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Youth IX

Chapter Nine -  Do You Copy?

Word count: 1.4k

Series Summary: On a family trip to your dad’s home town of Hawkins, Indiana, you make a series of decisions that result in you ending up in the year 1983 with more questions than there are answers presently available.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader ( slow burn )

Chapter Summary: Hopper, Nancy, Joyce, Jonathan and you try to find The Party and keep them safe. 

⟛⟛

“I have to go home.” Nancy breathed out, looking over at her house, government officials going in and out with boxes full of things, some looked like board games.

“No, you can’t,” Hopper spoke, using a set of binoculars to look closer at the house from outside the car. You understood Nancy’s urge to go, but there were bigger issues at hand.

“My mom. . . My dad are there-”

“They’re gonna be okay.” But it was like Hopper’s words wasn’t reaching Nancy or even making sense as she started to walk away from the car, catching Hopper’s attention as he walked after her, grabbing her arm.

“Let go!”

“Hey! Listen to me! Listen to me. The last thing in the world we need is them knowing you’re mixed up in all this.”

That kid, Troy. His words were repeating in your mind. Daniel. Your little brother, the one person who you’d probably die for, had been seen by some kid from the year 1983. At midnight in a moment where you’d been with your cousins, walking to the liquor store for snacks and sodas. You remembered the conversation. Your brother wanted to go see a war movie that was coming out, but it was rated R, so he was asking you if you could convince your parents to take you both for Daniel’s birthday.

And the more you thought about it and thought back to your surroundings that night, you could remember a couple of kids on the other side of the street looking at you.

“Mike is over there-”

“They haven’t found him. Not yet at least.” Hopper spoke, pointing to the sky, where everyone’s attention was drawn to the helicopter

“For Mike?” Nancy exclaimed as Hopper pulled her back to the car. You took that as your sign to get back in. Settling down in the middle of the back seat, Jonathan sat next to, closing the back door from his side, as Nancy got in on the other side of you and Hopper closed the door, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Look, we need to find them before they do,” Hopper spoke, turning in the front seat to look at the three of you while Joyce did the same. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

Nancy shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

“I need you to think.”

“I don’t know. We haven’t talked a lot. I mean, lately. . .” Nancy sighed.

“Is there any place your parents don’t know about that he might go?” Joyce asked Nancy.

“I might,” Jonathan spoke. “I don’t know where he is, but I think I know how to ask him.”

Hopper stopped the car in front of the Byers house, all of you scrambling to get out of the car. Jonathan was the first through the front door, with you right behind. You knew exactly where it would be. The walkie talkie Jonathan talked about Will having, saying he used it to talk to his friends.

Growing up there was a rule in the house. If you have something you want to hide and don’t want Pa to find, put it under your bed. It was your dad’s rule, saying he used to put his valuables under his own bed growing up. Most people would assume that if there’s anything under your bed, it’s likely junk.

Jonathan opened the door at the end of the hallway, with you following him in and Joyce right behind you. The first place you went was the side of the bed, getting down onto the floor and looking under the bed. Bingo.

“Found it!” You exclaimed, grabbing onto the heavy machine, pulling it out, and holding it up. Nancy took it from you, sitting down on the bed with you still on the floor.

“How do I turn it on?” Nancy questioned, only for Hopper to reach over, pressing a button on the device. She hesitated for a second, holding the walkie up closer to her. “Mike, are you there? Mike? Mike, it’s me, Nancy. Mike are you there?”

Nancy sighed in frustration. “Mike, we need you to answer. This is an emergency, Mike. Do you copy?” Joyce sat down by Nancy’s side, taking your hand despite you being on the floor still.

“Mike, do you copy? I need you to answer”

You shook your head, snatching it from her. “Hey!”

“Mike, we know you’re there, you need to answer us. . .” You tried to think of what those three would be thinking. They were your uncles, you knew them since you were born. There were photos of you in family albums with each one of your uncles the day after you were born. From how Pa told the story, they each took a flight to the city, no matter how far away they were to support your parents for. . . well, finally becoming parents, and to offer emotional support.

“Alright, listen, You don’t know me, I’m with the chief of police, Mrs. Byers, Your sister, and Jonathan, this isn’t a trick, we need you to answer and tell us where you are so someone can come and get you. We know you’re in trouble, we know that you have a girl with you.” From what little information you had, that girl was what caused officials to even be at Nancy’s house. “We can protect you, we can keep you all safe, but you have to answer and tell us where you are, do you copy? Over.”

You sighed, resting your forehead against the side of the walkie, the lack of answer worried you. “Anybody got any other ideas?” Hopper asked.

“Yeah, I copy.”

“Thank God.” You muttered in a relieved sigh.

“It’s Mike. I’m here. We’re here. We’re at the old junkyard. Over.”

“Okay, Mike.” You nodded, looking over at Nancy, seeing the relieved look on her face. “We’re gonna send the chief to get you, stay right where you, don’t leave, don’t even breath weird, okay? Over.”

“Okay.”

⟛⟛

The sound of a vehicle approaching had everyone but you standing from the couch. Headlights shining in through the windows. You were just busy staring at the blue flyer on the coffee table.

Joyce had explained it, and explained why Lonnie was no longer there. Upon news of Will’s ‘death’ he’d found a lawyer who could get the money for accidental injuries that resulted in death. It only made it even more clear why you never even knew your biological grandfather’s name or any stories about him.

Watching Nancy open and run through the front door with Jonathan and Joyce following you stood up and walked across the living room, standing in the open doorway, seeing Nancy clutching who you figured was Mike close.

You’d give anything to be able to see Daniel again, to hold him and know he was okay.

The night air was cold, and it was sending goosebumps up your spine and neck, only a bit of the feeling rising onto your cheeks. They matched the photos. Uncle Dustin’s curly hair and the hat you always saw in photos. And Uncle Lucas, you’d seen photos of him in that camo print bandana before. And that girl who was with them, in the pink dress, with the shaved head, she was familiar. Almost is if you could picture her with longer hair you could know exactly who she was.

“I was so worried about you!” Nancy exclaimed, pulling away from Mike and holing his shoulders.

“Yeah, uh. . . me, too.” He responded awkwardly. Mike looked like the photos too. His sleek black hair in the odd haircut and round cheeks.

Nancy turned her head to look at the girl who was with them. “Is that my dress?”

“She needed to wear something.” Mike shrugged, looking from his sister to Jonathan and Joyce, and then to you. Confusion etched onto his face, and when you looked to the others, they had a similar expression.

“Who is she?” Lucas asked, nodding towards you. Everyone looked at you then, expecting you to answer.

How were you supposed to answer that? There was no good way to explain how you were involved in this mess, no good explanation as to who you were. But you could remember the way your uncles always danced around certain subjects around you growing up, how Uncle Dustin once jokingly called you ‘Mcfly’ when you were ten, only for your aunt to hit his shoulder.

“Confidential.” You tried to laugh, only getting more confused looks from Mike, Dustin, and Lucas.

“Might as well call me Mcfly.” You joked while shaking your head, trying to smile, but your bottom lip feeling constricted from the cut and butterfly bandages. “But my name’s Y/n.”

⟛⟛

Add yourself to the taglist!

@stevexscoops​ @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers​ @snow-morning​ @80strashbag​ @supred12​ @sbeve-chairington​

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Will Byers

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STAR TREK: STRANGE NEW WORLDS — 1x02 ‘Children of the Comet’

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Youth [ Masterlist ]

Summary - On a family trip to your dad’s home town of Hawkins, Indiana, you make a series of decisions that result in you ending up in the year 1983 with more questions than there are answers presently available. 

Pairing - Steve Harrington x Female Reader (Slow burn)

Content Warnings - Swearing, Violence, Blood, References to anxiety and depression, I’ll add more as we get further into the story. 

A/n - this is a rewrite of my previous fic, Mistakes & Regrets. I was not happy with how the story was going, and wanted to make it so what I wanted made more sense. if you were on the previous taglist, you can add yourself to the new one! 

Chapters:

   season one

   •   I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI

   season two

   •

   season three

   •

AO3 LINK

Taglist: 

   Troop - Scoop Taglist

Playlist:

   And In the End? ( you can suggest songs that you think should be added!)

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Youth VIII

Chapter Eight -  In the Cut

Word count: 5.1k

Series Summary: On a family trip to your dad’s home town of Hawkins, Indiana, you make a series of decisions that result in you ending up in the year 1983 with more questions than there are answers presently available.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader ( slow burn )

Chapter Summary: Jonathan and Nancy formulate a plan that get’s interrupted by the police. 

A/N : This was written over a year ago, I’ll admit that, I never posted it even though it was ready to be posted. I refuse to edit or rewrite, ya’ll are getting what you were supposed to get in January of last year. If there are any missing tags, it’s probably because the url on the taglist was changed. 

⟛⟛

Most of the night was spent sitting up in bed, letting your thoughts run through your head. Torrey was right, you’d grown up unafraid of everything. Nothing had scared you growing up, no matter how hard the older girl tried to scare you. You’d never cowered away from anything, you were just a cautious kid. You learned from your dad.

Look both ways before crossing the street, wash your hands when you come home from school because you don’t want to get sick, have his and pa’s number on speed dial and have the police station’s number programmed into your phone, and don’t let Torrey talk you into bad ideas.

Peer pressure really was a thing. Maybe if you had stayed at the motel, you wouldn’t be here, maybe you could still be with your parents and little brother, maybe uncle Dustin would still be spoiling the nine of you to the point where Mike, Lucas, and your dad all got annoyed and tried to tell him to stop sneaking all of you cash like he was a drug dealer.

But maybe it would have happened. There were those moments growing up, where you’d see people others couldn’t. There was the one day where you saw a woman in a full victorian get up, who’d made eye contact with you. The day when you were seven and a kid with a bowl cut gave you an action figure. No one else had seen him, but the toy was real, and you knew it was because your dad had said your uncle Mike owned the same one when they were kids.

What was wrong with you? Something had to have been messed up. Maybe you were a mistake. That was an amusing thought. Because of course, two men went through the funds, and time to have a child when they couldn’t do it biologically. All those years that your parents spent money on rounds of IVF, and you were a fuck up. But those were the thoughts you fell asleep to. Thoughts were a dangerous thing, especially when given to a child all alone.

The wake-up call in the morning wasn’t much better than the day before. With the cold against your face and Jonathan staring at you, only a few inches away as you opened your eyes.

The shriek that came from your throat was more of a whine as you shoved his face away, seeing Nancy standing behind him. “I’m not doing this again.” You warned him. “Give me the rude tone again, and I’ll cut your nose off.”

Nancy looked from you over to the back of Jonathan’s head. “Rise and shine. . .” he said hesitantly, standing up straight and staring down at you. Like the morning before, the door was wide open, allowing the cold air in. “We have a plan, get up, and get dressed.”

You narrowed your eyes, looking at Nancy who was holding a coffee cup, cardboard sleeve keeping her hands safe from the boiling hot liquid inside. “What’s in there?” You asked.

Nancy looked down at the cup before placing it on the bedside table. “Jonathan said you’re never in class without coffee. . .”

You hummed a bit, pushing yourself to sit up. Wearing a similar set of pajamas to the morning before. This time a t-shirt and a pair of men’s briefs. They were comfortable to sleep in. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine,” Nancy told you as you pulled the blankets off of your body, swinging your legs over the side and feeling goosebumps rise onto your bare skin. Reaching for the cup you took a sip, feeling the warm liquid run down your throat.

“Y/n, get dressed.”

“Why? Because you have a plan?” You asked, looking up at the teen. He sighed, shoulders dropping at your attitude. “Your plan’s probably bullshit,” you muttered to yourself, drinking from the cup again.

You didn’t want to be rude, you didn’t want to get on his nerves, but the thoughts from the night before came pouring back into your head, like a dam suddenly cracked and the water began to pour through, destroying the environment around it.

“I need my brother back. You need to make sure you’re born, right?” At that, you looked back at him again. “You knew what that thing was, did you get here through that place?”

Shaking your head you placed the cup down, standing up and going to close the door. “I know barely more than you do, Jonathan.” You grumbled, picking up a clean pair of jeans, the pair you’d worn yesterday currently drying while being hung over the shower curtain rod.

Every article of clothing you’d worn yesterday had been washed in the bathtub last night. The good from that place coming out of the clothes. “You’re telling the truth, I can tell. And eventually, we’ll make sense of all this, and find out how you got here-”

“You can tell?” You interrupted, looking at the two of them. “Did you tell her? Does she know?” Jonathan looked from Nancy to you before nodding. “So let’s get this straight, I tell you something about me that I would have no reason to lie about, and you what? You came to the conclusion I was telling the truth? What would I gain from lying?” You demanded. “Oh yeah, I’m Y/n L/n Byers, oops, sorry I lied, I was fucking with you!” You said in a mocking voice, pulling the pants on. “I am sitting on a shit load of information right now.”

“Did you know saying the name Czechoslovakia makes me wanna scream? Because of my whole life, The Czech Republic and Slovakia have been two different countries!” you yelled, picking up your second pair of shoes. The pair from last night had to be thrown out, there was no hope for them. “But no! They won’t break up for another ten fucking years!”

“Anything else?” Jonathan questioned, staring at you as you pulled the shoes on.

“Yeah, actually, Ronald Regan can go fuck himself!”

⟛⟛

“Okay so. . . you got into an argument with my. . .”

“Niece. Your oldest niece, Torrey.”

Nancy nodded absentmindedly. “And all of sudden none of them were there, and when you tried to go back into town, you ended up. . . in that place?” You nodded, mimicking her.

“How do we get you back?” Nancy asked as Jonathan pulled up to the hunting supply store, with you still nursing the cup of coffee they’d gotten for you in the backseat.

You didn’t know the answer, you didn’t know what had landed you here in the first place. But you knew you were just scared. How ironic was that? Torrey would be holding that over your head now. The only one who was fearless as a little kid, and who wouldn’t even flinch if someone tried to hit you, but now you jumped at the smallest of unexpected sounds, and you were terrified of having to go back to that place. You wanted your dad.

“I don't know.” You mumbled in a small voice, looking at the top of the lid of your cup. Your breath leaving a bit of fog on the shiny brown material. “I don’t think we can.”

Your knees were close to your chest, and your feet pressing against the front bench seat, allowing Nancy to reach a hand out and resting it on your knee, somewhat awkwardly, but you understood what she meant by how her palm was facing up. Taking one hand off of the coffee cup, you placed your hand in hers.

“Y/n, what do you want to do? We have to plan to get that thing, and we can figure out how to get you back, it’s up to you which order we go in.” Jonathan spoke.

Looking from Nancy, you made eye contact with Jonathan. “Will and Barb first. We don’t even know if we can get me back home, but we at least have something to try and get them back.”

Jonathan sighed and nodded, reaching into the back and grabbing your hand along with Nancy’s. “Okay, we can do that.”

“I’m gonna go get something to eat, I’ll uh. . . I’ll meet you guys back here? Go um. . . Get you Sam and Dean Winchester stuff.”

Nancy and Jonathan gave you an odd look, but nodding slowly, and with that, you pulled your hand away from theirs and got out of the car. Fall used to be your time of year. It was the time that you could help figure out Halloween costumes for Daniel and buy fake blood and latex from the Spirit store that popped up in the parking lot of the mall every year. But now it would likely always be the time of year where you remembered the smell of old corduroy and this small town that had a very distinct smell to it that it wouldn’t have in 30 some odd years.

You took your time to walk down the street, hoping to see if the bakery was open. They always had the best muffins and donuts in town. But before you could even reach the bakery, you heard a small commotion that caught your attention.

Looking across the street there was the movie theatre, not even open for the day yet, with red spray paint on the sign.

The title of a movie in the black letters that you always imagined for a movie sign, followed by ‘starring Nancy ‘the slut’ Wheeler.’

Wasn’t what you were expecting.

Looking to the sidewalk across the street your eyes landed on four familiar teens turning down into an alleyway. The way a certain freckle-faced teen looked back at the movie theatre made it obvious they weren’t going down there because they were innocent.

Shaking the coffee cup in your hand, and hearing the small amount still in the cup made you perfectly content to toss it into the trashcan next to you and cross the street in a light jog, pulling the open jacket you were wearing close to each other to keep the wind from pulling them away.

Getting to the alleyway, you could see the teens come to a stop, facing a brick wall. “Steve!” You shouted, taking long strides down the alleyway to where they were, seeing the boy turn to face you, a look of mild surprise on his face.

“Did you do that? On the theatre sign?” You asked, finally stopping to stand in front of him. The sound of a metal ball in a can echo through the alley, and when you looked to Tommy, there he was with a can of red spray paint. “Okay, so you let your best friend insult your girlfriend on a theatre sign at nine in the morning?”

Steve didn’t answer, but Tommy did. “You don’t know the story, Newbie.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me the story, I’d love to know. I mean, Vandalism? For what, what does that accomplish? Public humiliation? Well done, Thomas, you’re such a man.”

“What the hell’s your problem, L/n?”

“What’s my problem? Clearly you, dumbass.” You responded, watching as Tommy rolled his eyes and uncapped the spray paint, turning away and up a few pathless steps to plywood covered door. “Steve, just tell me what happened, I’m sure we can figure this out.” You grabbed Steve’s arm, trying to make sure you would only talk to him, Carol, Nicole, and Tommy would only try to interrupt you and make you go away, and you only knew that because you dealt with these types of people before.

“You’re just gonna side with him.” Steve shrugged as the hissing of the spray can start going.

“Side with who?” You questioned, looking to the plywood in what was meant to be a brief glance, but instead turned into a stare. “Jonathan?” The name ‘Byers’ being spelled out on the wood had you confused and looking back at Steve.

“What did he do?”

“Tommy, you write like a three-year-old,” Carol commented.

“Shut up!”

“I didn’t know you could spell.”

Steve only stared down at you, not answering the question, but he was upset. You spent years looking after your brother when your parents were working, you knew the look of a boy who was trying to hide his emotions.

“Aw, hey there, princess!” Carol called, turning to look down the alley, looking behind you, you could see Nancy marching down the alley, eyes trained on Steve. You’d spent your entire life in public school, and witnessed plenty of things happen in middle school, you knew the face of an angry teenage girl, so you immediately moved out of the way.

“Uh-oh! She looks upset.” Tommy teased.

Nancy came to a stop in front of Steve, pausing for a split second before she hit him, making you wince a bit while Steve’s friends all shouted in surprise. “What is wrong with you?” She demanded.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I was worried about you. I can’t believe that I was actually worried about you.” Steve scoffed.

You just wanted to know what was happening, why he was upset, just yesterday Nancy was defending him, saying he wasn’t a bad guy, just that he was protective, and now? Now he was letting his friend deface property to humiliate her.

“What are you talking about?”

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you,” Carol told Nancy, stepping closer to the two. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut now, do you?”

Hearing a set of boots coming down the alley, you saw Jonathan hesitantly approaching and you stepped closer to him, not wanting to feel like you were in the middle of a fight.

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered, seeing Jonathan and hopping down from the steps with his cigarette. “Hi.”

Nancy looked to you and Jonathan as you grabbed onto the teen’s sleeve. A habit. Growing up whenever you didn’t want to hold someone’s hand, you’d hold their arm or the sleeve of their jacket or shirt.

“You came by last night?” nancy asked, looking back at Steve.

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Does she get a prize?” Carol joked as Tommy put his arm around her shoulders.

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that,” Nancy told Steve as Jonathan used the hand of his other arm to grab onto your own.

“What, you just let him into your room to. . . study?” You didn’t miss the subtle glare Steve sent Jonathan’s way before he looked back down at Nancy.

“Or for another pervy photo session?” Tommy suggested with a chuckle.

“We were just-” Nancy was struggling to find an excuse.

“You were just what? Finish that sentence.” Steve challenged, stepping closer to Nancy. “Finish the sentence.” When Nancy didn’t answer, Steve shook his head with a scoff. “Go to hell, Nancy.”

You let Jonathan go, and stepped towards Nancy, grabbing her arm. “Nance, let’s go.” You told her. “He’s not worth your time.”

Jonathan came over too, grabbing her other arm and gently pulling her away. “Come on, Nancy, let’s just leave.”

Nancy turned, walking in front of Jonathan, and you behind him just as Steve started speaking again. “You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed. I always took you for a queer,” That word cut deep, memories of little boys sending insults your way because of who your parents were, calling you ‘motherless’ or a ‘freak.’ The plenty of times you started fights because you couldn’t take the word ‘fairy’ or ‘fag’ being used to talk about your parents. And the way Steve was right behind you, his arm reaching over your shoulder to shove Jonathan was making it worse. “But I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father.”

He was too close for comfort, and the way he kept shoving Jonathan was starting to make your blood boil.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, that house is full of screw-ups. You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised.” Jonathan stopped in front of you, and you could feel your hands clenched into fists. “A bunch of screw-ups in your family. I mean, your mom. I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother-”

You didn’t mean to, instinct took over. It had you turning on the balls of your feet and swinging your dominant hand. Your knuckles landing against his nose, cutting him off from finishing his sentence.

He likely acted on instinct too. And the sudden burning pain in your lip caught you off guard and stumbling backward, your back hitting Jonathan’s chest.

Bringing a hand up to your lip where the burning sensation was you felt something wet, and when you pulled your fingers away they were covered in blood. He hit back. Looking at Steve you saw his look of pure horror at the sight of blood on your lip.

“Jonathan, leave it.” Nancy tried to grab onto Jonathan, but before you could even process what was happening, Steve was on grabbing onto a pipe for balance, while Nancy pulled you back.

“Oh, my God!” You yelled as Jonathan was tackled by Steve into the hood of a car. “Steve, stop!” You could only watch as Steve then threw Jonathan onto the ground, practically wrestling with him.

“Kick his ass, man!”

“Shut up, Tommy!”

When Jonathan and Steve had struggled back onto their feet, Tommy tried to shove Jonathan away, but Steve pushed him away. “Get out of here!” He told him.

You grabbed Nancy’s hand as Jonathan tried to swing at Steve again, with Steve ducking last minute and hitting Jonathan.

It was a mess, with you and Nancy both yelling at them to stop, while Carol tried to tell Tommy to stop the fight, while Nicole was quiet. But the sound of sirens had you looking over to the end of the alley, seeing a cop car pull in.

“Cops! Come on!” Tommy yelled, pushing the two girls to run, while he tried to grab Jonathan only to get pushed off.

“Jonathan, stop!” You shouted, trying to grab his arm only to get shoved away. The two cops got out of the car, running over to break up the fight, with one getting hit by Jonathan, while the other finally pulled him off of Steve.

Tommy pulled Steve up, pushing him to run. Nancy grabbed onto your arm again, pulling you towards her as you watched Jonathan get pushed into the hood of the car again by the man who pulled him off, while the other tried to chase after Steve and Tommy.

⟛⟛

The woman in front of you wasn’t amused, but the way she was taking a wet cloth to your lip told you that she at least cared a little bit. It stung, but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t experienced before.

“You’re telling me, you threw the first punch?” Callahan questioned, holding a small notepad in one hand and a pen in the other while the woman then set down the bloody cloth and opened the first aid kit, grabbing butterfly bandaids.

“I have a bruise on my fist from his nose and a cut on my lip, what do you think? There’s no benefit in me lying.” You told him as the woman bandaged the cut. You’d been hit back before in fights, but not like this, not to where your lip got caught on your teeth and caused a cut that had a few drops of blood on your shirt.

“Let me go get something for Mr. Byers.” She said, leaving you with Callahan and Powell.

“Alright, thanks for patching her up, Flo,” Powell called after her.

“Can I have a donut now?” You asked, nodding towards the pink box on Callahan’s desk. “You said if I gave answers I could have one. I gave answers, I want my bribe.”

Powell chuckled a bit, shaking his head, far more amused by you than Callahan and Flo were. Considering he and Flo were the older ones, you would have expected it to be Callahan who was amused. Powell grabbed the box, opening it and holding it out for you to take one.

Grabbing a pink frosted donut and a white frosted donut you leaned back in your seat with them, taking a cautious bite so you didn’t cause the bandages to fall off from the cut.

“We said one.” Callahan reminded.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were letting children starve while in custody now.” You rolled your eyes, seeing Callahan take the box and shake it, expecting you to put the one you hadn’t taken a bite out of back. Chuckling a bit, you brought the other one up to your mouth and licked the frosting. “Bet you don’t want it back now, huh?”

Callahan grimaced a bit, while Powell chuckled, the box being set down again. “Not very ladylike,” Callahan mumbled.

“Lady? You’ve got the wrong person for that.”

“Is there anyone we could call? Parents? Guardians?”

You shook your head, continuing to eat your donut. “I’m emancipated. Responsible for myself.”

“Hey, Jonathan? Y/n? Jesus, what. . . what happened?”

Looking towards the door you saw Joyce come walking toward the desks that the three of you had been sat at. Nancy and Jonathan together while you were behind them, still with Callahan and Powell.

“Ma’am. . .”

“I’m fine. Y/n, you’re fine, right?” Jonathan asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Peachy.” You responded with a tight-lipped smile.

“Why is he in handcuffs?”

“Well, your boy assaulted a police officer. That’s why.” Callahan informed her.

“You mean, you?” You chuckled.

“Take them off,” Joyce demanded, pointing to Jonathan’s wrists.

“I am afraid I cannot do that-”

“Take them off!”

“You heard her. Take ‘em off.” A man from behind Joyce spoke. Looking at him, he was wearing a sheriff’s hat. Looking like a cop off duty. That had to have been the Chief, the man Callahan had spoken to on the walkie talkie when they brought you all in.

“Chief, I get everyone’s emotion here, but there’s something you need to see,” Powell spoke in a calm voice. Out of the two, you probably had more respect for Powell. He was calm, level-headed, and seemed to be handling the situation better. Then again, he wasn’t the one who got punched in the face or lost a group of four teens who ran off.

The Chief nodded, glancing at the three of you before Powell and Callahan led him out of the building again.

That left Jonathan, Nancy, Joyce, and you.

Joyce looked at Jonathan and Nancy, then to you, concern and caution written into her face. She wanted to say something but seemed too nervous.

“They know.” You told her. “They know who I am.”

Joyce nodded, still nervous as she walked over to you, cupping your face in her hands to make you look at her, so she could examine your lip. “Who hit you?” She asked, looking over to Jonathan. “And you, too?”

“You know the Harringtons, right?” Joyce nodded and looked back at you. “Their son. He pissed me off, I threw the first punch, it’s on me. I started the fight. Jonathan just. . . tried to finish it, I guess.”

“Y/n, he hit you, and-”

“And he talked bad about our family, I know. For future reference, if I ever start another fight, let me finish it. I could have taken him. Guys like him go easy on girls. He didn’t realize it was me who hit him before he hit back, you could tell.”

Joyce sighed a bit, pushing your hair back from your face, and reaching over to Jonathan and squeezing his shoulder.

For the next few minutes, Joyce was practically doting on the two of you. But you were fine. Growing up, fights were a common occurrence. And the first few years of being in public school, your parents taught you not to start fights, but to finish them. But when it came to the point that you were coming home crying, and the school did nothing about kids shoving you around and making fun of you, it had been your dad who told you, “Next time someone is doing anything like that, I’m giving you full permission to hit them. Don’t worry about getting into trouble, I’ll handle that.”

The door opened again, and in came the Chief, Callahan, and Powell, with the Chief carrying a cardboard box, dropping it onto the table Jonathan and Nancy were at with a loud thud.

Joyce stepped over and looked into the box, with you standing to peak into the box, but the first thing you saw was what looked like a cast-iron bear trap. “Holy shit, dude, that’s so cool.” You chuckled.

“What is all this?” Joyce asked.

“Why don’t you ask your son? We found it in his car.” The Chief spoke, nodding to Jonathan.

That’s when your mood changed, and you and Jonathan both started speaking at the same time.

“You violated his fourth amendment?”

“Why are you going through my car?”

The Chief looked at the two of you, leaning his hands on the table. “Are those really the questions you should be asking right now?”

“Considering you need the permission of the owner of the car, or a search warrant, yeah, it is.” You spat.

“I wanna see you in my office.” He pointed to you both going to walk away.

“You won’t believe us,” Jonathan responded, making the chief look back at you two again, leaning against the desk similarly to before.

“Why don’t you give me a try?”

⟛⟛

Sitting next to Jonathan you took the last bite of your second donut, watching as Joyce handed the black and white photo Jonathan gave her over to the chief, who’s name you came to find out was Jim Hopper.

“You say blood draws this thing?” Hopper asked, looking at Jonathan.

“We don’t know.”

“It’s just a theory,” Nancy added.

“Jonathan, I wanna talk to you outside,” Joyce spoke finally, standing up from her seat and walking to the door of the office, with Jonathan getting up and following her, leaving you and Nancy with Hopper.

A few seconds of silence passed, and you looked to Hopper, seeing him staring at you. “What?”

He shook his head, shrugging a bit. “Just thinking,” he muttered, looking down at the ground.

“Oh yeah?” You questioned crossing your legs and sitting up straight in your chair, tilting your head. “‘Bout what?”

Hopper looked at you again and sighed. You could feel Nancy’s eyes on you before he began speaking. “Is it true? What Joyce told me about you?”

You should have known. With the way he’d been oddly looking at you the entire time you’d been sitting in the office, almost as if he was studying you. An odd way to describe it, but it’s what it felt like. “What’d she say?”

“You’re from the future, that Will has to be alive because you’re here.”

You scoffed a bit, scratching your nose and nodding. “He has to be because he’s my dad, did she leave that part out?”

He shook his head. “No. . . I guess I left that part out. . . Listen, kid-”

“I don’t want your pity. I know that look you’re giving me, I don’t want it. Save it for someone who needs it.”

A distant yell made all of you look at the door, and when you heard it continue, Hopper opened it and looked down the hall, with you quickly standing up and following, ignoring Nancy who tried to tell you not to, as well as Joyce and Jonathan who tried to grab you.

Following Hopper out into the main area of the station, you saw a woman yelling at Callahan, Powell off to the side, and a boy, maybe 12 or 14 standing behind her, likely her son.

“What the hell is going on here?” Hopper yelled, walking over.

“These men are humiliating my son!” She yelled, turning to look at Hopper.

“No, no, no. Okay, that’s not true.” Callahan defended.

“There was some kind of fight, Chief-”

“A psychotic child broke his arm!” The woman yelled. Looking to the boy’s arm, there was in fact a cast around his arm with the cast in a sling around his shoulders.

“A little girl, Chief. A little one.” Callahan added, and even though you didn’t mean to, you laughed, making Hopper turn and look at you as you tried to stifle your laughter with a hand over your mouth.

“I thought I said to stay in the office?”

“You did?” You chuckled. “I didn’t hear that.” you laughed again.

“That tone!” The woman yelled again, pointing to Callahan. “Do you hear that tone?”

“Honestly, I’m just trying to state a fact! It was a little girl!”

“We don’t have time for this, Will you please take a statement. . . And get her out?”

Callahan nodded as Hopper turned and grabbed your shoulder, making you grin as he led you back to the hallway, getting a look from Flo as you passed her desk.

But Hopper stopped dead in his tracks, making you look up at him as he looked over at the mother and son again.

“What’d you just say?” Hopper asked.

“I said she’s a freak!” The boy repeated, looking at Hopper.

Hopper shook his head, walking back over. “No, her hair. What’d you say about her hair?”

“Her head’s shaved. She doesn’t even look like a girl. And. . . She can. . .do things.”

“What kind of things?” Hopper questioned.

“Like. . . make you fly. And piss yourself”

“What?” Powell questioned, while you had to cover your mouth again to not laugh.

Hopper held a hand up, a silent way of saying to be quiet. “Was she alone?”

The boy shook his head. “She always hangs out with those losers.”

“Losers? What losers?”

“Will Byers’ friends! Mike, Dustin, and Lucas!” He exclaimed, looking over to you just as Hopper nodded, seemingly having gotten enough information before turning around and walking back.

“I know you.” He spoke, nodding in your direction.

Furrowing your brows you shook your head. “I’m sure you don’t.” You told him, but he only nodded, as if insisting.

“Back in July, I saw you walking outside at like midnight, with another kid.” He explained. “You were holding his hand and talking to him.”

You had questions, like why was he out at midnight, but the one that was really running through your head was what he meant. “A kid? A- a boy? What were we wearing? What did he look like?” You asked, no hint of laughter or amusement in your voice anymore.

“He looked like you, like your brother or something. And he was wearing a hoodie and jeans. I think you were wearing something similar. . . You called him. . .”

“Danny? Did I call him Danny?”

The boy nodded suddenly. “Something about going to see a movie.”

“Was there anyone else with us?”

“No, it was just you two.”

⟛⟛

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Youth VII

Chapter Seven -  Upside

Word count: 1.5k

Series Summary: On a family trip to your dad’s home town of Hawkins, Indiana, you make a series of decisions that result in you ending up in the year 1983 with more questions than there are answers presently available.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader ( slow burn )

Chapter Summary: After the day in the woods, you tell Jonathan the truth. 

⟛⟛

It was dark. Yet another day spent doing something you’d never be able to explain to people in the coming days. Wandering the woods surrounding Hawkins in search of a creature that you were familiar with. A thing you used to hide from for an unknown amount of time that you were sure was a dream just a day ago.

“What, are you tired?” Jonathan asked, making you stop and turn, seeing Jonathan looking at Nancy who was the furthest behind in the group.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, still fighting,” you mumbled to yourself, shining your flashlight onto your watch. 8:30 pm on a Friday. You should be in bed at the motel, doing your homework while the Tv was on.

“What?” Jonathan asked in response to Nancy.

“I heard something.” Nancy’s voice was low, but you could hear it, even from how far away from her you were. The three of you kept quiet for a second, just long enough to hear a distant whimper, like an injured animal

Jonathan turned to look in the direction it came from, and Nancy took the lead, with you and Jonathan following.

What the three of you came to find made your stomach churn. You didn’t know deer could whine like that. You didn’t know they could make any sound. The doe was on the ground, bleeding from her neck

“It’s been hit by a car.” Nancy kneeled down, gently touching the dying animal, avoiding the wounds she’d acquired. “We can’t just leave it.” She spoke, pulling her hand away.

“She’s right.” You agreed. It was inhumane to let someone or something die in such a painful way. You’d dwell on it if you did leave the poor thing like this. No one deserved a painful death.

Nancy looked at her gun, hesitating. “I’ll do it.” Jonathan offered, reaching out to take the firearm.

“I thought you said -”

“I’m not nine anymore,” Jonathan responded, taking the gun. The two stood up, and Nancy stepped back to stand next to you. Sighing you shifted what was in your hands to hold both your knife and flashlight in one hand, and reached down to grab Nancy’s in your own.

Nancy squeezed your hand, and as Jonathan raised the gun, aiming at the deer, both you and Nancy turned your heads away, trying not to look. Before the sound of the gun could go off, you heard a loud growl and looked up seeing the deer be pulled away into the dark by something. The three of you jumped back, and your grip on Nancy’s hand got tighter.

“What was that?”

“Follow the blood.” You spoke, nodding to the blood left on the leaves. shining your flashlight on it. Nancy nodded hesitantly, still holding onto your hand as she began following the trail. Only moments later you were finding parts. First, the spine of the doe, covered in blood, but the meat completely peeled away.

“Where did it go?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan mumbled. “Do you two see any more blood?”

You shook your head, looking around in the dark, using your light to see. Jonathan stepped away, continuing to look, and you went with Nancy, your grips on each other’s hands tighter than before.

“Y/n,” Nancy mumbled, grabbing your attention. Looking over at her you saw where she was pointing her flashlight. There was a hole in the trunk of a tree. Blood at the front of it. It was dripping with a clear goo that almost reminded you of snot.

Nancy let go of your hand, walking over and kneeling down in front of it. Your stomach was in a bad state, making you feel light-headed almost. If what you’d thought had been a dream, wasn’t, then you knew exactly what was on the other side of that hole. A place cold, and empty, a place like Hawkins, but not quite.

“Jonathan!” Nancy called. No answer. “Do we. . . do we go in?” She asked, looking at you.

You gave a hesitant nod, slipping your bag off and setting it on the ground by the tree. “Be careful.” Your own voice was quiet, fear radiating from your bones. “Follow my lead, okay?” Nancy nodded, scooting back and taking her own bag off, letting you go first. You were gonna regret it.

⟛⟛

“Oh, my God, you’re such a bitch!” You yelled, shaking your head and turning away from Torrey. Olivia groaned, grabbing your arm to keep you from walking off.

“It’s me that’s the bitch? Okay, sure.” Torrey scoffed, pointing her phone at you, as you turned to look at her again, practically blinding you for a second with her flashlight. “For someone who’s never afraid of anything, you’re sure being a coward right now!”

Howard mumbled something under his breath, sitting down on the leave covered ground with his other sister, Sarah. The two were annoyed with the bickering between you and Torrey, the entire time since you all left the motel, it had been like this, a back and forth even though everyone else was fine and calm  

James shook his head, grabbing Daniel’s shoulder, pulling him away from the two of you, watching as you tried to step towards Torrey.

“I’m not a coward, Wheeler, I just know where the boundaries are!”

“Who cares?” Torrey shouted. Derek and Issac trying to help her calm down. The Sinclair children all split up among the group, Olivia with you, James with Daniel. Derek and Issac with Torrey. “In case you’re forgetting, this town used to be our parent’s home! We’ve known where my grandparents lived since I was born! They’ve always been in that cul-de-sac! We’ve always known where their grandparents live! They’ve been in the same house since 69!’”  You shook your head, ready to go back to the motel. “We’ve never known where your dad used to live! I finally got it out of my mom and dad, and you don’t wanna go?”

“People live there, Torrey! It’s not my dad’s home anymore! It hasn’t been since he was like our age!” You screamed. “It’s the middle of the night, we all agreed to go to the liquor store, not the middle of the woods!”

“Clearly it’s not the middle, because I can see the house!”

“Just drop it!”

⟛⟛

“Are you okay?”

“Hm?” You were snapped out of your own thoughts. The memory playing back in your head in the absence of noise. The last thing you’d ever said to your cousin, and it was an argument, in the middle of the woods.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan repeated. There wasn’t one clear answer you could give. Physically, you were a bit shaken up. But mentally? You felt like everything was crumbling around you like you were close to having a breakdown. But emotionally, you felt. . . angry. Numb in a way.

“I’ll be fine.” You responded, pulling on the jacket Jonathan had handed you. It was his own, and it was warm enough to keep you from freezing.

You could remember it. One second you were arguing with Torrey, the next you were alone, none of your cousins with you, and in the middle of the woods. You’d gone to find them, and when you took one step in a certain direction you fell into that place. You couldn’t remember how long you’d been there. And you couldn’t remember much, just that you had to have crawled out of something similar to what you and Nancy had crawled into. But you remembered waking up in the woods, with the sun shining and you had been starving.

That’s when you walked into town, and bought a bottle of water from a convenience store and saw the date on the newspaper. ‘1983’

He nodded and looked away. Nancy had gotten into the shower a few moments ago, and you could hear the water running, the distinct humming in the walls from the water running through the pipes.

“How did you recognize it? How do you. . . How do you know Will’s alive?”

Sighing, you looked down at the floor, before looking to your bag that had been dropped by the door of Nancy’s bedroom. Walking over you kneeled down and opened it, pulling out your wallet, like you had done with Joyce, pulling the photo of you with your dad and uncle out.

Looking back at Jonathan you saw him staring at you.

Standing back up you grabbed your bag, holding the photo out to him. He looked between you and the photo, hesitant, but once given another second he took the photo from you.

“I know he’s alive because he’s my dad.” You answered. “That’s him, to my right. To the left, that’s you. . . Our common interest is that you want him alive and home. I need him alive and home. And clearly, he will be. Because I’m here. I’m alive, I’m breathing. I haven’t disappeared yet.” You joked a bit.

You were trying your best, but the longer this was happening, the more stressed you became. “I should go.”

⟛⟛

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