down your face. He’s not a good person. He’s not a good person. And there’s nothing you can do about it. And you don’t have any other friends, because at this point your only other option is a pervert who was taking pictures of the boobs you’re never going to be able to look in the mirror at again. 

As Jonathan bends down beside you, it takes a lot of strength not to shove him on his back. Let him know you don’t care about him. You care about the bits of her paycheck that Joyce Byers put aside for Will’s small allowance, all of which went into that piggy bank for that camera. You care about the quarters that Dustin, Lucas, and Mike sacrificed at the arcade when he showed up with nothing because he had saved it all for that camera. You cared about the hours you had spent at the grocery store with Lucas as he rolled his eyes at Erica, who was berating him for being picky over lemons for the lemonade stand they were building, where all the profits were going to the stupid fucking camera. 

And now it was laying in shards in the Hawkins High parking lot, and your best friend in the entire world was responsible for it. 

And he was walking away. 

You make a split second decision to abandon the camera, chasing after Steve down the hill. As you get up, you kick a bit of what was the lens, and you hope it cuts Jonathan open. 

“Steve!” You bark, turning the heads of your friends up ahead. You storm up to him and shove him backwards. 

“What the hell, Hopper?” He stumbles back. You’re almost stronger than him. You’re certainly a better swimmer. 

“You’re such an asshole, Harrington!” You shout.

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head in disbelief, “did you not see the photos he was taking of you? Or of my girlfriend?” You think the last sentence hits you kind of hard, but you don’t think about it. You’re too angry.

“You don’t think! You don’t think about anyone except your fucking self, Steve.”

You can see in his eyes that he genuinely doesn’t understand why you’re angry at him. And of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t know about the camera, or Will. But he has to know the Byers don’t have money, right? He has to know that Jonathan can’t buy a new camera, right? He has to know the sacrifices someone in that family made to get him that, right? He has to know that you’re just like Jonathan Byers. Right?

You don’t realize at first that you’re hyperventilating. Or that you really are crying, now. You can’t breathe. You’re vaguely aware of being lowered to the ground, and of Steve crouching in front of you, rubbing your arm. Of him calling Nancy over, and of her stroking your back, and telling you you’re okay. Of your breathing slowing down, and of them helping you back to your feet. Of trudging to the gym as Nancy helps you walk, and Steve looks at you from her other side as if for the first time in his life, he can’t figure you out. 

You sit with your back against the lockers, staring at the side of the bench Carol’s laying on. 

“So,” she laughs from Tommy’s lap, “I told Mr. Mundy, the solution of ten plus Y equals… blow me.” Tommy snickers. 

“Bull,” Steve calls. “If you did that you’d be in detention right now.”. You realize you’ve ditched Nicole somewhere on your way back in. Good riddance, you figure. She was probably just trying to get in with the four—five?— of you. You realize you probably sound like a narcissist. You don’t entirely realize that you’re definitely projecting your anger about this from Steve onto this random girl. 

“Saturday,” Carol replies.

“I bet Mr. Mundy’s still a virgin.”

“Oh, he’s so a virgin.” 

“Maybe you should blow him, Carol. Help your grades a bit.”

“Nice, Tommy,” you mutter. Tommy gives you a look, as if to say, “She speaks!” Carol smacks him.

You can’t see Nancy from the floor, but as she walks away your eyes follow her. 

“Hey! Nance, where you going?” Steve calls. 

“I totally forgot,” she stammers, turning back. “I told my Mom I would… do something with her.”

“Well, what do you mean? The game’s about to start!” 

“I’m sorry,” she winces as she walks down the hall.

You watch Steve watch her go. Good for her, honestly. You’re thinking about doing the same thing, and the only thing stopping you is still that raging headache.

“What the hell’s wrong with her?” he turns back to the three of you. 

You shrug, sinking deeper into your hoodie. 

“Maybe she freaked out when you went all psycho on the psycho,” Tommy jeers, looking over at you as he says it. You jeer back at him, silently. 

“Oh, give me a break,” Steve dismisses him.

“What’d you expect, dating Miss Perfect?” Carol’s bubble pops loudly, echoing in the cinderblock hall. 

“Can you guys just…” you trail off. “Shut up?” 

“Okay, what the hell is going on with you?” Carol rolls her eyes.

“I just… stop making this into such a thing. I don’t want my dad finding out about this.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Tommy chortles, and you look at him, surprised. 

“No one’s telling your dad,” Steve says. “None of us were supposed to be there, not just you and Tina.”

“Really, Steve?” you raise your voice. “I don’t want him to get mad at Mrs. Byers, or anything that’s going to stop him looking for Will,” you scoff at him. “To be honest, I could care less right now whether he finds out about your stupid fucking party.”

Tommy whistles. “She got you, man,” he reaches out to push Steve, and you glare at him, too. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, I just—” he trails off. “Can we just go to the game?”

You look up at him, meeting his eyes. For the second time today, you don’t think you understand each other at all. “I think… I think I’m gonna go home,” you say, and confusion passes through his eyes. 

“What?” 

“Yeah, I just… I don’t feel great. And I probably have to make dinner, or you know, my Dad won’t eat anything, and…” 

“Yeah. Fine. Whatever. Just go, Y/N.” He waves his arm at you, dismissively. 

“I… I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah.” 

Tommy and Carol are watching the interaction, Tommy almost wide-eyed and Carol blowing another bubble, bored. You scoop your backpack off the floor, looking for Steve’s eyes one last time, but he’s not looking at you. He stares at the ceiling instead, so you turn and walk down the hall, between the green and orange striped cinder block, the same way Nancy’s just gone.

You feel like the empty roads of Hawkins are closing in on you. Empty branches reach across to close in on you and your car. You swear you keep seeing shadows pass among them, and you jump at every one. You’re scared that you’re going to swerve and crash your car, but the thought of pulling over, any closer to these woods, is unthinkable. So you speed along towards the park, trying to keep your eyes on the asphalt as opposed to the forest, and think about anything other than Will or Barbara, and the serial kidnapper that’s lurking somewhere around this town. 

As you drive into the park, the lights from the trailers around you provide some small comfort, but you curse your father for choosing a spot so far from everyone else, and by the open water that seems to absorb all the light for twenty yards around your house. The sun set in the short while it took to drive home. If there was a graph charting the correlation between the amount of sun and your level of fear, it would have an approximate slope of negative one. Or negative ten. Or negative ten thousand. 

Gravel crunches under your tires as you pull in, and you turn the car off as soon as possible. You think you’re hoping that if you’re completely silent, and completely invisible, that whatever monsters are lurking around town won’t come for you. You sit in your car for what seems like hours, but is probably closer to twenty minutes, before you decide that you don’t want to get out of it. It’s warm, and your house is definitely freezing. So you dig the walkie-talkie out of the bottom of your bag, and fumble with the dials, tapping into the police office’s main line. 

“Flo?” You start. 

It takes a moment, but her voice crackles back through. 

“Hi, sweetie.” Her voice sounds strained. 

“Is something wrong? I was just wondering if you knew where my dad was.” 

“Oh, sweetie. He’s… he’s heading down to the quarry, but you shouldn’t go down there—” You tune her out. Why would you go down there? You never follow your dad to work. Why would you…  

“Will,” your voice creaks. 

“Oh, sweetheart, would you like to come over here, and wait for your father to finish up?” You know she’s nervous, you know she’s looking out for you, but the way she says “finish up”, as if Will is some menial task, makes your stomach drop.

“No, Thanks, Flo,” you mutter. You can hear her responding to you, but you’re not listening. You toss the walkie into the passenger seat, and before you can think about what you’re doing, you reverse your car and fly back out of the trailer park. 

You race back down the tree-lined streets, no longer caring that they’re closing in on you. It’s only five minutes or so to the quarry, but it feels like twenty with the way your heart is pounding out of your chest and you feel your breath leaving you again. 

You hear the sirens before you see them, but as you turn the corner your eyes are assaulted by the flashing red and blue of what must be every law enforcement, firefighting, or ambulatory vehicle in Hawkins. 

You let out a strangled cry as you park your car and jump out, starting towards the water before you see the boys peeking out from behind a fire truck. There’s so much going on, there’s so much happening. Will. Why are they here, how can they be here? Will. You need to get them out of here. 

“Hey!” You shout and they all jump. “You guys need to get out of here, come on— who is this?” There’s another boy with them,  or at least you thought at first, but now you’re pretty sure it’s a little girl with her head buzzed. None of them answer you, all watching your father storm past officers at the quarry. 

You all watch as a small body is pulled out of the water. Your hand flies to your mouth, and you cry. 

“It’s not Will,” Mike says, holding the pole on the back of the truck for support. “It can’t be.” 

You can’t find words to respond to him. Officers pull a stretcher further up the shore, and you would recognize that little red vest anywhere. But Lucas shakes his head, and tears start to fall from his eyes. “It’s Will. It’s really Will.” 

Mike straightens, turning away from the sight. You’re holding Dustin’s shoulders from behind him, as tightly as if you can stop this from happening if you hold on to him like this. 

“Mike…” the girl says, but he slaps her hand away. 

“”Mike”? “Mike,” what?” He shouts. “You were supposed to help us find him alive. You said he was alive!” You’re so confused, so lost, and staring at the water. You don’t know what the hell is going on with these kids, but you know that their best friend is dead on that stretcher, and Mike is distraught, and he’s taking it out on this girl, possibly in the same way you were taking out your anger at Steve on Nicole. “Why did you lie to us?” His voice cracks. “What’s wrong with you!? What is wrong with you?” 

“Mike…” 

“What?” The girl shakes her head, and Mike prods her for an answer with his eyes, before he turns and storms off. 

“Michael!” 

“Mike, come on,” Lucas protests. “Don’t do this, man.” 

“Mike, where are you going? Mike!” Dustin shouts.

But Mike ignores all of you, picking up his bike and getting away as fast as he can.

You don’t know what you’re supposed to do here, left with two of the kids you babysit and some random girl that you think they might have kidnapped from a cancer ward. But you have to pull yourself together. They can’t be here. You can’t be here, but them especially. You think this might be one of the worst places for them to ever be. 

“Come on, guys,” you manage. “Get in the car.” 

Dustin and Lucas nod solemnly, and carry their bikes to your trunk. The girl stands awkwardly back, until you look between her and the boys and gesture for her to hop in. 

The car is silent, except for the few seconds where you ask where you’re supposed to drop this girl off. Some sad whispering and hesitation determines that you should take her to Mike’s, and you do, watching her climb in through the basement window. 

“Okay,” you start, as soon as she’s inside. “I realize that this is one of the worst times for this, but one of you needs to tell me what the hell is going on with her.” 

Dustin and Lucas argue muffledly in the backseat.

“Today,” you drum on the steering wheel. You’re trying to distract yourself—one problem at a time. 

“She has superpowers,” Dustin mumbles, as Lucas says:

“We just found her.” 

You try, and fail, to make sense of their words. 

“Okay…” you look at Dustin in the rearview mirror. “What do you mean, “she has superpowers”?” Lucas gives him a look that you interpret as warning him not to say anything else. 

He talks anyway. “She lifted Mike’s Millenium Falcon with her mind.” Jesus Christ. 

“Dustin, I’m being serious here,” you sigh. “I just want… I just want to help.” 

“I am being serious!” 

You sit in silence, mind reeling. Obviously this is some bit that he and the others have made up, and he’s confused. Surely. But how would you feel if you were bringing something like this to your dad, and he didn’t believe you? But you have no reason to believe him. Superpowers don’t exist. The kid’s best friend has just been found dead in the quarry you’ve all swum in since you were kids, and he’s been reading too much X-Men. 

“He’s not lying,” Lucas says quietly. He’s staring out the window, tears still rolling down his cheeks, but he mumbles at you as you drive. 

“We found her in the woods the night of the storm.” 

“You were out at night in the woods? In a storm!?” You almost crash your car. “Are you guys insane?” 

“We were looking for Will!” 

“That’s not for you to do, Lucas! That’s what the police, and the adults who are volunteering are for! And you certainly shouldn’t have been alone!” 

“Yeah, well, look at what a great job your dad did,” he snaps. 

You purse your lips and stare at the reflected traffic lines ahead of you. 

“I’m not… I’m not saying… Look, you guys just have to be safe, okay? Will isn’t the only kid who’s gone missing.” You realize as you say it that Will’s body doesn’t solve the mystery of Barb’s disappearance. Impossibly, a sliver of hope rises that there’s more to this than meets the eye, but you shove it back down. You’ve just seen Will’s body raised from the water. The water. Barb was by the pool. 

“What?” They ask together. 

“I… forget I said anything,” you rush. 

“Who’s missing?” 

“Friend of Nancy’s.” Dustin rolls his eyes. 

“Who, Steve Harrington?” Lucas scoffs. 

“I— no.” Why would you ever introduce Steve as a friend of Nancy’s? “Barb. Red hair? Nevermind.” 

“What if…” Dustin turns to Lucas. 

“No, dude. He’s dead. Dead!.” Lucas crosses his arms, going back to his position at the window. 

“Okay,” you mutter, and startle the boys as you pull the car over to the side of the road. “You both need to tell me exactly what the fuck is going on here.” 

They do their hesitation and bantering dance again, before the mumbles all rush out, and you can’t make sense of who’s saying what. 

“She’s psychic, or something.” 

“She tried to get naked in Mike’s basement.” 

“She said she could find Will.” 

“She said he’s hiding.” 

“Okay, okay, okay!” Now this is making a little more sense. A skill at guessing what people are thinking, or something, is much more reasonable than telekinesis. And they must have let their minds run a little amok. 

“You find this girl, and she says she knows something about Will?” They nod. “And you don’t take this to the police?” They shuffle uncomfortably. “Chill. I’m not a spy for my dad. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here.” 

“She said bad men were after her.” A chill runs up your spine.

“What do you mean, bad men?” 

Dustin raises his hand, holding it like a gun, and starts to point it at your head. “Dude!” Lucas shouts. “You’re going to freak her out.” He turns to you. “Guns. Basically.”

“Military, maybe?”

“Why would the military care about some kid?” Lucas asks. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” You stop to think for a second, but your mind is exhausted. You’re so, so, tired. And the boys must be as well. You’re glad, at least, that you seem to have distracted them from the body for a moment, even if it’s with more of this weird situation. But you need to sleep, and so do they. You tell them so, and they try to protest at first. “I’ll come by in the morning, okay? We can talk more then. Just… radio if you need anything, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas murmurs. Dustin nods in agreement. You drive them back to their houses in silence again. You’ve all resolved to your quiet mourning, but at least in you, something is stirring. Something that wants to get to the bottom of this, to find Barbara if you can’t find Will. And to at least find out, for sure, what happened to him. Hold someone accountable, if there is anyone. In a strange way, you hope there is someone. 

As you drop each boy off, you watch as they walk in through their doors. You know you won’t be making that same mistake again. 

a/n: thank you for reading! as always, all reblogs, shares, comments, asks, etc are so so appreciated! let me know what you think!

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