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I Know The End: S4, Chapter Three, The Waiting Game

(Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader, stranger things rewrite)

Word Count: 7.1k

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(A/N: Welcome to Chapter Three! As always, reblogs and comments are hugely appreciated as they are ridiculously motivational, and I enjoy reading them all! They seriously help when I write new chapters - it's always nice to see that people are invested in my work! All stranger things content and characters belong to the Duffer brothers, and I hope you enjoy Chapter Three!)

Series warnings: Gruesome imagery- Sharp objects, threats, snapped bones, expletives, jealousy, fear of abandonment, era-relevant homophobia, mentions of blood, slight angst? Mentions of Abuse, one use of Y/N, series-level gore, mentions of nausea, etc. Each set of warnings is individual to the chapter and specified at the beginning.

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22/03/1986

"Eddie, we just want to talk."

Dustin Henderson looked down at the shaking boy, and the unfamiliarity in Eddie Munson's eyes broke his heart. The boy was trembling, heart pounding as he thought about the implication of the word. Fingers tapping incessantly against his thigh, breaths coming out in fast, shaky exhales. He shook his head; he refused to let Dustin Henderson see him like this. He was too young for that.

The word rang out and echoed around his brain, wincing as it brought unwanted memories to light. The scraping of a ring against his skin, red faced with a palm pressed hard against his cheek.

Talk.

It often didn't mean talking, as the boy had found, instead trading the syllables in for a much better word. Something more suitable: interrogation.

That, he was familiar with. The nostalgic drill of questions, the biting words. The rumours. The guesses. The endless waiting before the inevitable grabbing of the boy's hair, shoving him into his room.

Eddie Munson didn't like talking that much.

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12/01/1975

"Eddie, I just want to talk to you." The boy was young again, curled up in his room as his father sat at the end of the sofa. The broken springs poking out from the inside of the couch an indication of their poorly-kept house.

Eddie was supposed to take care of that. To look after himself and tend to the chores whilst his father was away, paying the bills. How the man did just that, Eddie should have been far too young to understand.

Instead, he was involved, and rather than writing book reports or complaining about decently simple algebra, the boy had resorted to learning how to hotwire a car. To jump through a broken window without getting scratched. To run as fast as he could until he collapsed, knees scraping against the concrete, scabs forming that would never heal. Callouses on his hands that remained to this day.

"I don't want to." He mumbled out, and a hand gripped his jaw, forcing him to look upwards.

"Wasn't a question." The boy winced, screwing his eyes shut as if that would make it better. Like his mother, he too, wished he could disappear. Run away, like she had fled in the middle of the night, leaving everything in his life behind. Not like he had much, anyways.

"Why'd ya' do it?" He shook his head disapprovingly at the boy, eyes furrowing in mock sympathy. His thumb moved gently over his cheek and Eddie shrunk into himself, tears welling and distorting his vision.

"You know how I feel about that shit, boy. 'S useless. Not gonna do you any favours in the future."

Good, he decided, and he let the tears cloud his eyes. He didn't want to see it. He didn't want to see anything.

Maybe it would make it hurt less.

By the end of the night, the boy was left a cluttered heap against the cheap wooden floors. He'd only asked his father to come to a parent's evening, and the boy soon began to regret opening his mouth. To regret speaking, and to regret ever existing at all.

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"We just want to talk."

Dustin Henderson had only witnessed this once before, a borderline panic attack (within himself in the early mornings, viewed only by the emptiness of his own house with the odd occasion of Steve), and watched as Eddie Munson flinched. He practically whimpered, horrors flashing before his eyes faster than he could think.

Chrissy's snapped neck, a withering form of the girl who'd radiated life in the forest only hours prior.

His hands twitched and Dustin backed up, hands raised in a mock surrender as he allowed the boy the space he needed. He remembered his first time witnessing everything, and Eddie had seen far worse than him already.

It wasn't fair, he thought, looking at the quivering form of the man on the floor. The man that was usually so strong, so independent, so brutally unphased.

Steve ran a hand through his hair in the background, eyes flitting between the metalhead and Dustin. He hadn't known him long enough to be sure that he was safe, and he'd be damned if he'd let Dustin get hurt on his watch. He hadn't so far, and he didn't intend to let it happen. Ever.

He glanced at you and you tossed him a sharp nod, a reassurance, and he visibly untensed. relaxing slightly, recognising the overwhelming fear in Eddie's eyes. He wasn't hostile, he was scared. Lashing out to defend himself, protect himself. It almost looked familiar, a stance Steve had taken with his parents so many times before.

"Okay," Dustin started, quickly interrupted as Robin pulled herself from your grasp, leaning down to put herself face to face with Eddie.

"We just want to know what happened." She nodded, voice hushed as if not to frighten him any further; as if she were afraid he would run away.

He looked away, shaking his head as he avoided your gazes, tears brimming at his lashes. He couldn't see anything that didn't remind him of her, and he was so scared it was going to happen again. That this was his consequence- the freak finally getting what he deserved. That the evil had followed him here, seeped into his life and was just waiting to catch him off-guard for a moment.

"You won't believe me." He choked out through gritted teeth, and as much as you hated seeing your friend in pain, you had to stifle a laugh at how ironic the situation was. How many times had you come close to spilling everything to him? To getting him involved, only to make the decision he was far better off without it?

You supposed it wasn't your choice to make anymore. He was already in it, now.

"Try us." Max muttered, a small smile on her face as she pushed him that little bit further. He was so close to cracking, to opening up. She just needed him to trust you all.

He took a breath.

Another.

With as much courage as he could gather, he started the story.

"Her body just like, lifted up into the air and uh-" He hesitated, hands shaking as he thought back to the vision of the girl on his ceiling, "and she just like, hung there."

He was drifting in and out of consciousness, eyes fixated on a single crooked nail sticking out of the wall. He didn't know what would happen if he looked away, but he was sure he would crumble. His voice wavered, heavy panting breaths as he attempted to force the words out. They refused, and his sentence trailed off, hanging in the air, a perfect picture of Chrissy Cunningham.

"In the air. And her bones, they uh, she-" He screwed his eyes shut, a small whimper slipping from his lips as he composed himself, "It just- her bones started to snap."

He spat out the last word, tears falling freely now, as he was under no duty to remain stoic or strong. He was scared, and he was going to act it. He was terrified, to be honest, and he was coming to the rather fast conclusion that he was a coward for leaving her behind.

He was more than aware about how it sounded, and he'd been amazed that you'd even heard him out rather than painting him as a murderer and bolting. He thinks he'd prefer it, anyways; anything but the looks of pity that everyone was giving him. He didn't deserve them, he wasn't hard done by.

Chrissy deserved them.

"Her eyes, man." He refused to look at them still, hands gesturing wildly to present the picking of the brain, a thin copper spiel pulling from behind her irises, "-there was something inside her head, pulling. I just-I didn't know what to do, so I ran away."

He sounded dejected now, as if he were only just coming to the conclusion that this hadn't just been an awful nightmare. This was real, Chrissy was dead, and he had left her behind. There was no changing everything, not when it had already been set in motion.

"I left her there."

Total silence.

"You all think I'm crazy," He scoffed, hand coming up to rub at his eyes, "right?"

"No, we don't think you're crazy-" Dustin started, interrupted by Eddie's shouts as his hand gripped at his forehead, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"Don't bullshit me man, I know how this sounds!" He cried, lower lip wobbling in a way that had him feeling like a child. He was, in a way, taken back to all those times in the trailer he'd grown up in. Lips in a permanent point, tears streaming from his cheeks as his father pulled at his brown locks, cutting them off.

"We're not bullshitting you." Max murmured, arms crossed as she nodded, sarcasm gone from her tone. Even she understood the severity of things now.

"-We believe you." Robin spoke, and Eddie simply shook his head.

"Look, what I'm about to tell you might be a little...difficult, to take."

"Okay?"

"You know how people say Hawkins is cursed?"

"They're not like, way off." You interrupted, offering the boy another sad smile. You wanted him to be fine, to be far away from here. You couldn't protect Robin, and now one of the only other friends you'd made was slipping away too.

"There's another world," Dustin explained, "A world hidden beneath Hawkins. And sometimes, it bleeds into ours."

"Like ghosts and shit?" Eddie muttered, eyebrows furrowed in a curious gaze, tears dried and matted against his cheeks.

"There are some things worse than ghosts." You rubbed a reassuring hand on Max's back as she spoke, eyes flickering back to Billy. She could see his face, hear his voice, the trickle of his mannerisms that had seeped into her. Wormed their way into her, like maggots. Albeit the fact that he had saved her, he had ruined her first.

"These monsters from this other world, we thought they were gone. But they've come back before, and that's why we needed to find you."

"If they're back again, we need to know, Eddie." You said, expression cold once more. Both of you being emotional messes wasn't going to help anyone right now, and he needed to understand that you were safe. That he was as safe as he could be now, with your little group.

"That night, did you see anything? Dark particles, maybe?" Robin pleaded, trying to dig deeper, Steve wandering to both your sides, absentmindedly tapping Robin's shoulder. Rhythmically, a comfort. Four taps.

"It would almost look like dust, swirling dust?"

"No, there was nothing that you could see, or uh, or touch-" His voice drifted off, quickly replaced by a ringing in your ears, one that Robin picked up on immediately. She glanced over at Steve, he nodded, and she grabbed onto your wrist. Nails digging in, trying to prove that you were still there. A grip you hadn't felt since Starcourt, since she'd feared for both your lives. She tugged you along and pleaded for you to follow her down the corridor, accompanied by the sound of a creaking door as the two of you tumbled in.

The door slammed shut, locking you in as you edged towards the bed.

It only took a second; one momentous second where the world stopped spinning. A second where the ocean ceased to move and the earth stopped tilting on its axis. The sun stopped shining. The moon stopped glimmering, and the relieved smile fell from both your faces.

One second, and Robin Buckley was in your arms again.

Hands wrapped around you, pressing you tight, holding you close, closer, until you couldn't tell where you ended and she began. Just the two of you, for a second, in a quiet room within an almost-empty house.

You took her head between your hands, fingers gently skimming over the thousands of stories you already knew. The small scratch below her eye a papercut from a paper aeroplane gone wrong, the scar against the corner of her cheek from a jagged little stone after a rogue biking incident, and the constellation of freckles that adorn her cheeks. She's there, she's Robin, and somehow, despite it all, she's still alive.

She's still alive, you've kept your promise, and you've found that's all that matters.

"You're okay?" You murmured, a question that you already knew the answer to; however you found that the relief overwhelming you when her next words spilled from her tongue was more than satisfactory.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. I'm alright, promise." She whispered, smile quickly returning to the both of you as the warm realisation settled deep into your bones.

A simple nod, and then she was in your arms once more. Head buried in the crook of your neck, gentle kisses soft to the touch. Nails gripping into your sides as if you would simply stop existing the moment she let you go, and the gentle scratch of her arms against yours, a rough patch from where she'd managed to catch herself on the stove at yours. For a moment, just a moment, the issues between you two were gone; no Vickie, no Vecna, no frantic murders, no disapproving town - the two of you could just be.

She pulled away quickly after the knock at the door, only another second before the world began anew. She was out of your arms, and the sun began to shine again. The Earth kept turning, and Steve Harrington found himself in the doorway, glancing at the compromising position between the two of you.

You scrambled away, both pulling limbs from the entangled pile you'd created, breath returning to normal as she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. Steve smiled slightly, the tension seeping from his body as things slowly returned to normal, and he watched what he believed to be an intricate game of 'cat and mouse' between the two of you.

"This is such bullshit." He muttered, landing himself on the bed besides you as the group continued to drawl on in the other room.

"I mean come on, floating people? At the very least, they're getting creative." Robin chuckled, the three of you bursting into a round of giggles, disbelief clouding the room. Keeping it isolated from the rest of the world, just for a moment. A small room where everyone is safe, no responsibilities, and one where the three of you are not required to bear the weight of the world.

A room where the three of you can breathe freely, as the burden of the Earth is removed from your shoulders. Where the three of you become Atlas, the globe slipping and cluttering to the floor in a heap.

Forgotten, gathering dust, beside everyone else.

"I want to go home." Steve whispered against the comfort, a small mercy that was much appreciated given the day's events. Both you and Robin found yourselves nodding, wanting nothing more than to crash after running on pure adrenaline for the last 24 hours.

"A sandwich would be nice," Robin grumbled, head tilting back against the headboard as the flimsy wall creaked and groaned. Magazines lay strewn across the room, small receipts crumpled in the palm of a hand scattered along the bed. It wasn't stable, far from it, and the longer you all lay there, the faster you were convinced it would collapse. Gone from beneath you, a pile of splinters left in its wake.

It was a reminder that no matter how normal things may seem, it all could collapse in less than a second. All it took was a particular cruel moment to bare its teeth, wrap hard around the moment and bite.

But between the three of you, you could all feel that it wouldn't happen that night. No, fate was a being much crueller, and would let you relax first. Let you succumb to the domesticity of normal life before pulling you under the wave. Drowning you in the chaos, and letting your corpse float back to shore. For that to happen, it would have to leave you alone first.

So, Steve headed back to his empty house, Robin to hers and you to yours, waiting for the first sign of trouble. For the penny to drop, the hat to tip. A warning, that of which you all assumed wouldn't come (hopefully), for a long, long time.

Meanwhile, the following morning, Lucas Sinclair woke from a much-disturbed slumber. Startled, the boy shot up, head pounding and his mouth unimaginably dry.

Fuck.

He knew he'd gotten slightly loose after last night, an understandable move after the ever-growing pile of stress had finally tipped over for the boy.

Whether it was Max's snappy attitude and refusal to talk to him, or the fact that his friends had all refused to watch out for him at his championship game, or the boys' sudden love for their new Dungeon master and their ridiculously quick replacement of Will, or the abandonment as a friend:

Lucas Sinclair was feeling it all. He'd allowed it to creep over him, pulling over in waves and suffocating him until he couldn't stand it another second; so he'd gotten drunk. Blackout, nausea-inducing by simple mention of it, table-dancing drunk.

And he found rather quickly that he was alright with that. He'd finally found a place to feel comfortable, normal, even.

People who still wanted him around. People who respected him, and did not put him down as if he wasn't just as smart, and wasn't part of anything that him and his friends had accomplished. People who he could talk to, and people who would keep him safe at parties when he couldn't think anymore. Where he just couldn't handle thinking anymore.

He stumbled up and over to the door, hand pressed gently against the side of his temples as he massaged the aching skin, a hurt drilled deep inside his skull that only several hours rest could rid him of. There was a distinct muttering from behind the door, and as he slowly opened it, enough to lean against the frame whilst still remaining conscious to the world, he was met with three familiar faces.

"He sees all this? He sees us? He'll shit his pants and cry for his mum. This guy's no fighter," Chance spat, letterman jacket plastered across his back as he fiddled with an old wrench. The boy had spirit, and drive, enough that chilled Lucas to the core.

"God, almost hope he tries something. Gives me a reason." Jason Carver murmured, head stuck rooting through the Range Rover, images of his now ex-girlfriend spinning over his eyes. Weaving a world where Chrissy Cunningham was alive and happy and content, the way she was always meant to be.

He was good to her. He knew that much; he'd dedicated every match since freshman year to the girl, he'd met her parents, he'd given her flowers on every date night and he'd been nothing less than a gentleman with a heart that beat in the shape of her name.

She had been his, and him hers, and now she was gone. He was going to make Eddie Munson pay, if it was the last thing he did.

"Well well! Look who's decided to join." Andy swung the rusted wrench over in Lucas' direction, welcoming smile against his lips with fangs bared. The look in his eyes didn't frighten the boy in the slightest, as he had seen much worse before.

The unforgiving wrench between his fingers did, though.

He felt accepted, as though he was part of their group, and that they had reached some understanding. However, he also knew who they were talking about. He wasn't clueless, and his friends meant more than anything to him.

So he was going to play it risky, and keep his cards far too close to his chest. He was going to stick it out because he had seen this before, and he was going to help his friends. Help Max. Even if it cost him his own sanity.

"What are you guys doing?"

"We're gearing up," Patrick muttered, tossing another bag into the boot of the car.

"Preparing for the hunt." Andy smirked, a vicious grin as he tossed the wrench so it landed besides the other bags. Jason Carver seemed as though he should be joining them, revelling in the notion of revenge.

Instead, he just seemed to look so awfully sad. Subconscious reminiscing over what he could've had.

Of course, he hadn't liked Eddie Munson, and the man had gotten on his nerves more times than he could count, but he certainly respected him. To share his beliefs so easily, to prosper when others would have failed. When Jason himself would have failed. If asked, Jason Carver would never have pegged Eddie Munson as a murderer.

Times change, the boy supposed.

Although he didn't look it, there was a need for revenge hidden quietly beneath his skin. A burning want, an insatiable need for blood. An eye for an eye. Eddie had taken something so pure and innocent and good from the world, and Jason was going to make him squirm up until the very last second.

"Hunt the freak."

Justice for Chrissy Cunningham, once and for all.

He picked up on the unease in Lucas, walking over and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Voice a hushed whisper, an attempt at a small comfort to stand beside his slowly-twisting grin.

"Hey man, relax. We're not killers like Eddie. We just wanna talk to him."

A twitch in the boy's eye, and Jason Carver thought back to the pair dancing across his kitchen together. About how much happier she'd seemed away from her own home. The blonde's hand in his own, a gentle squeeze to remind him that she was alright.

"Get him to admit to his crime."

"Yeah," Andy chimed in, "Just a friendly neighbourhood chat."

Jason shook his head, turning back to the boy. He wanted to give him an out, a chance to outrun all of this suffering. No one else had to hurt like he did. He would take his pain and he would clutch it tight, letting it consume the empty cavity in his chest to ensure that no one else would ever feel the way he did.

"Hey, you didn't know Chris. If you're not up to this, you can go home - there's no judgement. You'll still be one of us, right?"

Lucas' heart clenched at every syllable. A bubbling pain, a reminder that when this was all over, when he had finished playing his role, he would be shunned from both sides. This was his home, and he would string it up and decorate the walls for as long as possible. The thought of the hand on his shoulder and a picture-frame hung in the corridor (of him and the Mayfield-girl), and the boy was sold.

"No, I'm good. I wanna help."

A small smile from Jason Carver. He wondered if this was what acceptance felt like.

"Alright."

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"So you're saying this....thing, that killed Fred and Chrissy, it's from the upside down?" Nancy Wheeler's voice rang out against the bleak emptiness of the Forest Hills trailer park, glancing across the bench where Dustin Henderson slumped forwards, joined by five other figures swarmed around the table.

"If the shoe fits," Steve mumbled, eyes darting from Dustin, to Max, and to the Henderson boy once more.

"Our working theory," Dustin started, "is that he attacks with a spell? Or a curse? Now, whether or not he's doing the Mind Flayer's bidding, or he just loves killing teens, we don't know."

"All we know is that it's something different. Something new." Max interrupted, as she desperately attempted to drown out the ringing behind her ears.

"It doesn't make sense!"

"It's only a theory-" Dustin reassured the oldest Wheeler, although Nancy wasn't necessarily in the mood to be talked down. She didn't understand something, and as always, it quickly became an itch festering under her skin. Inside her bones, and reverberated around until it reached out to clutch at the missing pieces of the puzzle.

"No, Fred and Chrissy don't make sense. I mean, why them?"

"Maybe they were just in the wrong place?"

"No, Nancy's right- when has anything to do with the Upside-Down so far, ended up just a coincidence?" You muttered, and Robin's eyes caught yours. If you hadn't been looking as intently as you were, you wouldn't have caught the flicker of a smile that played across her lips.

"But they were both at the game?"

"And at the trailer park-" Max offered, attempting to provide some concrete evidence to Dustin's abstract conclusion.

"...We're at the trailer Park." Steve's eyes widened as the realisation hit him.

"Should we maybe...not be here?"

"There's definitely something weird about this place. Fred started acting off the second we got here."

"Acting weird as in...?" Robin questioned, clawing for just a moment of brutal reassurance. She'd only just gotten you all back, and she refused to lose you again.

"Scared, on edge, upset," She listed.

Whether or not Robin kept a closer eye on you and Steve after that didn't matter.

(She did.)

However, that didn't stop an inkling of doubt creeping in; any smile was taken with a pinch of salt, any chuckle with a grain of sand, and any flouncy comment under the assumption that it was simply a façade- she didn't have the time nor the resources to waste a moment, not when it came to the both of you.

"Max said Chrissy was upset too."

"Yeah, but not here- she was crying in the bathroom at school."

"Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike, right?" Robin suggested, head drifting back to a frantic library search three years prior, a scramble as she realised that people were often not as kind as they seemed.

"So maybe, Fred and Chrissy saw this Vecman-"

"-Vecna." Dustin corrected, eyes rolling automatically as the girl grit her teeth, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

"I don't know about you guys but if I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would mention it to someone."

"What if she felt like she couldn't?" You bit back, Steve immediately raising his hands in a mock surrender.

"I'm just saying!"

"Maybe they did." Max interrupted, eyes widening as a picture of the blonde girl came to life, bouncing ponytail as she raced down the halls, wiping furiously at the space beneath her eyes.

"I saw Chrissy leaving Miss Kelley's office. If you saw a monster, you wouldn't go to the police, they'd never believe you. But you might go to-"

"-your shrink." Robin grinned, and all five of you took to your feet in an instant. The ground held steady, firm beneath you, although the weight of the conclusion you'd all come to raced through your veins.

More specifically, the thought pounded through your head, having seen Fred Benson leave the woman's office a few days prior.

And Max.

The redhead bounded past you more than once on your daily rendezvous with Robin, mind scattered elsewhere with a far-away look in her eye. A headache that never seemed to cease, and the never-ending nightmares.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and what had once been an innocent thought under the guise of protecting your friend became a rather large one, consuming everything in its path.

You rushed towards the abandoned cars before Nancy veered off, walking mindlessly towards an empty road.

"Nancy? Where are you going?" Steve muttered, chasing after her and stumbling slightly, panic-stricken look coating his face.

"Oh. I just- I just wanted to go check on something first."

"Something you maybe wanna share with the rest of us?" Dustin yelled, arms spread wide as Nancy shoved hers into her pockets, fiddling mindlessly with the breaking denim.

"I don't wanna waste your time. It's a real shot in the dark."

"Yeah, okay." Steve paused, "Are you out of your mind?"

The girl froze, eyebrows raised as Robin caught your gaze, a chuckle quickly escaping her lips. Luckily, you seemed to be the only one who heard, and hers made you think twice about stifling your one.

"Flying solo with this Vecna creep on the loose? No, no it's too dangerous- you need, you need someone to-" He stopped, nodding his head as his sentence trailed off, and you smiled as his trembling hands.

"Here. I'll stick with Nance-" He threw his keys at Robin and your jaw dropped, having never seen him hand over trust so quickly. No one was ever allowed to drive the BMW.

"You guys take the car, check out the shrink."

"I don't think you want me driving your car!"

"Why not?"

"Maybe because she doesn't have a licence?" You suggested, and Steve rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you have a licence?"

"I'm...poor." She phrased it like a question, trailing off with raised eyebrows and a hopeful smile, mind drifting back to a night over the summer you'd spent in her arms.

"You ever think about leaving here?" You murmured, arms around her waist as she curled in closer to you, sunlight barely streaming in through the blinds. Robin had gotten used to the lack of mugs and trinkets that were so common in her own home, taking advantage of all the high-tech inventions scattered around your house. She took polaroids of the both of you in domestic situations and hung them in the halls, accompanied by fairy lights and a promise of the future. Her home was already that, a home, but yours was simply a house.

Until Robin Buckley had arrived, of course. No, the girl was determined to do everything in her path to make you feel content and safe in your space, especially when she wasn't there to help. She wanted you to feel as happy as she did when she approached the towering four walls. Wanted your heart to race the same way hers did when she rang the doorbell, knowing that you were only a few steps away.

"What, Hawkins? Of course I do. Do you?" She questioned, and you think that Robin Buckley might have always been your home. Your breath only hitches when she's near and you are only filled with the perfect air of contentment when she is beside you, and so you think that there is no use for a home when she is right there.

Robin Buckley may have always been your home, and you pray to God that she always will be.

"Yeah. It wouldn't take much, either. A few savings accounts here and there, the Camaro until Max can drive it, and a few hours. We'd be gone." She smiled wistfully at your words, allowing herself just this once to imagine what a life outside Hawkins might look like. A life with you.

"Where would we go?"

"France. Maybe Paris. Fancy food, good wine, poetry." You mumbled, and the girl's grin only widened. She was all too aware about how many conversations you'd listened in on when the two of you were sat near, the incessant French rambling about the desire to get away. She thinks France would make her happy. You think you'd like to see her happy anywhere, as long as she looks at you the way she's looking now. Love behind her eyes, nothing less. Pure, all-consuming love.

"Need to learn to drive first."

"I'd wait." The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them. Not a moment of hesitation, and the girl kissed you. Again, and again, and again.

You'd wait.

You'd always wait for her.

"I can drive?" Max offered, and the boys eyes widened, aggressively pointing a finger at the small child.

"No. NO. Never again, please, anybody but you."

Dustin took a calculated at risk and attempted to offer his hand, quickly dismissed by Steve.

"Right. Jones, then- you drive."

"Can't, I have to look after the Camaro."

"All right, okay," Robin started, "this is stupid. Us ladies will stick together. Unless you think we need you to protect us?" She moved to stand by Nancy, waiting for you as the severity of the situation washed over you.

You needed to take care of Max first, and if the conversation you'd walked in on meant anything to her, she very clearly didn't want you around.

The sinking pit in your stomach returned, and you glanced over at Steve.

"I think I'm gonna go with Steve and the kids, actually."

"Oh. Yeah, no, of course, that's fine- we'll see you later?" She asked, more of a quiet muttering met with a small nod.

"Be careful!" Steve shouted as the two of them turned on their heels, walking away.

"What, you just gonna stand there and gawk?" Dustin teased, and both you and Steve turned to look at him, stuttering before you realised that the comment was intended for Steve.

"Shut up, and get in the car."

You chuckled as you climbed into your own car beside him, watching as his hands gripped the steering wheel.

"Always the babysitter," He grumbled, "Always the godamn babysitter!"

He pressed his foot to the floor, and you followed, leaving nothing but dust in your wake.

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Nancy Wheeler hadn't noticed Robin before this. Of course, she knew of the talkative girl, almost always the focus of Steve's irritated rants, but she'd never met her before. She often wondered why you'd never bothered to introduce the two of you.

Now, thinking back to the look on your face as you watched the rambling girl, she knew why.

Nancy Wheeler was many things, but she had never been, nor would she ever be dull. You knew that much, and presumably, you'd known that she would figure out exactly what Robin Buckley meant to you.

"So, Wayne Munson, Eddie's uncle, thinks that Victor Creel escaped from Pennhurst Asylum, and that he's the one running around committing these murders?"

"Pretty much."

"But Victor committed the eyeball murders, like way back in the '50's."

"Well, '59-" Nancy corrected, attempting to get a word in edgeways before Robin began again. For some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about how dejected you'd looked as you'd said goodbye. How resigned you looked to be just another part of her life when you meant more than anything.

So, Robin Buckley did what Robin Buckley did best, and the girl kept talking.

"-that means that these murders predate Eleven in the Upside Down, by about 30 years?"

"Yeah."

"Which makes spooky Victor Creel almost 70 years old."

"Yep." She reached forward, and pressed the bell. She hadn't slept well the night prior, and that certainly wasn't helping her mood, or the short tolerance she felt when dealing with the hyperactive girl currently balancing on the balls of her feet.

"So, he's a grandpa murderer who can turn invisible, and lift people into the air?"

"It doesn't make sense, I know. That's why I said it was a shot in the dark."

She rang the bell again.

"I know, I just thought that by 'shot in the dark' you were being modest, or hiding something super solid up your sleeve that you were gonna wow us with later!"

The bell went off three more times.

"-but this is like really, truly a shot in the dark! Like we are snipers with blindfolds on-"

Nancy grit her teeth as her hand hovered over the small golden circle, fingers itching to interrupt her.

"-who've been spun around fifty times!"

Eventually the girl gave in, slamming her hand down on the rusty metal continuously with a false smile, tossing Robin a wicked grin in order to avoid insulting her.

"Coming! Coming-" Another lady rushed over, hands filled with overflowing boxes of trinkets, before landing in front of the pair, adjusting her glasses.

"Hi, sorry, we're in a bit of a rush, can we get the keys to the basement archives?"

"Of course, just give me one second-"

A moment of silence spilled out across the room as the woman rushed off.

"....did I come off as mean, or condescending, or rude or something?"

"...No."

"Sorry, it's just- you seem annoyed. You don't know me very well! I don't have a filter or a strong grasp of social cues," She continued, arms flailing about.

"Okay."

"-so if I say something that upsets you, just know that I know it's a flaw, believe me, my mother reminds me daily!"

Her eyebrows raised at this, and for a moment, the eldest Wheeler almost looked concerned.

Another second passed.

"Got it."

"Okay."

---------------

"Okay? Okay? You saw that, and all you had to say was it went okay? It very clearly did not go okay!" You rambled, Max at Ms. Kelly's door and Dustin still sat in the BMW.

Steve slumped into the Camaro beside you, slamming the door shut as his hands moved to massage his temples, quickly turning and shutting the radio off.

"Yes, it went okay! Look, come on, neither of you are subtle! She likes you-"

"No, she likes Vickie!" You spat out, eyes rolling at the absurdity of the situation as you tried desperately to come to terms with what she'd said.

"Oh good god you're both stubborn. Right, she might not like you, but you definitely like her." He grumbled out, leaning his head back against the car seat.

You let him linger in the content silence that drowned the car. Your eyes darted out the window, scanning over the greenery and the world in an attempt to preserve how it was before Steve Harrington knew.

"Yes. Fine, Steve, I like her."

"I knew it!" He jumped up from the seat, scrambling like a mad man to face you, and you winced.

"Sorry, sorry-" He calmed slightly, and you desperately wanted to tear his prying eyes from your silhouette.

"What about Nancy?"

He froze.

"What about Nancy?" He tried to play it off, hand resting against the back of his neck.

"Oh come on, don't play stupid. What the hell was that back there? 'Oh yeah, way too dangerous for you to be out there alone, you need someone to protect you-' " You chuckled, mimicking a gruff impression of the man beside you.

"I don't sound like that!"

"You totally do."

You both stilled as Dustin slid into the back of the Camaro, slamming the door as he watched Max slowly walk into the building. Beckoned, by the guidance counsellor's hand, a pitiful look cast over her face. Max had found that they'd become her least favourite part about the whole process. Not the death, the nightmares, the headaches- just the unending pity that everyone used to look down on her.

"Okay, she's in." Steve muttered.

"I'm missing collarbones, not eyes." He dismissed quickly, looking closer before relishing in the silence. Attempting to, at least.

"So, we gonna talk about...it?"

"Huh? Sorry, what? Talk about what?" Steve pulled his eyes away from the door, turning back to face Dustin.

"Your temporary insanity earlier today when you basically threw yourself at Nance?"

"See? It isn't just me who thinks so!" You chimed in, completely satisfied knowing that you weren't in fact blind, or slowly losing it.

"Okay, first of all, that's not what happened-"

"Pretty sure that's what happened."

"It was pretty public, Steve." You murmured, interrupted by Dustin.

"Mhm, there was like a lot of witnesses."

"Are either of you implying I still have a thing for Nance?"

"Not implying- I'm stating, and as it relates to your steadfast refusal to date Robin," You winced, attempting to stifle a laugh that thankfully Dustin took as amusement of Steve's antics, "it's pretty much the only logical explanation."

"That's not the only one. And as for Nance, I was just trying to...protect a friend."

A small smirk grew on the boy's face, and you had to fight back your own.

"A friend, Henderson, okay?"

"Okay!"

"I don't want to find her int he morning with her eyes sucked out of her skull by this Vecna creep-"

"And you were totally happy to let Robin go?" You raised and eyebrow, and he stopped.

"You are like bright red in the face right now!" Dustin laughed, and you joined in, taking a sick sort of pleasure watching Steve aimlessly try to defend himself. It wasn't that you didn't care for him, you did, and the second the teasing became too much for him you'd stop. But luckily, neither of you had thought about the events of the past three days during the time you'd spent in the car, so you were counting that as a win.

"No I'm not. I don't wanna talk about it. I'll punch you so hard in your face that your teeth will fall back out-" You both stopped, jaw dropped as Dustin stilled.

"Whoa, too far."

"That was mean, Steve."

"Yeah, sorry, too far. Not cool. I'm sorry." He mumbled.

"It's cool, it's okay-"

He reached forward to fist-bump Steve, and you switched the radio back on, letting the crackling voices fill the hole the red-head had left.

The Mayfield girl hadn't been inside the house long, but allowed the counsellor to take her by her hand and parade her around like some sort of artefact. A trophy, proof of the woman's success, despite there being no other witnesses to the scene.

Even so, Max let it continue, ignoring the acid pooling in her mouth and the shifting emptiness that seemed to follow her. Taunt her, consuming every waking thing in its path. The girl presumed it wouldn't be long before it swallowed her whole, too.

"Here she comes, here she comes-" Steve murmured, eyes trailing her figure and the door to ensure she wasn't followed, gaze then moving to fixate on the jangling keys she held between her fingertips.

The girl slid into the back with ease, blinking visions behind empty eyes as Dustin continued to speak.

"What'd she say?"

"Nothing. Just drive." Steve would not let this go easily. Not when he'd seen how the tragedy at Starcourt had broken her, and how he'd spent the past months building up his rapport with the girl. Not when he'd seen how uncaring she was, selflessly throwing herself into the line of fire when it wasn't necessary. She reminded him of himself sometimes, a younger Steve with a thirst for danger.

For pain, for hurt, for feeling. How he'd brushed off people from his pedestal and self-sabotaged every good thing in his life. He doesn't want the girl behind him to turn out how he did. He thinks he'd prefer anything else.

"Nothing?"

"Jones, drive!" She insisted, the four of you slinking into an uncomfortable silence as the girl slumped in on herself, letting the darkness bite away at her, inch by inch.

Before long, the girl began stalking the halls of Hawkins High once more, flashlight flickering against the emptiness of the night. She crept around corners, tracing the steps she'd walked so many times before.

Except this time was different.

She wasn't sure how, only that the air had turned cold, the colours diminished and muted whilst a deafening silence settled across the school. The flashlight flickered again. Everything was wrong.

She remembered how she'd slumped against the lockers with Lucas, erupting into fits of giggles as the rest of the team sprinted past. How they'd seemed so isolated, so lonely from the rest of the world, and yet perhaps the most content she'd ever been.

As her breath hitched in the back of her throat, she realised she would trade anything to go back to that moment. Anything to feel her hand in his, the heavy reassurance that things would be fine.

Instead, she did not find the body of Lucas Sinclair, or the sweet assurance that finding him would bring, but the empty corpse of a grandfather clock hidden in the wall.

At the same time, in a world beneath her own, Henry Creel stood alone in an attic, vines stretching out to engulf the world. To spread out like a leech, to infect everything he could see. To connect the living world to his own. He felt Maxine Mayfield's heart stop, only for a moment, and the man smiled.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @onceandfuturequeenofthecats@triskoof@shysneeze @shysneeze-recs

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averagestudent03 · 1 year

Text

I Know The End: S4, Chapter Two, Cold Pizza & Miscommunication

(Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader, stranger things rewrite)

Word Count: 5.8k

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(A/N: Welcome back! I'm aware it's been a while since my last post but I've had exams and just general stress in life! Luckily everything is slightly easier now and I hope to get into a routine for Chapters again :) As always, reblogs and comments are hugely appreciated as they are ridiculously motivational, and I enjoy reading them all! All stranger things content and characters belong to the Duffer brothers, and I hope you enjoy Chapter Two!)

Series warnings: Gruesome imagery- Sharp objects, threats, snapped bones, expletives, jealousy, fear of abandonment, era-relevant homophobia, mentions of nausea, mentions of blood, slight angst? One use of Y/N, series-level gore, mentions of nausea and sick, etc. Each set of warnings is individual to the chapter and specified at the beginning.

-----------------------------------------

22/03/1986

Maxine Mayfield had never been one for eccentric gestures.

The exaggerated hugs that last a fraction of a second too long, the held hands or larger-than-life confessions for her love. Nothing, leaving her void and empty.

No, the Mayfield had remained stoic and cold, bitter from the years of torment from her brother. Now below the ground, obviously, she knew that he couldn't hurt her. In some ways she was glad he was gone. No more walking on eggshells. Quiet footsteps, screaming obscenities.

No more chaos.

Maybe that made her a bad person.

She'd never know. Not like she'd ever admit it to anyone.

However, as much of an asshole as Billy Hargrove had been, he had never once shied away from touch. From bed-warmers, from rather pretty girls that sat behind him in lessons, from anyone that could get their hands on him. He craved it, if anything. It fed him.

The constant need for validation slowly wormed its way into him, festering like a maggot in a corpse. The desire to replace Neil's shy lashings with a gentle press of a palm against his face. Of a hand through his hair. He had never shied away from admissions, or affection; instead he begged for it at every turn.

Another thing the Mayfield girl refused to have in common with him. Still, although she had never been overly entranced by the idea of large, monumental, earth-shattering gestures, she knew that they existed. She knew that individuals chased the rush that they gave them, even if it were only fingertips brushing. An eye-catching glance across the corridor when no one else was looking.

(Maybe she'd liked it from someone, but the day would come where hell would freeze over before she choked out that she did, in fact, and maybe always did, love Lucas Sinclair.)

So, it had not come as much of a surprise when she found Eddie Munson, Hawkins High's resident freak, pelting it out of his trailer park in the middle of the night. Coinciding with the flickering of the lights, the deep and inhumane groaning that came from what lurked in the shadows.

It did not come as a surprise, because although she was not social, Max paid attention. Far too much attention, as she very much enjoyed keeping an eye on her boys. An eye on who Lucas, Mike and Dustin had recently been fawning over, and so it only made sense that he had made a more than ideal role model. A boy with big ideas and an even bolder personality to match. Craving the attention. The looks. The stares. Even the grimaces. He wanted it all.

She had seen much worse from her neighbour, and therefore, she didn't take the actions as gospel. A warning. A premonition, or anything unusual at all. Instead, she wallowed in her empty house, and slept the night away as he fled his. Blissfully unaware of the cheerleader with broken bones pinned to his ceiling.

Until the next morning, that is. When the police rolled up in waves, harassing old Wayne Munson, attempting to get Eddie's location to spill from his lips. The man remained firm, holding his ground as he stared down the young police officers. Officer Callahan in particular, of which he'd run into a multitude of times.

(Once to bail Eddie out for a night, the reason for his very first repeat of the year. He'd been caught smuggling some of his stash over the border, and they held him in custody for a total of 15 hours and 39 minutes. Wayne had not been happy, already exhausted from a gruelling night at the plant, but he loved his nephew nonetheless. That didn't mean that Eddie wasn't made to grovel with the man for the next two weeks as punishment, though.)

Wayne Munson had never seen anything like it. When he'd returned home in the early hours of the morning, he'd expected to be greeted with the sight of his worn-down nephew, ruffled hair and successfully passed out on the extended sofa. He often didn't make it to his room, especially after a large deal. He would smoke, ride the high and then crash, leaving the remainder of the take-out on the side for Wayne. Chinese, Indian, whatever the boy could get cheap and easy. It meant that he wouldn't go hungry for the night, and Wayne would be content. An easy fix amongst flickering streetlamps and old shitty television. His favourite so far was slices of cold plain pizza, although the man would never admit it to his nephew.

He'd trade all the cold pizza in the world to know that the boy was safe, okay. He didn't know what he'd do if he found out that Eddie's life had taken the same path as the boy's father. He didn't deserve it.

He didn't, Wayne insisted to himself, especially after all he'd been through.

It had come as a shock to see the Cunningham girl a crumpled heap on his floor, hands outstretched and twitching.

The old man knew better than to hold any hope.

Muscle memory, Eddie had called it. He'd come home to shining lights in the trailer and the boy practically burst with excitement. You followed closely behind, trailing his footsteps as you often did on nights like these.

He had plenty to tell his uncle and the surprise that he wouldn't have to wait until morning, like usual, was reason enough to send a course of elation buzzing through his skin. 'Better than any high,' he claimed. He had burst through, rambling about the success in biology earlier in the day.

How he'd had to research death, rigor-mortis and anything post-deceased related for a campaign, and that the "bitchy teacher who was only miserable because her husband wasn't 'giving it good,' " had insisted on handing him some of the hardest questions known to man; because of his research, he was able to answer all of them without fail. Launching into a spiral about muscle memory, being sent out due to his supposed lack of concern for others concentration (and previous comment that evidently, he'd muttered a little too loud.) You'd done your research too, and had corrected him on the official term as the three of you sat on the floor, a long-abandoned game of monopoly tossed to the side.

Cadaveric spasms, the old man had heard you say.

Cadaveric spasms, and Chrissy Cunningham laying dead on his floor. Hand twitching, ligaments torn limb from limb. Bending in every direction imaginable, blood trickling from her eyes. Or at least, where they should have been. Where they were, untouched, untainted, a few hours prior.

Cadaveric spasms, and now Wayne Munson's nephew was missing.

He rushed outside, gathering his thoughts for a moment as he heaved against the side of the trailer. He had no experience in handling anything of the sort before, the girl's crumpled body almost entirely out of his depth. He contemplated phoning the police, and then realised how it would look. Eddie couldn't have done this, the boy had Wayne remove spiders but leave them outside because he wanted to make sure they were alright. He couldn't hurt a fly if he tried.

So, naturally, the only question that remained was who did?

Who would target Chrissy Cunningham, of all people? Why his trailer? Had she been going there anyways? Were the Hellfire boys with Eddie? Was Eddie safe? Were you?

Although he was blissfully unaware of the night you'd spent with the Buckley girl, again, (and technically you'd spent it with Steve too, but he wasn't exactly aware of anything past midnight where he'd dozed on his own couch and the two of you had snuck out to the pool), you were still off his radar. For all he knew, you could've been just as much missing as Eddie.

Just as much hurt as Eddie.

He found himself not wanting to think on it a moment more, and Wayne Munson picked up the phone.

The police came quickly, pulling Max from her slumber as she stumbled outside. It wasn't as if she was getting much sleep these days, so anything was a gift, and she really didn't appreciate being woken up this early. Though, catching a sight of Chrissy Cunningham with her limbs broken as easy as porcelain, she figured this may be something important enough to wake for.

And if the flickering lights and ominous pit settling in her stomach weren't enough the night before, she was almost certain something was wrong now. Something, terribly, horrifically wrong.

Meanwhile, You sat alone in your car, fingers drumming rapidly against the steering wheel. Robin had been acting strange recently, including running off on you the night prior the moment your ginger friend was brought up. It set you on edge, especially given that you were going to ask her if you thought Steve should know about the two of you.

If the two of you even were anything.

She'd done the same thing when you'd offered to pick her up the next morning, she seemed panicked and out of breath the moment Vickie's name was mentioned. In reality, it was because a hole began to form in the pit of her stomach, and she knew it was far too late to tell you about some of the comments she'd made. She didn't mean them, obviously, but you wouldn't know that if you ever found out.

Which you would, inevitably, sooner or later. So you settled your nerves, hoped for the best, and began the terrifying trek towards the store.

Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington dashed around Family Video, the small video store they'd begun working at together over the summer, catering after customers in-between chuckles, whispers and hushed rumours.

He had to admit, it was one of the favourite parts of his day. He would work himself to the bone, insistent on proving his family wrong (albeit they weren't there to witness it), muttering with Robin about you or Vickie before either of you walked in, sometimes both; you'd all have a civilised conversation until their shifts ticked over, and Steve would take you home.

Robin would then find a way to sneak in, but she figured that you weren't quite ready to tell Steve that bit yet.

The bell rang out against the rather-empty store at the same time as Robin dropped a box of tapes, coincidentally masking the noise as you snuck in unannounced. You'd hoped your presence would be that of a positive to brighten either of their days, praying for more than anything that you'd get to see the way Robin's face lit up as her eyes caught on you.

"-then Vickie laughed!" She started, "and it wasn't like a cheap, fake laugh either, it was like a real- a genuine laugh!"

Steve simply nodded along, eyes trained on your figure as he tensed. He wanted to yell, to scream, to tell her to shut up, anything- but he couldn't. Instead, he found himself paralysed, doomed to watch the train-wreck about to occur.

"Of course she laughed Robin, it's my muppet joke. It's hilarious." He deadpanned, eyes meeting yours in a sorrowful expression as he started to unbox the shelves. He tried sending her a look, one saying 'shut up', but she couldn't quite seem to match his gaze. Only rambling off as enthusiastically as she could about Vickie.

Vickie.

The name echoed in your mind, and you thought back to any of the times Robin had started acting strangely over the past two weeks. They'd all involved her in some way shape or form.

Oh.

Oh God.

Of course, Robin Buckley wasn't actually speaking about Vickie. No, in her mind, Vickie was simply a code name; a name to put to face when describing how your laughter bubbled up in-between the sheets the night prior before she disappeared, mention of the hell that was Starcourt the previous summer.

That didn't quite register with you, unfortunately for her.

"My point is, Vickie laughed. And everything was like- it was perfect!"

Your stomach dropped, and hers grew butterflies, your face appearing in her mind. The way you'd looked, the way you'd felt around her, arms a comfort that she found impossible to describe.

"But?" Steve encouraged, and your eyes flickered back and forth between the two. You decided that you'd had enough, and you began your escape around one of the back doors.

"But I'm having this problem where i's like I should stop talking, I have said everything I need to say, but then I guess I get nervous and the words just keep spilling out and my brain moves faster than my mouth," She rambled, trailing after him like a lost puppy, "or rather my mouth is moving faster than my brain, and it's like I'm digging this hole for myself and I want to stop digging and I'm trying to stop digging but I can't and I'm doing it right now, aren't I?"

Ouch.

You physically winced at the thought of her feeling like that at all, at her rambles feeling unappreciated; but also at the thought that she wasn't nervous about you. She was nervous about Vickie, while being with you. Sort of being with you? You supposed you hadn't made anything official yet, but you thought you'd made yourself clear after Starcourt.

Either way, she was nervous around Vickie, and she hadn't even told you. Was she planning on telling you?

Was she ever going to tell you? You wondered, Or was she just going to wait until you got twenty years down the line and then spring it on you that she'd never loved you? That it was just a ruse to get close to your friend?

No.

Robin wasn't like that. You were certain.

She would've told you; this had to be some sort of misunderstanding, but you didn't want to hear another one of her rambles about the green-eyed girl. You didn't think your heart could take it, much preferring to just give out instead.

"Yeah, you are." Steve mumbled.

"Oh, I'm hopeless." She groaned, head hitting back against one of the nearest signs.

"Eh, we both are."

"If only we could like- combine." She groaned wishfully, thinking back to you once more. She'd been planning to genuinely ask you how you really felt the night before, but immediately choked when Vickie's name had slipped past her lips. Guilt overwhelming her, despite her doing no wrong.

"Combine?"

"Think about it!" She started, and Steve's jaw dropped, impressed at how someone he thought he knew so well could be so cold and callous when you stood less than a few feet away, flowers in hand to surprise your almost girlfriend.

"I know exactly what I want; I found the girl of my dreams but I just can't get the courage to ask her out, meanwhile you go on a million dates, and you have no idea what you want. So if we just combined, all our problems could be solved."

Girl of my dreams.

Your heart broke for a second time that day.

You met Steve's eyes, yours filled with unshed tears as you backed away in total silence, leaving the flowers in your wake as you left Family Video behind.

"You're oblivious, for a start."

"What?"

"Look, I get you like Vickie, but you don't have to keep rubbing it in her face. You have to know that she likes you at this point, and that was just cruel, Robs."

"What are you on about?" She murmured, a star-struck expression painted across her face.

Who liked her?

"Jones."

Her heart hitched in her throat.

"You didn't- you didn't know she was here?" Steve questioned, raising an eyebrow, in genuine disbelief.

"She was here?" Robin panicked, eyes suddenly wider than they were a second prior.

"Yes? I know you don't like her so if you could just be nice about it, that would be great."

It felt as though the girl had been doused in cold water, left dripping wet, stood in the mess that she'd made of a perfectly good situation.

"Steve, listen to me very carefully- how long was she here?" She stressed every syllable, desperate to hear that you hadn't, in fact, heard any of it and that you'd simply left of your own accord.

"Since you talked about how Vickie laughed. Just don't be mean about it, okay? And if she ever manages to face you again, just please don't talk about Vickie?" He felt a sense of pride wash over him, head thinking back to the last time someone had hurt you as badly as he did. He didn't ever want to see that look on your face again.

Wanted to prove that he had changed for the better.

"Oh shit." She cursed, scrambling to grab the flowers as she chased after you, leaving Steve's complete and utter confusion in her path.

Unfortunately for her, the Camaro was gone, and you were nowhere to be found, leaving only the distant rumbling of your engine in the distance as you went off in search of your raven-haired friend.

"What the hell was that?" Steve panted, remaining hot on her heels and having chased her to the end of the road without stopping. Despite the fact that she was almost continually slightly off-balance, her legs were long and she had the lungs of a brass player, so the girl could run.

"I'll explain later, promise. Do you remember if she said she was working today?"

"What?"

"Steve- focus! Is she working today?"

"Yes! Jesus, calm down. She's working, I'm picking her up in like an hour when our shifts end."

"Thank God," She breathed out a slight sigh of relief, knowing that if everything had come to its worst, you couldn't quite avoid her yet. The two of you could fix things and everything would be alright when the sun came up the morning after.

That's what you did. It's what you were best at. Dinner, your own version, and fixing things. You'd both be alright, she was sure of it.

She quickly found that she couldn't wait that long when the announcement for Chrissy Cunningham's murder appeared on the flickering tv, sending the girl stumbling out of the store and in the direction of your house, momentarily crashing into Dustin Henderson and his newest accomplice, Max Mayfield.

Combined through their common desire to find just the man you were looking for.

Just the man you'd found, actually, as Robin realised quickly when you weren't at your house. Spare key still hidden underneath the front porch mat, she assumed that you hadn't actually come back yet.

And realistically, who else would you be going to if you'd already run from her and Steve?

The windows remained empty, lights off in the absence of love. In the absence of family, just another showy house at the end of a street. One that remained as if it were untouched, only one room coated in posters and post-it notes that Robin Buckley had messily scrawled out in the early hours of the morning.

She'd survived evil Russians, she could survive a simple missing persons scenario. You hadn't been gone long, but with the drama surrounding the Cunningham girl, she wasn't willing to take any chances. So she did what any reasonable person would do- she broke into your house and called the number you'd given her for emergencies.

Reefer Rick's house- the house you and Eddie had agreed to meet at if anything went bad.

She presumed this was bad enough to be considered bad. She called the number, held her breath, and waited as the dial tone rang.

-----------

"Dude, my tapes!" The dial tone rattled on as Steve Harrington's voice rang out across Family Video, Dustin tapping away at one of the computers after vaulting the counter (the sole reason that Steve's tapes now lay sprawled across the floor), Max fiddling with the phone on the wall.

"We're setting up base of operations here."

"Base of operations?"

"Get off." Steve grumbled, eyes fixated on the computer.

"No! We need it-"

"For what?"

"To find Eddie's friend's phone numbers!"

The older boy simply shook his head, letting out a sigh through gritted teeth. He'd heard more than he wanted to about Eddie Munson. Besides being his dealer through the majority of High School, Eddie Munson was now no more than an irritating stranger to the boy, a freak he was required to tolerate thanks to the likes of you and Dustin.

"Ah, Eddie. Your new best friend you think is cooler because he plays your nerdy party game?"

"- I never said that!"

"Can this wait? Saturday's our busiest day and Robin already bailed on me."

"Look, I'm sorry," Dustin started, "but this cannot wait until Monday."

"Oh, why, because calling Eddie's friends is an emergency?"

"Correct!"

He ran a hand through his hair, grumbling on about how one day he was going to give in and just strangle the boy.

"Can you just fill him in?" Dustin glanced helplessly over towards Max, waiting for any sort of reaction whatsoever. Instead, the girl refused to flinch, standing her ground and staring the older boy down. She simply rolled her eyes, and began the story.

-------------

"Pick up!" Robin begged, pacing around your kitchen, phone still clutched in shaking hand. God, she didn't even care if you two were on speaking terms anymore, she just wanted you safe.

After the third time of not answering, the rather unsatisfying click signifying the call had ended, she was about ready to give up. She put the phone down, entirely committed to walking away, before she heard the ringtone blaring out across the kitchen as she scrambled to pick it up.

"Jones?" She begged, desperation seeping thick and heavy into her words, lacing them with borderline pathetic empathy as she pleaded to hear your voice on the other end.

A second passed.

A small whisper, a shuffle, a nod of Eddie's head.

"Robs?" You whispered, a small sniffle coming from your end of the phone. Your voice was weaker than usual; you'd been crying. She'd only heard it a few times, but this was different. This time, it wasn't something upsetting you.

It wasn't a stupid fight that had driven one of you to the couch despite neither of you wanting to leave each other's presence, it wasn't a rude name uttered by immature children, it wasn't a scolding from your parents. She even felt slightly relaxed over the fact she hadn't upset you this much.

No, she hadn't upset you this much, that was true. But something had.

Her heartbeat thudded in her ears as she recognised the crying.

This was scared crying.

God, not even that, this was full-blown terrified crying.

This was 'I've got no one else to go to', crying.

'Upside-down', crying.

'I need you, Robs', crying.

"Robs?" You tried again, eager to just hear her voice, a strange comfort after your friend had told you about the horrifying turn of events the evening prior.

"Yes! Yeah, I'm here, I'm okay- I promise. How far's Reefer Rick's, sweetheart?"

"I'm not sure." You murmured.

"Can you tell me how you got there?"

"Same trail we walked in the woods during the summer, small cabin by lover's lake- we're safe for now but can you please hurry?" You begged, and she nodded, blissfully unaware you couldn't see her through the phone.

A moment of silence.

"Robs?"

"Hm?"

"Can you come?"

"Yes! God, yes, of course- sorry, I'm on my way now. Stay safe, alright?"

"Mhm. You too, I'll see you soon. I lo- bye, Robs." You started something but quickly bit your tongue, hanging up before she had a chance to respond. She gritted her teeth, slamming the phone down on the receiver before grabbing her bike again, pedalling as quickly as humanly possible to the cabin.

"Who was that?" Eddie questioned, quivering like a shaking leaf against the boat. He'd crouched down now, back pressed gently up against it as his breathing started to slow- it was good, he was calming slightly.

"Just Robin. She's okay, she'll believe you."

"What if she doesn't?"

"I did, didn't I?" You asked, small smile flickering at the corners of your lips, evoking a similar reaction in him. You'd gotten the both of you to stop crying now, at least. He figured you were just overly empathic, whilst you fought valiantly to keep the grotesque images of last summer at bay.

"That's different."

"I promise you, she'll believe you."

He only nodded, jumping slightly at the sound of something cluttering to the floor in another room.

"Just the wind- you're okay, you're safe."

He nodded again, only less convinced this time.

Meanwhile, Nancy Wheeler sat in her car with Fred Benson, motivated beyond words after her chat with Wayne Munson. He'd told her about Eddie, the sweetheart that he is and about what had happened to him. What he'd been through. He couldn't hurt a fly, even if he wanted to.

Wayne Munson told her about how proud he was of him.

She'd been with the boy all afternoon after that, and he seemed to be growing more distant with every second. Disconnected, as if he weren't quite present. Something else playing on his mind.

For him, it was as if someone were simply playing with his head. Toying with him like a puppet, pulling at his strings.

First Chrissy Cunningham, now Fred Benson.

His eyes started first. Flickering back and forth, fixating on things that weren't there. Getting stuck on the shadows against the walls. Reflecting off of edges that weren't quite edges.

-------------

Dustin's eyes caught on the mailbox, a badly painted 'Lipton' in place of what they'd expected to be Reefer, or Rick. After stalking his recent purchases, consisting solely of several Cheech & Chong movies, they'd stumbled upon an address. Robin caught sight of them in the distance, confusion and fear painted across her face for a second before quickly covered by a mask. It was a simple act of defiance to whatever lurked in the shadows; she would not show those kids she was afraid. She refused. They would see her as brave, or they would not see her at all.

"Steve?" She muttered, stepping closer.

"Jesus!" He jumped, spinning on his heel to face her. "God, don't scare me like that. Where did you go earlier?"

She shook her head.

"Doesn't matter. Why are you here?"

"Eddie." Dustin interrupted, and Robin nodded. She could only assume that he was now somehow connected with all of this, that he'd been tangled up in the webbed mess of the Upside Down that most had so cleverly (and obliviously) evaded over the past several years.

He quickly rang the doorbell several times, Steve growing more and more irritated by the second.

"Right, well that's settled. I guess he's not here."

"-Eddie! It's Dustin!" He shouted, Steve wincing and covering his ears at the boy's volume.

"Great." Steve grumbled, eyes rolling involuntarily as Robin elbowed him in the side, him playfully mocking her in response.

"Eddie, look, we swear we just wanna help! Eddie!"

"She's in there." Robin whispered under her breath, eyes catching Steve's against the cold midnight.

"What?"

"Jones."

His eyes widened.

"She's in there- with him?" He suddenly seemed much more panicked, joining Dustin in harassing the windows.

"Rick! Reefer Rick!"

"Don't scream that! Look, he's probably not there. Or just really high. How do you know this is even where he went?"

Max quickly wandered off, flashes in the forest catching her eye. Small glints of nothingness, and for a second, she swore the face of Billy Hargrove appeared between the trees.

There for a second, and then gone, as if he was never there at all. A menacing grin, just as he was in life.

Instead, her eyes caught on a small boathouse near the lake. Robin's smile suddenly widened, a small satisfied sound leaving her mouth in recognition of the house you'd described when you'd first told her about it. Early in the morning, dazed in-between drinks and lazy kisses, right before you both showered. God, she missed you.

"Is that a foot?"

"No, it's a shoe."

"Oh, sorry."

"Hey, guys?" Max glanced back over, shining her flashlight on a small rickety structure, a metal boathouse just off the shore of Lover's Lake. Fitting, Robin supposed. You'd been there once or twice together over the summer.

--------------

Fred Benson stood silently, eyes fixated on the burning wreckage of the car. Whether Nancy had been inside or whether it had been his very first, he wasn't quite sure.

All he knew was that it was burning, he was burning, quickly too, and he could only stand and watch.

He tried to move, but found himself unable, until he felt the slow roll of his eyes into the back of his head. A blank puppet's face, no past, no future, just tilted towards the sky.

-----------------

They crept quietly inside, Robin's hands shaking as they searched the property. She didn't want to find you if something had happened; she couldn't lose you. She couldn't.

Steve noticed, evidently, pulling her to the side for a moment to calm her. A silent check in, a nod from Robin, and the two split ways once more.

"What a dump." He muttered, reaching out to grab an old oar coated in a fine layer of dust, leaning against a wall.

Without a moment's hesitation, he had his gaze settled on a small figure in a boat, covered in tarpaulin, and he jammed the oar in as far as it would go.

Dustin practically jumped out of his skin, immediately scalding Steve for his utter carelessness.

"What are you doing? What are you doing?" He hissed out in a condescending tone, watching as Steve began battering the boat once more.

"He might be in here!"

"So might she!"

"Who?" Dustin questioned, and Robin glanced over to glare at him, steadily growing fed up with all of them.

"No one."

"No, who's here with Eddie? And how did you even know to come here?"

"Someone was here." Max muttered, knocking over one of the empty bottles on the side.

"Maybe he got spooked and ran?" Robin offered, turning to face the three of them.

"Don't worry, Steve will get him with his oar-" Dustin started, quickly cut off.

"Jones is here." Steve interrupted, and Robin quickly shouted her disapproval, Dustin's jaw dropping slightly.

"She's here?"

"Yes, she's here! Now can we all hurry up and find them please?" Robin snapped, watching as the boy retreated into himself, immediately feeling guilty.

"...sorry. Did you seriously grab an oar?"

"Look I know you think you're being funny but considering everyone in this room has almost died like a hundred times, personally, I don't find it that funny-" Before Steve could finish his train of thought, a figure jumped out from behind a shelf, pressing a freezing broken bottle to his neck, watching as he tensed.

Dustin would recognise Eddie's overdramatic mannerisms anywhere.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" Steve begged as Eddie shoved him into the nearest wall, shaking slightly as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. He'd only been told about Robin's arrival, and having strangers trying to find him was not exactly calming for his nerves.

"Woah woah, woah! Eddie, stop!" Dustin yelled out, reaching out for the older boy.

"Eddie! Eddie!" The recognition seemed to spark in his eyes, realising that out of everyone, Dustin Henderson was not someone out for blood. Steve Harrington, maybe, but not Dustin Henderson.

"It's me!" He reassured, watching Eddie calm slightly at the sight of him while Robin looked frantically around for you.

"It's Dustin. This is Steve-" He introduced carefully, using a tone in which you'd use to calm a skittish animal, "He's not gonna hurt you, right Steve?"

Eyed wide, Steve Harrington shook his head, attempting to gently pry the weapon from his own throat.

"Right, yeah."

"Steve, why don't you drop the oar?"

He hesitated and dropped the oar, only for Eddie to press the makeshift knife further against his neck, causing the boy to wince.

"Eddie!" You cried out, stepping out from the shadows to attempt to stop him, interrupted by Dustin as Robin's eyes caught on you. She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing you were alright and evidently more than okay. Not crying anymore, at least.

"It's cool, he's cool!"

"I'm cool, man, I'm cool-" Steve pleaded, Eddie's grip on the knife tight.

"What are you doing here?" He choked out through gritted teeth.

"They're here to help-" You muttered and he turned to glance at you.

"All of them? Thought you only called Buckley?"

"I did-"

"So why are they all here?"

"Look," Dustin started, "We're looking for you! We're here to help! Eddie, come on, these are my friends- you know Robin, from band!"

He gestured to her and in response she raised her hands to her lips, badly imitating playing a trumpet before fading back into awkward silence, not breaking eye contact with the man. Was that a thing for people? Aggression though eye contact? She swore she heard it on a documentary once.

You fought to bite back a smile, watching the girl fidget awkwardly, struggling to stop playing her faux trumpet before Eddie shot her another glare.

"This is my friend Max: the one who never wants to play D&D?" The girl waved awkwardly before Dustin continued, "Eddie, we're on your side."

"I swear on my mother! Right guys?"

"Yes, right!"

"On Dustin's-"

"-yeah, on Dustin's mother-"

A chorus of voices overlapped as he glanced at you, lowering the jagged bottle slightly.

A moment passed, Steve wincing once more before Eddie pulled the makeshift knife from his throat completely, going and slumping in the corner of the room. Steve grasped at his throat, double-checking for any injuries and Robin stepped closer to you, slipping a hand into yours.

She wanted to pull you closer, to wrap you in her arms and have you both mumble sweet nothings, reassurances that it would all be okay. To throw herself into your arms and stay there, permanently, but this was not the time.

She settled on your hand, gently mumbling that the two of you needed to talk before the night was over.

Unfortunately, that would not be possible on a technicality, as the seconds on your watch hit twelve, and somewhere in Hawkins Fred Benson shot up from his trance in the middle of the road; bones cracking before slumping to a crumpled heap on the floor.

Henry Creel had an army of puppets, and one by one, he was making good on his promise.

He was cutting them all free.

-----------------

Taglist: @onceandfuturequeenofthecats@triskoof@shysneeze

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averagestudent03 · 1 year

Text

I Know The End: S4, Chapter One, An Extraordinary Night

(Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader, stranger things rewrite)

Word Count: 6.4k

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(A/N: Welcome back! I know it's been ages since the last post but I have been incredibly busy planning! However I'm back now and I should be writing a lot more consistently :) As always, reblogs and comments are hugely appreciated, I enjoy reading them all! All stranger things content and characters belongs to the Duffer brothers, and I hope you enjoy Chapter One!)

Series warnings: Gruesome imagery- snapped bones, expletives, jealousy, fear of abandonment, era-relevant homophobia, mentions of nausea, mentions of blood, slight angst? One use of Y/N, series-level gore, mentions of nausea and sick, etc. Each set of warnings is individual to the chapter and specified at the beginning.

-----------------------------------------

21/03/1986

On the twenty-first of March, 1986, three things happened simultaneously that prepared the world for the destruction of Hawkins.

One; You slumped forwards in your car, blasting your stereo as loud as it could go as you waited for Dustin Henderson to finish changing his Latin grade. You found that it helped keep Max's migraines at bay. He thanked Suzie, and made his way to the car. You think back to the tragedy of Starcourt Mall.

Two; Eleven Hopper held her head high and mindlessly fiddled with the replica of Hopper's cabin as she told her friends his story. They're not her friends. Everyone laughed. Will winced, watching on with pity. She didn't believe that Jim Hopper would respect who she's become. A nobody. Someone that is frequently walked all over. Someone unlovable. She thinks back to the tragedy of Starcourt Mall.

Three; Dr. Martin Brenner woke from his slumber. He dressed himself for the morning, he shaved, he timed himself on the daily crossword staring back at him from his newspaper. A simple life, now. He often found himself dreaming of what has become of his daughter. He thinks back to the tragedy of Starcourt Mall. He finds himself wondering (on more than occasion) where it all went wrong.

These three events, though entirely unconnected and almost entirely unimportant, coincide and are unintentionally the basis of which Henry Creel targets in order to make his move. He knew that he needed you gone. All of you. He often wondered who he'd pick off first. Alone, a separate entity, Henry Creel thinks back to the murder at Hawkins Lab. The total devastation left in his wake, the peeling skin from the side of his face, the girl who remained. He decided he'll leave her to last.

It took a while, but Martin Brenner finds himself on his own again. He had waited, strived for his own separation and prosperity; a success beside the Lab. He had witnessed the early life of exactly eighteen children, raising them like a lamb to slaughter. Leading them to the knife, soothing them with the hand that feeds them. Waiting for them to bite. To snap.

He supposed he shouldn't have been as surprised when one of them finally did. He stalked the halls of the lab, a small boy's hand clasped neatly around the man's finger, following in his footsteps. Brenner led him to a small room, encouraged him to sit, to be at peace with himself, fastening a device to his head and poking around inside his skull. He'd made significant progress with the boy, results finally spiking after the extent of his abilities overwhelmed him the month prior. He'd recently developed the ability to see far beyond what he was given, a mirage of images flashing before his very eyes. Able to perceive the universe in ways no-one thought possible, to know when a pin is dropped on the other side of the building.

Though he knew that he pushed the boy too far, sometimes. He knew that when the boy started shaking, machine ticking over at an unimaginable speed, measuring the pace of his brain, he'd gone too far. Made him see too much.

The boy winced, skull whining as an all-consuming ache washed over him, watching crimson trickling down the walls of the room across the hall. Separated by nothing but a thin sheet of plaster, the boy clutched the table harder, grimacing as Brenner's gaze grew in intensity. He hadn't noticed the state of the boy yet.

"Something's wrong." The boy murmured, tears gathering at his waterline, threatening with every spare moment to spill over, streaming mercilessly against his cheeks.

"If you've lost the visual, just let it go." Brenner muttered, irritation seeping into his words, coating them with a sweet bitterness that only Martin Brenner could master. He continued scribbling incoherent words against his notepad, scratching of the pen echoing around the otherwise empty room. The boy shook his head.

"They're screaming."

Brenner froze.

"Why are they screaming?" He pushed, brows furrowing as he grilled the young boy. He didn't want to know the answer, and somehow found one word reverberating inside his mind. Bouncing off the corners of his head, a large red blazing sign that he'd ignored long enough.

Blood dripped from the boy's nose as he began to shake, hands vibrating against the cold of the table. Steel against skin, providing the boy a relief from the overwhelming numbness that had begun to consume him.

"Ten?" Brenner questioned, growing more concerned with every passing second, notepad long abandoned.

They were quickly interrupted, a mechanic screech blaring from the speakers, lights flashing red as Brenner dashed to the side of the room. He crouched, holding his finger to a dark grey box, pressing down until a static echo was heard from another building.

"Peter? Alec? What's going on out there?"

"Sir, we've got a situation."

Brenner's heart sunk to his stomach, writhing in a pit of guilt as he fumbled to the room with a painted rainbow stained across a wall, coming face-to-face with a little girl. Outstretched hand, red trail beneath her nose. Shattered glass, broken bodies surrounding her.

Brenner took a breath, and then another, and Brenner screamed.

--------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, entirely unaware of anything out of the ordinary, Robin Buckley sat beside Steve Harrington on the drive to Hawkins High.

She'd scrambled to pick up her clothes from your floor the night prior, and had seemed rather flushed by the time Steve was due to pick her up this morning. Neither of you had established anything, but you'd been seeing each other on-and-off for the entirety of the year. Since you'd spent the evening in your living room after the battle of Starcourt, the two of you had become inseparable, neither wanting to address anything more than the lonely nights.

All Steve knew, blissfully ignorant as he was, was that Robin was interested in someone from the school. She hadn't stopped rambling about this gorgeous girl she kept running into, biting her tongue whenever you strayed into Family Video. Steve, of course, felt awful for you. He knew that if you were aware about Buckley's latest obsession, you'd be crushed.

So this continued, and he pursued giving her almost utterly useless advice under the guise of looking out for her. He still felt as though he owed you, and by getting Robin to sabotage whatever she had going on with the girl from band (he guessed, as she had mentioned the mystery girl's appearance at one of her shows), this was his own way of making it up to you. Not that he'd ever show you he cared for you, of course.

He did.

"Then there's Heidi tomorrow night, but the problem with Heidi is that she's going out of state for college. So it's like; do I really want to start another relationship that has no point other than sex?" He rambled, fingers tapping incessantly against the wheel. His issues were genuine, heart faltering and head seriously lacking when it came to any romance; a certain Wheeler still had him wrapped around her finger, entirely unaware.

"I mean, I don't know, does that make sense to you?" He questioned, glancing over to watch as Robin fiddled with another bottle of mascara, having left her last one with you. It remained in your bathroom on the side, another trinket of her affection, a way to leave her mark on anyone who wasn't you. Neither of you had spoken about the possibility of seeing other people, so she hoped that if God forbid, you decided to bring anyone else home, the small items she'd begun to leave behind were enough of a hint. Unfortunately, this left her with the issue of missing a large portion of anything she owned at any given moment; so he'd started leaving things with Steve, too.

"Robin, are you listening?" He pushed, irritation growing with every moment she continued ignoring him. She quickly scrambled to find an answer, desperately clutching at straws to avoid having to explain just exactly who she was thinking about.

You.

She was always, always thinking about you.

"Uh, yeah-"

"What did I just say?"

"Something about sex with Linda!" She jumped, parts of the conversation slowly floating back to her as she attempted to push the image of your smile from her mind.

"No! I'm talking about Heidi!" He waved his hands wildly, gestures of a mad man accompanying his every word as he tried to give the girl the benefit of the doubt. He struggled.

"Cut me some slack! Please!"

"Well-"

"Your love life," She started, taking a large breath before continuing, "is one of labyrinthian complexity and it is 7:00 in the morning, and we have to go to this stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a corpse!" She grumbled, thoughts flickering to your promise the night before of watching her perform. You'd mumbled it on the cusp of sleep, pulling her closer and closer still, whispering between the spilled sweet nothings.

With every growing day she was convinced that Steve had figured it out, worked out what the two of you almost were. You'd been as careful as you could, sneaking off like you did; but neither one of you wanted to tell anyone. Not yet. Not until you'd figured it out for yourselves.

So, she'd pushed all of the blame onto Vickie. A nice-enough girl from band that she knew for a fact wasn't interested, but rather happy with her current boyfriend of the month. She was friends with you, which was an added bonus, meaning that Robin was free to stare at you in front of Steve as Vickie was usually somewhere close enough to be spotted.

It didn't make her feel any less guilty, though. You didn't know about Steve's suspicion of Vickie, or the (false) advice he'd been giving her that she'd been inadvertently using on you.

"Why did you think ignoring me yesterday was a way to get my attention?" You'd murmured, raking your hands through her hair as she fiddled with one of the buttons on your shirt, a lazy attempt at prying it open. She simply shook her head, chuckling slightly before drawling out Steve's name. You quickly joined her in the laughter, scattering kisses along the course of her neck in-between giggles. How Steve had even considered her supposed interest in the ginger girl, she'd never know. Not when you were right there.

"You're worried about a basketball pep rally? You expect me to believe that?" He chuckled sarcastically, eyes fixated on the road ahead while Robin picked and pulled at the skin on her face.

"Yeah? So?"

"So? We both know what this is about! I'm not buying that bullshit, this is about Vickie!"

"Absolutely not," She interrupted, pulling out a small container of lip gloss and lazily smearing it across her lips. Cherry; this was undoubtedly yours.

"It is! And you know what else I think?"

"I really don't care-"

"You gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you're around her!" He spouted out the best nonsense he could think of, your image not vanishing from his mind. He didn't want to know what would happen if you found out about Robin and Vickie, though he figured he'd have to tell you soon enough. You deserved better than to be led on.

"You just gotta be yourself!" She rolled her eyes, laying her head back against the head rest.

"You're literally quoting me to me. You do realise that, don't you?"

"Well maybe you need to listen to yourself! You ever think about that? I listened to you and now bam! Back in business."

"It's not the same thing, okay?" Edge creeped into her voice, the stress causing her syllables to waver as her hands fumbled with the mascara wand. She wondered if you wanted to keep it a secret for this long. This wasn't what she had wanted but she wanted you, and this would be enough for now, even if it was only in the shadows. Murmured words only when no one else could hear, tangled sheets only on nights you were alone. Phrases whispered on a truly extraordinary night.

"Well-"

She shook her head.

"You ask out a girl and she says no, big deal, nothing happens. Maybe your ego's a little bruised. But I ask out the wrong girl and suddenly I'm the town pariah!" She wished Steve would stop talking about it. The more he mentioned, the more he insisted on Vickie being into her, the worse she felt. She felt as though she was lying to you, keeping you hidden when it was the last thing she wanted; though she didn't want to break your trust by telling Steve. Maybe you didn't want him to know. Maybe you were embarrassed of her, and that's why you couldn't hold her hand when you were around others.

Maybe she did deserve someone like Vickie, and reaching for someone like you was unfathomable, someone so unbelievably out of her league. The person who'd saved her from the clutches of evil Russians and had fought tooth and nail to keep her safe. Maybe you deserved better.

"I'd buy that, except Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl." She felt her stomach sink.

"We just don't know that, do we." She shook her head, praying he'd drop it so she could waltz into the sports hall, see your face and suddenly everything would be fine again. Every worry would vanish, you'd dismiss any and all negative thoughts about the girl. You made her feel loved, in every way you could.

It wasn't a conclusion she'd come to easily, simply something that had happened without even knowing. Before she could blink, she was head over heels watching you flick small paper balls at her from across the sofa at Steve's. She was in love before you had a chance to ramble on about the new campaign your friend had made, she was so far gone before she could stomach it, eyes seeking out your figure in a crowded room. It wasn't something that happened all at once, except something that maybe she'd always known. That she'd spent her entire life waiting for you without even realising. Without even knowing you.

"She returned Fast Times, paused at 53 minutes and 5 seconds. You know who pauses Fast Times at 53 minutes and 5 seconds?" She smiled while Steve winced, knowing that he was undoubtedly helping her win over someone that wasn't you. And she smiled because you'd paused Fast Times at 53 minutes and 5 seconds, shutting it off before moving closer to her one evening, claiming that you couldn't stand being away from her for so long. That you needed her. She liked Fast Times a lot more after that.

"People who like boobies, Robin!" She gagged, glaring at him.

"Ew! Gross-"

"Robin!"

"Don't say boobies!"

"It's not a big deal, okay? I like boobies! You like boobies! Vickie definitely likes boobies!"

She shook her head, trying not to chuckle under her breath as she imagined how she'd recount this conversation to you. Maybe you'd laugh with her, and then maybe she'd tell you about Vickie. Maybe you'd take it well. She hoped so.

Steve pulled the car into his designated spot, relaxing at the sight of the Camaro beside him. Dark blue, 1979, Billy's. When you'd pulled Max from the rubble of Starcourt Mall, the one thing you requested from Dr. Owens was for the car to be pulled from the flames. It was the only thing she had left of him, and you didn't want to leave it to rot. Everyone else had requested money, or freedom, or even just support. Dustin had his new devices to communicate with Suzie, Robin had much more financial stability so she could take you on more dates than you deserved, Will ended up with a new set of paints, but you'd requested for the Camaro to be saved. He'd done it, albeit reluctantly, and you'd told Max. She cried, holding you closer than you thought possible. For the meantime, she was letting you borrow it until she was old enough to drive, and so that was where you spent most of your time. Wherever the Camaro was, you weren't far behind.

Robin clambered out of the car, shouting after a small group of friends from band as Steve watched on proudly, a twinge of guilt in his gut when he thought that Robin was finally going to make her move.

You had to know. You had a right. Though he'd tell you later, in the safety of his home.

People were herded by the masses towards the gym as you practically pushed Dustin out the car, sending him to go and find Mike. You hadn't seen the Wheeler boy since two weeks prior where they'd almost found you smoking with their newest friend in the woods, and even then it had been a close call. All they knew was that you had a friend by the name of Eddie that you'd known for a while, making no correlation between their newest Dungeon Master whatsoever. It did come in handy when they were spilling their guts to you about his newest campaign and you fed back to him about just how much they knew; it was a fun little pass-time whenever you weren't around Robin or Steve.

It had taken you a while to befriend anyone else at the school, so the surprise had come thick and fast when you were hesitantly approached by Chrissy Cunningham, Hawkins High's Head Cheerleader, and asked quietly if you happened to know the school's resident drug dealer. You figured she seemed sincere enough and she provided you with information about her recent headaches and night terrors, meeting up underneath the bleachers in order for her to rant about her week. Robin was well aware of this, even offering a hand in support towards the young girl, but ultimately the questions always came back to Eddie and his business. However, it was nice to see her in her natural element, a smile plastered over her face as her boyfriend raved on about the previous horrors of Hawkins.

"So much loss." Jason rambled, mid-way through his speech and narrowly avoiding glares from you and Steve, accompanied by Max, Mike and Dustin from across the other side of the gym. Jason Carver knew nothing about loss, and was quickly making an attempt to crawl all over your last nerve. Judging by the look on her face, Max felt the same.

"And sometimes I wonder, how much loss can one community take? In dark days like this," You rolled your eyes, meeting Robin's wavering gaze as she shot you a soft smile and a small wave, chuckling and sending back your own, "We need something to believe in. So, last night, when we were down by ten points and a half to The Christian Academy, I looked at my team! And I said, Think of Jack."

You felt your stomach drop, and Max's snarky grin slowly begin to falter.

"Think of Mellissa."

Oh god.

"Think of Heather."

The guilt pooled in your stomach as you thought back to the bubbly girl that you'd failed to save the year prior. You knew who was coming next.

"Think of Billy."

Lucas met Max's eyes as the words resonated around the gym, watching for any flicker of emotion. Her mask didn't fall for a second, only grew stronger as she clenched her fists to her side. She avoided the pitiful looks he wad giving her, glancing down until he was forced to look away.

"Think of our heroic police chief, Jim Hopper." Steve had to elbow you in the side to stop you from shouting, words boiling at the edge of your tongue. Ruthless, cutting, venomous words all ready to fire at Jason Carver.

He didn't understand loss. Not even for a second. He didn't know what it was like, and you prayed he never would.

Not when it felt like this.

"Think of every one of your friends who perished in that fire. What did they die for? For us to lose to some crap school? No!"

The audience echoed back at him, slowly beginning to cheer and rally, leaving you and Steve silent, gritting your teeth.

"For us to return home with our heads hung low in defeat? No! Let's win this game for them! And that's exactly what they did!"

The room erupted into cheers, leaving the small group of you left to suffer in silence. You tried not to think about Starcourt Mall too hard. You still couldn't look at your leg the same, side marred with scars and stitches. You tried not to think about it when the lights flickered, or when you caught the odd melody that happened to sound a little too much like the Indiana flyer. You definitely tried not to think about it when the nightmares woke you.

"....tonight, we're gonna bring home the championship trophy!"

Dustin and Mike froze, running the thoughts over in their head as they mulled over their options. Tonight was wrong, all too wrong, and their happy-go-lucky day was quickly coming to a head.

"Tonight? How is that possible?" Mike scrambled, looking back and forth between Dustin and Max helplessly, quickly interrupted by the redhead.

"They call it a tournament. You win one game and then you go on until there's only one team left." Her eyes caught Lucas, laughing and grinning with his new friends. The sight tugged gently at her heartstrings, and she realised she hadn't recognised the emotion since Billy had pushed her aside to protect her. Pride. She would always, always, be proud of Lucas Sinclair.

Lucas was all over them the second they left the gym. Like white on rice, following them with a sharp jog, throwing his newest Letterman jacket over his shoulders.

"I don't get what the big deal is! Just talk to Eddie, get him to move Hellfire to another night!"

"Just talk to Eddie." Dustin scoffed, eyes rolling as he fixed his gaze on the mass of people in front of him, having lost you, Steve and Robin in the crowd, plus actively avoiding their current Dungeon Master.

"Why don't you just talk to your coach and get him to move the game?" Mike bit back, staring the boy down. He'd felt long since abandoned by Lucas, having left him in the dust the second something newer and shinier showed up. Unaware that it was exactly what he had done to Will, and the reason you had iced him out for the few weeks after. For the first time in a while, Mike Wheeler felt alone.

"I think that's a great idea, Mike."

"Thank you, Dustin." They both nodded sarcastically, quickly interrupted by the Sinclair boy.

"This is the championship game!" He pleaded, turning to face both of them.

"And this is the end of Eddie's campaign! A semester of adventuring, and we need you!" Dustin begged, Mike narrowing his gaze as it fixated on Lucas. He wanted his friend back, and he was willing to dig deep to do it.

"Yeah, and the Tiger's don't. You've been on the bench all year."

"That's not the point, Mike."

Expecting some snide comment from either of the boys, Lucas was swiftly interrupted by you pushing past the group of them, chasing past their little trio with a scrawled sheet in hand, yelling for someone intelligible.

Before they knew it, you'd taken a hold on Robin Buckley's hand, quickly tugging her to the nearest bathroom, locking you both inside one of the stalls.

"Hi." You murmured, grin evident over your face. This was undoubtedly the best part of your day, the time where you'd take some time for just the two of you, no matter what you were.

"Hi." She smiled, a large grin reaching her eyes as she threw her arms around you, met quickly with a chorus of giggles as you hid your face in her neck.

"Good morning?" You murmured into her shoulder, relaxing as her arms found your waist, their rightful resting place.

"The best. You left your lip gloss in my pocket, y'know that?" She rambled, quickly cut off by the feeling of your lips against hers. Raking a hand through her hair, the two of you were briefly interrupted by the sound of a door slamming beside you.

Robin's eyes widened, meeting your gaze as you silently shook your head, holding a finger to your lips. She smirked slightly, digging her hands into your sides to make you jump, chuckling under her breath as you rolled your eyes and swatted her arms away.

Chrissy Cunningham found her way to the mirror, staring at herself whilst pulling at her skin, as if she were a creature she couldn't recognise. As if she'd never seen herself before. A new-born, desperately reaching out for a hand to hold. Anyone's, really.

Robin quickly glanced through the corner of the stall, letting out a sigh of relief as she took in the sight of the blonde cheerleader. Then, she stiffened, realising her mistake.

"Hello?" Chrissy mumbled, knocking quietly on the door, waiting a second until it slowly opened. Where she was met face-to-face with the two of you, guilty-looking grins spread across your faces.

"Hi, Chris." You stared blankly as she shook her head, eyes open in disbelief. She hadn't expected it from you, but somehow, it hadn't exactly come as a shock. If anything, it provided a vigorous and much needed explanation as to why your eyes remained trained on the Buckley girl so much.

"I can't- not right now, I can't- I'm late," She murmured in-between breaths, taking another glance in the mirror before rushing out of the bathroom, hands rattling nervously against her sides. This was not an uncommon occurrence for the cheerleader, given that most of her days now ended in nightmarish visions and pounding headaches. It was as if someone, no, something was trying to rip her apart from the inside out. Trying to peel away anything that remained, leaving only the shell of a person behind.

You tossed a questionable glance towards Robin, one out of concern for the Cunningham girl. You recognised the look on her face. It was one you had seen on your own too many times.

Chrissy Cunningham was haunted, far too much for any person of reasonable coherence, but Chrissy Cunningham was also nothing if not punctual. She refused to be late, even for Hawkins High's resident drug dealer.

The same drug dealer you had coincidentally promised to introduce Robin to the night prior.

Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson had already crossed paths on a multitude of occasions given his repetitive senior years and the number of parties the boy threw, and so they had become reluctant acquaintances when necessary. That didn't mean Steve enjoyed seeing the boy's face. He would much rather spend his time shovelling timeless movies in the back of Family Video with Robin Buckley and scoring a mass of dates (now that his competitive streak had seemingly mad an appearance after the summer), and so he avoided the boy when he could. Eddie Munson was a face from his past, and not an overly friendly one, either.

However, despite's Steve's joyous enthusiasm about the boy, Robin was eager to meet him. You'd convinced her amidst stray kisses and lonely whispers to stay, blindly promising to turn up to her performances over the next few days and at least one introduction to someone. Anyone. She'd practically begged, and you swore that you trusted Eddie Munson with much more than your life. He knew of the girl you'd set your sights on, just no specifics, and you felt that now was a good a time as any for them to get to know each other. He wasn't too close to you, but you frequented with him occasionally in the halls plus your numerous visits over the years, and that was good enough for him.

Unfortunately, his awful time-management skills meant that he needed to cancel on you last minute, something that you had carefully explained to Robin when she'd left your house in a hurry earlier that morning. Without thinking, in the comfort of the bathrooms- her hand reached for yours, playing with your fingers absentmindedly to avoid her continuous rambling. Almost a year since Starcourt, and she still found herself nervous at the sight of you.

She broke the silence first.

"Do you think he'd like me?" Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as the words fell from her lips. Those weren't words for just a hook-up, but she took your reaction as to mean embarrassment, shame, and you couldn't blame her. She immediately began to backtrack, stumbling back over her faux-confidence and second guessing everything between you both.

"Robin!" You interrupted, stopping and forcing her to look at you for a second.

"He'd love you. I have no doubt whatsoever that when he does meet you, he'll love you. You're like- the best person I know, and if anything, you won't like him-"

"I will!" She blurted, looking up at you, smiling slightly. He knew about her; that was a start. She could work with that, even if you didn't want to be seen with her in public yet.

She leaned over to rest her head on your shoulder as you tensed, slipping an arm around her waist to pull her closer. You wanted nothing more than to show her off, but every time you'd mentioned it, she'd seemed hesitant- as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. You didn't want to push her into doing something she didn't want to do, and you would wait as long as it took for her to be comfortable.

"...like him, I mean. I will like him. Just wanted to- like, clear that up for you." She mumbled, met quickly by a brief chuckle as you relaxed. This was just Robin.

Your Robin.

"You got class next?"

"No, we've got rehearsals- you are coming later, aren't you?" She grinned, a wide smile as she looked down at you, expecting the same answer she'd received the night prior. Glossy eyes, a tired smile accompanied by a quick but rather-sweet nod.

" 'Course I am Buckley. Wouldn't miss it. Is Vickie going to be there?"

She froze. Supposedly, in the time it had taken her to move from one class to another to the toilets with you, the whole 'admitting that she'd been using Vickie as a scapegoat and essentially ranting to Steve about how hot she was' thing hadn't come up just yet.

Of course, you had every right to ask about her. She was your friend, after all. Sweet Vickie who'd done no wrong, and Steve, fucking Steve, who just had to meddle with everything. She loves him really, she swears.

However, loving him wouldn't stop how you would feel if you found out about her false emotional attachment to Vickie. Eventually, if she didn't tell you, Steve would. He'd tell you, even by accident, and she wouldn't be able to explain.

"Yeah. Vickie's going to be there. Can I talk to you please?"

Your smile falters slightly, corners of your eyebrows slightly raised as the joy in your eyes deflate. Like large balloons, popped before her. Leaking empty. Overflowing with worry.

"Yeah- is everything alright?" She nods in response, causing some of the paranoia to ease. You feel as though you're allowed to be paranoid, given what horrors you've bot faced in the past. A bad day can amount to a simple feeling of unease right up to a Russian beating and a snapped leg, clean in half.

"I just- about Vickie-" She's interrupted by the bell, ringing playing in around your ears as you pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, apologising before grabbing your bag and scrambling to class. You promise to hear her out later, and you wish her good luck for the concert; after that, you're gone as quickly as you arrived. As if you were never there at all.

Meanwhile, Steve Harrington stalked the halls of Hawkins High. He'd returned from Family Video after squabbling with a pissy Dustin Henderson about a Hellfire sub, insisting on needing Steve, or Robin, or you, because he swears, if Steve would stop being so lazy and just go and get you all his problems would be sorted- He'd hung up the phone after telling him you were still in class. He had not the time nor patience to deal with them today. So, he wandered back to Hawkins High in order to prepare for the Pep rally that evening, and to safely remove his mind from the clutches of Eddie Munson; the bastard that was stealing his the kids out from under him.

A girl by the name of Brenda, his date for tonight, hung off of his arm, and he didn't appreciate it as much as she thought he did. If it were up to him, truly, he probably wouldn't have a date at all right now. This was rushed, and messy, and far too temporary for his liking.

"Are you listening?" She whined, staring up at him. He didn't have the heart to tell her no. Instead, he nodded quickly as she raced back into her train of thought, his eyes now firmly set on Max. She's pulled away recently, and although they were never too close before, he knew that he needed to protect her. From what, he wasn't entirely sure yet. Something, he's sure. There was never not something.

As shitty as it was, he owed it to Billy to keep her safe. Or the memory of what he left behind, at least. He wants to keep her safe. She stormed out of the school therapist's office, headphones blasting whatever new tape was bringing her comfort this week, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief.

She always seemed happier with music.

He figured he'd start keeping slightly more of an eye out, mind nulled by Brenda's incessant need to talk. Eventually, towards the end of the day, he began pulling her in the direction of the gym as Robin started to panic.

Not only had she left you worrying about something, you were about to spend close to an hour sat next to Steve, miscommunication galore, watching her and Vickie talk to one another for as long as it took.

On one hand, if she pretended like everything was off, Steve would pick up on it and he'd find out about the two of you anyways. Or, she could wait it out, act as normally as humanly possible and risk Steve accidentally ruining everything the two of you had.

She honestly wasn't sure what was worse, but given that you hadn't expressed any intent in wanting to go public or tell anyone about the two of you, she took a risk. An incredibly calculated risk, but a risk nonetheless, and she began to talk to Vickie.

"Don't you find it interesting, that like- they won a championship, like right after you graduated?" The blonde twirled a piece of curled hair around her finger and stared up at Steve with you trailing behind, offering a shy wave to Robin in the stands as she returned one tenfold, smiling widely.

She wasn't quite sure when she'd get to look at you like that again, so she was going to make the most of it.

(Realistically, she knew that you were likely to handle this well, but then again, she wasn't entirely sure where you stood on the 'serious relationship' mark, and she didn't want you to realise that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't worth all this hassle. She just hoped that it hadn't gotten to that point just yet.)

"Yes, Brenda, that's an interesting point. Thanks for bringing that up." Steve grumbled and helped her up another step, looking at you and enacting an overly-exaggerated eyeroll. You had to stifle a laugh, quickly caught by Steve as the two of you began to chuckle.

Robin saw as he leaned over and whispered something in your ear (it was, in fact, a snarky comment about how Brenda had been making similar comments for the remainder of the day, and how oblivious she actually was), quickly turning to Vickie to ease her racing mind. The two chatted playfully, until she mentioned Tammy Thompson and her muppet-esque voice.

(It only made her think back to you and your god-awful wailing impression of Miss Piggy in the Scoops toilets after several hours drugged and tied up; despite the connotations of the memory, you were there, and so she smiled.)

This got a small chuckle out of Vickie, something that she hoped would go unnoticed, but Steve shot her a half-encouraging glance and all of a sudden her stomach was turning. Why couldn't she have said someone else? She figured that Vickie was a safe bet given her reasonably-stable relationship with her boyfriend, but apparently not. She could see the hidden disappointment in Steve's eyes on your behalf, and she wonders how he must feel, having to encourage her chasing after someone else, knowing about your blatant feelings for her. She swore in that moment she would have the conversation the second the set ended, and she would make you understand just how much she wanted you.

It didn't take long for the set to finish after that, Robin's nerves getting the best of her early on, and she found herself rushing to meet your side the second the band had finished packing up. It had taken an hour after the rally had finished before she could even consider leaving, her instructor still rather strict on them, so she could just hope that you were still there.

You were, leaning against the side of the brick wall with Steve long gone, enjoying the pale moonlight against the inky-black of the sky. There weren't many nights where you could see anything clear enough to make out regular shapes, let alone the moon. It was special. Unique. A truly extraordinary night.

As Robin found herself freed from the confinement of the hall, she walked over to you and wrapped her arms around you, grinning wildly as you reciprocated.

"What's this for?"

"Missed you." She muttered.

And as she stared at you beneath the flickering streetlamps, all was right with the world.

Other than the fact that Chrissy Cunningham was now hanging upside down on Eddie Munson's ceiling, jaw hitched open in a permanent wail as she bled from her eyes; limbs sprawled out and snapping with a series of violent cracks.

A truly extraordinary night indeed.

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Taglist: @onceandfuturequeenofthecats@triskoof@shysneeze

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averagestudent03 · 1 year

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I Know The End: S4 Prologue

(Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader, stranger things rewrite)

Word Count: 0.5k

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(A/N: Welcome back everyone! I know it's been a bit of a wait for season 4 but I've had time to plan out everything, so thank you for being patient! I actually really enjoy Vickie's character and I do love the idea of them together in season 5 so she will not be portrayed as a bad character, and will probably be prominent in the storyline! As always, reblogs and comments are hugely appreciated, I enjoy reading them all! All stranger things content and characters belongs to the Duffer brothers, enjoy the prologue!)

Series warnings: Swearing, jealousy, fear of abandonment, era-relevant homophobia, mentions of nausea, mentions of blood, slight angst? One use of Y/N, series-level gore, mentions of nausea and sick, etc. Each set of warnings is individual to the chapter and specified at the beginning.

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05/07/1985

The first thing Robin noticed when she woke was the mugs.

Or rather, the lack of them.

Back home, Robin had a rather large collection of mugs. They'd come from childhood and all that, being her most prized collection. She'd dedicated a Sunday afternoon years ago to travel to the nearest set of shops, desperately purchasing a large shelving unit for her mugs to stand on. She refused to let them get dirtied, scratched or used by anyone else.

They sat in a neat row opposite her single bed, a range of colours contrasting against the white flaky paint of the wall behind the shelf. She'd tried to cover it up with flowers from her parent's shop below, but they'd usually die before they made any real impact. Though it wasn't as if anyone was to see her room anyways, bar her few friends from band and you. Maybe you. Hopefully you.

So, this stunning revelation when she tentatively opened her eyes confirmed two things.

One, this was not her room.

It was far too pristine, far too well-kept. It was something pulled out of one of those magazines her mother gazed longingly at when her father wasn't looking. They had enough for an average life, one where the family didn't have to worry often. The entirety of this room was perfect, entirely untouched, furnished with all the latest designs and all perfectly matched to appear clean. It held no pictures, no trinkets, no warm memories. Nothing of any great importance.

Two, she had absolutely no idea who's room this was.

She'd woken up wrapped in cotton white sheets, tangled around her legs, wearing an oversized t-shirt that she didn't recognise - her clothes from the night before crumpled in the corner of the room.

For a second she managed to convince herself that the entirety of Starcourt Mall had been nothing but a dream, a silly fantasy drawn up by her own imagination, thriving in her loneliness. Why else would you be interested in her? It hurt to think that you were off enjoying life somewhere else, living without knowing Robin Buckley. Living happily without knowing Robin Buckley. It made her her hurt, as if someone had taken a rather large leather boot and decided to stomp down on her chest until she couldn't breathe.

She couldn't remember much of what had happened the night before. It was a haze, and she couldn't quite remember where she ended up. Perhaps it had been real, and she had been the one to take the final blow, not the Hargrove boy. Maybe this was death. It would explain the stone-cold feeling of the room, the quietness, the emptiness. The space beside her, perfectly suited for someone of your stature, missing you in its entirety. She wondered what it would feel like if you were there.

Moments started flowing back to her with that thought, eating ice cream on the luxury couch (Robin swears she'd never felt anything more comfortable,) and how she'd imagined she'd fallen asleep in your arms. Wrapped around her, protecting her from the nightmarish creatures that had lingered in the back of her mind.

Of course, she wasn't left wondering for long, the repetitive knocking at the front door a rude awakening, accompanied by the creaking of a white door attached to the room as it swung open. There you stood, towel draped over your body, a wide smile plastered over your face.

"Morning, Buckley."

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Taglist: @onceandfuturequeenofthecats @triskoof @shysneeze

Bonus note for @onceandfuturequeenofthecats - I have seen your tag, tysm for thinking of me ilysm, and I'm just figuring out how to do it now! Chapter one should be up soon, so enjoy!

#stranger things x reader #platonic steve and robin #stranger things rewrite #robin buckley #robin x reader #robin buckley x reader #i know the end #new chapter #ilysm <3 #enjoy your day #shameless reblog #stranger things reader insert #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #dustin henderson #eddie munson

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averagestudent03 · 1 year

Text

I Know The End: S4 Prologue

(Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader, stranger things rewrite)

Word Count: 0.5k

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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05/07/1985

The first thing Robin noticed when she woke was the mugs.

Or rather, the lack of them.

So, this stunning revelation when she tentatively opened her eyes confirmed two things.

One, this was not her room.

Two, she had absolutely no idea who's room this was.

She'd woken up wrapped in cotton white sheets, tangled around her legs, wearing an oversized t-shirt that she didn't recognise - her clothes from the night before crumpled in the corner of the room.

For a second she managed to convince herself that the entirety of Starcourt Mall had been nothing but a dream, a silly fantasy drawn up by her own imagination, thriving in her loneliness. Why else would you be interested in her? It hurt to think that you were off enjoying life somewhere else, living without knowing Robin Buckley. Living happily without knowing Robin Buckley. It made her heart hurt, as if someone had taken a rather large leather boot and decided to stomp down on her chest until she couldn't breathe. Crushing any hope she had left for the two of you beneath the heel.

She couldn't remember much of what had happened the night before; it was a haze, and she couldn't quite remember where she ended up. Perhaps it had been real, and she had been the one to take the final blow, not the Hargrove boy. Maybe this was death. It would explain the stone-cold feeling of the room, the quietness, the emptiness. The space beside her, perfectly suited for someone of your stature, missing you in its entirety. She wondered what it would feel like if you were there.

"Morning, Buckley."

---------------------------------------------

Taglist: @onceandfuturequeenofthecats @triskoof @shysneeze

Bonus note for @onceandfuturequeenofthecats - I have seen your tag, tysm for thinking of me ilysm, and I'm just figuring out how to do it now! Chapter one should be up soon, so enjoy!

#stranger things x reader #platonic steve and robin #stranger things rewrite #robin buckley #robin x reader #robin buckley x reader #i know the end #new chapter #ilysm <3 #enjoy your day

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averagestudent03 · 1 year

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Birds Don't Sing: Masterlist

(Robin Buckley x fem!reader, slowburn, Medical Au) - on a small break atm so i can finish IKTE!!

- The one where you thought you'd never see Robin Buckley again. That is, of course, until she interns at the hospital you've been gracing with your presence over the past few years. You find quite quickly that she's not who she used to be. Chaos ensues.

Or, the three times Robin Buckley thinks she misses you, and the one time you really miss her.

Main Masterlist

- Note that Robin Buckley is a fictional character! I'd never want Maya Hawke to feel objectified or sexualised in any way; Robin Buckley is a fictional character (that Maya Hawke did an incredible job at portraying) and needs to be treated as such.

Series Warnings: Blood, mentions of medical devices and practices, jealousy, expletives and relevant warnings per scenes & chapters.

Prologue - 30/12/2022

Chapter One, 36 Hours & Late-Night Coffee Runs - 03/01/2023

The one where Robin Buckley always seems to find you, whether you want her to or not. Steve Harrington enjoys being a nurse, and Robin finds out where exactly you've been hiding. You try to be cross with her, you really do. You fail, miserably. To make up for it, you get coffee.

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averagestudent03 · 1 year

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Birds Don't Sing: Prologue

(Pairing: Robin Buckley x Reader, Medical Au)

Word Count: 0.6k

Masterlist

Series Warnings: Blood, mentions of medical devices and practices, jealousy, expletives and relevant warnings per scenes & chapters.

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"Rule one: Don't think."

Robin Buckley was never one for the long-lasting lectures. In fact, she hated them. Robin Buckley didn't hate much, but she could make an exception for the drawling tone of voice her lecturers held. Med school had taken anything even remotely interesting about the girl, the stereotypical hopes and dreams of saving the world, and crushed them beneath a large leather boot.

The lectures were the worst of it, she was certain.

Occasionally, when she'd stumble across a scribbled name on her timetable that she didn't recognise, she'd be filled with a temporary sense of glee only to realise that they'd be rattling on about the same nonsense that they'd shoved down her throat for the past several years. She'd lost count of when she'd started the torture, insistent on pushing and pushing whilst Steve cruised through his nursing exam.

Steve Harrington; what a bastard. He'd taken to the job instantly, connecting to the patients on a level that doctors rarely could. He looked after people, it coursed through his veins like blood. Mixing with the adrenaline and the rush of saving lives, Steve Harrington thrived on social interaction.

Now, Robin wasn't saying that nursing was easy. She'd seen her fair share of mishaps, and within the twenty-seven minutes and thirty seconds she'd spent inside Indiana Hospital, she'd understood how easily Steve had slipped into routine. He took absolutely no shit from anyone else, standing his ground under pressure instead of buckling at the knees. Steve Harrington was born for this, Robin had no doubt.

Her? She wasn't as sure. Med school had been easy for the most part, the information washing over and engulfing her like white on rice until she was a walking medical textbook. She knew her stuff, but had no experience whatsoever other than the odd stitches she provided the kids. She spent the prior years blurting out random medical facts to the others, boring Dustin Henderson and his gang of cronies to bits. However, she'd found that it was more than useful when the Upside-Down made an appearance every now and again. Both her and Steve had left the cursed town behind, at least four years of ruthless customer service under her belt before she even considered the medical field.

You on the other hand, Robin never thought she'd see again. The girl who had left Hawkins at the first opportunity, getting the hell out of dodge the second you could. You'd lost enough, the deaths of your friends rattling you to your core. She had no idea where you went, having avoided giving Nancy Wheeler any information about your new life other than the updates on yourself to inform the group that you were, in fact, still alive.

Evidently, you didn't go far. Not when you were stood less than twenty feet away, droning on about the rules of medicine with the staff lawyer by your side, enforcing your points.

You looked better than ever, adorning a white lab coat with fancy blue lettering embroidered onto your top pocket. Your face was stone-cold, showing no signs of pity for the newest interns or remorse for your harsh tone. No, you meant business; if anyone messed up, it could get someone killed, and the board would have your head, not theirs.

You needed them to stay focused.

Robin Buckley was finding that exceedingly challenging by the second, mind drifting back to the afternoons you'd spent walking across the cursed town, talking about nothing and everything all at once. Eyes fixated on her like she was the centre of your universe. The same eyes that she was certain she'd never see again, staring right back at her from across the class.

Robin's first mistake was she thought this was going to be easy.

Then again, when had you ever made anything easy for her?

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Tag List: @onceandfuturequeenofthecats

#birds don't sing #robin buckley #robin x reader #robin buckley x reader #platonic steve #nurse Steve Harrington #new fic #chapter update

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averagestudent03 · 1 year

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Main Masterlist!

Robin Buckley

- I Know The End:

The one where Robin Buckley finds that life in Hawkins isn't as simple as she thought. Her escape to France will have to wait a little while as she faces interdimensional monsters with you and pretty-boy Steve Harrington.

Current Word Count: 73k

(Robin Buckley x Reader, Stranger Things Series Rewrite: Stranger Things dialogue and all characters besides you belong to the Duffer Brothers.)

Temporary hiatus!! Hopefully not for long and I can get it finished soon :)

- Birds Don't Sing:

The one where you thought you'd never see Robin Buckley again. That is, of course, until she interns at the hospital you've been gracing with your presence over the past few years. You find quite quickly that she's not who she used to be. Chaos ensues.

Current Word Count: 6.9k

(Robin Buckley x Reader, Medical!Au)

Same with this one!!

Oneshots:

N/A Currently!

#masterlist #averagestudent03 #main masterlist #series #i know the end #after the storm #birds don't sing #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #blurred lines

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averagestudent03 · 1 year

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I Know The End: Chapter Nine, The King's Gambit (Pt. 1 & 2)

Masterlist

I Know The End: Chapter Nine, The King's Gambit, Full doc.

Series Warnings: swearing, jealousy, fear of abandonment, era-relevant homophobia, mentions of nausea, mentions of blood, mentions of death, angst, One use of Y/N, canon-level gore, etc.

More warnings included in future chapters.

Word Count: 13.5k

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21/01/1984 - Hawkins Public Library, Town Centre

Robin Buckley was loved.

She thought she knew that.

She thought that she could ignore the glances and freakish stares from her peers and replace them with memories of her mother's loving looks as she traipsed aimlessly across the living room.

She thought that the careless remarks from her bandmates would stitch her heart back together, masking over the hurt of the slurs sprawled over her locker. Painted across her notebooks until they all moved on.

She thought that people like Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan were better than this. That they were awful, awful human beings, but would never hurt her like this. Not when the girl hadn't done anything.

If she tried hard enough, she thinks that she could just stop existing at all. Shrink down into a corner, curl up and just die. Dismiss all the stupid rumours about her and stupid Abigail Parish, rid herself of the nasty words crawling over her skin.

Tainting her.

Staining her.

Ruining her for good.

Robin Buckley didn't feel very loved right now.

Not when Carol Perkins had her shunned from every inch of the school, keeping Robin's name fresh in her mouth as she spread bitter words about how she had tried to kiss Abigail, infect her with some kind of lesbian disease, sending Robin spiralling and forcing her to break down in the school toilets.

She hadn't tried to kiss her (although Abigail Parish was very pretty), and Abigail knew that. She knew that although the longing glances were absolutely intended for her, Robin Buckley had never come closer than arm's length, wanting to preserve what remained of her dignity.

Abigail Parish didn't care all that much for Robin's reputation if it threatened her own.

Rather than sticking up for the Buckley girl, Abigail doubled-down on the rumours, promoting herself as the innocent victim who tried desperately to push Robin Buckley away. She'd watched without care as Robin stumbled from the bathrooms, tears streaming down her cheeks and dashed to the library, ignoring the sneers and vicious chuckles from her peers. The world had stopped, pausing to accommodate the girl's rushed breathing and watering eyes as she clambered her way to the back of the library, curling in on herself in the corner of the room.

Robin Buckley didn't feel very loved, and she wasn't sure she ever would again.

The world began to close in on itself, the air thickening as she started to gag; grasping desperately at her throat, as if it would make a difference. The world had started turning again now, spinning faster, like it had been knocked off its axis. It was rapidly hurtling through the air, rocking the very ground she lay sprawled across as she forced her fingers into the side of one of the shelves, clutching desperately and gasping to regain any control she could possibly manage.

She rested her head against the wall, wincing as she recognised the trembling in her hands and the pounding in her skull, screwing her eyes shut.

The world had only ever felt like this once before, when she caught Steve Harrington with an arm around Tammy Thompson's waist. The feeling was a parasite, slowly worming its way into her stomach, writhing against any knowledge that the rumours would be null in less than a week as Hawkins High's most recent gossipers found their newest target.

The consolation didn't stop Robin Buckley feeling any less terrible.

You'd noticed the girl sprinting in and recognised her as the object of your silent affections for the past few months, eyes narrowing in confusion as the tears against her cheeks fell faster and faster still.

In your eyes, sad wasn't a good look for her. Not for any malicious reasons, or a mockery of the fact that somehow she still looked gorgeous when shaking and hyperventilating, but that Robin Buckley didn't deserve to cry. Not now, not ever.

She deserved to smile, because you couldn't think of anyone more deserving of happiness than the sweet girl that sat a few seats away from you in class.

"Are you alright?" You muttered, sitting down opposite her as she bolted up, frantically wiping at her eyes whilst you reached out with a box of tissues. She froze, an air of familiarity gracing her eyes as she looked over you. Scanning and flickering over any minute change in your façade, any reason for her to believe that you were genuine and not just another one of her peers coming to taunt her.

She tried to speak, tried to force herself to tell you to just leave her alone to curl up and die because that was all she was good for, but she found herself unable to answer. Completely and utterly tongue-tied, stunned at the kindness of a total stranger.

" 'S alright," You whispered, keeping your voice as quiet as possible as you shuffled in front of her, blocking her from any prying eyes; not that there were many, besides Melissa who had come to enjoy your little quips and sarcastic comments whilst you both worked.

"You don't have to talk or anything, I'm just worried- can you breathe alright now?" You asked, slowly moving backwards, careful not to startle her in the manner of which you'd treat a skittish animal.

She nodded, unable to do much else.

"Okay! Great, that's- well that's a bonus then, d'you want a tissue or anything?" You questioned, handing her over the box of tissues and a small water bottle you'd fetched when you saw the state she was in.

She nodded again, and although tears still fell, she began to smile.

"You wanna talk about it?" She paled and frantically shook her head, terrified that you would run away too. You would when you learned, and she just needed someone to cry with. Just for a moment.

"We don't have to, then." You reassured, grin wide as you glanced over her, seeing that she'd stopped shaking.

"So, why the library? You need to get started on anything? Want to find a book? I've been told I'm pretty good at that-" You chuckled and she joined in, slowly regulating her breathing as she tried to answer you in a shaky voice.

"O' Donnel's English project." She croaked out, and you shook your head, laughing slightly. She didn't understand why, and she struggled to comprehend how you even recognised the name. As far as she knew, she didn't know you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'll finish up your half, you look like you've had a rough day." You grinned, and in a moment, she knew where she recognised you from. The girl that she'd been paired with for the latest project, the girl who couldn't stop smiling when she found out she'd been paired with The Robin Buckley.

She nodded, slightly happier now; it was a silent 'thank you,' and acknowledgement of the favour you'd done her. You'd taken her mind off of those ridiculous rumours and you'd done the unthinkable.

You'd made her feel loved, surrounded by cobwebs and dusty bookshelves.

The girl couldn't thank you enough for that.

You'd finished the afternoon by pushing a small chessboard towards the girl, neatly lining up the pieces and allowing her to make the first move. As you expected, Robin Buckley gravitated towards the horses. The horses were fast, and often subtle, but prideful when they wanted to be. Aggressive, sometimes lonely, following the constant promises of the future. Waiting for the right moment to strike. You'd heard her conversations with her friends, and you'd slowly begun to pick words out of it, roughly translating them in the late hours of the night.

They'd talked about her plans to flee to France, ice cream, about how she loathed dresses and the colour pink, and how she wished that she could tell the world to piss off for just a moment so she could comfort the girl beside her. How she wished that Tammy Thompson would gaze back at her, just once (that one had stung, but you weren't entirely sure why at the time), and how she wanted someone, anyone to tell her how pretty she looked. How even though she wished for all of these things, she knew it wasn't real; so she left well enough alone, and returned to dreaming about her life in France. Looking forwards and acknowledging her regrets, but never looking backwards. Not Robin Buckley. So yes, you guessed that she would like the horses.

She gravitated towards the horses and pushed them forwards, chasing your pawns across the board and quickly checking your king. She caught onto the game quite quickly, with your guidance and hands brushing over hers as you helped move her pieces, and she returned the favour in endless stories and wise-cracking jokes. You managed to teach her three moves in total, but only one stuck.

The King's Gambit.

You'd referred to it as 'self-sacrificial,' uttering that a boy you knew had taught you it the weekend you spent at his trailer. He'd taught you everything you knew, and then spent the rest of the time forcing you to read The Silmarillion, following the enthusiastic discussions you'd had regarding Tolkien's other works. You'd remembered the move because it had been his favourite, it had then become your favourite, and now Robin was able to recognise it as her own favourite, too.

"It's simple," You had whispered, re-setting the board and slowly reaching for your pieces, "...you move the pawn first, and you move him two spaces. That leaves your king vulnerable and your pawn to be taken by your opponent. If your opponent takes the bait, it leaves their King vulnerable to a checkmate; it's almost a guaranteed win in like three moves."

She looked puzzled, unable to follow the complicated steps, so you explained it in a way that she'd understand.

1) The Distraction. This was only temporary, and simply a setup for a grand finale. It was practically useless, given that the initial move was recognisable in so many other strategies, and left your opponent reeling when considering what your next move could be. You'd compared it to one of the pep rallies your school held before a large game, and how the band was just an introduction to the main event. Important, but not always useful to the game itself.

2) The Sacrifice. This was the most important step, and the metalhead's favourite when explaining it. 'Shoving a man to the starving dogs,' he'd called it. Deciding that one life is worth more than another. A sacrifice for the greater good.

Playing God.

Robin Buckley didn't like this stage, but she was absolutely captivated by the way you unfolded the story, laying detail upon detail about what was to happen next if the move was accepted. Your eyes sparkled with a certain intensity, and she couldn't allow herself to look away, not even for a moment. She wondered if you spoke about everything you liked this much.

Wondered if you'd ever spoken about her like that.

(You had.)

3) The Attack. The final step, and by far the most powerful. By throwing someone else into the limelight you prevented a larger world at stake, leaving yourself vulnerable for a second and taking a few hits, but gaining the upper hand substantially. It reminded you of Steve Harrington and the way he used to play you at Monopoly, nights spent in the dark with candles lit in your living room, pieces scrawled out across the board as you imagined your parents there with you. The way he would head for Mayfair as quickly as possible, risking himself for a few rounds as he slowly built up an empire.

You always lost. No matter what.

Like a simple rule of life; you would always, always lose to Steve Harrington, and that was that.

Robin had fixated so closely on the way you'd explained the move that she'd forgotten what had made her feel so awfully alive to begin with. The words that she felt had been branded into her skin, permanently claiming her were now nothing more than a few carefully strung-syllables with no venom behind them. They were just words now. You had made sure of that.

You had made sure that she walked away feeling loved.

Robin Buckley often thought back to that day. Thought back to that feeling bubbling in the pit of her stomach, the flush of her cheeks whenever she saw you. It flickered across her mind when she was doing something as insignificant as cleaning, serving as a nice reminder of the girl who'd spent the rest of the week checking on her and making her feel special.

It had plastered itself over every thought in her head as you slept beside her, trapped in the cold, steel box stuck in the elevator shaft, reminding her of how often you'd had her back. The memory wouldn't, couldn't, remove itself from her brain in the middle of the night as she tossed and turned, replacing every fantasy or piece of affection she'd ever held for Tammy Thompson.

She liked to think that she would've found you, regardless of the monotonous ice-cream scooping or the evil Russians that had overtaken your entire summer. She liked to think she would've found you, because when she'd been looking at you, you'd been looking right back.

You always had been. Even when she was nothing more than a stranger in your class that had sought comfort in you. You'd always seen Robin Buckley for who she was, and you had always made her feel loved.

"I'll have you know that I looked at you for quite a while, Buckley. But yeah, total dud, and she sounded like a muppet." Your voice spluttered out, echoing off the freezing tiles and the cold plastic walls.

Steve Harrington's jaw was wide with shock as he scrambled to your side, Robin still frozen against the wall. It reminded her of a simpler time, where she hadn't wanted to have been found, but you'd found her nonetheless. You'd always find her.

"Christ, Jones! You scared the shit out of us-" Steve murmured, words rolling into one another as his eyes scanned over you, breath hitching in his throat as he caught sight of the dried blood on your white vest.

"C'mon though, she was like, a total dud." You propped yourself up against the stall, coughing slightly and then wincing, bringing a hand to clutch as your side, eyes falling to the abandoned safety pin on the floor.

That'd probably be an issue later.

"She was not." Robin butted in, eyes watering as she realised you were here, alive, and mostly safe in the bathroom of an ice cream parlour. You were safe enough, and that's all that mattered.

That singular thought gave Robin the courage to move, practically racing to your side and slumping down beside Steve as your hand clutched your side tighter, trying to hide the injury. They didn't need to know for now, and the adrenaline was slowly coming back in waves, minimising the stabbing pain that shot through your nerves each time you flinched.

"Yes, she was! She wanted to be like, a singer! She wanted to move to like, Nashville and shit-" Steve chuckled, lazily agreeing with you as he caught your gaze. You knew that he knew, and for the first time in a very long time, you felt as though you and the Harrington boy were on the same page. The scene in the alley was distant history, every fight, every snap, every conversation about Nancy Wheeler was hidden in the past and all that existed was the three of you underneath the flickering fluorescent lights.

He gave you a small smile; a silent apology, a reminder that he was going to be better. He was going to do better, even if it killed him, because damnit, you deserved better.

You both did.

"She had dreams!" Robin defended, eyes still fixated on you and your busted lip, bruises slathered across your face and dried blood splattered across your shirt.

"She can't even hold a tune." You grinned, pleased with every second that you got to spend with them. Every moment was precious, and you'd be damned if you would waste even a fragment of a minute not looking at Robin Buckley.

"She's practically tone-deaf, have you heard her?" Steve questioned, watching as you laughed, gently resting your head against the back of the wall, allowing yourself a minute to rest.

Robin shook her head and he immediately burst into a rather untuned version of 'Total Eclipse of The Heart,' mumbling along and mimicking the voice of Tammy Thompson. He was remarkably close, given the fact the girl couldn't hold a pitch to save her life.

"She does not sound like-"

"She sounds exactly like that! That's a great impression of her," They both babbled, interrupting each other with a wide smile on their faces, and you relished in the domesticity of the moment. Maybe it wasn't all bad. Maybe, just maybe, you'd survive this, and your life would be followed by more moments like these rather than cut short in the back of Scoops Ahoy.

You could only hope.

"You sound like a muppet!"

"She sounds like a muppet!"

"See? Steve gets it!" You chuckled, slowly leaning your head against his shoulder, vision blurring slightly. He noticed, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze, a promise to get you both out of there alive, at least.

"She sounds like a muppet giving birth! And if you could hold me tight-" He started, moving onto an awkward Kermit impression as you and Robin continued.

"We'll be holding on forever-" You both giggled, bursting into a fit of laughter amongst the remarks, and the joy of being accepted brought tears to your eyes.

Steve Harrington didn't hate you.

Not now, and maybe not even then. The things you'd battled with for years had pushed you to the brink, thinking that you were alone and that your best friend loathed you for simply existing, only to find out he didn't hate you at all. You laughed and laughed, chuckles reverberating off the walls as they wrapped you in your own little world, oblivious to the downfall of Starcourt mall happening only metres away.

"Okay. What the hell?" Dustin shouted, bursting through the door, quickly followed by Erica and setting his sights on the three of you, staring you down as a parent would a child. The silence settled in, and you all glanced at each other before falling into another pit of giggles, Steve slumping to one side and falling into your shoulder as Robin reached for your hand.

Meanwhile, Hopper, Joyce and Murray sat slumped in Hopper's car, clinging desperately to the walkie-talkie they'd found. It crackled and static blared from it, but Murray's trembling hands kept a steady grip on it nonetheless.

"Alexei?" Hopper dared to ask, and Murray quickly turned back to him, tears welling in his eyes. He'd come to like the young Russian, bonding over their inability to cope with the tension-filled couple, their love of old cartoons and slushies. It practically killed him to watch the Russian slump to the floor, bullet piercing his heart from the very men he'd managed to escape from.

Murray shook his head, and Hopper's smile fell.

"На нижнем уровне," The walkie-talkie blasted, and Hopper scrambled to take the device from Murray's hands, holding it closer to his ear as he begged Murray to translate.

"On the lower level." He murmured, waiting for the next set of instructions.

"мы нашли детей"

"We've found the children."

"Они все еще находятся в торговом центре. Нижний уровень."

"They're still in the mall. Lower level."

Hopper's eyes widened as the colour from Joyce's face faded to a ghostly white, both of them coming to the realisation that they knew exactly who would be stupid enough to find themselves trapped in a mall with evil Russians.

"Держ��те все входы запертыми."

"Keep all the entrances locked down." Murray muttered, repeating the phrases over and over, matching the Russian cursive currently radiating from the device. Joyce quickly pushed her foot down on the pedal as far as it would go, watching the counter slowly begin to rise as the car moved faster.

She'd almost lost you all once, she refused to let it happen again.

At the same time, the empty carcass of Billy Hargrove stalked the halls of Starcourt Mall, finding a trail of thick crimson coating the floors of an abandoned supermarket aisle, just barely missing the footsteps and grating voice of the Russian man whispering into his own walkie-talkie.

You'd always felt sorry for the boy, if you were being honest. You recognised quicker than most what tell-tale signs of abuse looked like, and although they were incredibly unhealthy outlets, he was looking for an escape. The same way you did, sometimes; be that chess, or old movies, or swinging at broken vases in the forest with Steve's bat. Hell, you didn't blame him for breaking your fingers when he found Max with you and Harrington, if you'd found Dustin held captive by two nearly-grown adults in an abandoned house, you'd be inclined to beat them bloody too. You knew more than anyone how bad the situation looked.

That didn't mean you excused his actions, because you'd seen how he'd treated the little girl. You'd seen how he'd treated Lucas, and you knew how he'd treated you. Long before the incident at the Byers house, when rumours began to spiral about your own interactions with girls at parties. He'd set his sights on you when he'd worked at the pool over the summer, suggesting slyly that he could 'fix' whatever had gone wrong in your brain to mess you up in such an awful way. Billy Hargrove was a dick, there was no doubt about it.

However, Billy Hargrove was a dick, but he was also Max's family, and you wanted to protect him as much as possible.

Unfortunately, you didn't have all that much time. Not when it came to the several Russians scouring around the Mall, looking for four individuals that had since gone missing from the back of Scoops Ahoy. Instead, you found yourself hunched down below a counter, keeping a hand over both Dustin Henderson and Erica Sinclair's mouths to keep them quiet.

Not that you didn't trust them, but you couldn't risk a slip up. Not with them.

So there you stayed, trembling below a counter as one of Robin's shoes peeked out from behind the side. Fortunately for the Russians, they caught sight of it, quietly whispering and gathering their men across the devices as they slowly began to approach one of the long-emptied stores.

They kept their guns trained on the counter, slowly beckoning his men forward with a slight flick of his hand, assuring that none of you could move. You'd humiliated the man, and that would not pass with him. Not when he could get rid of you all so easily.

Dustin looked up at you, eyes glossy as he gently reached out to squeeze your hand, a desperate attempt to stop himself from shaking.

This was it, he was convinced. He was going to die, and his mother would find his remains in Starcourt Mall when it opened on Monday at 5am. Or worse, they'd drag his body down, do something awful like use that green, bubbling acid to melt his remains, and his mother would spend the rest of her days looking for him.

This was it.

You caught Robin's eye for just a second and gave her a small smile, as much of one as you could muster, and she felt like cracking all over again.

It was a 'thank you,' a 'goodbye.'

It was a 'If I could do this with anyone, if I had to do this again, I'd want it to be with you. I'd always, always want it to be you.'

Robin Buckley had never been wanted before, and she had to admit; despite everything, just knowing that you wanted her made it that little bit better.

She saw the goodbye in your eyes first, the way you slowly moved to subconsciously shelter Dustin and Erica, in the way that you hoped would protect them for a few moments longer. The way you slowly moved your hands to the floor, as if to push yourself up and tell them where you were. To give yourself in; a sacrifice for the greater good. For them.

She wanted to beg you to stay, to do anything but this, but she found herself unable to move. Frozen with fear, unable to watch anything but the horrifying sight unfold, the way you were so willing to give up everything. She was certain you were going to do it, you looked so ready-

And then a blaring car alarm rang out across the Mall. The scarlet Mercedes quickly drew their attention away and you let out a small sigh of relief, hearing them train their guns on the newest target. You shuffled slightly, wanting to know the reason for the disturbance, and you caught sight of a small little girl stood atop one of the balconies, arm stretched out and pointed at the car as it began to rock back and forth.

None other than the girl you helped rescue, helped shelter and take in when no-one else would. The girl the boys took to you in order to fix her up, and the girl you watched disappear from your life for a year.

A girl you thought you were never going to see again.

El.

-------------------------------

El.

There, the girl stood above it all.

Blood dripping from her nose, surrounded by the likes of the party. The kids stood behind her as if a defence as she carefully flicked the end of her hand, watching as the car flung with ease straight into the group of Russians, crushing them beneath its weight, shattering the pane of glass beside you all.

She'd never looked more inhumanely powerful, and she'd never felt it, either. She could do this- she could protect her friends. Just this once, she could be a hero.

You smiled, and the girl smiled back.

You crept out from behind the counter, followed by the others, watching as smoke hissed from within the car and Russians lay strewn across the floor. You didn't waste a second, rushing towards all of them as Mike helped El down a temporarily-paused escalator, immediately watching as El ended up in a hug, ambushed by Dustin.

"Ha, you flung that thing like a hot wheel!" He cried, wrapping his arms around her as Max and Lucas came to you, watching as you crouched down to hug them.

" 'S okay, it's alright, I promise-" You murmured, bringing them close and watching as Will sprinted to your side too, quickly pulled closer by your free arm. You practically giggled, ignoring the sharp pain radiating through your side and just focusing on the group of kids in front of you.

"Lucas?" Erica shrieked, looking over at her brother as he broke himself free from the hug, approaching her with a puzzled look on his face.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ask them," She started, pointing to the four of you, "It's their fault!"

"True, yeah," Steve interrupted, rambling and nodding quickly, "Totally true-"

"Our fault, our fault completely-" You joined in, nonsensical rambling.

"I don't understand, what happened to that car?" Robin asked, glancing hesitantly between you and Steve, quickly muffled by the uproar of the kids, muttering to themselves with their scrambled theories about where you, Steve and Dustin had been.

"El has superpowers!"

"I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, superpowers, she threw it with her mind, c'mon, catch up-" Steve mumbled, wincing slightly as you elbowed him in the side.

"That's El?" Erica cut in, seemingly amazed by the girl beside her.

"Who's El?"

"Yeah, little one in the yellow shirt's got like telekinesis or something." You started, quickly mouthing 'they're back?" to El in order to confirm that she was no longer powerless, met with a small nod, "Her name's El. Speaking of!" You interrupted, rushing to her side and quickly hugging her.

"Where the hell were you? Are you alright?" You gave her a once over, gaze fixed on the giant cut in her leg. She simply nodded again, wiping the leftover blood from below her nose, happy to see you all and learn that you were safe.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Nancy cut in, eyes widening when she noticed the state you were in, giving you a shy wave. You returned it immediately, mentally making plans to catch her up on everything the second this was over.

"I'm Robin, I work with Steve-"

"She cracked the secret code!" You grinned, smiling over at her as she quickly smiled back, eyebrows still furrowed in order to piece together the situation.

"Top-secret code." Dustin mumbled, subtly correcting you.

"Yeah, which is how we found out about the Russians." Steve muttered nonchalantly, eyes darting between you all, allowing you to lean on him and let him carry some of your weight as you both held the other steady. It was a given scenario, one you'd learned well after the several beatings you'd both taken over the years and the stumblings you took as children, wrapping a loose arm around the other's side to prevent either of you from fainting.

"Russians? Wait, what Russians?" Jonathon started, quickly taking in the state of both you and Steve, eyes catching on the dark crimson staining your white vest, raising an eyebrow.

"The Russians!"

"Those were Russians?" Max cut in, eyes widened and mouth open, the danger they were actually in starting to settle in the pit of her stomach.

"Some of them," Erica tossed in, gaze still focused on how calm her brother was seemingly acting.

"What are you talking about?" Lucas questioned, looking between you, Dustin and Steve for any possible answers.

"Didn't you hear our code Red?"

"Yeah!" Mike yelled, "And we couldn't understand half of what you were saying!"

"Godamn low battery," He cursed, immediately scolded by Steve.

"How many times do I have to tell you with the low battery!"

"Well everything worked out, didn't it Steve?" He looked up at him condescendingly, sarcastically smiling before shaking his head.

"Worked out?" Erica cried, "We almost died!"

"Yeah," Dustin turned to face the screaming child, "But we didn't, did we?"

"It was pretty damn close," You mumbled, watching carefully as El trudged to a corner, slowly spinning as the ringing in her ears increased, quickly turning to a high-pitched whining sound reverberating around inside her skull. She clutched her hands to her ears, screwing her eyes shut as the others continued to bicker.

Eventually she collapsed, letting out a small grunt as she hit the floor, the rest of the party immediately rushing to her side.

"El!" Mike questioned, quickly turning her on her side to face him, wincing at the girl's whimpering, "What's wrong?"

"My leg. My leg-" She breathed out, blood leaking from both sides of her nose as she hyperventilated, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Her leg, okay-" Jonathon muttered, Nancy helping him by quickly unwrapping the bandages around her leg, mumbling incoherent nothings as the crimson soaks through the white.

They winced, watching black and ivory lines pulsed inside her leg, stretching the skin as she screamed.

"God, that looks awful." Robin muttered, suddenly much closer to you than she'd been before. Her hand chased yours, brushing past each others for a few seconds, and Steve hesitantly moved away from you both, smiling at the lack of distance and the look in Robin's eye.

"Yeah, 's not fun seeing them in pain. Any of them, really." You mumbled back to her, trying to keep her distracted. All of you freaking out wouldn't help anyone, and it would only make El feel worse. Eventually, Jonathon returned, and all of them started panicking, watching her skin begin to writhe again.

"Okay, okay," Mike started, "Let's get her on this side- easy, easy," He mumbled, instructing all of you as you rolled her over onto her side, watching her curl in on herself.

"Y'know, it's not actually that bad-" Robin interrupted and your eyes widened as you realised Robin was about to start rambling. Jonathon looked stressed enough already, having practically shoved something wooden between her lips to bite down on, preparing to freely dig around inside her leg as the spoon muffled her screams.

"There was a- the goalie on my soccer team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg and her bone like came out of her knee, the whole bine, six inches or something, it was insane-"

Nancy's mouth fell open, staring over at you and Steve as Steve turned to Robin.

"Robin."

"Yeah?"

"You're not helping."

"I'm sorry-" Robin rushed out, trying to ignore El's muffled cries, her hand digging further into yours. You let her leave crescent marks on your skin as you figured another person, touch, anything, was something you desperately needed the first time around. You could give her that, at least.

"This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?" Jonathon tried to reassure, giving her hand a small squeeze as the others averted their eyes.

She nodded, screwing her eyes shut again.

"Need you to stay real still, alright?"

"Okay-" She sobbed, grabbing onto anything she could as Mike made sure the spoon Jonathon had grabbed from a nearby store was secure between her teeth.

"Do it." Mike insisted, hating seeing her in pain for a second longer than necessary. She whimpered, the others murmuring small phrases and quickly looking away as Jonathon dug the knife into her swollen leg,

She screamed immediately, Nancy having to cover her mouth with her hand as she gagged, watching the blade sink deeper into her skin. Jonathon winced before putting on gloves and jamming two fingers inside the wound. She twisted and writhed on the floor, as if trying to escape some terrible fate, and Robin looked like she was about to be sick again. You quickly grabbed her hand once more, pulling her behind you slightly, wanting to shield her from the sight. A horrifying mix of guilt and nausea settled in the pit of your stomach as you came to the swift realisation that the girl wouldn't be in this mess if not for your own selfish choices of wanting someone.

You were going to get her out of here the second it was safe to do so, and she was never, ever coming back. You'd drive her out of Hawkins if you had to. Even if it meant that you would never see Robin Buckley again, at least she'd be safe.

A sacrifice for the greater good.

"Stop! I can do it," El sobbed, "I can do it-"

Jonathon immediately backed off, scrambling beside Nancy and abandoning the knife, leaving them scattered on the floor as El raised her hand to her leg.

She hovered it above the cut for a second, gritting her teeth and screwing her eyes shut, clenching her fist and screaming louder than you'd ever heard. You wondered if she'd ever screamed like this when she was stuck in the lab.

Probably.

The windows around you shattered, leaving broken glass scattered everywhere and a floating, writhing creature coated in tar floating mid-air; quickly disposed of by a flex of El's fingers, tossed carelessly to the other side of the hall, crushed beneath a large shoe.

Hopper's shoe.

He stood guarded besides Joyce Byers and Murray Bauman, staring down your little group, tossing you a careful smile as he set eyes on his daughter.

Within a few minutes, you'd already formed a little circle, several of you pacing and trying to out-think the others, approaching the subject from any angle. You'd found that Billy Hargrove had been chosen as a host for the Mind Flayer, The Mind Flayer was back, and the others were now effectively caught up to speed regarding your little Russian adventures.

"The Mind Flayer," Mike started, taking a step towards everyone and weaving the tale as if it were a story, "it built this...monster, in Hawkins; to stop El, to kill her, and to pave a way into our world."

"And it almost did," Nancy weighed in, still trying to grasp the enormity of the situation, "That was just one tiny piece of it."

"How big is this thing?" Hopper asked, glancing over at Dustin as he stood closer to the rest of the party.

"It's big. Thirty feet, at least." Jonathon mumbled, looking up at Nancy as she confirmed.

"Mhm, it sorta destroyed your cabin." Lucas chipped in, eyes catching on Hopper as he attempted to gauge any sort of reaction.

"Sorry."

"Okay, so just to be clear, this- this big fleshy, spider thing that hurt El, it's some kind of gigantic...weapon?" Steve tried, looking slightly confused about the whole scenario.

"Yeah." Nancy answered, eyes locked on Steve for a moment longer than normal. She'd missed the boy, to say the least. He was comfort, a reminder of how she used to live, or who she was before all this. It was nice to just have him around. Same with you, a permanent reminder that despite everything, Hawkins still existed in the way it did before. Hawkins High was still Hawkins High, the kids were still the kids, and everything could be normal when this was over.

It didn't stop her eyes from leaving Steve's silhouette, though.

Robin had taken an entirely different approach to the oldest Wheeler, keeping her eyes trained on the ground rather than any of you. She'd curled herself up on the small fountain, knees tucked to her chest as she tried to regulate her breathing, still coming to grips with the whole 'Evil Russians and alternate-dimensional monsters' thing.

You noticed quicker than others, and you carefully made your way to her side, slowly pulling her to a nearby bench and sitting down with her as she looked up, confusion painted across her face.

"Sorry- you just looked a little stressed. We all get weirded out the first time." You reassured, smiling as she looked over you eyes catching on every scratch and cut that the man had left on you.

She decided that it would be a conversation for another day.

"So, the first time, huh?" She started, drawling off into the beginnings of a ramble as the other's voices slowly faded, "You make a habit of going 'round, fighting space monsters?"

"Upside-down monsters, Jesus, come on Robs, get it right." You corrected, chuckling as Hopper pulled El closer to his chest, Joyce sitting beside him. She caught a glimpse of the two of you, eyes flickering down to where your hands brushed, and made note of how you looked at each other. She smiled, and made a note to talk to you about it later, if you felt comfortable enough.

She hoped you would.

"But yeah, some shit went down like two years ago that started everything- then it came back last year, and now it's back again."

"Do you think we'll be able to stop it for good this time?"

You hesitated.

You didn't want to lie to her; to give her false hope the same way you'd fed off the blissfully ignorant words Hopper had whispered.

"I hope so." You said, and you meant it. You did hope so, but you couldn't promise her anything.

"So when you disappeared from Click's class for like a week last year?"

"Recovering from a bite on my shin, I was in hospital passed out for three days, scared the shit out of Steve. Dude stayed by my side the whole time and wouldn't stop apologising when I finally woke up."

"Harrington is..." She started, "something else, isn't he?"

You glimpsed over, seeing him debate so casually with Jonathon and Nancy, a genuine smile on his face when he took in the kids' state. Watching carefully as Hopper ran a spare hand through El's hair, and catching Dustin giving him a sly thumbs-up when Nancy stood a bit too close.

He'd begun getting better, and that was a start.

"Yeah. He's definitely something, Buckley."

He caught your eye, smiling slightly, and for the first time in a long time, you genuinely smiled back at him. He felt the air shift, and when Robin looked away for a second, he raised his eyebrow, giving you an awfully suggestive look.

You glared back at him and he simply chuckled, returning to his previous conversation with the rest of the group.

"How you feeling about all this, then?" You questioned, looking across at her, whispering amongst the mumblings of the others, in the midst of a plan beginning to form.

"And by this...you mean?" She trailed off, small smile flickering over her lips as she finally caught your eye.

"Well, the whole 'Harrington's not as bad as you think he is,' thing, that can be a tough one to sink in-" The older boy shot you a quick glare, replaced with a sigh of relief as he saw the corner of your lips quirk upwards in a gleeful grin. Robin elbowed your side, giggling along with you at the utter ridiculousness of the situation.

"The evil Russians were definitely a shocker, but the twelve-year-old with superpowers, that one's my favourite so far." She chuckled, hand creeping closer to yours on the bench with every passing second. You were hidden from most of their sights, (Not Steve, but you had to admit, with the way he'd been acting he seemed to be overjoyed at the thought of you two together), which made it slightly easier to show the subtle affection you had for the girl. You wanted nothing more than to slip an arm around her shoulder and tell her how safe she was, but you'd wait until the end of the night before you even considered an act so selfish.

"Having her show up at the Byers in the middle of the night wasn't exactly ordinary, but she threw a Lego spaceship at Dustin's head once, that was funny." You smiled, recalling the sweet memory. He'd whined about it the rest of the evening, but was utterly infatuated with the supernatural abilities the girl possessed, and with the way he was practically vibrating on the spot, you could tell that excitement was back.

"Are you gonna be safe?" Robin blurted out, taking both of you by surprise, eyes widening at her admission of nerves.

You hesitated for a moment, mulling the words over in your head before coming up with a suitable response.

"Define...safe."

"Not throwing yourself at supernatural monsters, safe."

"I uh-" You started, scrabbling to find the right words, no longer worried about impressing the girl, "I'll try to keep safe. Can't promise you anything at the minute, but I've got a lot to stay alive for if you hadn't noticed, Buckley."

"Good. It'd be really difficult to take a corpse out to dinner." She mindlessly babbled, only realising the true intent of her words a moment after she'd said them. She looked you over, shoulders relaxing almost instantly as she saw the sudden spark in your eyes, the intensity of your smile.

"Obviously not dinner, dinner," She began, starting to ramble, "Because dinner would be a bit hard given the fact that we're both, y'know, but like, dinner? Maybe you and I could go watch a movie, or order something in? If you wanted?"

You had never wanted to kiss the girl more in your life.

You squeezed her hand reassuringly, making sure to look her in the eyes as you said this. Your eyes darted to the others, making note that no one was watching, bringing your face to the side of hers and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, mumbling under your breath.

"Buckley, I'd love to go to dinner with you after this. Whatever dinner looks like to you, I'll love it. I'm sure." Her grin widened and a thick blush spread across her face as she caught Steve's eye, smirk growing on his face as he took in the scene, both of you separating almost instantly.

"But, yeah-" You continued, "I'd love dinner. But that means you have to survive too, Robs. Stay safe and whatnot."

"Oh no," She whined, sarcasm heavy in her tone, "A gorgeous girl wants to take me out to dinner and all I have to do is live past tonight, what an awful thing-"

You chuckled, mimicking her friendly elbow from earlier as she giggled, evidently pleased with the situation. She'd never had this, before, or anything like this, and she was certain she was going to keep you.

No matter the cost.

"Yoo-Hoo!" The moment was broken by the ramblings of a rather bald madman, Murray rushing in waving large maps of Starcourt and other nonsensical scribbles. He rushed past, slumping down besides you all as you all surrounded him, pleased to hear whatever he had found in the moments he was away. You and Robin stood on other sides of the circle, avoiding each other's gazes as you tried not to burst into laughter at the absurdity of the thoughts.

"Okay, this is what Alexei called 'The Hub'" He started, pointing aggressively at a corner of the roughly sketched map, "Now, The Hub takes us to the vault room."

"Okay, so where's the gate?" Hopper interrupted, stood behind his shoulder like a proud parent.

"Right here. I don't know the scale on this, but I think it's fairly close to the vault room, maybe fifty feet or so." You took a step closer to Hopper, him running a hand up your back in a reassuring manner, something he'd done thousands of times before. Whether it was your shoulder, or a ruffle of your hair, he'd always made you feel seen and respected, even when you disagreed. (Or when he had to put you in handcuffs thanks to the few bottles of rum you'd smuggled into the back of a friend's Steve's car that one time.)

"More like 500." Erica cut in, stepping forwards slightly to face the almost-bald man.

"What, you're gonna waltz in there like it's Commie-Disneyland or something?"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" He asked, irritation painted over his face as the child began to waste even more of his precious time. Murray Bauman didn't have any time nor respect for small annoyances.

"Erica Sinclair. Who are you?" She retaliated, eyebrow raised, staring the man down as Dustin smirked behind her.

"Murray...Bauman." He spit out in confusion, eyes darting back and forth between you, Nancy, Jonathon and Hopper. He figured that you lot would rid him of whoever this pest, was, especially after your adventures together in the years prior. He'd been the one to push Jonathon and Nancy together in the first place, and had run into you at the bar a few times over the years, having arrived both with friends and individually between fighting monsters from a parallel universe. He'd been surprised when Jonathon and Nancy first mentioned your name, but then thought back to the unexplainable stories you'd told him, presuming they were imaginary, and he began to piece bits together. Since then, you'd taught the man how to make a few cocktails on his own (He'd slowly come around to Pina Coladas, not that he would ever admit that,) and how to win at darts. He was a fan of your sarcasm and quick wit, leading to short yet interesting conversations between you both.

Surprisingly, he was one of the first people you'd told about Robin. The only person, really. You'd gotten tipsy and started rambling about a girl, hesitantly giving him her name, and thus leading to an elaborate file created with his P.I experience hidden underneath a chest of drawers at his humble abode.

Just in case of an emergency or if she broke your heart, or something.

"Listen, Mr Bun-man," Erica started, "I've been down in that shithole for 24 hours, and with all due respect, you do what this man tells you to do, and you're all gonna die."

He looked over to you, and you simply shrugged, allowing the younger girl to have the floor for her moment. Lucas looked as confused as the rest of the group, eyes fixated on his sister that he had no idea was embarking on these ridiculous adventures.

"I'm sorry, why is this four-year-old speaking to me?" Murray questioned, looking expectedly at Hopper before being interrupted by the menace.

"Um, I'm ten, you bald bastard!"

"Erica!" Lucas cut in, eyes widened at his sister's behaviour.

"What? Just the facts!"

"She's right," Dustin began, "You're all gonna die, but you don't have to. Excuse me." He muttered, pushing his way to the front in order to address everyone.

"Sorry, may I?" He asked Murray, an aghast look on the man's face.

"Please." Murray grinned sarcastically, stepping back in order to give him access to the map.

He began his little rant, explaining all of the details of what he'd seen inside the Russian base, making you wince every time the place was even mentioned. Every other word turned to a flicker in your mind, an image of the man you'd stuffed into a cupboard after knocking him out. You wondered if he was still alive, whether or not he had a family. They weren't all monsters, you supposed.

Hopper looked expectedly between Dustin and Joyce, trying to formulate some kind of response, stepping closer to the boy to interrupt him but immediately dismissed and waved away by the boy's hand.

Dustin Henderson hadn't finished talking yet, and to hell with anyone who tried to stop him before he was done. Literally.

He was, however, interrupted by Hopper throwing a Walkie-talkie at his face.

"You can navigate, just do it from someplace safe."

"It's not that simple, Hop." You added, stepping in momentarily to try and make him understand.

"The signal won't reach." Erica confirmed, scoffing with Dustin as if they were aware of something that none of the rest of you were.

"Not with this. You'd need, what, something with a high enough frequency hand to relay the Russian's radio tower, but for that to work, you need someone who's both seen their comms room, and has access to a super-powered, hand-crafted radio tower, one already situated at preferably the highest point in Hawkins."

Oh.

"Oh wait, that's me."

Cerebro.

Fucking Cerebro, and Suzie Bingham, and his summer time adventures. Dustin Henderson had really outdone himself this time.

"If you want us to navigate, you've got us. But we need a head start."

Hopper nodded, seemingly pleased with his co-operation.

"...And a car."

Hopper still nodded, gritting his teeth, although notably less pleased than before.

The four of them began to head out, keys in Steve's hand, before Robin noticed your absence. She rushed back, pulling you to one side.

"You're not coming?" She seemed hurt, borderline abandoned at your lack of trust in her.

"What can I say, Buckley? They need me here. Keep yourself safe, alright? Tell Harrington and the other two I say the same thing." You muttered, sad smile on your face as you pulled her into a quick hug.

"...alright." She accepted, pulling away with more hesitance than she wanted. Robin Buckley didn't often get scared, but when she did, she was terrified. And right now, Robin Buckley was really, really scared.

"You'll be okay. Still gotta take me out to dinner, don't you?" You chuckled, looking over at her as she nodded.

"Yeah. It's gonna be one hell of a dinner, so you have to stay safe, too." The reassurance was more for herself and to ease her worries rather than yours, but you'd let her have it. Steve would keep her safe, you knew that much.

"Robin!" You exclaimed, watching her turn her back before spinning on her heel to face you.

"If everything else goes wrong- I just- you look really pretty tonight."

She smiled, nodding slightly with tears welling in her eyes.

With one last glance back at you, you let Robin Buckley walk away.

In the meantime, the others prepared for the very worst, and you made time to sit beside Will and have a small chat. He was older now, and you hadn't had as much time with him over the summer as you wanted. He was scared, too.

You practically pulled him away from one of Joyce's iron-grip hugs, apologising profusely, grabbing a spare milkshake from one of the abandoned shops for him. Chocolate chip, the same flavour he'd had every other time you'd taken him over the years.

"You okay?" You asked, even though you knew the answer.

"Yeah, you? You look like you got dragged through a hedge backwards." He quipped, sarcastic little smile on his face despite it all. It made you chuckle, which made you wince, hand moving to clutch the remaining makeshift-stitches in your side.

"Gee, thanks. Russians aren't nice- but you're real funny, kid. Should be a comedian, or something."

"I know." He left it at that, simply resting his head on your shoulder and enjoying the remaining quiet. He could feel what was coming.

Eventually, the adults herded you all into separate directions, the three of them preparing to take off. You knew Hopper had spoken to El, but that didn't mean you were ready to let him go without saying goodbye.

You engulfed him in a quick hug, throwing your arms around him as he chuckled into the top of your head, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

"You're gonna be fine, alright? You're gonna be fine." You muttered, and it sounded scarily like a goodbye.

" 'Course I am. I always am. Even when kids like you force me into going senile with your arrests and all that shit."

"Hop I swear on my life, I'll never drink again if you come back entirely unscathed."

"I'll hold you to that. See you soon, kid." He ruffled the top of your head, as per usual, before heading to the tunnels with Joyce and Murray. You offered the other two a quick wave, which they returned, before they walked away.

You could feel the stitches loosening, and a trickle of blood crept out from underneath the makeshift bandages.

You were a pawn in this game, and you weren't going to last long.

At least Robin didn't have to see it, if you did go, you thought. She'd be safe with Steve, and you'd have to rain check that dinner. All in all, it was better you than them.

It took roughly half an hour for things to start to fall apart. Mike had begun pacing around the Mall, rambling angrily into the walkie-talkie as you sat beside Lucas, watching as he aimed his slingshot, drawing it back with ease.

"Scoops Troop, do you copy? Billy has found us. He has disabled our car and we are trapped in the mall. Repeat: Billy has disabled our car and has us trapped in the mall." He trailed off, as you moved to crouch beside Nancy.

In the half an hour, you'd been graciously filled in on all the gory details, including the untimely possession of Billy Hargrove.

"You're gonna kill him, aren't you?" Max chimed in, looking down at the overly large gun in her hands. You had to admit, you see what you saw in the girl before you moved onto Robin. Not that you'd ever try anything, but she was absolutely gorgeous- Steve had been an idiot to let someone like her go. Though, you were happy she seemed content with Jonathon. She'd filled you in on all the other details too, and you'd let her know exactly how hard you'd slapped Steve after you heard about the incident at the cinema.

She seemed rather pleased with that.

"This is just a precaution, okay?" Nancy reassured pulling herself to her feet as you wandered around aimlessly, trying to keep pressure on your side.

"Do you copy?" Mike begged in the background, voice fading in and out of range as he slowly paced the size of the mall. It was interesting to see how long you could go before you had to hear his voice again, timing it so you didn't snap and break the walkie in his hands.

"No chance that thing'll drive, right?" Nancy chuckled, responding to one of the queries the kids had made. Something clicked in Jonathon's head as he looked it over, eyebrows furrowing as he stepped closer.

"We don't need it to drive- we just need the ignition cable." He grinned, watching as everyone ran over to attempt to flip the car onto it's side.

You all groaned, moving backwards as the truth sunk in; you couldn't move this car alone.

Fortunately, you all turned to a girl in a yellow shirt, more than happy to help. She stepped forward, raising her hand and attempting to flip the car, struggling slightly.

Her nose began to bleed and the car shook slightly, but didn't move in the way you needed it to. Luckily, her attempts seemed to dislodge it, and with some help, it tipped over. She shook her head, rushing over and rifling through a bin as you all looked confused, watching her. She eventually found a small, red, Coke can, placing it on the side and staring intensely at it.

Memories flickered back and forth of her in the lab, crushing the can with ease in her mind, but quickly interrupted by the grating sound of Mike Wheeler's voice.

"El! Are you okay?" He muttered, rushing to her side with Max trailing behind him. You ignored their antics for now, choosing to hang back and rifle through the car's engine, searching desperately for the ignition cable as the burning in your side began to grow.

Will reached for the back of his neck, feeling an indescribable cold wash over him; before he had a chance to warn anyone, the mall went silent, disturbed only by the terrifying thudding of something crawling over the glass ceiling.

You glanced over at Will, and he nodded, providing all the confirmation you needed.

The Mind Flayer was back.

You rushed to anywhere, hiding in the shadows of an abandoned store towards the left, crouched behind the car with the others, Will shuddering beside you and burrowing into your side. You bit your tongue, swallowing the pain, and allowed him to continue. He felt the blood slowly begin to coat your vest again, and looked up at you; you only shook your head in response, willing him not to mention it. It'd be over soon, anyways.

Dustin desperately pleaded through the walkie-talkie after their long-awaited arrival to the hill, crowded in a circle as Robin felt her stomach drop. Something was wrong, she could feel it. Steve caught her eye, and she could tell he could feel it too.

"Griswold Family, do you copy?" He begged, over and over, getting only a demonic screech in return as the Mind Flayer tossed it aside.

"Shit." He muttered, suddenly scrambling to get everything done a lot faster.

"Anyone, answer! Please, anyone just answer! Confirm your safety!" He begged, the voice falling on deaf ears as the Mind Flayer smashed it into pieces, stopping the transmission altogether. You all held your knees to your chest, prepared to bolt at a moments notice, not even breathing.

It moved to the right, stalking over to a large group of shops, sludging along and dragging limbless parts of its body behind it. It stopped directly over Max, El and Mike, hesitating for a moment before continuing, leaving a trail of black tar in its wake.

Rolling and twisting its joints, if you could even call it that, it slumped beside the gap, falling to the ground in order to comfort the small twitching organism that had been flung out of El's leg only an hour or so before. The smaller black mass grimaced in pain, squealing as the larger black mass screamed, shouting incoherent mumbles at the seemingly empty mall.

Dustin yelled at his own walkie, still pleading endlessly for any of you to pick up, and after a particularly nasty snarl echoed over the comms, Steve decided that he had had enough. Rather than explaining, he simply stood up, rushing back to the car.

"Where are you going?" Erica shouted after him, and Steve didn't pause his swift jog, only yelling back as he turned his head.

"To get them the hell outta there! Stay here, contact the others!"

Robin shook her head, gritting her teeth before standing and rushing after him, Dustin screaming after her.

"Robin! Stay in touch!" He yelled, quickly tossing her one of the spare walkies in order to allow her to contact them, her nodding and racing after Steve, locking herself in the car.

Meanwhile, the Mind Flayer paced back towards the car, and each of you took turns to stiffen, leaning back against the car, eyes wide with terror. Will began to hyperventilate and you took his hand in yours, feeling the energy seep out of you with every extra second you spent awake. It reminded you of the nasty gash across your leg that a Demodog had left, and the way you felt close to death in the tunnels, unwittingly accepting your fate.

At least this time, you had a chance to save someone. Even if it killed you, you could get Will Byers home and safe. In turn, keeping Robin safe, too. You could make up for bringing her into this mess in the first place.

That would be enough for you.

Nancy glanced over, risking a sneaky look in the direction of one of the car's wingmirrors, wincing as the Mind Flayer carelessly tossed a Russian's body into the wall. For fun, you presumed. Predators always liked to play with their pray before they killed them.

"It's turned away," Mike started, catching a glimpse of the monster before lowering himself back down, "if we run upstairs now, we'll make it."

"No way, not with El's leg." Max insisted, gesturing to the hurt girl.

"We have to try!" He whisper-shouted, glaring at the redhead, getting increasingly aggravated by the second. You managed to find them in a shop window's reflection, noticeably getting more agitated with staying still.

You knew they were going to move, and you prepared yourself to run, just in case.

A large metal rod that had been used to pry the car from the wall had been left alone near your feet, and you quickly leant forward to grab it, breath hitching in the back of your throat. They could use a distraction, if everything else were to go horribly wrong. Nancy seemed to notice your sudden movement, narrowing her eyes in confusion before turning her glance to the crimson slowly seeping out from the bottom of your vest.

She was aware that you were unlikely to make it, too.

"There's another way," El muttered, weighing in on the conversation.

"Out," She started, "Through the gap."

She gestured to the large store around the corner and Mike began to nod, a plan coming to mind. You could see them preparing to run, and moved yourself to another corner, out of sight from the mind Flayer and away from the others, as far as you could go. You refused to bring them down with you.

You remembered the raven-haired boy's words, the way he'd so carelessly knocked the pawn from the board as he taught you.

"Painless, swift." He'd muttered, as if the pawn had a mind of its own. He almost felt sorry for knocking it from its place. At least you knew that it would be swift, as the Mind Flayer didn't attempt to toy with its victims, as far as you knew. Even if it did, you wouldn't last long, now with two of the three makeshift stitches out.

The three of them bolted, rushing quickly towards the large doors of the store, brushing past a mannequin in El's clothing. This was really, truly, incredibly bad.

If you'd known where they were headed, you wouldn't have moved. In reality, they'd sat themselves down, tripping over broken glass less than five feet away from you. The distraction wouldn't be that useful anymore, especially if you were just leading it straight back to them.

"You little shits!" You whispered, pulling them close as the Mind Flayer stepped closer, hushing them as they hugged you. It quickly flung the yellow-coloured mannequin into the wall, and you muffled El's mouth to keep a surprised yell from escaping.

A tentacle reached out, large teeth protruding from the end, and it winded through the aisles of the store in search of the noise. You all kept deathly silent, and Lucas from his position behind the car, began to pull his slingshot back.

"What are you doing?" Nancy hissed, glaring up at him. He only nodded, mainly to reassure himself, and then turned and let the small stone go, hitting a balloon and causing the tentacle to retreat back to its body. You all breathed out a sigh of relief, clutching the three of them closer than ever.

You were more than aware of the dizzying feeling approaching, looming over you in waves, but your priority right now was the kids and keeping them safe. Though, you had to admit, you were incredibly pleased at not having to sacrifice yourself.

You were really looking forward to that dinner.

All of you, including Nancy, Jonathon, Lucas and Will, used this as a welcome distraction, rushing out the closest exit and dashing up the stairs. You had to clutch the railing, but you were safer than before, so that was a start. The four of them raced out the front exit, heading towards the nearest car at Jonathon's command.

Unfortunately, the rest of their collective silence was ruined by the roar of a 1979 Chevrolet Camaro.

More importantly, Billy's Camaro.

"Shit." Jonathon whispered, quickly interrupted by Nancy.

"Go, get the car started! Go!"

She loaded her gun and steadily pointed it at the car, preparing to shoot as Jonathon climbed into the Driver's side, trying desperately to start the engine. In another car, Billy Hargrove revved his own engine, slowly pressing his foot down on the accelerator.

Nancy shot once, and then twice whilst the car headed directly at her, splintering the windshield and shattering the windows. that didn't phase him, and only seemed to anger him more while the others began to panic in the backseats.

She shot again, and again, him speeding up with every second, and Nancy Wheeler prepared herself for the end. Much like you, her one goal was to protect the kids, and at least she was going out doing that. The impact would most likely kill Billy on the spot, and they would be able to escape safely.

This was it, she decided. She breathed in, out, relaxed her shoulders and shut her eyes, firing as many rounds as she could.

Though unfortunately, her body had not come to the same conclusion, letting out a sharp squeal as the girl ducked to protect herself, met with the crashing sounds of two cars colliding and shattering glass.

Steve Harrington had come to save the day, once again. He'd rammed Billy's Camaro head on, breathing heavily as Robin clutched the door.

"You okay?" He muttered, panting and still riding the adrenaline high. Robin Buckley, albeit terrified, managed to compose herself slightly and whimpered out a short response.

"Ask me tomorrow?"

Before either of them could fully acknowledge what had just happened, a snarling interrupted them, echoing from above. The shadow of a deformed creature sprinted across the roof of Starcourt Mall, stopping them where they stood.

In the meantime, Billy Hargrove pulled his broken body from the burning wreckage, grimacing with every step as he slowly trudged into the Mall. He didn't want to do this, but unluckily for him, he was no longer in control. A bone-chilling numbness had seeped into every pore in his body, flooding his senses with a freezing cold that he no longer recognised. Billy Hargrove was no killer, not ordinarily, but he wasn't the one pulling the strings anymore.

Billy Hargrove was whatever this thing wanted him to be.

So whilst you, Mike and Max helped El limp back to a safer place, Billy Hargrove roamed the halls of Starcourt once more. This time, he wasted no time in finding you all. He slumped through the white corridors, quickly facing Max in an empty room in order to get to El. You stepped in front of both of them, and he chuckled.

"Why's it always you?" He asked, a dark laugh slipping from his lips despite the obvious discomfort in his face.

"Billy, you need to leave."

He simply tutted, shaking his head as if he weren't in pain at all. The black veins crawled up his neck as he arched his head backwards, smirk growing and relishing in the silence.

"You're not taking these kids, Hargrove." You pushed, holding your ground.

"Shame, that's not up to you."

He quickly tried to push past you, and you retaliated by smacking him in the face as hard as possible. He recoiled, bringing a hand to the side of his cheek and wincing before bringing his fist back, hitting you in the face. You didn't even flinch, still chasing the adrenaline high before returning to fight him, pushing him further against the wall and bringing your knee up to hit his crotch, watching him grimace before digging two of his fingers into the wound in your side.

You cried out, still scratching desperately at his skin, before he caught onto the third and final staple, ripping it from your skin. Your eyes widened and he pushed you against the wall, giving your leg a sharp stomp for good measure, hearing something crack. You let our an ear-piercing wail, sobbing as he moved past and began the long walk to Max.

You tried to move but found you were unable to, stuck bleeding out on the floor, your ankle once again bent the wrong way.

"Billy," Max tried, "You don't have to do this- your name's Billy, Billy Hargrove," She begged, pleading with every syllable.

"You live on 4819 Cherry Lane, Billy please, I'm your sister-" She cried as he approached, backhanding her across the face and watching as she slumped to the ground too.

Mike tried next, rushing over to him and shoving Billy as hard as he could, and Billy retaliated by slamming his head against a metal pole before turning to El. She screamed, raising a hand up to try and do something, anything, but was quickly manhandled and shoved against a wall, things going black rather quickly. He picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder and began the walk back to the middle of Starcourt.

"Shit." You breathed out, making note of the way he'd abandoned the other kids, focusing solely on El, with tears slipping past your eyes. You could feel yourself fading but didn't want to give up yet, not entirely done helping.

You could let yourself be a pawn later.

You found an abandoned piece of cloth besides a mass of pipes, reaching for it and gritting your teeth, tying it around your waist. If you could stop the blood loss, you'd be fine. You'd deal with your leg later.

You glanced around desperately, trying to move yourself or at least prop the other two up, but found that quicker than you'd liked, it all went black. You spent a total of twelve minutes in-and-out of consciousness, eventually roused by the sound of Max attempting to wake Mike (and failing, miserably.)

You mumbled something incoherent, feeling the sharp stabbing pain in your ankle but finding yourself much more mobile, dragging yourself to your knees. She noticed your sudden commentary and breathed a sigh of relief, helping you up with a makeshift pipe as some sort of crutch as you both tried to wake Mike.

"Mike, can you hear me? Mike! Mike!" She yelled, practically pushing him over. He whispered in response, murmuring El's name as he woke, pushing himself up with his hands as his skull felt just about ready to split in half.

"C'mon-" She helped him up and you trailed after them, using the wall to help steady yourself, feeling slightly better now blood wasn't leaking from your side with every step.

"You okay?" She asked, Mike simply shaking his head in response, looking around to try and get his bearings. He stopped, eyebrows furrowing as he glanced over at both of you.

"Where's El?"

"He's got her." You chimed in, coughing slightly before moving to a different position, attempting to walk as quickly as possible. You wanted to help, even like this.

You rushed in, steadying yourself on a corner joined by Mike and Max at your side, staring as Billy Hargrove approached the Mind Flayer. Whatever El had said, perhaps the reminder of his mother or the fact that he was capable of good, something he hadn't known for a long time, had broken whatever possession the Mind Flayer had over him.

Now, he faced the creature as Billy Hargrove.

Just Billy Hargrove, and that was enough.

The creature came for him early, digging its limbs into his side as he fought it off, and he came to the untimely realisation that he wasn't scared. He figured he would be, when the time came, after all the drugs and the cigarettes, the drinking and the sex- he figured he'd want to feel something.

It was a substitute for the numbing cold he'd felt settled into his bones over the last few weeks and so just feeling anything was okay. He was protecting Max, something that he should've done this entire time but was too cowardly to do so, and that was okay.

He hoped this would make up for it in the end.

El scrambled backwards, and Dustin screamed commands into Cerebro from the top of the hill. Hopper saw the opportunity, and in what he believed to be his final moments, he saw all of you. He saw him and Joyce, dancing in the kitchen at midnight and fighting over useless things in the spring. He saw him and El, the Miami Vice flickering in the background accompanied by nights on the sofa. He saw you and him, watching you grow up and finally move out of Hawkins, escape to somewhere, anywhere; to finally just be happy. He saw him and Will, bonding over his drawing and talking about everything they could find.

He saw all of you, and Jim Hopper realised that he wasn't scared either. They were both going to go out protecting the kids, and that's all that mattered.

That didn't mean that Hopper didn't still want one last look at the woman he loved before he went, though.

Joyce watched as the flames engulfed everything, raging across the room as the gate sealed itself shut, slowly cutting off the connection to the other world. The rest of you saw the Mind Flayer slump to the ground, leaving an almost dead Billy Hargrove in its wake.

He chuckled, watching you and Max scramble over to him, pleased to see you all for one last time.

"Did I do good?" He mumbled, looking up at you as you held Max, bringing tears to your eyes. You didn't like it when anyone died, if you were being honest. Watching the life drain from a person's eyes- not a pretty picture. You saw it happen with Bob Newby, and even managed to get a good look at Barbara Holland's rotting corpse during your time in the upside-down.

It never got any easier.

"You know damn well you did, Hargrove. Ever the cocky son-of-a-bitch." You choked out, smiling slightly at the joy in his eyes when he saw Max. He wanted to apologise, to spend the rest of his days grovelling at her feet for the way he'd treated her. He wanted to make amends, but would never get a chance.

"Billy, please get up- please, please-" Max begged, whimpering at the sight of her older brother in pain. Despite it all, he was still her brother, and most of the family she had left.

"I'm...sorry." He slipped out amongst coughs, holding her hand and trying to pull her closer to him in his final moments. He really did mean it, this time.

"Billy? Billy, c'mon, wake up- this isn't- this isn't funny, Billy- wake up! Please, Billy you have to get up-" She sobbed, crying into your chest as you held her, rocking her back and forth, the both of you a mess.

She wept into his chest, pulling him closer before slumping back into you, and El, who'd walked over to comfort Max too.

"It's okay-" You both murmured, hugging her tight to your chest, sobs wracking through her body with unimaginable force. It only confirmed one thing in your mind; you never, ever wanted to see Max Mayfield like this again. You'd do anything.

Within twenty-five minutes, you'd all been escorted out of the building, and Robin Buckley was itching to find you.

You'd promised- You'd promised her, that you would stay safe. So, you had to be safe, she reasoned.

Eventually, her resolve came crashing down when she found you in the back of an ambulance, finally getting some proper stitches with tears streaming down your face, lollipop jutting out the corner of your lips with a sad smile. You caught sight of the Buckley girl rushing over to you, clutching and holding you close as you pulled her tighter to your chest.

"Hey, Robs." You whispered, chuckling into her shoulder as she let out a small laugh, leaning back and resting her forehead against yours. In the background, Steve Harrington watched the two of you closely and finally put two and two together. Or started to, at least. You looked happy, for the first time in a really long time.

"You stayed safe." She muttered, hugging you once more as the reality of the situation finally set in.

You were okay, and so was she.

You just about, despite the agony in your leg drove the both of you home after that, refusing to part with her until you knew that she was alright. Neither of you spoke on the way to yours, only living in a state of blissful silence as she escorted you to the door. She helped you inside, fully prepared to walk home, and you waved from your window. You slumped onto the couch with a small glass of water, turning the TV on to some mind-numbing channel. You'd heard about Hopper but unfortunately, had run out of tears to cry this evening. You'd let yourself feel all that tomorrow.

You had a feeling you wouldn't be sleeping much tonight. You never did, especially after nights like these. The monsters came for you in slumber, proving that you could've been faster, should've been stronger, and you got shown the kids splayed out on the concrete a thousand different ways.

You didn't want to sleep all that much.

You heard a knock at the door twenty-three minutes later, and figured it would be Steve- he often came after a fight, just so you could brave the night terrors together when you inevitably passed out. What you didn't expect to find was the Buckley girl stood at your door again, sucking in a breath.

"I don't know if you wanted to, but um- I don't have anything on tonight, and I just- fuck," She started, "I didn't realise it would be this hard. Okay, uh, dinner?"

She held out a large tub of vanilla ice cream and a small chess board, looking more beautiful than she'd ever looked before.

"God, you really are something, aren't you Buckley?" You grinned, pulling her in by the wrist and tumbling onto the couch together, her quickly pressing her lips to yours. It was far better than in constant duress underground in a Russian base, but was jaw-dropping then, nonetheless.

You winced, forgetting about the pain in your eye as she pulled away, looking down at you and laughing slightly.

"Oi, don't be mean-"

"I'm not! I'm not, I swear!" She chuckled, resting her head in the crook of your neck. You brought a hand up to run through her hair, and she relaxed, moving to a more comfortable position on the sofa where both of you could face the TV.

"Told you my dinners were good." She grumbled, grabbing the nearest spoon as you flipped through the channels, preparing yourself for a long night.

"Yeah, yeah, we're not finished yet- don't go getting cocky on me now, Buckley."

She smiled, and you smiled, and you spent the whole night watching Miami Vice, eating ice cream and playing chess.

You were alright, and in Robin's eyes, nothing else mattered.

Not anymore.

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Taglist: @onceandfuturequeenofthecats

#robin buckley x reader #robin x reader #robin buckley #platonic steve and robin #stranger things reader insert #stranger things x reader #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #dustin henderson #enjoy your day #its done #erica sinclair #i know the end #chapter update #merry christmas

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averagestudent03 · 1 year

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WISHING ALL OF MY MUTUALS AND FOLLOWERS WHO CELEBRATE A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

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averagestudent03 · 1 year

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I Know The End: Chapter Nine, The King's Gambit (Pt. 2)

(A/N: Welcome to the second half of the Season Wrap! This was my longest chapter so far and it took me ages to write, so thanks for being so patient! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated- I love hearing about what you think and will always respond! Stranger Things dialogue, plot and all characters besides yourself belong to the Duffer Brothers. Will have a rough shape for Season 4 and some extra chapters up soon! Thank you so much for reading, and enjoy! Love you all!)

Word Count: 9.2k