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sp0o0kylights · 7 months

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Part One

The drive's short one.

Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.

What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?

(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)

"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.

"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.

"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"

"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home."

"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board."

Of course they were.

"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon.

"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe."

"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.

Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors.

"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.

"What?"

"We..." She falters in front of her parents.

"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.

"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.

"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control.

If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it.

"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze.

"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it."

He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?"

Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold."

"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"

"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them.

Its worth it to see her shoulders relax.

"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…"

Steve pauses.

Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."

"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.

Hook, line, sinker.

Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to."

"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen.

Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.

The same one where Nancy very much isn't.

That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.

xXx

Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy.

She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--

But she also can't tell him she loves him.

So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.

Play’s more basketball.

It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.

That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…

He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.

Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy.

He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.

That he should let her.

Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to.

She wants to be let go.

So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.

(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.

Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.

It's--something.

But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.

It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )

xXx

"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box.

"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise.

One, giant, never ending bruise.

"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth.

If you turn it sideways and squint anyway.

"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face.

The same one he's already getting looks for.

"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."

The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head.

"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?"

Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.

The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit.

(He had not gone to a hospital.

None of them had.)

"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off as just….goofy.

Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.

He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with.

Just older, and with slightly better hair.

"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously.

He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?"

"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves.

The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.

(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.)

It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle."

"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"

"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend."

See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game.

They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer.

(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.)

"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner.

"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low.

Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose."

Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.) to say:

"Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked."

Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts."

Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.

The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors.

"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open.

"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard.

"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is.

It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird.

The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson.

xXx

College rejection letters come in, one after the another.

Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.

Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.

Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly?

It's not that bad.

Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.

He figures he has time to win her over.

All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.

Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve.

It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits.

‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’

Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.

Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting.

(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons.

When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy.

Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship.

That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.

That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.

Better.

Not in a way Steve wants to put into words.

Not in a way he wants to confront at all.)

His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other.

Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video.

Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst.

Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.

The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.

Chrissy Cunningham, was not.

"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf.

She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way.

“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.”

"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.

She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly."

"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.

She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it.

"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies."

Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright.

This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly.

Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room.

"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back.

The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.

"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark."

Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first time in a long time, feels like things will be okay.

He’ll be okay.

He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.

A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name.

He likes it.

"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors.

"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?"

Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left.

Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid.

If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined.

(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.)

"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!"

"I'm busy." He says flatly.

"Ste~eeeve!"

"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth.

Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter.

If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here.

"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.”

"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!"

‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth.

"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.”

“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!”

“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer.

“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"

“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom.

“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.

“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car.

He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.

The one he swears he still has.

Supposedly.

("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is.

"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.

Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had.

In a way no one ever had.

Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"

"Ow, God Dustin--"

"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!"

"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him.

Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend.

He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it.

It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)

#BB is coming down to the wire #my date to post is Halloween #bc its me lol #so our regularly scheduled programing will be back shortly #steddissy #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #0o0 fanfics #steve/chrissy/eddie #for those weirdies who kept insisting this was platonic in the tags you can read this part too and be happily delusional about the endgame #its a slowburn #my calling card lmao #this fic was meant to weave around the canon plot until s4 wherein we go off the rails #this is an everyone lives fiiiiic #theyre all equally dorky with crushes #Steve has some Im Just Ken issues #angst

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nicoloowiarchz · 1 month

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Regulus, opening up to James: My own mother thought i was a monster...

James: Oh, Reggie--

Regulus: She was right, of course, but it still hurt.

James:

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #starchaser #marauders #marauder #regulus is a little shit #regulus saying this is canon #black family trauma #black family

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imaginesmai · 2 months

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Feelings I cannot express - Eris Vanserra

Wow, look at that! Me, avoiding responsabilities and writing another Eris fic for which I have no time! What a surprise! Enjoy this LONG LONG PIECE that has consumed my time lately. Shout-out to @glitterypirateduck who is too in her Eris' era.

Plot: Five times Eris didn’t know how to express his feelings, and one time he did

Warnings: descriptions of violence and blood. Mean Eris when he doesn't know how to express his feelings. Troubled, traumatized boi.

His steps were wobbly, and he had already stopped three times to catch his breath. Each time, the ground seemed closer, more tempting. Eris always cared about the impression people had of him, and in his court, he polished it like nowhere.

The strong, cruel prince that matched his father’s temper. Someone who they wouldn’t mess with, someone who would reign one day when Beron was gone. Only the silent corridors were the witness of that other part of him, the real one, that was leaving bloodied prints on the walls.

Beron had raised his hand against his mother, like many other times. He had crossed her beautiful and soft face with a hard slap, just because she dared to share her opinion on a political matter. And Eris had unconsciously let his power flare. Just an ember, a spark in his middle finger.

His father had seen, and had deemed right to remind him where was his position in his court. Lashes had ripped his back into shreds, blood trailing down his arms and legs. He had finished two hours before dawn, but Eris hadn’t been able to move until the night was already started. That way, he made sure no one saw his vulnerable form.

Eris closed the doors of his room as soon as he was inside, and stumbled into his bed. Falling face first, he closed his eyes and willed his conscious to leave him. No one heard his prayers, and he was still wide awake when his door opened again.

He would have been startled, alert or even afraid, but your scent sneaked in before you entered. Eris groaned in acknowledgement, and he knew any warnings or threats were useless against you. You already knew the dangers of your actions, the consequences of being involved with him. And yet, you were always there.

“Can you take off your clothes?” you broke the sinister silence of the room with quiet steps. “I’ll run you a bath”

“Where’s my brother?”

“Asleep” you answered, brushing your soft knuckles against his locks. “Don’t worry about it”

Flynn, the younger Vanserra brother, had tight sleep schedules, so part of his worry faded away. It wouldn’t do him any good if someone found his younger brother’s betrothed in a light sleeping gown.

Eris heard you filling the bath with water, and tried not to let the guilt worry. The first time you had helped him, he had threatened to burn you alive, and gone as far as give you a nasty burn scar on your left forearm. You hadn’t left, and he hadn’t thanked you. While you two ignored each other in the court ministrations, it was your secret routine – you, a stranger promised to a monster, helping him among his dearest family and friends.

Not once in his life he had let someone so close to his torment, to his vulnerability – to his body. People assumed he had tons of lovers, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of someone touching him. With you, he had discovered in the last years, it was different.

Your hand on his shoulder startled him back to reality, and he finally looked at you. There were dark bags under your eyes, a determinated look fixed on him.

“It’s ready” you tilted your head slightly. “Can you get up on your own?”

“Of course. Get away” he scoffed, but didn’t argue when you stabilized him by his elbow when he rose. “I don’t need your help. You’re more a liability than a support”

“I know you can do it, Eris” you didn’t even blink at his mean words, nor reacted when he tried to push you away. “Maybe we should take your tunic off before – “

“Get off me!”

Eris didn’t measure his strength when he pushed you off, just desperate to shake the feeling of kind hands that he didn’t deserve. That would never be his.

You stumbled back and got your feet tangled between the carpet, which caused you to fall on your butt. He physically flinched when your hands broke your fall, when he saw you suck a breath in pain. But he wouldn’t apologize, he never did. If being the worst person alive meant you would live, if hurting you meant no one would do it, then he could carry the guilt and self-hate just fine.

From the ground, he felt your eyes on him as he striped his clothes. They fell to the ground, his tunic nothing but ripped shreds of cloth. His vest wasn’t much better, or his shirt. Only his pants had been saved from the bloodbath. Eris made a point by not looking at you while he undressed, leaving his briefs on.

He didn’t need to look into a mirror to know that the way your body tensed from the corner of his eye wasn’t an exaggeration. Every fiber of his body screamed at him when he walked towards the bathroom, when he heard you get up in a rush and follow him.

The fact that you didn’t demand an apology or got angry at him rubbed all the wrong spots.

“Let me warm the water”

“I can do it myself, little fox”

Still, your hand sneaked and you dipped it into the water, and within seconds steam started to fill the bathroom. Eris stared at that particular spot between your shoulder and neck, where he wished he could thank you with a soft kiss. Wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into the bath with him. Be the person you would lay with that night.

“Do you want me to help you in?”

“What I want you to do is to leave” he answered as the temperature of the room rose. “I want you to lay with your future husband and forget about me”

“I can’t do that, Eris” you casted him a glance. “I can help you in though”

His anger rose back up and he didn’t say anything when you straightened back up. Your fire magic was only a spark of his own, only useful for warming water or lighting a chimney. That you had to use yours because he was too spent was a disgrace upon himself.

Eris made a point to leave his back to you inside the tub, letting the warm water wash the blood away. He pushed his head between his arms and ignored your presence. Ignored your warm hands as they brushed the wounds so they wouldn’t get infected. Ignored your quiet movements as you left healing and numbing creams on the counter. Tried to ignore you when you massaged his shoulders and scalp, cleaning his hair like his mother used to do.

Eventually, you decided to leave him alone in his rooms. After helping him get up from the bathtub and into the bed. Tucking him in like a stubborn child, turning off the candles. Only when your hand brushed his hair one last time, he noticed the new addition to your beautiful wrist.

He gripped it before you could hide it, and for the first time in the whole night, you flinched. Not because his touch was rough, since he held it like expensive glass. Not because you were afraid, because with him, you never were.

“This is new” he whispered in the dark room, staring at the bruises along your delicate skin. “What happened?”

“He just got a little handsy. Flynn…” you doubted before you sighed, sitting on his bed. “Your father has been pushing him more and more about the weeding. He left this morning with him to hunt in the forest, so I can only guess they talked about it. So he got drunk. And I was late for dinner, because he hadn’t informed me it would be early tonight”

“Anywhere else?” he asked, and eyed you with enough intensity to warn you against lying.

“I’m fine”

You had been raised for that, Eris guessed, and that was normal for you. Being sold to the best buyer for your hand, endure a shitty betrothed until you were to marry and he could ignore you properly. Eris didn’t dare to think about how things would be if your position allowed him to marry you. If his father saw you worthy of his first-born.

But you were stuck with Flynn Vanserra, a man uncapable of love and caring. A man who did worse things than a bruised wrist.

“Be careful” he allowed himself to say, just because it was dark, and you couldn’t see the real concern and fear of someone finding out about your behavior in his room. “Don’t let anyone see you leave my rooms. And don’t come back. I don’t need you”

“Good night, Eris” you rose from bed, and Eris missed the warmth of your wrist against his fingers. “Don’t forget the creams”

With silent steps, you left his room, and Eris spent the night awake wondering of you could see right past his lies, past his fake cruelty and indifference towards you. If you could see how much he cared about his brother’s betrothed.

It wasn’t too often that the palace opened its door for lesser fae. On special occasions, his father allowed them to attend to the main hall and see what they were missing because of their condition. Beron took out the elegant clothes, the expensive wine and bright plates. And then, he didn’t let them use any of that and had them watch from the corner the superiority of his family.

Eris didn’t particularly care about those events, but he had been forced to attend to that one – since it was his own birthday. He didn’t celebrate his birthday, he didn’t get presents. Not when years of monotony rolled by and nothing changed. His mother had been the only one wishing him happy birthday that morning, kissing the side of his head quickly and reminding him to be nice.

To stand by and endure his father’s show of power at his expense. All his brothers were there too, and not too far from Flynn, you too.

You were wearing an orange dress that emulated autumns leaves. Each time you moved, lights reflected yellow and brown sparks that had the lesser fae turning their heads around. Eris too couldn’t keep his eyes away from your form for too long, with the risk of being caught.

Flynn seemed to be least affected by your looks, or your presence. While you were required to stay by his side and be faithful, he dragged you through countless humiliation. Talking and flirting with other women when you were standing a few feet away, ignoring your attempts to start conversations, leaving you while you greeted a friend.

Eri’s nails were imprinted on his palms from how hard he closed his fists each time it happened. He had almost set fire to a curtain when he had been close enough to watch your crestfallen expression.

To avoid anyone noticing him staring at you like a hawk or turning his brother into ashes, he busied himself with pointless talks and stupid politics. He endured it for three long hours, and then he granted himself a rest excusing himself for the bathroom.

He knew you had been following him since he left the ballroom, but didn’t acknowledge you until you were far from the crowd. Eris walked through the hallways and across the backyard, and stopped only when he reached the stables. Then, he turned around and his heart skipped a beat at your sight.

Your beautiful hair had been let down, and you were wearing a crown of golden leaves. Everything in your attire claimed you were their possession, but you weren’t his to look at, to enjoy. So he raised a brow and waited for you to talk.

“You’re hard to catch” you started. “Someone might think you’re running away from me”

“Maybe I’m running away from your annoying presence”

You scoffed and he hated and loved that you didn’t seem affected by his words. There was no truth behind it, just the urge of hearing your voice in your reply.

“I want to wish you happy birthday” you confessed, and even your voice was sweeter that night. “Haven’t seen you in all day”

“I’ve been busy” he lied.

Shamefully, he had waited for your visit for hours. Last year you had been the first one to wish him happy birthday, and he had remembered for the whole year the feeling of your lips against his cheek. It had been a friendly kiss, although it had been the only time he had seen you blush. And during the hard days, he held onto that memory like a lifesaver.

You hummed and tucked your hands in front of you. Eris tried not to notice the silver ring that claimed you as his brother’s possession, the distinction from other women. You never wore it, but you had to in events like that one.

In the silence that followed his lie, Eris’ whole body relaxed. His shoulders dropped, his fist untightened and his jaw unclenched. His nostrils flared slightly as he took in your scent, and finally, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Happy birthday, Eris” you finally said, and smiled brightly at him. “Do you want to open your present?”

“Present?” he blinked surprised, the question catching him off guard. “You got me a present?”

“Birthdays are supposed to be filled with presents. Extravagant parties are good too, but I think everyone should get a present” you explained. “I tried to keep yours in an envelope, but someone found it before you. And I couldn’t help it. Do you want to see it?”

Eris nodded dumbly. You could offer him a crumb of your lunch and he would gladly treasure it for the rest of his life. Just like he was doing with all your moments together, before you were cruelly snagged into his brother’s arms eventually.

He followed you through the stables, wondering what you could give him. He didn’t remember the last time someone got him a present, a pleasant one. Anything you could give him would be perfect, so he wasn’t worried about liking it or not. He was worried about cracking down and smudging that beautiful lipstick with his own lips.

Like second nature, you walked him towards the pit where he kept his hounds locked. They slept together and were Eris pride and joy, the first and only gift he got from his father. As you unlocked the door, Eris stuffed his hands in his pocket awkwardly. Then, he looked inside.

And broke into a loud, deep chuckle that rattled his bones.

Eris laughed and laughed until he took his hands out of his pockets and had to press them into his stomach, bending over. When he opened his eyes and tried to regain his posture, he lost it over and over again.

“I take it you like it” you chuckled with him.

He missed the way your eyes shone at his laugh, the way you bounced off your feet at his happiness. It had been the only real smile on your lips that night, and it rivaled any of the elegant lamps in the ballroom.

His hounds, the terrifying big dogs that haunted prisoners when they got out of his dungeons and tracked down traitors, had each one fox knitted hats. Who had ripped fae apart with their sharp teeth and devoured limbs like butter. They all stared at you with oblivious calm and a fox hat.

“They look – they look so ridiculous” Eris managed to say between laughs, and pointed at Maximus, who had its head titled and one of the ears had bent down. “And so happy! How did you put them on? This is the best present I could ask for”

“Oh, they didn’t put much of a fight when I sneaked some treats” you shrugged, and Eris broke into another laugh. “Besides, they like me too much not to let me do it”

“You’re a devious creature, little fox” he scoffed, and finally looked at you. “You are – “

Whatever he was about to say died when he caught the glimpse of the moon light hitting your ring. The ring that reminded him that you may have given him a birthday present, but everything else belonged to Flynn. He caught the words he was about to say and stuffed them down his chest. He forced himself to look away from your expectant expression, and swallow the guilt.

You would never be happy with him, but neither would you be with Flynn. Your fate in that court was sealed, yet you would keep your life with the youngest Vanserra.

“Thank you for the present, Y/N” he managed to say, not daring to look back at his hounds.

“You’re welcome, Eris” you copied his formal, clipped tone in a mocking way, noticing the change of the atmosphere but not caring about it. “Maybe next time I could knit you one for yourself”

“I’m afraid I look nothing like a fox. More like a snake perhaps”

“And I’m afraid you’re too hard on yourself, but we aren’t considering our deliriums”

Eris opened his mouth to argue, but he felt them coming before you did. A couple, probably drunk and lesser fae, had snuck into the gardens. And they probably wouldn’t recognize you, wouldn’t report to his father about your reunion. But Eris couldn’t risk your safety, not when you were the only thing that made him be glad of being alive for another year.

He caught your arm in a tight grip and your eyes widened before listening to their steps. You didn’t have to look to know the couple was staring. In your eyes, Eris could see his own fear of having those short and meaningless meetings cut short because of a snitch. He hated that you weren’t afraid of his tight grip or the fire in his eyes, but because of the retaliations if you were discovered.

One of his hounds poked a lazy head to see what the silence was about, but saw no threat and turned away. And to ensure it wouldn’t turn into a threat, Eris put on his heir-mask, the hatred and cruel prince everyone expected him to be, and snarled with fire under his tongue the venom he knew you didn’t believe.

“And if I ever see you snooping again, I’ll have your head on a pike in your weeding chambers. Tell my dear brother to shorten the leash of his belongings” he pressed on. He caught on the couple’s sniff of fear and respect, but also your own hurt. Hurt at the words he was blading for your protection, he told himself, that were necessary. “Leave before I change my mind”

With a final hard push, he threw you a few feet away from him. You looked down and scrambled away from him, and the couple left too. Eris was left alone with his foxed-hounds, and the horrid realization that hurting you was the only way of keeping you safe.

Eris paced the length of your room for what felt like forever. He had already noticed every detail you kept in your room that made it so you, had fought with the inadequate feeling of invading your personal space. He had had time enough to consider if he was going insane and paranoid, but it was late and you weren’t there.

You always retreated to your rooms early in the night. Sometimes, he knew because he accompanied you when his brother was too drunk to remember your presence. Other times, he knew because you sneaked into his dorms right before night set. You were supposed to be there with him, teasing him for not being able to look away from the lingerie that lay forgotten in your armchair.

But you weren’t, and Eris was pacing.

That morning, as you all had lunch as a family, his mother had asked an inadequate but innocent answer. It was only logical that after almost five years of courting you started talking about the actual weeding, but you weren’t. Because his brother was too much of a dick to entertain it until he had enjoyed his youth to the fullest, and because you sneaked glances at him when no one was looking.

You had given her a simple answer – love matters took time, and better be safe than sorry. While everyone agreed quietly, Eris had noticed the way Flynn’s face darkened. As if the idea of you answering a question directed to both of you was inadequate.

Eris had left the dining room with an uneasy feeling, and had kept it in his stomach all day. When you hadn’t appeared during dinner time nor had his brother, he had decided to search for you.

You weren’t in the stables, where you spent most of your time between horses and his hounds. You weren’t in the kitchen, where you snuck off when Flynn got too much to handle. And you weren’t anywhere he looked, so he had decided to let the worry get the best out of him and wait for you in your rooms.

As if the thought of you had summoned you, the doors opened and Eris turned around in a frenzy.

“Thank the cauldron” he scoffed, already replacing the worry with anger. “Where the fuck have you been all day? Do I really have to wait here if I want to…”

“I’m sorry” you apologized, your voice void of any fire or charm.

He tried to make himself argue with you further, to explain his presence in your room with a stupid excuse and not let you know he had been worried. There was no blood or visible wounds on you, not new bruises or burns he can explain his sudden lack of words with.

But he could see something there, that made his blood boil and his heart beat furiously against his chest. You walked past him in silence and removed your heels next to your wardrobe. Without saying anything or acknowledging his presence, you peeled the eiderdown off and climbed inside the bed.

Only then he watched your shoulders tight as you tried to keep the cries to yourself. Eris walked on autopilot to the edge of your bed, and watched in silent horror as tears fell down your face. You were squeezing your eyes shut, probably wanting to be left alone, but he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed. Just like you had done so many times.

It was so different from what he knew, what you did with him, that he didn’t know what to do. Hesitantly, he caressed your shoulder and you whined, your body turning around so you could face him.

“What happened?” he asked, his hand trembling with the effort of staying on your shoulder and not brushing the tears away.

“He locked me in a basement, because he said he was tired of seeing me everywhere and hearing me all the time” you admitted, curling your body around his. “There was no light. And I was fine, but he didn’t come back and I called. And no one answered and – “

Your explanation died with the first sob, and many followed. Eris knew what basement you were talking about. His father had locked him and his brothers many times in the past. Big enough to allow a standing person, but not to let them sit. Tight enough so a part of your body was always touching the wall, and dark enough to rob your breath.

Eris willed the words stuck on his throat to leave him. He wanted to lay down beside you and comfort you like he should. He wanted to break every last of his brother’s bones, and then some more.

“I was so scared” you admitted quietly, finally opening your eyes to look at him. “I thought – I thought I’d been forgotten”

“How did you get out?”

“Beron heard me”

He didn’t need to ask for further details, just tried to keep eye contact as your beautiful eyes were constantly drowning in tears and sorrow. His father was as cruel as Flynn, but until you were officially married, he still had to ensure your safety for your family’s sake.

You cried against his side and eventually your body gravitated to his lap. His free hand carefully brushed yours, and you held it so tight and hard that Eris choked his own cry. How many times he had felt alone in his own home? Forgotten in that same basement while Beron went hunting, or partying?

The thought of you locked in those four walls turned his stomach up. You, with your easy smile and your kind words. Full of kindness and love that no one in that court deserved, certainly not him.

Still, Eris held his ground sitting on your bed. He lighted some candles and sealed the room with a glamour against sound and strangers. The rational part of his brain told him to leave before someone came looking for him, the irrational part to do worse things. But he stayed on your bed, stroking his thumb across the back of your hand and brushing his fingers against the nape of your neck.

As you cried, Eris begged himself to do something with the words that resonated in his heart.

“You’re not forgotten, I could never forget you. I won’t”

“He could try and hide you in the last corner of the universe and I would still crawl my way to you, my little fox”

His mouth was kept shut and his fingers continued his ministration, until your breath slowed and your sobs disappeared. Then, when you were about to fall asleep with his hand in yours, you opened your eyes one last time and gave him a small smile. Maybe he hadn’t said anything, but he was starting to suspect you could read his mind and heart.

“I’m glad you came for me” you confessed quietly. “Thank you”

He should have said that he didn’t accept your gratefulness, that he wasn’t worthy of them. Instead, he smiled back and stared at you while you fell asleep. With his heart roaring just a big wilder.

His court was under attack.

Eris had come to that realization a month ago, when a missive from Hybern had reached their borders with a threat of dead and destruction. In that moment, he had thought it had been a minor attack. A political attack, a threat with little importance in a world where everybody hated his court.

But then, his father had dismissed the king demands and patrols started to go missing. Parts of those patrols came back, traumatized soldiers that died in a few days but that had enough time to scream horrors. More soldiers were sent into the forest, and more soldiers died.

For a month, Hybern had debilitated them in their own home until most of the army was unavailable. And now, his home was under attack.

The top part of the palace was on fire, people ran desperately through the corridors and soldiers from both sides fought in the backyard. Eris was sure Beron would be able to win that battle, maybe the war. Yet what worried him was that Beron didn’t particularly care about causalities, and there were many that had Eris’ heart in a knot.

He had managed to take his mother to safety, to a hidden room where women and children waited. He expected to see you there too, but instead, had found a hiding Flynn that didn’t answer his questions.

Eris had left his brother in the middle of a hallway with a shutten eye and two broken legs that wouldn’t let him get away from the soldiers. He hoped he would get killed so Eris wouldn’t be the one to carry the task.

As he ran through the castle against the waves of running people, the fire on his veins roared louder. What would he do, if he came upon the worst scenario? Would he crash his home down? It had been eight months since his birthday, and he had come to the realization he feared the most. That those times he seemed to spot you among a crowd, when his soul sang for you, where for a reason.

He hadn’t found the courage to tell you yet about the golden string he tugged at sometimes, hoping you would turn around and confirm his suspicions.

If he lost his mate today because of his brother’s cowardice, because of a war his father had started out of greed, Eris wasn’t sure the world would be a safe place for anyone anymore.

Asking the running members of his court would be useless, as it would be worrying about them seeing his panic-stricken expression. Eris focused on running and following his instinct, until it led him to the stables. The place where you had shared so many memories that was now a bloodbath.

Soldiers were lying on the ground, dead and unconscious, some of them begging for his help as he stepped over their bodies. The heart of the battle was close enough he could hear and smell death looming, but all of that died down when he finally saw you.

“Eris!” you cried out his name, and what was left of his heart clenched at the broken sound. “Eris I –“

Your cries were muffled by a rough hand over your mouth, of a soldier that hadn’t seen him yet. You were being dragged towards a carriage, your limbs flying around as you tried to get free from the enemies’ grip. Eris would have time to thank fate for allowing him to reach you on time, before you were taken away from him permanently.

Fire licked the carriage’s front, not letting their occupancies leave untouched. It consumed the vehicle in a matter of seconds, burning so powerful and tight that Eris felt light headed for a second. His power felt like a bottomless pit where he could dive without consequences, so he did just that.

Unleashing his short swords, he used both hands to clean his path towards you. The soldiers realized shortly after that their scape root was compromised, but too late that who had compromised it was the crown’s heir.

They didn’t stand a chance against his rage, his power. They fell to the ground like flies while all Eris saw was red. Red seeping through your wounds into the ground, staining your dress. Red pooling the earth beneath his feet as every last soldier fell to their death. Red of his power, that consumed every threat against his mate.

Once he was done, he crashed to his knees in front of you, and the fire died all together when your arms locked around his neck. He didn’t contemplate what it would look like when he pushed you farther into his embrace, listening to your heartbeat like a lullaby.

“You shouldn’t be outside” Eris whispered against your hair, the remains of his anger seeping through them. “If you were smart, you would have stayed inside. Dumb woman. What were you thinking?”

“I wanted to find you”

Your admission didn’t catch him off guard. You sounded so sincere, so relieved, that he only got angrier. Why was fate so cruel to bond him with such a kind soul? Of course, of every reason you could have gone outside, you would have chosen him.

“I didn’t know if you were okay” you continued, lifting your face from his chest to look at him. “What if you had been hurt?”

“And what would you do, hm?” Eris almost cut you off, suddenly repulsed by your touch.

That he had let you get so close to put yourself in danger was a mistake. It had been a mistake the first time he looked at you long enough to discover how bright your smile was. A mistake each time he had allowed you in his room to tend his wounds, every conversation you two had in secret.

There was no answer to his questions, and you knew it. Eris got up and didn’t offer you a hand, instead turning his face away from you. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to ignore the endless thoughts about what could have happen. The things he should have done better, because none of that mattered now.

Eris tried to ignore you when you finally got up and grabbed his hand. Your hand caressed his fingers, his hands, his arms. You caressed his skin as if he hadn’t just slaughtered ten strong, healthy soldiers with families.

“I somehow do irrational things when it comes to you” you spoke quietly, wrapping your hands around his elbow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in trouble. But the thought of you being hurt… I’m sorry”

“Let’s get you to safety” he grumbled, not acknowledging your apology.

He imagined what it would feel like to have you hanging from his arm in different circumstances, maybe in another world. Briefly, he indulged himself and slowed his steps so he could soak into it. There were bodies and blood, sounds of battle and death cries, but none of them seemed to matter as you walked down the hallways to the hidden room.

The battle was already dying down, but it wouldn’t be safe until nighttime. Eris would make sure every last enemy was death before letting you set a foot outside the safe room. He vowed himself to distance himself enough to never repeat that moment, and to protect you with whatever it took him. Indifference, cruelty. Whatever put you to safety.

What he couldn’t control was a last moment of vulnerability. He stopped right before the discrete doors where his mother and the rest of women and children waited. Turning to face you, his heart got the best of him and raised his arm without his consent.

“Be safe” you begged him. “Please. I don’t want to lose you”

“I will, little fox”

Eris tucked a strand of your hair, sticky with blood behind your ear. He watched like a hawk the cherry blush that painted your cheeks, the contained smile that you hid horribly. Instead of retreating, he let curious fingers explore the curve of your cheekbone. Your jawline, your chin. The curve of your nose and your lips.

His traitor fingers stopped at your bottom lip, tugging it down. It should have bothered him that those lips were meant for his brother, that they had already tasted him when his brother had gotten too handsy. But it didn’t, because they looked so kissable that he thought he had imagined it when you leaned forward.

When your eyes fluttered closed and his body gravitated too, he thought he imagined. The distance became shorter and everything became white noise. Eris had dreamed so long about it that he thought he was dreaming.

But not even his dreams were so livid, so real. He blinked one last time before crashing into your lips with a straining force. You tasted like blood from your open lip, and like clouds and sky and perfection. There were teeth and tongue and he couldn’t control himself more than the kiss.

Shockingly, he was the one pushed against the opposite door, your much smaller body trapping him as you grabbed him by the shoulders. He stole every breath and whine that left your mouth with kissing. For those few seconds, he let himself explore each inch of your mouth like it was the last minute of his life.

It might had been, if someone saw you with him and told Beron. His father thought had him pushing you away, so hard you stumbled down.

“Get inside” Eris demanded you, gripping your elbow harshly. You blinked with those swollen lips and rosy cheeks, and he clenched his jaw.

“Eris…”

“Don’t come out, not until I come back. Be fucking smart for once in your life” he opened the door and dozens of women stared at you two.

Something in his chest stilled when your eyes widened and that bond became alive. When he was certain that you felt the same tug he had been feeling for a long time, that he had lost sleep over. It dawned to him that nothing would be the same after that day, whether the attack finished or not. Whether his father found out or those women kept silent.

So, for the first time in his life, Eris let himself accept those hidden feelings and kissed you one last time. Slow, deep, in front of his mother who covered her mouth with a surprised gasp. He dragged his lips between yours, only for a second.

When he tore away, Eris was sure he would die happy if that face was the last thing he saw.

“Don’t leave the room until I come back, my little fox. Only me”

Eris didn’t let you answer. He turned around and closed the doors behind him, running down the hallways. Looking for the enemy, for his brother whose betrothed had just kissed, for his father who could kill you both. And away from where his heart was safe with you.

Not even a week of mourning was stablished for the deaths at the Hybern attack. Not even a week for the thousands of soldiers who had died defending his home.

Eris had made sure that every family got their loved ones’ bodies back, and that there was enough wood to light up fires for them. He mourned more for them than for his own family, who had suffered an immense hit.

Flynn Vanserra had been found ravished in a forgotten hallway, his body mangled beyond recognition. People whispered that he had found an end according to his life – cruel, mean, without mercy. Eris stared at his brother’s corpse and curled his lip, because before his death, not a scar marked his body. While he had usen yours like a blank canvas.

Beron Vanserra had died too, and that had rattled Eris’ world.

His father had been the main objective, and after he had fallen from the upper tower, the enemy had retreated. Beron was dead before he hit the ground, courtesy of a dozen poisoned arrows on his chest. Eris had watched his body burn in silence contemplation, thinking about how many times his father had raised his fire against him.

Now, it was Eris who light up his father’s tomb fire.

Days brushed quickly but there was one thing that had him grounded – you. Eris Vanserra was officially a High Lord, so no one argued when you appeared by his arm on Beron’s funeral. When you moved your things to the room besides him.

His people whispered about the caring brother who had taken upon the charge of his betrothed so she wouldn’t be discarded. And about the cruel king who had killed his own brother to wed a nameless girl. Eris didn’t acknowledge any of those comments.

He just kept you close as loyalties were stablished, letting everyone know that you were off limits. For touching, for hurting, for insulting. One noble was brave enough to question your place in the palace with Flynn death, and one noble lost his tongue the next morning.

As everything settled down, Eris found himself taking walks with you through the forest, something his brother had never bothered to do. You hung from his arm gracefully, new and expensive dresses on your wardrobe, and a radiant smile on your face.

“Will you teach me how to ride?” you asked him one sunny afternoon. “So I can ride hunting with you”

“I will get you your own horse if that’s what my mate wants” he let the title sweeten his mouth, warm his heart. “I will get you whatever your heart desire, my little fox”

“Maybe I’ll turn into a spoiled princess then. And you will find your ruin at my expensive demands” you chuckled, shifting closer to him.

You could ask him for a court and he would fight to death with anyone to grant you your own court. You could ask him for his court and he would get on his knees and offer it to you without another word. Those words were meaningless, because you rarely asked him for anything. Even when you had changed rooms, you had been happy with just a bed and a blanket.

“I’m happy with being here, close to you. I don’t need anything else”

The more time he spent with you, the more he marveled at your selflessness. You had been helping those with injuries from the fight, talking with the families who were grieving. By nighttime, you returned to your chambers where Eris was waiting for you, having abandoned his own for yours. You two laid in bed looking at each other until you fell asleep.

Then, Eris spent hours staring at you, letting his heart soak into the comfort.

“You are quiet today” you commented, breaking him from his thoughts. “Court problems?”

Eris always had court problems. The change was coming slowly but surely, and his father’s loyal friends weren’t happy with that. But it wasn’t their enmity that had him deep in thought. The last rays of sun warmed your face as he looked at you with a small smile.

Talking about his feelings was his weakness. He had been mean, cruel and downright villainous to you for years because he couldn’t open his heart to you. He couldn’t endure the thought of you hurting because of his stupid feelings.

But he wanted things to change. He wanted you to be happy and safe, and if he had to share his thoughts and swallow his insecurities, he would.

“I was wondering” he admitted eventually, a little unsure. “We are mate. But… do you think, we would have found each other? If we weren’t?”

You looked surprised at his questions. You hadn’t talked about the bond, just accepted it. When Eris had found you after the battle, you had hugged him tight and kissed him once more. You hadn’t talked about it, and yet, you both were comfortable with it.

After the initial surprise, you gifted him a soft smile, and your eyes crinkled against the sun.

“I would have found you either way, Eris. You had me since I set a foot in this court” you answered him. “I used to worry that there was something wrong with me, because I couldn’t feel anything for Flynn. Not love, not hate. Nothing. Whatever he did was fine because it was the price I paid to stay close to you. And it was worthy”

“Don’t say that, Y/N”

“I can’t, that’s what I feel. And I’m not afraid to tell you that I’ve loved you for a long time, my darling. Long before I knew we were mates and through all we’ve been through. I’m sure I would have loved you even if we weren’t mates”

Eris wondered if he would ever be able to speak so freely about his thoughts. He couldn’t still voice out what he felt for you. How he would turn the world around if you asked him to, how your love was enough to keep him alive forever. For now, though, Eris smiled and leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your nose, earning a soft giggle.

He would tell you all of that someday, show you his feelings when his words were stuck. Eris Vanserra owned you that much.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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comradekatara · 4 months

Text

these lines provide some of the most telling insight into azula’s character throughout the whole show. while she claims she “doesn’t actally care” that ursa “always preferred zuko,” that her “own mother thought [she] was a monster,” it’s clear she does care, deeply, that she’s belying a core truth about her psychological landscape that is ultimately revealed by the mirror scene in the finale. these lines are the closest she ever gets to being honest with herself before her breakdown. so let’s actually take the time to unpack them.

my own mother thought I was a monster.

much ink has been spilled on whether or not ursa was a good mother to azula, whether she actually thought azula was a monster or whether ozai simply convinced azula that she did to further isolate her. personally, i think it’s something of both. ozai isolated her and molded azula into an extension of himself; thus, he made both azula and ursa see her that way, until ursa was not only afraid for azula, but also afraid of azula. ursa thought that ozai was a monster, so azula, as a projection of ozai, became regarded as a monster as well, even if logically ursa knew that azula was an abused child and not simply an extension of her husband in any ontological sense. ursa had no choice but to let ozai mold their daughter to his image, as she could not disentangle her daughter from her father without also facing his wrath. she was faced with an impossible situation, and she hurt azula as a fellow victim of ozai’s abuse, regardless of whether or not that was ever her intention.

she was right of course.

however, an aspect of these lines that I think gets overlooked and misunderstood is the fact that azula readily admits that she sees herself as a monster. flippantly, even. “she was right, of course.” most people assume that azula is simply acknowledging that she’s the villain of the story. “of course she must know she’s the villain, she clearly relishes in being evil.” but people neglect to acknowledge that azula truly believes that the fire nation is right. azula has been indoctrinated into this ideology since birth; she has no reason to think that she might be on the wrong side of history. when azula admits that she thinks herself a monster, it is not because she thinks that she was wrong to conquer ba sing se, wrong to capture the kyoshi warriors, wrong to kill the avatar. no, azula thinks that she is a monster for the same reason ursa did: because she is like ozai.

but it still hurt.

let’s say, for argument’s sake, that azula did know that the fire nation was evil, that she did bad things for a bad cause. would that actually change anything? no, azula would continue down her path of imperialist conquest, never entertaining the notion that she even had another choice. like zuko, azula is angry at herself. and as we have just seen, she is not just angry; azula hates herself, despises herself, considers herself loathsome, ghastly, monstrous. because as much as she projects an image of supreme power and confidence, wherein she is at liberty to do whatever she wants at all times, azula is ozai’s obedient servant. and azula is paralyzed by the fear of leaving one hair out of place, of straying even a millimeter from his path.

azula was shaped in ozai’s image, with no iroh or ursa or anyone else for that matter to present her with new paths, with ways of escaping her abuse. even zuko, who did receive support and other options, took years to unlearn ozai’s conditioning. azula had no other options, no real support system, nothing to define her identity besides her abuser’s dictums. she has seen what happened to her mother and brother when ozai perceived their treasonous inclinations (i.e., contradicting his narcissism by expressing loyalty to other human beings besides solely himself) and she is paralyzed by fear that the same could happen to her. she rationalizes ozai’s violence by convincing herself that his victims deserved it for being “weak,” but deep down, she knows that she is also weak, that she is also a victim, even if she cannot fully admit it to herself.

so she sees herself as a monster, for being ozai’s shadow, for being the servant of the man who destroyed her family. her proximity to monstrosity appalls her, even as she tries to convince herself that it is proximity to godhood, that she is not an extension of abject violence but a messenger of the divine. zuko can only recognize ozai’s abuse for what it is once he deconstructs ozai’s imperialist ideology, but azula still buys into that ideology, so she cannot put a name to his abuse. but it’s clear she still fears it, still feels disgusted with herself for being victim to it, still feels like a monster even as she tries to convince herself that she is an angel.

in fact, she has to tell herself that she’s a monster, because if she’s not a monster, then she’s a victim, weak like her mother who got what she deserved. if she’s a victim then that means she and ursa (and zuko) were all destroyed by the senseless cruelty of an egomaniac’s petty whims, that all the love she has ever known was ruined for nothing. so she has to be a monster, because at least then she has power, at least then she has agency. ozai shaped her in his image, and she has to be proud of that fact, because otherwise she’d shatter.

and when that realization overtakes her, she does. when she takes inventory of all the love she’s lost, of all the people who cannot look her in the eye, of all the ways in which she has been perverted by her father’s abuse, she is disgusted by herself, for being both monstrous and weak, feared and afraid, victim and perpetrator. and it hurts.

#id in alt text #azula #ozai #ursa #zuko #azula&ursa #azula&ozai #analysis #something that gets me about this too is the fact that she just brushes it off as if she's joking. as if she doesn't even mean it #when we know from the finale that this tension and fear and despair consumes her #azula !!!! always !!!!! lies !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#babygrill……

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floatyflowers · 3 months

Text

Dark! Percy Jackson Reverse Harem x Reader|| Chapter three

<<< Chapter Two

A lot has happened, Clarisse and her cabin mates. bullied you and Percy-

-Ok, they bullied Percy and didn't do anything to you because Ares has forbidden them.

And when she tried to speak to you, Percy flipped and 'bended' the toilet water, and attacked them.

And there you met Annabeth, who you think is very cool.

Maybe because you like Athena.

Right now, you are sitting beside Percy eating a muffin as Luke explains how he met Annabeth.

"Before camp, I was on the road. Me and a forbidden kid I met along the way. Her name was Thalia."

"And what does that mean, forbidden?" the blond boy inquires.

"A long time ago, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades agreed their children were becoming too powerful, so they made a pact not to father any more."

You listen carefully to the explanation, feeling like your mother told you something like that before.

In a fairytale narration.

"And it held for a long time, until Zeus broke that pact. Until Thalia"

"Of course, it's always Zeus' fault, no surprise here" You mock and roll your eyes.

Luke chuckles before continuing.

"A forbidden kid attracts trouble. Monsters everywhere, it’s just a constant battle to stay alive."

You look at Percy, ignoring the rest of the speech

Just so you can focus on connecting the dots.

Percy can control water.

His father is the godly parent.

Percy is Poseidon's son even if he haven't claimed him yet.

"Oh my god, Percy"

The two boys turn to you.

"You still haven't found out who is your father...have you never paid attention to what Chiron told us in class about Greek gods"

You exclaim while Percy's eyes widens, Luke seems to understand what you are implying.

"You are bright, (Y/n)" the older demigod compliments you.

"Then do you know who is it?"

Before you could reply, a conch shell blows as Chiron begins speaking.

"Heroes… it’s time!"

You sigh, remembering that it is time for the flag capturing.

°°°

"This is your first time in capturing the flag and you said you are going to protect me?"

"Don't worry, everything will be fine"

Percy assures you, as he flosses.

"You are hopeless" you assert.

On the other hand, you gently pick up a lizard and start patting it.

Until Percy decides to cut in, and also pat the beautiful creature.

"It's so cute"

"I agree"

He looks at you the same moment your eyes meet his own.

Percy leans in slowly, ready to kiss you on the lips, closing his eyes.

Unfortunately for him, you playfully put the Lizard against his lips.

He opens his eyes quickly, backing away and wiping his lips.

"Why you do that?" Percy whines.

"I thought you said it was cute" you tease him.

Suddenly Clarisse comes in with her flag mates.

"Flag’s that way. It’s not here." Percy says.

"We know. Yeah, glory’s fine. Revenge is more fun."

Clarisse turns on her spear before staring directly at you.

"You should stay away from frauds like him, dear niece"

Chapter Four >>>

#tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #platonic yandere #daughter reader #yandere percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #reverse harem #grover underwood x reader

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starberryes · 2 years

Text

don't you (forget about me) | steve harrington x reader

“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door. "First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—” Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—" "You did not just roll your eyes at me—” Dustin sighs. "Here they go." (or: You've always thought Steve Harrington was a weirdo. When you find out you might be in terrible danger, he might be just what you need.)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader (she/her pronouns used), lots of henderson siblings bonding <3

words: 13.9k

a/n: gif by @dailysteveharrington. thank you all for being patient and i hope you all like it<3 i loved this season and i love steve so i hope you enjoy this lil enemies to lovers fic. this fic is a one shot, but let me know if you'd like a sequel once vol 2 is out bc its a bit of an open, ambiguous ending ;) also some fun facts before this fic starts: dustin's dad appears at will's funeral in s1 and there are several theories about him-- officially, he and dustin's mother are divorced in canon. i'll explore that in this fic. ST4 SPOILERS. this is set in season 4 ep 3 "the monster and the superhero" and follows vol 1 canon also sorry if this doesnt follow canon pretty well i mostly did it from memory cause the wiki still isnt fully updated 💀

disclaimer: this fic discusses the topic of an absent parent, please proceed with caution if this is hurtful to you. also warning for canon typical violence and cursing. english is not my first language so please let me know if there are any mistakes.

📼 NOW PLAYING: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Mind

Your mother had always been slightly overbearing and fearful, but the murder of Chrissy Cunnigham you think might actually kill her. Or at least will force her to lock you in your bedroom and flush the key down the toilet.

“You can’t go anywhere without telling me,” your mother tells you over breakfast, worriedly overcooking her bacon. “You hear me? I don’t want you running around town without me knowing. Or better yet, don’t go anywhere at all!”

You glare at Dustin’s chair, where your brother is munching on toast and eggs, hoping your mother takes the hint. She does, and so she shakes her head and says, “Dustin’s different.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Maybe this killer has a thing for pretty girls,” your mother shakes her head, shivering. “Chrissy Cunningham was such a nice and pretty girl, right your age.”

“You don’t know what that killer was thinking!” You groan. “Why can Dustin leave but I can’t?!”

“Dustin’s not an eighteen year old girl with an easily breakable neck.”

“He’s easier to man-handle!”

Dustin frowns, finally looking up from his breakfast. “I’m not!”

”Besides, do you even know where he was last night?” You ignore your brother’s protests, choosing to point at him as he scoffs in offense. “I bet you don’t, because he’s always sneaking out!”

“I’m not always sneaking out!”

“I try my best with you, Dusty,” she sighs, finally sitting down. “But your sister is right, you’re difficult to keep track of. You’re always running around, like those little legs have minds of their own.” She points the spoon she was using for her coffee at your face. “Don’t you throw that in my face, (Y/N).”

“Mom, you’re right,” you nod, sipping your orange juice, trying to appeal to her soft spot. “He is difficult to keep track off, and there’s a dangerous killer on the loose. How about I keep track of him? Make sure he’s not getting into any trouble, hm? I’ll make sure we’re always safe, together.”

Of course, you were planning on bolting as soon as you were out of your mom’s sight. You mom’s cat Tews meows somewhere across the room, as if he knows not to trust you. That damned furball.

“What the fuck? No!”

“Dusty! Language.”

“Mom,” Dustin says, exasperated. “I don’t need a babysitter. Much less a babysitter that’s also my annoying older sister.”

“No, you have Steve Harrington for that,” you mutter under your breath, and Dustin manages to kick you under the table. You glare at your little brother, then turn to address your mom once again. “I promise we’ll stay together. I know— no, I understand that it’s scary out there right now, but I can take care of myself. And Dustin. You have to trust me.”

“I trust you. It’s the murderer I don’t trust.”

“Mom—”

“Let me finish,” she stares pointedly at you, and you promptly shut up. “I don’t want you two sneaking out. But, it’ll make me feel better if the both of you are together.”

Dustin covers his face with his hands. “Shit.”

“Yes!” You squeal. You stick out your tongue at him, and he rolls his eyes. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Dusty.”

“Screw you.”

“Dusty, it’ll be fun. (Y/N), don’t taunt your little brother,” your mom scolds both of you into silence. “It’ll be like old times, won’t it? Aw, you two used to be thick as thieves back then.”

Dustin sighs, picking at his toast absent-mindedly. “Was there a murderer on the loose back then too?”

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

After breakfast, you give Dustin a ride until you arrive in a neighborhood that is most definitely not Lucas Sinclair’s like he told you it would be. You turn to stare at your brother before you unlock the car’s door, confused.

“Where are we?”

Dustin looks at your shoes. “I told you. Lucas’s.”

“Okay, you might lie to me whenever you want, just not to my actual face, Dustin.” You roll your eyes, and he mirrors you. “Seriously, why did you make me come all the way down here?”

“Why do you care?”

“I know we’re doing this to get mom off our backs, but there is actually a killer on the loose,” you say. “So, excuse me if I’m also a little wary about dropping you off at unknown locations, or whatever.”

“Fine,” Dustin sighs. “I’m here to see Max and Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Harrington.”

You blink at him. “Fucking Steve Harrington?”

“See?” Dustin rolls his eyes again. “This is why I didn’t tell you! You are extremely uncool about Steve, you know.”

“I’m not!” You try not to dwell about how defensive you sound even to yourself. “I’m extremely cool about him. I’m extremely cool about the fact you hang out with that douchebag with stupid hair.”

“He’s not a douchebag! I don’t get why you hate him so much.”

Because you remember him and his friends making fun of you all throughout High School, his sneering and stupid stares. Like your brother, you’d never fit in— you never liked going to parties or drinking and you never made an effort to be liked by him and his group of popular dorks, instead you spent most of your days in the library, reading, hiding from Steve and his friends. Whatever honorable things Dustin saw in Steve Harrington you think he might have imagined them.

Now, in your last year of High School and with Steve becoming a social pariah, you don’t have to hide the fact that you still dislike Steve as much as you did back when he was still King Steve. Steve, for however much Dustin insists that he’s changed, upon first meeting you had tried to sweet talk you as if he didn’t know who you were. And you had barely kept it together enough to tell him to fuck off. Ever since then, you and Steve Harrington had hated each other’s guts. Your mutual dislike of each other is not lost on Dustin, who continues to mostly ignore it and tiptoe around it as best as he can.

“He’s not not a douchebag,” You murmur. “Why is he hanging out with two fourteen year olds during spring break? Isn’t the barf bag, like, supposed to be in college, going to frat parties, having a life of his own?”

Dustin doesn’t appreciate the way you talk about him, clearly, but he still replies, albeit unhappily. “He’s helping me with something.”

“With what?”

Before Dustin can respond, someone knocks on Dustin’s window. You jump, surprised, but it’s just Steve and Dustin’s friend redhead Max, looking bored and impatient. You groan and reach over Dustin’s seat to roll the window down.

“Do you mind?” You say to Steve. “We’re talking.”

“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door.

"First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. You ignore Dustin’s groan. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—”

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—"

"You did not just roll your eyes at me—”

Dustin sighs. "Here they go."

“I did not roll my eyes—”

“You absolutely did!”

“There was something in my eyes.”

“That something was lies!”

“Jesus fuck,” Steve finally throws his arms up in exasperation and turns to your brother, ignoring your insults. “You done talking to your lovely sister there, Henderson? We got a counselor to see.”

“What?” You frown at Dustin, irritation immediately melting into concern. “What’s he talking about?”

“Steve, shut your mouth,” Dustin glares at Steve, who shrugs and finally steps away from the car. “Nothing, (Y/N), seriously. See you later?”

“No.” You shake your head. “What does he mean a counselor? Are you seeing Ms Kelly?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise. It’s—” he looks like he’s scrambling to think of an excuse, then his eyes land on Max. Something flashes across her face and she speaks next.

“It’s for me.” she says, “Chrissy died in my neighborhood.”

“She’s kind of freaking out,” Dustin says, and when you finally turn to look at Max you realize how tense she is, her shoulders square, with her lips forming a straight line.

“Oh. That sucks. Hey, Max.”

“Hey,” she greets, awkwardly. It’s part of her charm, you think.

“See?” Dustin asks. “Can I go now?”

You nod, a little shaken up for some reason. Maybe Chrissy’s murder still made you feel slightly ill, and the mention of it made you feel even worse. You couldn’t imagine what Max might be going through. It didn’t help that they had found another body this morning, either.

“Ye— yeah. Sorry. I hope everything’s alright, Max.”

“Yeah,” she nods.

Dustin nods to the door. “Can you unlock the car, then?”

You wordlessly comply, and as your little brother steps out of your mom’s blue Ford Cortina, you talk to Max once again. “Ms Kelly is great help. I’m sure she’ll make you feel better. She really helped me this year, you know, she’s a great listener.”

“Yeah, I know,” Max says. “I’ve been thinking about seeing her for a while, a—actually. I’ve heard she’s well… you know… fine, or whatever.”

“Hey, there’s no shame in that,” you shrug. “Lots of people go to see Ms Kelly… Actually, now that you mention it, Fred Benson, the guy they found this morning, was seeing Ms Kelly too. And Chrissy Cunningham.”

Dustin pauses before closing the car door. “What do you mean?”

You blink, slightly confused as to why you’d even bring it up. “I’ve seen them in Ms Kelly’s office before. I’m not sure why I’m even mentioning it, sorry.”

“No, no, (Y/N), that’s…” Dustin says, then doesn’t finish. “You’ve been seeing Ms Kelly too?”

“Yeah,” you nod, a little ashamed. You think about telling Dustin about everything that’s been going on, the nightmares, the guilt— but then you glance at his friends looking expectantly at him and cower. So you don’t continue.

It’s Steve who breaks the silence. “Henderson, chop chop, let’s go.”

“I’ll see you at home?” Dustin says, a little softer.

“Yeah, yeah. I was gonna go to Dinah’s near Ave Park, but do you think you’ll need a ride later?”

“Steve’s got his car,” he says. “Don’t wait up, okay?”

You nod, watching him leave.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

It’s around eight PM, and Dinah is painting her toenails as you skim through one of her books, the soft hum of the TV in the background, entering through the open bedroom door. Her parents are watching the news, the news anchors are urging people to stay home and to lock their doors to be safe of this new serial killer.

Dinah’s house is your usual hangout spot beside your own. You don’t have many other friends, and there’s only so many times you can force Dustin to watch The Breakfast Club before he’s fighting you for the remote.

“It was all Matty could talk about,” Dinah continues to rant. “I can’t stand this murder talk any longer! I can only hear about Chrissy Cunningham’s missing eyeballs so many times, (Y/N), it’s way too fucking gruesome, but it’s all everyone in this town seems to care about.”

“It’s a pretty pressing issue,” when Dinah glares, you shrug. “I’m just saying! You know I agree with you. I don’t want to hear about it anymore.”

“Chrissy was always so nice, wasn’t she?” Dinah shakes her head, putting her nail polish back in her nightstand, then wraps her arms around her legs, hugging herself. “And Fred had a future in front of him. It’s so unfair. They had a family that loved them.”

“Dinah, I really don’t wanna talk about it,” you say, feeling yourself shiver. You don’t want to think about poor Fred or Chrissy, or the families mourning them. You try to focus on the book in your hands, but the words start blurring together, becoming harder and harder to read.

You blink, confused, then realize Dinah is still talking.

“It’s the truth, isn’t it? I think about their dads too. Chrissy’s dad was crying so much at her wake. Do you think your dad would ever cry for you like that?”

You finally snap to look back at your friend. She’s staring at you like you’re small, like an insect she could stomp on. You’ve never seen her black eyes seem so soulless, so empty.

“Maybe they’ll be tears of joy, don’t you think? After all, weren’t you the one who made him walk away?” She tilts her head to the side, a sneer forming in her lips. “They could be a family without you.”

There’s something wrong in Dinah’s eyes. There’s something wrong about all of this, but you can’t point to what, where are you, when, why…what…?

When you blink, Dinah’s eyes look normal again.

“(Y/N),” She asks, frowning. “Are you there?”

You shake your head. What the fuck was all that?

“What?”

“You were staring at me like you weren’t all here,” she explains, grimacing. “Where did you go just now?”

“Sorry…” When you speak you feel a dull ache around your temple, and you lift a hand to rest against it, trying to soothe the pain aimlessly. “I think I need some painkillers or something, my head’s killing me.”

“Again?”

“Yeah,” even before spring break you had confided in your friend about the headaches and the nightmares— you never told her why, but she at least knew you were seeing Ms Kelly.

Dinah stands up, careful not to stain the carpet with her fresh black nail polish. “I’ll ask my dad for some Tylenol. Stay here, I’ll be back in a sec.”

Before Dinah is out the door she’s interrupted by the doorbell, which rings once, twice, three times and more. Dinah frowns, as her dad yells I’m coming, Jesus!

“Someone’s impatient…” you murmur, hand still resting on your temple.

“Hey,” Dinah, who has always had great hearing, says. “I think it’s your brother.”

You frown, and when Dinah’s father confirms it’s your brother by yelling out that It’s little Henderson!, you and Dinah head downstairs to find a heavy breathing Dustin, Max, Lucas and even Steve Harrington, looking as if they just ran a marathon.

Dustin’s eyes land on you. “(Y/N)!”

“Dustin?” you say, “What are you doing here? You need a ride ho—?”

Dustin runs to hug you by the waist, almost knocking the air out of you.

“Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Is your nose bleeding? Do you feel—?”

“Woah, Dustin,” you don’t know what to do with your hands— you and Dustin hadn’t hugged since he turned twelve and he and you both deemed it lame. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Dustin finally lets go of your waist to grab you by the face and inspect it properly. He roughly pulls your face down and tries to pull up your nose to look at your nostrils. “No nosebleed yet?”

Steve tries to stop him. “Dustin, buddy—”

Lucas adds a sustancial, “Dude.”

“Dustin!” you push his hands off your face, feeling your cheeks heat up when you notice everyone looking at you. “What the hell are you doing?”

Your brother opens his mouth to speak, but then seems to notice Dinah behind you and seems to think better of it. “We need to talk,” he says instead, “Like, right now.”

“Right now?” You ask. “I already told Dinah’s mom I’m staying for dinner. Dustin, what the hell is going on with you?”

Dinah clears her throat. “I’m… just gonna go get that Tylenol.”

“Tylenol?” Dustin asks when she walks away. “What for?”

“I have a headache.”

“Shit,” Max says, still by the door frame with Lucas and Steve.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dustin curses, deep in thought. “It’s already started.”

“What?” You ask as Dustin starts pacing back and forth.

“We need to find out how to stop this right fucking now,” Dustin starts pacing back and forth. “Think, everyone.”

“Maybe Robin and Nancy found something in the library,” Steve offers.

“Yeah,” Lucas nods. “C’mon, man. Let’s go find them.”

“Okay, yeah. Okay, okay.” Dustin calms himself down, manages to stop his pacing. “Let’s go wait for them at the Wheeler’s. (Y/N), let’s go.”

You throw your hands up in disbelief. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

“(Y/N),” Dustin says, his voice unfaltering. Dustin is never serious about much, and this renders you speechless. “I need you to listen to me for once in your goddamn life, okay? We need to go. Now.”

“Okay, Jesus,” you say finally. “Dinah’s mom is making Lasagna so this better be worth it, Dustin.”

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

On the way to Nancy Wheeler’s house, you learn two things: One, Dustin knows where a serial killer might be hiding, and two, your brother thinks you’re cursed and are going to die in, give or take, twenty four hours.

You glare at Steve Harrington in the rearview mirror. “What the fuck have you been giving him?”

“I’m serious!” Dustin yells. “I knew you wouldn’t fucking believe me.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, because he looks genuinely frustrated, but a second dimension and a supervillain? Does your brother think you’re stupid? Just how many movies has he been watching? “I just think D&D might actually be getting to your head, Dustin. There’s no way what you just told me is real.”

“Lucas and Max know it’s real too!”

Both of them nod furiously.

“Are the other two fourteen year olds your only source?”

“Steve too!”

Steve winks at you through the rearview mirror.

“Even worse,” you say.

“Listen,” Lucas tries to reason when Dustin groans in frustration, cursing under his breath at you. “I know this sounds absolutely crazy, I wouldn’t believe it either. But I promise you it’s all true, and if we don’t do something soon about it you’ll end up like Chrissy and Fred.”

An involuntary chill runs down your spine every time you think about them.

“Guys,” you say, slowly, “I know things are scary right now, but I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for the murders besides a demon supervillain.”

“I didn’t believe it at first either,” Max shakes her head. “Not until I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Didn’t Ms Kelly’s file say the others who were cursed were also having hallucinations?” Steve asks the kids, looking for a place to park. “So, have you gotten any weird visions lately?”

Hallucinations? You think back, but can’t seem to pinpoint anything similar to that. Except tonight at Dinah’s place, before Dustin and the rest had rung the doorbell. Suddenly you grow a little paler, uncomfortable at the memory being brought back. That had been weird, but you were exhausted and knowing a serial killer, Eddie Munson, who apparently your brother knew, was out there still was making you restless.

“I wouldn’t really call them visions,” you murmur.

“Shit,” Dustin breathes, looking at you with wide eyes. “It’s spreading faster.”

“Listen, Dustin, I may be going through some shit lately, but I promise you I’m okay. I just need some painkillers for my head, seriously.”

“(Y/N)!” Your brother takes you by the shoulders and shakes you. “Your life is in imminent danger! You don’t need painkillers!”

“I do if you keep shaking me like a ragdoll!”

“Listen,” Lucas says, grabbing Dustin and prying him off you despite his protests. “Just stay with us tonight, okay? We’ll sleep at the Wheeler’s and it’ll make Dustin feel better, right? We’re all tired.”

“Dude—”

Lucas cuts Dustin off and whispers, “We’ll wait for what Nancy and Robin have to say and then figure out how to convince her later, yeah?”

Dustin sighs. “This was so much easier when El had her powers.”

“So yeah? You’ll stay the night?” Lucas asks, hopeful.

You see all three of the kids staring at you and cave in. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.” You say, at the same time Steve parks right in front of the Wheeler residence. Before you can even step out of the car another car pulls over by the garage and Nancy Wheeler and another girl you don’t know step out of it.

“Nance, Robin!” Steve exclaims as he stops the car and steps out. “Had fun at the library? I sure didn’t.”

“It went well, I think—”

“We have a situation,” Dustin is quick to interrupt, reaching over your space and popping his head out from the open window. “It’s my sister. We think Vecna cursed her.”

“Whatever that means,” you mumble, getting out of the car, Dustin trailing behind you and slamming the door shut.

“She doesn’t believe us,” Max explains.

“Well, I personally would be more weirded out if she did,” The girl you don’t know shrugs a little. You recognize her now— she worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last summer before the fire at Starcourt, and now works at Family Video. You’ve spoken a bit with her before.

“She’s been having visions, headaches, nosebleeds,” Dustin continues, “like Fred and Chrissy were, according to Ms Kelly’s files. I think Vecna is preying on vulnerable people, people dealing with...” he looks at you for a second, then back at the girls, settling on saying: “Some shit.”

“We found some articles about Victor Creel at the library,” Nancy says, then motions at the house with her chin. “Let’s talk inside.”

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

Nancy and Robin turn out to be as crazy as the rest of them— they tell the story of Victor Creel, infamous in Hawkins for murdering his entire family, and about how he was supposedly possesed by the devil according to some conspiracy newspaper. They want to talk to Victor, but the problem is that he’s now a patient at Pennhurst Mental Hospital and completely unreachable to the public. They plan to go first thing in the morning and the rest of the group seems to agree.

“We’ll need a disguise,” is Nancy’s big plan.

You never quite get that Tylenol, because the strongest thing Ms Wheeler has is green tea. You think everyone’s lost their goddamned minds.

“So what do you want me to do while all of you plan?” You ask, sitting on the couch. Nancy and Robin leave to Nancy’s room. Max and Lucas are by the desk in the corner speaking softly, Dustin is pacing around the room impatiently as he usually does when he’s this restless, while Steve is sitting on the couch beside you, playing with Dustin’s (or is it Mike’s?) walkie-talkie. “Am I allowed to eat something? Because I’m starving.”

Dustin snatches the walkie-talkie from Steve’s hand. “You’re gonna break that.”

Dustin’s, then.

“We don’t know yet,” Lucas says, walking over to where you are, holding Max’s hand gently. “We’re hoping the girls find out something from Victor. In the meantime…”

“You can eat,” Steve concludes. “... Right?”

“Right,” Max nods.

“We have to do something soon,” Dustin’s the most anxious you’ve ever seen him, even before you took him to see The Empire Strikes Back. “We don’t know how much time you even have once the visions and all the hallucinations start. We said twenty four hours but we can’t be sure.”

“If it helps, they started today. At Dinah’s.”

“You snapped out of it, right?” When you nod, Steve shrugs. “Henderson, I think we have time to order some pizza, at least.”

“And a movie?” You ask, finally relaxing into the couch. You toss away your shoes and hug them to your chest. “Does Mike have The Breakfast Club somewhere around here?”

“Not that movie again,” Dustin groans.

You throw a pillow at your brother, who manages to dodge it easily. “It’s a great movie!”

“It lost its charm after the thirteen time you forced me to watch it with you.”

“The Breakfast Club?” Steve asks aloud. “(Y/N) Henderson is obsessed with The Breakfast Club? Is that why Dustin is always renting it at Family Video?”

Dustin huffs, offended. “Why else would I want to rent that stupid movie?”

“Molly Ringwald,” Steve answers, at the same time you yell out, “It’s not stupid!”

When Nancy comes downstairs she informs you that sadly no, she doesn’t have The Breakfast Club, but that she should. She does have the soundtrack, however, and you think about asking to borrow it tomorrow before she goes back upstairs to order a pizza.

A while later it’s almost midnight, everyone around you is tired, except maybe for Dustin, but the majority wins and you all decide getting some sleep is the best option. You agree, but know that you’re probably not getting any sleep tonight, either; you’ve been having nightmares every night for the past few days and you don’t believe today is going to be any different.

When the lights go off and everyone is already starting to doze off, Dustin is quick to turn his flashlight on.

“Dude! Turn that off!” Steve moans, launching a pillow straight into his face. Dustin doesn’t dodge this one this time, much to Robin and Steve’s satisfaction, who chuckle lightly.

“C’mon, Dustin, what the hell?” Lucas groans.

“Shut up! I’m trying to see if I can find something else in Ms Kelly’s files!”

“Dude,” Max sighs, “you’ve read them each four times already.”

“You won’t be able to find anything if you’re exhausted,” Nancy tries more softly. “Just try to sleep for a bit, okay?”

“Dustin, c’mon,” you reach for his hand— it’s a bit uncomfortable from your position on the couch and his on the floor, but you do it anyway. That seems to soothe him slightly, to see you still offering comfort, like you’re still yourself. He manages a weak nod, and he squeezes your hand slightly before turning the flashlight off.

After a few minutes, Dustin starts snoring loudly. Steve, who you’re unfortunately stuck sharing the couch with, chuckles.

“He’s a good kid,” he says.

“Yeah,” you can’t help but agree. You wouldn’t trade your dork brother for anything. “He’s great. When he was little, he used to wet his bed all time after watching scary movies with me, and he’d wake me up to change his sheets so my dad wouldn’t yell at him for ruining them.”

“Steve raises a silent eyebrow at you, sounding amused. “And you actually did that?”

“I forced him to watch them. I felt bad,” you smile at the memory. “He would offer to wash the dishes for me, though.”

“Your moral compass is stronger than mine,” he hums.

“You know, he…” you start, unsure if Dustin would be upset if you shared this, then decide it’s not as embarrassing as telling him he used to wet his bed, and continue, “he really admires you. God knows why, Harrington, but he worships the ground you walk on.”

“Henderson?” He asks, a little in disbelief. “I don’t know—”

“I’m serious, Harrington. He loves you,” You hoped you didn’t sound jealous. There had been a time where you thought Steve was almost a replacement for you as an older sibling, but as time went on you realized how important Steve was to him.

“Well. I’m pretty loveable.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure.”

“He’s pretty loveable, too,” Steve says after a few beats of silence, more softly now. “I don’t have any siblings, did you know that? So it’s… uhm, really cool to have him around. Even if he’s kind of a little shit sometimes.”

“Such a little shit,” you agree.

The rest of the group seems to be asleep already, or maybe they don’t care about the conversation enough to join you. Steve starts telling you about the time Dustin burrowed his hair gel and almost set fire to his bathroom, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle your giggles.

It’s not long before you start to feel abnormally cold, and can’t keep your body from trembling. Steve’s gentle voice is gone. The room is dark around you, and realizing that you must’ve fallen asleep while talking with Steve at some point, you hug yourself trying to seek some warmth. You try to grab a blanket from somewhere. Jesus, it’s spring for fuck’s sake, it shouldn’t be this cold. But you realize that despite the darkness you can see, and when you look up at the ceiling, you find a grandfather clock that most definitely doesn’t belong in the Wheeler’s basement.

“(Y/N).”

The voice calling your name is unfamiliar and it makes you feel ill almost immediately, like your stomach has turned into nothing but knots. You try to speak, to ask who it is, but nothing comes out, you can barely even breathe.

“Do you think you could ever keep living with this guilt?” The voice asks, somehow you feel as if the voice is right behind you, whispering into your ear. It’s like nails scraping against chalkboard in your eardrums. “Knowing what you did to your family?”

You want to turn around and find the voice, but you can’t, you can’t, you can’t. The clock is ticking, haunting you, calling for you. You want nothing but to run away from it, but you can’t move— you’re glued in place somehow, maybe in fear, you can’t tell. Everything is uncertain, except for the clock. The clock, you know, it’s real.

It’s counting down. You know what it’s trying to tell you. It’s coming for you and you can’t escape it. It’s only a matter of time now.

“Soon, (Y/N)...” It whispers. “Soon, I’ll come for you, and no one will be able to help you, (Y/N)... (Y/N). (Y/N)!”

You open your eyes with a gasp to find Steve’s arms around your shoulders, shaking you slightly. His eyes are wide, a little frightened. When you look around you find Lucas and Max draped all over a chair, their chests rising slowly, asleep. Dustin is in a sleeping bag on the floor, near Robin and Nancy, hugging each other tightly in their sleep. Steve is the only one awake.

“Shit,” you say, placing your hand in your heart. “Did I wake you?”

“We were talking and then you just went somewhere,” he says. “You don’t remember?”

You suddenly feel very cold. “I thought I was sleeping. I saw…” You think about telling Steve, but it seems pointless now, almost. What would you tell him? You saw a clock? “I think it was one of those hallucinations you guys keep talking about. You’re really freaking me the hell out, you know.”

“Fuck, I think Dustin’s right,” he says.

“About me being cursed by a being from another dimension? Are you kidding?”

Steve does manage to look apologetic. “I know it sounds bonkers, but that’s because it is. I’ve seen it.”

“What? This other dimension?” You were starting to think Dustin and his nanny were just trying to play an extremely elaborate joke on you.

“The Upside Down, but no,” he shakes his head, and then his eyes land somewhere around the room, focusing on one of Mike’s many posters. “The monsters.”

“Vecna?”

“Others,” he says, then murmurs, “Haven’t had the pleasure just yet.”

“The demoger…? What was it?”

“Demogorgon, yeah,” he grumbles. “The Mind flayer too. It’s all real. I wish Will and Eleven were here to actually explain this stuff; they are the ones who actually know their stuff about this.”

You have never seen Steve actually sound so… serious, before. It’s all actually starting to freak you out, you decide, and you aren’t sure if you actually want to find out if it’s all actually real or not. You stay silent for a few moments, sleep escaping you. You figure Steve’s fallen asleep until his voice startles you again.

“You okay there, Henderson?”

No, you want to say. You can’t shake the feeling that the voice is watching you, waiting to catch you by surprise. “Yeah,” you mumble, sleepless, scared.

Steve doesn’t seem to buy your answer however, because you feel his body shifting near your side of the couch, sitting right beside you. When you give him a look (he’s so close he can actually make it out) he clicks his tongue.

“See, I don’t really believe you, Henderson. So, I’m gonna stay near you, just in case you get another vision. Or if you want to hold my hand.”

“Screw you, Steve,” You glare, turning to the other side so that your view is Harrington-less. If you do feel better with him beside you, that’s between you and maybe Vecna, if he’s actually inside your head.

In the morning, when you wake up and Nancy and Robin are both gone (probably visiting a murderer in a mental hospital) and Steve is tangled up beside you, you decide you’ve had enough.

“So we’re just gonna wait around to see what happens?” Dustin argues, as Lucas and Max try to reason with him.

“What else can we do?” Lucas asks, frustrated.

“Literally anything else, dude! My sister might die!”

“Okay, Dustin, you need to stop and we need to go home, now,” you tell him, looking around the basement for your jacket.

“No!” he points at you. “You’re not going anywhere until we know what to do.”

“Dustin. I’m four years older than you,” you glare, placing your hands on your hips. “I’m the older sibling. I’ve entertained this enough already, but I left mom’s car at Dinah’s and we need to go get it and then get our asses home before mom loses her shit.”

“(Y/N)! Listen to me!”

“No, Dustin!” You finally snap, taking Dustin’s walkie-talkie from his hand and shoving it into your bag despite his protests. “I’ve had enough about monsters and other dimensions and whatever other nonsense Eddie Munson has been feeding you! We’re going home, now!”

“I can’t believe I’m actually trying to help you!” Dustin screams, “You suck!”

“Well, you’re stuck with me!”

“I wish I wasn’t,” he says, his eyes cold. “I wish you weren’t my sister.”

The chills return like a slap across your face, making you stumble backwards slightly. The room around you turns dark immediately, the only person left is Dustin in front of you. But it’s not him, it can’t be, his eyes have never looked this lifeless.

“You took his chance away, didn’t you?” The unfamiliar, bone chilling voice returns. “His chance of having a real family, or at least a father figure. He’s right in wishing you weren’t his sister. He deserves someone better.”

Again you want to scream, but it’s like your mouth is taped shut. Around you Mike Wheeler’s basement seems to fade away into blue, and suddenly you’re standing on your front porch, watching your dad walk away. You’re saying the hardness around your eyes, your lips drawn into a tight line. You don’t look like yourself; you look older, and tired, and disappointed, more like a woman than the girl you were when this happened, the girl you must’ve been.

“Don’t come back again,” you tell your father’s retreating form. But your voice is distorted, so far away.

“How many times has Dustin needed his father?” The voice asks. When you blink you’re somewhere else; not Mike’s basement, not your home. There’s splinters of wood scattered by your feet, like a house just destroyed. Everywhere around you is red, like blood, like the blood in those horror movies you forced Dustin to watch because he made them less scary when he squealed. “Are you proud you broke up your family?”

“I was a kid,” you manage to say, and only now you realize you’ve been crying all along, the salty tears wetting your dry lips. “I didn’t want Dustin to know what he did. I would take it back if I knew he wouldn’t actually come back.”

“But you did it anyway. You did.”

I did, I did, I did, you think, over and over. You close your eyes, hard, ignoring how it almost hurts.

“You miss him too, don’t you? Despite everything. You’re sadder about the fact that he left you, too. He left his daughter behind.”

“Who are you?” You hiss out, through your anguish.

“I’m part of you, (Y/N). Whether you want to or not.”

You’re not alone. When you open your eyes you see him — a monster, vicious even in looks, like someone slowly peeled away his skin, and all that was left of him was muscle and meat, not even blood. Vecna. Around you there are two different bloody columns, and you’re quick to notice they’re holding Chrissy and Fred’s bodies, like morbid museum displays, tokens. He was right, Dustin was telling the truth about everything, and now you were going to die because you didn’t listen to him.

“No,” you want to say, you want to scream. But you’re not strong enough, you can’t—

Hey, hey, hey, hey

You blink through your tears. You manage to recognize that melody in this unfamiliar place. You want to run towards it, but you’re not sure your legs can even respond to your commands right now.

Vecna seems to think something’s wrong, too, because as the song progresses he grows more impatient. “You think you can escape like this?”

Tell me your troubles and doubts

Giving everything inside and out and

Love's strange, so real in the dark

Think of the tender things that we were working on

His hands— his claws are stroking your cheeks, an aborted tender gesture, like he’s trying to soothe his prey before going for the kill. It’s over, you think, there’s nothing but this certain death. But then; you think of the hundreds of times you forced Dustin to watch this movie with you; of you both playing with Tews until he scratches one of you in annoyance; driving Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will to the movies; getting ice cream at Scoops Ahoy and guggling when Steve gets rejected once again; putting Dustin’s hair in braids and practicong makeup on him when he was younger; asking Will Byers what he was sketching at the park; Dustin and you laughing during dinner because of some stupid joke. You think about last night, sleeping beside Steve, and the way he made you laugh.

Don't you, forget about me

Don't, don't, don't, don't

Don't you, forget about me

You can’t give up. You can’t leave Dustin.

Somehow you manage to pull Vecna off you with a shove, and you run. You run, you run as fast as your legs let you, as your jeans stain with what looks like blood, as Vecna screams at you. You run like you've never run before.

And then you gasp and you’re falling.

“Shit, fuck, shit!” Someone’s arms are around you, and it takes you a second to calm down to realize it’s Steve, and that you’re in Mike Wheeler’s basement and you’re alive, somehow.

“Holy fucking shit,” Max is saying, but you can barely hear her over the rapid beating of your own heart— erratic, but unquestionably alive.

“God, god, (Y/N),” Dustin’s voice stands out from the others, and when you look at him there are tears streaming down his eyes, and you can barely process anything before you’re trying to reach for him despite feeling like you’re not even in your own body.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, Steve letting go of yours. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“I thought you were gonna die,” he whimpers.

“I’m here,” you breathe out. “Oh my God, I’m here thanks to you.”

You realize that the song is still playing, only to notice the headphones in your ears. You see your scattered bag around the room, and the walkie-talkie that Dustin must’ve been looking for already on the floor. Don’t You (Forget About Me) slowly fades to an end before the next song on the soundtrack starts.

“I’m sorry,” Dustin says into your shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were going through something, I should’ve noticed. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” You shake your head, holding your little brother even closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Fuck, Dustin, I’m so sorry.”

You stay like that for a moment, hugging Dustin on the carpet, Max and Lucas hovering near, and Steve’s hand on your shoulder, grounding you.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

When you explain to Nancy what happened and what you saw once she comes back from Pennhurst she’s quick to pinpoint the house you saw when you met Vecna as Victor Creel’s house. All of you grab your things and head to that location. You try to not feel so dreadful, and Dustin forcing you to listen to Don’t You the entire car ride and holding onto your jacket sleeve helps soothe your nerves, at least a little bit.

But Victor Creel’s house is something out of a horror story, dark and abandoned as it is, and the only light source in the house seems to be the hole Robin made when she smashed the window.

“Let’s split up,” Nancy offers, and everyone seems to comply much to your dismay.

Lucas and Max leave to investigate with Dustin (reluctantly parting from your side) trailing off behind them, Nancy and Robin head upstairs and you and Steve are stuck together and instructed to stay downstairs by Nancy, the only thing illuminating your way being your flashlights.

You wander through hallways, staring at ruined wallpaper and dusty portraits. Victor and his family seemed so happy in their pictures, and you wonder why nobody, family or not, ever came to look for their things. The house seemed frozen in time, like one day the family had decided to get up and leave everything behind, the house nothing more than ghosts.

“I hate this place,” you comment, trying to hug yourself tightly to keep the cold at bay. “Thinking that people died here is…”

“Horrible,” Steve finishes for you. “Yeah… Fuck this place, man.”

When you turn to a corner, you freeze in place.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re seeing this, right?” You point at a clock with your flashlight, unmoving. It’s the same clock from your visions, the one you saw before meeting Vecna.

“Yeah,” Steve frowns. “Real old. Why?”

“I saw it,” you try to explain through the rapid beating of your own heart. “In my visions, I mean. This clock was in them— well, the second one, mostly. In the Wheeler’s basement last night.”

“Shit…” Eloquent as ever, Steve Harrington. “Has to mean something, right?”

“If anything it proves Nancy and Robin were right. It all started here.” You finally force yourself to look away and continue forward, ignoring the way you feel your skin crawling. You hold up your cassette before re-starting the song. “What would happen if I suddenly got tired of this song? Will it no longer work? Does this mean Vecna will… come back for me?”

“Listen, I— I’m not a genius at this like your brother, or like Nancy, or even Robin,” Steve admits, very honestly. “But I promise we’ll find a way, even if that happens. Besides, Dustin told us how much you love this song. Seems kinda impossible you’ll ever get tired of it if you listen to it every day. And listen, I gotta ask. Breakfast club?”

“What?” You feel heat rise up to your cheeks, embarrassed. You start walking away from the clock, trying to get rid of the chills that had gotten ahold of you just a few moments before. “It’s a great movie.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Steve says, and even though you can’t really see him in the dark, you can hear his smirk, picture his smile. He’s teasing, and you’re kind of glad for it. It helps. “I just didn’t think it would be your thing, is all.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s my thing then?”

“I don’t know. You seem like a Dune fan, maybe.” He wonders out loud, your flashlight lighting the way.

“I do like the book.”

“See?” Steve points at his temple. “I knew it.”

“I think working at Family Video is finally getting to you.”

“I’m good at reading people,” he says, and you raise another silent eyebrow at him. He continues, “I’d always thought of you as a little brainiac, and that you’d liked movies that were kinda difficult. You were always reading in school. I didn’t think you’d like teen flicks and Hughes.”

“Dune is not difficult. And maybe you don’t really know me enough to know what my thing is,” you shrug. “... Or maybe every girl is a little bit in love with Judd Nelson.”

“Yeah,” Steve actually laughs. “Can’t beat that hair.”

And you can’t help yourself, you smirk. You think you might actually be dreaming, or maybe this curse made Steve seem more tolerable than usual. “You give him a good run for his money.”

“We’re still talking about hair here, right?”

Now you point your flashlight at Steve and elbow him.

“I’m just asking!”

“It was a stupid question. And just so you know, there’s nothing wrong about liking teen flicks,” you say, continuing to walk and not waiting to see if Steve follows. “Pretty in Pink is my new favorite movie and my GPA is still 3.5.”

“Oh wow. Pretty in Pink?” He whistles. “You have a soft spot for Molly Ringwald.”

“Who doesn’t?”

He hums in response.

You stay like that for a moment, walking through dusty hallways and trying to avoid spider webs. Even with the flashlights the place looks abandoned and lonely, and there’s a coldness running down your spine that you can’t shake off no matter how much you try. You focus on trying to catch the sound of Steve’s breathing to somehow ground yourself to reality. It feels like ever since meeting Vecna your grip on reality slowly fades away, like someone is unraveling the carpet from underneath you, trying to catch you by surprise. Like you’re falling into an abyss of darkness and you can’t hold onto anything— because nothing around you is truly real. And so you bite your lip to keep yourself from reaching out to Steve and holding on. You can’t think of a moment you’ve felt as uncertain as you do now; but Steve’s teasing and your bickering back and forth is normal, makes you feel like you’re not actually in immediate danger. You figure if there’s a different dimension called the Upside Down, then you can most definitely forgive Steve Harrington for being a jerk in High School. He has more than proven himself to you.

Because the truth is that maybe Vecna will win. Maybe you will never beat this curse. And you’ll end up like Chrissy Cunningham, like Fred Benson, like Patrick McKinney; just dead bodies along the trail.

“Hey, Steve,” you call, slowing down to walk beside him. He turns to look at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Uhm. If something… like, happened to me—”

“Woah, woah, wait,” Steve shakes his head. “Nothing will. We beat the curse, remember? With the song?”

“Yeah, but we didn’t actually beat it, did we?” Now you do turn to look at him, and his big eyes almost render you speechless. You don’t know what to call the look on his eyes, but it makes you want to look away from him; makes you want to run. “Listen, Steve, I just— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says, quickly. You think he’s noticed how embarrassed you feel, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re just scared shitless like the rest of us.”

“It’s not that,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk around you and picking fights with you. You’ve— you’ve been there for Dustin when I wasn’t, and I guess you’re not actually a bad guy. So… I’m sorry I judged you. And thank you, I guess. For being there for Dustin. And… me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a second. You’re still looking anywhere but him, now focusing your eyes on a spider in one of the many spider webs in front of you. You feel embarrassed and stupid, but a little bit better. You know you’re doing the right thing by apologizing— you know Steve now, better than you’ve ever thought you would. You finally dare to take one look at him and his eyes are still on you, and when your eyes lock, he smiles softly.

“You’re apologizing for that?” Steve asks, and when you nod matter of factly, he tilts his head to the side. “Huh. Never thought I’d see the day Henderson’s sister apologized to me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head, Harrington,” you roll your eyes, but can’t help the small smile forming on your lips. “I’m only doing this because I might die.”

Steve chuckles, nodding. “Fair enough,” he says. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too, Henderson. To be honest, I think I kind of deserved it. I was an asshole in High School, so… yeah. I, uh, I’m sorry it took me getting kicked off the clique to realize you’re not half bad.”

“Well,” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “It took me almost dying to realize you’re not half bad either. I think we’re even.”

Steve stops in his tracks, making you stop, too, a little confused. You turn to look at him, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite so… earnest, maybe. You can’t name the look on his face, but you can’t look away, can’t seem to be able to keep walking. You’re frozen in place.

“You’re not gonna die, Henderson,” he says, determined. “I won’t let you.”

Your mouth goes dry. All you can do in response is nod. You want to say something, but the words escape you, and so you stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of you saying anything. You wonder if Steve can hear the rapid beating of your heart, if he can make out the way your eyes drop to his lips for a slow second despite the darkness around you both.

Then you hear Dustin yell out, “Guys!” and the moment fades away.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

Finding Eddie at Skull Rock seems to be harder than it should be, and once you find him you’re made to follow Dustin’s apparently broken compass. You feel like you’re wandering through the desert, with no clear path in mind. Dustin is at the front, with Lucas and Max following closely behind, Eddie (who you now have a hard time believing would ever be able to kill anyone), Robin and Nancy in front of you and Steve.

You find yourself time and time again choosing to spend more time with Steve, that he seems to be the one able to actually make you feel grounded, like you’re not gonna die in the next three seconds. You feel like yourself around him; but different. Steve is different. This whole experience is making you rethink everything you’ve ever known.

You can’t help but wonder in the silence about Dustin and the others, guiding the rest of you through the night time in the forest. Despite all of them being younger than you, they don’t seem to need your help, especially Dustin, who you think is completely in his element leading the way.

After a while of walking in silence, Dustin announces that the compass seems to be going even crazier. At this, Robin pries it off his hands to confirm that it’s true. Eddie and Dustin argue for a second about following the compass and make another Lord of the Rings reference that has you smiling.

“He’s not half bad,” you comment. “Eddie, I mean.”

“I still don’t know what the hell Modor is,” Steve mumbles under his breath.

You don’t try to explain Lord of The Rings to him— you don’t think there’s even enough time. But, maybe one day, when Hawkins isn’t in imminent danger and Steve still wants to hang out with your uncool self for whatever reason.

“What do you think we’ll find wherever this stupid compass is taking us?” You ask him, trying to avoid accidentally stepping on some poison ivy. Just your luck to get cursed and also poisoned on the same week. “You know more about this than me.”

“I’m actually more like, the, uhm, action guy of the group.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t know where we’re going,” You conclude.

Steve nods. “No damn clue, Henderson.”

“Great,” you chuckle lightly.

“All I know is that it’s probably a portal Vecna opened after killing someone.”

“A portal. To the upside down?” When Steve nods in confirmation, you sigh. “I still can’t get used to how crazy this is.”

“The third time you do this you kind of just start going with the flow of things,” Steve admits. “Russian spies, MK-Ultra, different dimensions, monsters— it all just kind of starts to sound like background noise.”

“Dustin and the kids seem to really know about all of this.”

“They do,” Steve nods. “Dustin is like, their leader. Our leader, I guess.”

“My little brother… fighting communists and monsters.” You shake your head. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. How did Nancy? With you and Mike?”

Steve stops for a second to frown at you. “With me?”

“You know, with Nancy and you dating.”

“Me and Nancy?” he asks, then shakes his head. “No, me and Nance just… we go way back, but she’s with Jonathan. That ship sailed a long time ago. We’re friends now. Besides, she’s the one killing more monsters than me.”

“Oh.”

There’s no way to ignore the way your heart skips a beat at this, or the hopeful glint in Steve’s eyes. The rest of the woods disappear and it’s only you and Steve and your rapidly beating heart. The others are lost to you, in their own little world, searching in the dark with their flashlights like fireflies.

“Yeah,” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “And, just in case, me and Robin are not a thing, either. Just friends.”

“Platonic with a capital P!” You hear Robin yell out in front of you.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you at Steve’s blush. “Yeah, yeah, think she got it, Buckley, thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

“That’s… good to know,” you comment.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, then scratches his chin. “Is it? Good to know?”

You nod slowly, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe.”

“Maybe. Okay. Maybe is—” he breathes out. “Maybe is cool.”

“Maybe is really cool,” you allow yourself a small smile.

“Really?” Steve inquires, and when he notices his smile he gifts you one of his own. “Okay. That’s great. Maybe is really cool. Cool. Cool beans.”

“Yeah?” You bite your lip, finally daring to look at him.

Steve follows your movement with his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, breathless.

“Hey guys,” Dustin’s voice rings out, the moment gone. “I think we found the portal!”

You both follow Dustin’s voice until you reach a lake, where Eddie explains Vecna killed Patrick when he was running away from Jason and the rest of the basketball team.

“So the portal is… what?” Robin asks, “Underwater?”

Dustin shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

He starts climbing up the boat, and you’re quick to grab him by the sleeves of his shirt to stop him.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” You ask him.

“Looking for the portal,” Dustin says, matter-of-factly.

“You told me this portal is supposed to teleport you to another dimension, one Will Byers got stuck in,” you reply, pulling him away from the boat. “You’re not going anywhere near that portal. None of you kids are.”

“Who died and made you the boss?”

“Three people died,” you note.

“I made her the boss,” Robin quips. “Well, Nancy might technically be the boss, actually. Nance?”

Nancy blinks at Robin’s words. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“Nance says yes.”

Eddie frowns. “Yes to being the boss or yes to—”

“Let’s just go,” Nancy urges, gesturing at Steve to help her drag the boat offshore. Steve complies, and helps Nancy climb into the boat, followed by Robin and then Eddie.

“But what about the curse?” Dustin wonders, looking at you.

“I have this, remember?” You hold up the cassette player, and wink at your brother. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Look after Lucas and Max. Nancy might be the boss, but you’re their leader.”

“Okay, yeah,” he nods, sounding more like he’s talking to reassure himself than anything.

“Compass, please,” you tell him, and Dustin complies unhappily. You can’t help yourself from grabbing him by the cheeks and kissing his forehead like you did when he was younger. Despite being a good leader, a fighter, he’ll always be little Dusty, who steals your waffles and makes really bad coffee. “See you soon.”

Steve offers his hand to help you climb the boat and you take it with a tiny smile.

The trip on the boat is short and dark. Even with Steve using his flashlight to try and light the way, it’s barely enough to keep you from being engulfed in the darkness of the night. When was the last time the moon shone down in Hawkins? There are almost no stars above, the view chillingly dark. You fear what you might find. Nancy stares at Dustin’s compass, trying to give any semblance of direction when the compass starts going crazy.

Steve starts pulling off his socks.

“Steve,” Nancy says slowly, “what are you doing?”

“Somebody’s gotta go down there and check this thing out. Was one of you four Hawkin’s High’s swimming co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years?” He figures, already working on his other shoe. “It’s gotta be me, no complaints, alright?”

Eddie chuckles nervously. “Hey… I’m not complaining. I do not wanna go down there.”

You watch as Eddie takes something off his pocket and throws it on the boat’s floor. You want to stop Steve somehow, irrationally, because as far as you know Nancy, Robin and Eddie can’t dive, and you can barely float — but the words die on your throat when you look up and Steve is peeling off his shirt.

“Here,” Eddie says, and you realize now he had wrapped a plastic bag around a flashlight and is now handing it back to Steve. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, taking it from his hands.

“Steve,” Robin rasps out before he dives, and Steve stops to look at her. “Don’t… die?”

“Gee,” he scoffs. “Thanks for the encouraging speech, Robs.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Don’t die, seriously,” you manage to tell him, wanting to reach for his hand but stopping yourself. “Or I’ll kill you.”

Steve nods. He looks like he wants to say something else, but keeps his mouth shut before diving underwater.

The silence on the boat almost kills you, as it rocks quietly, everyone holds their breath waiting for Steve to come up once again. Your heart is in your throat, Don’t You still playing softly in your eardrums, the cassette player still on, a constant to remind you you’re still here. Miraculously.

“He’s…” Eddie whistles. “He’s got balls, King Steve.”

“Yeah,” you nod, looking at the water like you’re hypnotized, waiting for his soaked head to pop up.

“Not what you’d expect,” he adds, a little quietly.

“No,” Robin says, and the way she says it— so fond, so genuine. You couldn’t agree more. Steve is so much more than what you’d expected him to be. “Not at all.”

You stay silent for a few more seconds, all of you waiting for Steve to come back. When he does he emerges with a gasp for air, startling the rest of you. Eddie screams so loud you hear it perfectly well over the music.

“Found it,” Steve claims, holding onto the edge of the boat.

“You found it?” Nancy repeats.

“It was pretty wild,” Steve explains that he seemed to have stumbled into the portal, like an open gate illuminating the bottom of the lake and tinting it red. “It was pretty damn big—”

Before he can continue, Steve is pulled into the water once again, and you jump up instinctively, trying to reach for his hand, but he escapes your grasp quickly. He emerges again and you breathe a sigh of relief— but it’s short lived, because Steve is dragged under once again and he’s not coming up.

“Steve!” you yell. “Steve!”

“What the hell was that, man?!”

Between all the screaming going on, the only thing you can think about is Steve, Steve, Steve—

And so you stand up.

“Wait, (Y/N),” Nancy starts, “What are you—”

“You’re not going in there!” Eddie screams, trying to grab you by the arm.

“I—” You start, but can’t seem to decide on what to say. You don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you know you’ll do it anyway. You have no plan, that much is certain, you’ve never fought a day in your life. “I can’t just stay here!”

“Are you insane?!”

Robin pales. “No, (Y/N), wait—”

With one last look at the rest of the guys, you dive into the water and swim. You’ve never been a good swimmer, but you find yourself swimming like you’ve never had, quickly finding the red portal Steve had mentioned before being dragged down here. What you find on the other side reminds you of when you met Vecna— when he showed you your memories, cold, distorted and dark. You briefly wonder if Vecna had managed to drag you all the way here then, but you have no time to dwell on it too much.

Steve is laying on his back, as some creatures bite at his abdomen incessantly, like leeches. They are choking him, curling their tails around his neck. You stand up and run towards him, only to notice the others have followed behind you, their wet footsteps a reassurance.

“(Y/N)!” Nancy yells, making you turn. She throws one of the boat’s paddles at you, keeping one for herself.

You manage to catch it, God knows how. Steve is still struggling when you get to him, and the first thing you do is smack one of the things across the face, forcing it on its back and stopping it from further gnawing Steve’s abdomen. You see as Robin starts stomping on the one who has its tail curled around Steve’s neck, and Nancy takes on the other one.

“Shit,” Eddie murmurs when he looks up the sky and sees even more of them approaching.

One of them starts going after Nancy, Eddie trying to come to her rescue by grabbing Steve’s still working flashlight and smacking it as hard as he can manage. You help Robin by hitting the one she’s stomping on with the paddle, until Steve manages to bite its tail, forcing it to curl itself from his neck.

With more coming, you are distracted enough to barely notice when Steve manages to behead it, his lips stained with pitch black blood.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie mumbles. “Jesus H Christ!”

The adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heartbeat going faster— everything seems to go for so long, when in reality it must’ve been just a few minutes.

“Steve,” you manage to rasp out, walking towards him, only looking at his wounds, unsure of what you can do to help him. “Shit, Steve, are you okay?”

“They only took about a pound of flesh,” he says, making you sigh. “But other than that… Yeah, never better.”

He stares at you when he says it, and you can’t help the way your breath catches.

“You’ll need bandages,” Nancy notes.

“Do you guys know if these bats have like, rabbies?” Robin wonders aloud. Aware that everyone’s eyes are on her, Robin starts rambling about rabies symptoms and death. You and Steve glance at each other.

Steve’s chest is still rising erratically, exhausted, when he asks, “What the hell are you talking about, Robin?”

Before Robin can go on any longer though, the sky is tinted red again, and the screeching of even more approaching creatures gets you on edge.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” you say, and the rest of the group seem to agree.

The five of you break into a run into the forest, as far as you can before Steve’s wounds start to appear more serious, and when Nancy deems it safe enough, you stop near a tree where Steve can lean against, still breathing rapidly. You remember that Nancy said he’d need bandages, and so you take the hem of your pants and start ripping them open.

“What are you—” Steve starts.

“Bandages,” you say. “I saw this in Indiana Jones.”

“Indiana Jones?” Steve asks with a chuckle, looking up at the sky, smiling. “Your movie choices keep surprising me, Henderson.”

You tie the cloth around his wounds as tightly as you can, hopeful that it’s a good enough job to keep him from bleeding out until you guys get out of here. The wounds don’t look too bad, but you have no idea how long you'll stay here for. Nancy, looking over your shoulders, seems to approve of your bandage work.

“Thanks,” Steve rasps out.

“Just don’t die on me,” you nod, staring at his eyes.

“I’ll try not to.”

He holds your gaze, your mouth going even more dry than it already is. “I’ll hold you to that, Harrington.”

You’re interrupted when Steve catches something behind you. It’s Eddie’s jean vest. When you turn, Eddie scrunches up his nose.

“For modesty, man.”

“We escaped now, but there’s more of those monsters than what we saw,” Nancy interrupts, walking around, trying to think. “They’ll come looking for us. We need to get out of here.”

“So,” Eddie starts, running a hand through his mouth. “What the hell do we do now? How do we get out of here, exactly?”

“We need to find another portal, right?” Robin replies. “That’s the only way to get out of here. But we can’t go back to Watergate, it’s probably full of those bats now. Those bats full of rabies!”

“Right now, the most important thing is to defend ourselves,” Nancy says. “We don’t know what kind of monsters are down here. Maybe they’re even worse than that.”

“Hell,” Eddie breathes. “You think Vecna is here?”

“I don’t know… Maybe.”

A chill runs down your spine at the mention of Vecna’s name. Your hand flies to your ear, and only then you realize you’ve jumped in the water with your headphones on, and when you reach the player secured inside your front pocket it’s wet and broken. Through the adrenaline of the fight, you hadn’t even noticed that the song was no longer playing.

“Shit,” Nancy breathes out, looking at your ruined headphones. “The player.”

“It’s ruined,” you lament, seeing the way it’s soaked. You toss the cassette player to the ground, near Steve’s feet, who pales even more, if it’s even possible.

“Fuck,” he says, breathless, the slight reassuring smile he’d been wearing disappears in an instant. He stands up straight despite his body clearly protesting against it. “We need to find another one before it’s too late.”

“Would it even work here?” Robin wonders. “If it’s one from the Upside Down, I mean. Things seem to be… kind of broken here, don’t they?”

“Then we need to get her out of here right now,” Steve urges, and when he starts trying to walk away it’s Eddie who stops him.

“Dude, do you want your intestines to hang out of your abdomen like some shitty Nightmare on Elm Street scene?” he asks, “Stay still! Those bats could be anywhere!”

“We need to move!”

“Steve, wait a second,” you urge after him.

“We could go to my house,” Nancy offers. “I have guns. We could use them to fend off the demo… bats, or whatever. And we need a player. We can use Mike’s, he has one he didn’t take to California.”

Eddie blinks. “You, Nancy Wheeler… have guns.”

Robin grins. “Full of surprises, isn’t she?”

Steve is already on his way despite his groans of pain, and even though the wounds had seemed pretty superficial to you when you wrapped them up, it doesn’t mean that they don’t hurt like a bitch.

“Steve, you’re just hurting yourself even more now,” Now Robin is sighing, exasperated. You briefly wonder how many times she’s had to deal with Steve like this.

“Let’s go,” he says, ignoring her.

“Steve...” you try to stop him, but he turns around quickly.

“Let’s go!”

Robin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Where are we even going, oh great leader?”

“Nancy’s!”

You all turn to look at each other, unsure if following Steve is the best idea, but with nothing else to do and no other ideas, there’s only one thing to do.

And so you all start walking.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

It’s a while before you arrive at the Wheeler’s, the five of you mostly exhausted from the fight, with Steve clutching his wounds but still leading the way, right next to Nancy. You’re all on edge the entire way back, but despite the lack of music you don’t feel different yet, and you don’t encounter any more demobats, as Nancy had called them.

Nancy’s house seems haunted in this place, just as much as the rest of Hawkins seems to be. Despite housing monsters, the Upside Down looks more like a ghost town than anything. You couldn’t help but wonder how tiny Will Byers had ever survived something like this so young… Nobody ever gives that kid enough credit.

Nancy wastes no time climbing up the stairs; she almost seems unaffected looking at her house like this, so… dead. She hovers near a door and turns to look at you.

“This is Mike’s room,” she nods at it. “His cassette player should be in there. Me, Eddie and Robin will get the guns and look for the cassette in my room.”

You agree to it, and she disappears down the hallway along with Eddie and Robin. You and Steve enter Mike’s room, start rummaging through cabinets. You work in silence. You’ve never seen Steve this quiet, this focused. You wonder if he’s mad at you— he had to be. Now besides demobats and trying to escape, he had to help you too because you’d went and done something stupid and completely irrational.

Steve clears his throat, holding up something in his hand. “Found it,” he calls. “Think it’ll work?” He wonders aloud, as you close the closet door before walking up to him.

“Here,” You say, then pull your ruined flashlight from your back pocket. You hit the back of it against the palm of your hand and the batteries come off. You’re not sure if this might work since the flashlight got wet and stopped working once you jumped into the water, but once you plug them into the cassette player it seems to come to life. Steve sighs, relieved. “Thank God that worked. Let’s get that stupid cassette and get out of here.”

“Sounds good to me,” he quips. He wets his lips, looking around. “You don’t feel any different, though, right?” When you shake your head, he seems to be able to relax a bit. “When we were on our way here, Eddie told me you didn’t waste a second to help me.”

You wait for Steve to continue, but he doesn’t.

“I’ve never been much of an adventurer when we were kids,” you say. “Dustin wanted to climb trees and go camping, and I wanted to stay home and read books. We used to fight all the time because I never wanted to play outside with him, because I was scared of bugs and dirt and I just wanted to stay inside.”

Steve doesn’t say anything to that, but he’s near you, hoving near your hand, like he knows you need the comfort, unsure if it’d be wanted from him.

“If I don’t make it out of this stupid curse, Steve,” you breathe out, legs feeling so shaky you want to throw up, “I need you to promise me you’ll take care of Dustin.”

“He’ll kill me before I let you die,” Steve says, trying t sound lighthearted but failing.

“Steve,” you rag out. “Promise me. Please.”

Steve nods, his voice soft in the way it does when he’s trying to be gentle. “Y—yeah. Of course. You know little Henderson’s like my own little brother.”

“I know,” you acknowledge. “You’ve been a way better sibling than me. I’ve been such a shitty sister and I’m… I’m really glad Dustin has you.”

“That’s not true,” he argues, reaching for your arm in the darkness of the room— you want to flinch away. “He loves you, (Y/N). Seriously, you should hear the way he talks about you when you’re not around.”

You ignore the sting in your eyes and berate yourself for tearing up.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper.

“What?”

“It’s my fault my dad walked away,” you shake your head, tearing your arm away from Steve’s touch, feeling cold as soon as you’re away from him. But you deserve it, you deserve the cold. “I told him I hated him after I learned he cheated on mom and that he had another family, and he never came back. I told him I never wanted to see him again. I’m the reason Dustin doesn’t have a dad now. But— but I was just fifteen, I didn’t— I didn’t know what I was asking—”

“Stop, stop,” Steve interrupts, and suddenly he’s pulling you close to your chest and holding you close.

And suddenly that’s all you need to break down, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You feel embarrased, stupid for crying about something like this when the world might be about to end, horrifyingly guilty for everything— but for the first time you feel like something has been finally lifted off your chest and you can breathe, here, with Steve holding you. You’re glad Steve stayed behind with you. In truth, you think you might just be glad for Steve.

If someone had told you a week ago you’d be crying in Steve Harrington’s arms you would’ve smacked them. Life can change really fast, huh?

“Nobody is going to die,” his voice is so soft. You’d never thought you’d think of Steve’s voice as anything other than grating, but now you hold onto it like a lifeline. “I won’t let that happen.”

You breathe into his chest. You finally manage to let go of him, thanking God the others weren’t near. You miss the warmth almost immediately, as much as you don’t want to admit it. “Shit, sorry, your bandages.”

“You need to stop doing that,” he quips.

“What?”

“Apologizing so much,” he reaches for your arm again before walking, and you thank him silently. You have to bite your tongue not to apologize again. “Let’s go get that cassette.”

When you both step into Nancy’s room, the silence is almost deafening.

“What happened?”

“The guns,” Nancy explains, her eyes focused on her nightstand, not looking up at either of you. “They aren’t here. But so many things that shouldn’t be are. Like— like my curtains, and these— these toys I gifted my cousin Joanna. They haven’t been here since 1983.”

“We’re stuck in time, dude,” Eddie finishes for her.

“Three years, to be exact.”

“What?” Steve asks, confused. “Three years into the past?”

“... From when Will disappeared, you mean?” You question.

Nancy nods. “Yeah, I… think so. But, (Y/N), If we’re three years in the past, it means The Breakfast Club isn’t out yet,” Nancy swallows, hard, then finally looks up to stare into your eyes.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, his chest rising erratically.

You bite your lip. “She means the song doesn’t exist, either.”

Nancy closes her eyes.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

“Fuck!” Steve yells, “fuck!”

He kicks one of Nancy’s nightstands with so much force he manages to force it into the ground, Nancy’s belongings following suit, scattering around the carpet, making Nancy flinch.

“Steve,” you whisper, trying to reach for him. “Stop.”

Steve sits on Nancy’s bed, hand covering his mouth. He lets you rest your hand on his arm, and he breathes out another curse. He almost looks frozen in place like this, and it reminds you that everything in here feels like it is— ghosts, so many ghosts. You feel like you’re stuck in hell.

“Maybe any song will work,” Robin offers a little desperately, going through Nancy’s drawers, pulling out different cassettes and soundtracks, Duran Duran, Madonna, Elton John. “C’mon guys, one has to work.”

Eddie scratches his neck. “Doesn’t it have to be her favorite song? Isn’t that what Henderon said?”

“Screw it,” Nancy shakes her head, taking in a shaky breath. “We have to try whatever we can. This is our only option.”

“Okay,” you nod, shakily, prying your hand off of Steve’s arm, reaching to cruch own next to Robin and look through the rest of Nancy’s cassettes. “Okay, let’s— let’s try it.”

Robin holds up Total Eclipse of the Heart. “You like Bonnie Tyler?”

“Seems as good as anything,” you nod, taking it from her hands. As the first notes of Total Eclipse start playing, you gulp nervously, praying this might work, that you have at least enough time to get out of here alive.

Steve still looks miserable, but seems a little calmer now. “We need to get out of here right now.”

“How?” Robin sighs. “How did Will ever manage to get out of this place?”

“There has to be a way,” Nancy figures, then something seems to dawn on her. “Will. Will used to talk to Joyce with the Christmas lights while he was stuck in the Upside Down.”

“The Christmas lights?” Eddie asks, incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

As she explains, you can’t help but think that Nancy Wheeler is absolutely brilliant. You can’t blame Steve for falling in love with her before. She’s interrupted by Robin rather quickly though, when she claims she can hear Dustin’s voice— soon enough, all of you start to hear him, distorted and distant, but it's there no less. Quickly Dustin communicates that he thinks there might be another portal in Eddie’s trailer and that seems to be your best shot at an escape.

Robin and Nancy leave to get some supplies for the trip— whatever they can find to use as a weapon, while Eddie wanders off behind them, with the excuse of rummaging through little Wheeler’s action figures. Steve stays with you, as you stare at Holly’s Lite Brite, unsure on what to do.

You trust Dustin and his plan, of course you do. Dustin’s done nothing but prove himself to you these past few days. Still, the thought that everything might go incredibly wrong is almost unshakable at this point. What was it Max said to you? Something about how Vecna’s curse made people feel hopeless and lonely.

“You okay, right?” Steve wonders aloud, searching your face. “You haven’t had any visions yet?”

You haven’t felt Vecna’s pull yet, but you don’t want to be overly optimistic just yet. “I’m okay, I think. Are you?”

You glance down at his bandages, but he only nods. “Yeah, they don’t hurt anymore. I’m more worried about you.”

Warmth spreads all over your cheeks and inside your chest, but now’s really not the time for all of these feelings, and so you try to squeeze them out, to focus on something else.

“I just hope the plan works,” you mumble. “I want to get out of here.”

“You—” Steve shakes his head, looks at you with a look you can’t name. But he sounds frustrated, exhausted. “You just jumped in after me? You didn’t even think…” he trails off. “Eddie said you just jumped. Fucking jumped. You’re unbelievable, you know that, don’t you, Henderson? Absolutely fucking unbelievable.”

You look down at your hands.

“It was stupid, I know, I—”

“Thank you,” Steve murmurs, honesty bleeding into every word he speaks. You look up at him, surprised. “You saved my ass back there.”

The truth is you hadn’t doubted one second— you hadn’t even stopped to think about what might happen to you. Helping Steve was more important to you than anything in that moment, and you didn’t regret it, how could you regret that?

“You saved my ass first, back at the Wheeler’s,” you smile at him. “Even later, in the woods, and at Creel’s house. I don’t know if I could have kept going without you… so thank you.”

Steve stays silent for a few seconds, unsure of how to continue. You can practically feel him grow nervous now, when he clears his throat and begins speaking. “Listen, I know we are on the brink of life and death and maybe world threatening danger, but I kinda need some motivation to get out of here.”

“Yeah?”

“So, now that you know me and Nancy aren’t really a thing, and that me and Robin are platonic with a capital P…”

“Keep going.”

“And since you know, maybe is really cool,” you nod, trying to fight off a smile. “We should, maybe, go on a date together.”

“Hm…” you place a hand on your chin. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I can go out with someone who doesn’t like Pretty in Pink.”

“I’ve never said I didn’t,” he shrugs. “I just haven’t even seen it.”

“You haven’t seen Pretty in Pink, you monster?!”

“You know, I’m actively bleeding out here,” Steve gestures at your last minute bandages, his smile almost as handsome as him, even more so after tearing off a bat monster’s head off. Even more so now that it seems you finally have a plan to get out of this goddamn place. “You’re gonna make a dying man wait?”

“You’re not dying, Harrington.” You smack him gently across the shoulders. “I won’t let you.”

Steve chuckles, his hand finding its way to yours, almost nervous, scared of rejection.

“So? What do you say?”

“I say that if we get out of here alive, and it seems like kind of a longshot right now…” you acknowledge, holding onto his hand and squeezing. “I would really, really like that.”

“Yeah?”

You’re smiling. “Yeah.”

You both might be the people with the worst timing in the entire world— you’re cursed by a demon villain from another dimension, and Steve is bleeding out while you’re both trapped inside the Upside Down, with no clue if you’ll be able to actually escape. Not to mention this is all happening in his ex's house. And yet you can’t help but laugh when Steve tries to reach for the back of your neck and fails miserably.

“I really want to kiss you,” he says, “but my abdomen still really hurts.”

“I have to do everything,” you tease, before closing the distance between you, your lips pressing against his with a sigh.

Steve’s lips are chapped, bloody, raw, and yours must be equally as bad, salty, open and bleeding raw. But despite everything the kiss is perfect, as imperfect and uncoordinated as it is; the way your lips fit together, the way Steve cradles your cheek, and how you hold the back of his neck while Bonnie Tyler plays in the background of it all. Now, more than anything, you feel hope.

When you break off the kiss, Steve is smiling.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. And you just might.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harington fic #steve x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things scenario #steve harrington scenario #st4 #joe keery #female reader #dyfam #mine #stranger things

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