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sheisjoeschateau · 3 months

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“Oh, so do WE love Steve…” | Part VIII

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER VII WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mentions of death, injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, end-of-the-world terror talk, tough conversations and brutal honesty, jealousy and regrets. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not a super action packed chapter, but we unpack a lot in this one. Sh*t gets addressed that needs to be addressed. Dr. Owens delivers some hard news. Robin to the rescue, big time, for her platonic soulmate with a capital P. Platonic Stobin in full swing. Eddie still has no chill, but is the zany friend that everyone needed. Eddie & Robin bonding. Argyle becomes a therapist. Nancy faces some hard truth. Jonathan faces harder truth. Jopper being the ever-observant grandparents. Murray being Murray. Steve and Bauman Squared are more in love than ever. And the kids? Little legends.

ANOTHER LONG ONE. AGAIN: PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

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“Dislocated the shoulder, but no break. Popping it back into place isn’t going to be a picnic, but it’s way better than a break. So we’re off to a great start. Let’s take a look at your ribs now…”

Dr. Owens had you seated on the edge of the bed in Joyce and Hopper’s room downstairs. Murray, Steve and Robin all stood nearby, alongside them. They all watched anxiously.

Argyle and Eddie were on kid/teen duty. They made sure to keep them out of the room, which they managed to convince them of by going upstairs to sit with Max and read to her out loud.

You hissed as Dr. Owens made contact with your ribcage, and he frowned. “Possible fracture there. Good news is, if they were broken, you’d be on the ground in pure misery. They might even just be really badly bruised.”

You sighed. “I’m good with that.

Murray felt both relieved and frustrated at the same time. God, he hated doctors. Especially ones who served as double agents for the government. But Dr. Owen’s had more than proven himself to be trustworthy, so your uncle was putting up with him. For your sake, especially. You were basically the only kid he was ever gonna have.

“Best bet is to rest, ice them regularly and let them heal for about six weeks.”

You frowned. “Not so good with that.”

“Welp, you’re gonna have to be,” your uncle told you. Steve and Hopper nodded. You huffed, and Steve was selfishly grateful to know that you would have no choice but to stay home and out of danger.

“Alright, let’s check that heartbeat, shall we?” Dr. Owens asked with a smile. He took out his stethoscope, placing the instrument inside of his ears and blowing hot air onto the cold circle that would be placed over your heart. You brought the collar of your shirt down so that he could place it on your chest, and he listened closely while you waited.

Dr. Owens' smile slowly faded, and a prominent crease began to form between his brows. Robin clocked it, along with Steve. Hopper tried not to react, but Joyce’s fidgeting definitely gave it away.

“W-what’s wrong?” Joyce asked, unable to help herself.

Dr. Owens just held up a finger, politely gesturing for them to wait. You furrowed your brow, suddenly aware of the fact that something seemed to be the matter.

Steve swallowed, unblinking. What now…

Murray was not happy at the tension in the air, looking over at Joyce anxiously.

Dr. Owens eventually cleared his throat, pulling the stethoscope out of his ears with a deep inhale. He looks at you kindly, eyes solemn. You stare back, questioning.

“Well, umm…it’s normal. Not surprising, given the electric shock, but uh…your heartbeat’s not at its normal steady rhythm.”

Robin heard Steve suck in a breath, placing a hand on his forearm as they all looked at Dr. Owens.

“Cardiac arrhythmias is normal in these cases,” he tells you. “A heart arrhythmia occurs when the electrical signals that tell the heart to beat don't work properly. The heart may beat too fast or too slow. Or the pattern of the heartbeat may be inconsistent. A heart arrhythmia may feel like a fluttering, pounding or racing heartbeat. Some heart arrhythmias cases are harmless. Most, in fact.”

“Well, what about this one?” your uncle asked, voice grave.

Dr. Owens sighed. “Too soon to tell,” he said apologetically. “But it’s important that it remains monitored.”

“What do we do.” …Steve’s question sounded more like a statement, laced with worry and dangerously voice low.

Dr. Owens looked at him sympathetically. “I can get a prescription that will help. An antiarrhythmic medication. No surgery is needed unless it’s severe. It might not be.”

“How can you tell?” Joyce asked, worriedly. “I mean – what are the signs that we need to look for?”

“Fainting, chest pain, dizziness.” Then, to you, “If you feel like the heart is fluttering, or leaping inside of your chest, definitely make note of it. Scale it, 1-10, how bad it is. Be honest with yourself. Don’t tell yourself you’re more fine than not, and vice-versa. Don’t let it panic you, but just…stay alert.”

Steve wanted to pull every single one of his perfect hairs out. How the hell was that supposed to help? What happens if you wound up passed out on the floor, dead before they would get you proper help?

“Yeah, but what if — w-what if —”

That's all that Steve could mutter. Robin squeezed his forearm tighter, masking her own fear as she gnawed at her bottom lip relentlessly. Murray stared at Dr. Owens, visibly upset. Hopper looked pale, along with Joyce.

“How fast can you get us that medication?” Hopper asked, like a protective papa.

“I’ll get it to you tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning,” Dr. Owens promised. “I can bring as much as you may need. Meantime, I’ll leave the stethoscope so that you can monitor the heartbeat. Here, let me show you what to look for.”

Dr. Owens instructed Steve and Murray on how to monitor your heartbeat, and you ached as you watched Steve look consumed with dread as he did his best to keep it together and not freak out. Hopper and Joyce took notes, too. Everyone listened to your heartbeat, Steve most of all.

You took his hand. “Remember, it’s still there,” you murmured to him softly. He nodded, knowing you were right but still not content with the reality of things. Robin gave you a sympathetic smile, grateful for you and your courage.

Then, you looked at Dr. Owens with gratitude. “Thank you. For being here, and…helping out. I know you’re putting yourself on the line.”

Dr. Owens gave you a deeply appreciative look, along with Hopper. He wrung his hands. “Appreciate that, kiddo. Truly.”

Everyone went over the plans that would go into effect, given the mandate taking place in just a few short days. Hopper mentioned that it might be best for Dr. Owens to seek shelter with them, if things went south for him — given his compromised identity as an accomplice to them vs. the government. The doctor couldn’t argue that, saying he would think about it. Steve and Robin mentioned to him that Eddie needed looking over as well, which he said he’d do before he left.

While the adults talked, Steve and Robin walked with you out the bedroom door. You looked outside the living room windows, hating the thick cloud of infected air that had only gotten worse — seemingly overnight. It was dense, congested with alternate dimension disease.

“Seriously, hate that I can’t even get some damn fresh air,” you sighed.

“Last thing you need is bad air in your lungs,” Steve told you, his fingers reaching to massage the crown of your head. You sighed, knowing that he was right.

The kids heard you all walking out of the room, Mike and Lucas peeking their heads around the doorway leading into Max’s room upstairs. They made for the stairs, followed by Dustin, Will and El, rushing towards you all. Eddie and Argyle shouted after them, but they quickly rushed over to you.

They swarmed you all with questions. Is your shoulder broken? What about your ribs? Are you hungry?

“One at a time, kiddos,” Robin warned.

“No broken bones,” Steve told them, “But possible fracture. Ribcage. So no bear hugs, no tackling, no…rough-housing.”

Mike cocked an eyebrow at him. “Speak for yourself.”

Lucas smacked him.

“Thank you, Wheeler,” Steve said wryly. Mike smirked.

“Also, we gotta keep watch over Bauman’s heartbeat,” Robin pointed out.

El looked worried. “How come?”

You gave her an assuring head rub before carefully pulling her in for a hug. “Just a bit of an irregular heartbeat. You know. Given the shock and astral-planing and all.”

El held you tight, cautious of your ribs.

“…guess this means no coffee then, huh?” you asked, depressed at the mere thought. Caffeine was no longer your friend.

“That is correct,” Steve told you with a light kiss pressed to your head, then El’s. “Alright, kitchen everyone. Breakfast. Let’s go.”

“Bauman, we need to pop your shoulder back in place,” Dr. Owens hollered after you, and you dreaded the pain that awaited you.

Eddie made it downstairs with Argyle. “I’ll fix up a feast, big boy,” he told Harrington, giving him a quick couple pats on the shoulder. Then he squeezed your cheek. “Keep that heartbeat in rhythm, sweetheart. I’ll make you a sweet mixtape for inspiration.”

You chuckled deeply, appreciating his sense of humor deeply. Even Steve did, shaking his head and grateful for the cooking assistance. “Don’t kill my toaster, Munson.”

Steve walked back into the bedroom with you, holding your hand while you had your shoulder popped back into place. It was gnarly. Plenty of pain medication followed that, one that took your heartbeat into account. It was bound to knock you out at some point, so Steve and Robin made sure to get you back into the kitchen for some food before you’d need to head back upstairs and knock out asleep.

Hopper and Joyce helped out by adding some pancakes, sausage and eggs to Eddie’s cereal bar. Murray was already day-drinking. Dr. Owens stayed behind to join you all, at the invitation of the adults. Currently, he was going over notes that Hopper had given him in a seat next to Murray.

Argyle saw Jonathan round the corner – looking glum. “Yooo, bro-cha-cho. Purple palm tree delight?”

Jonathan blinked, slowly brought out of his trance. He looked tired, head hung low. Honestly, he looked like shit. “Oh, uhh…maybe later. Yeah.” He gave Argyle a sad smile before sulking off towards the front door while pulling a bandana over his mouth and nose — leaving the house.

“YO, GIMME SOME.” Eddie spoke with a mouthful of fruit loops. “Air’s shit anyway. Why not fry my lungs s’more?”

“Fry it with what?” El asked innocently.

Eddie swallowed the sweet cereal awkwardly. “...candy.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he poured everyone a glass of juice, and Robin held back a snort with all the strength that she could muster while divvying out plates.

“Really lame, gross candy,” Hopper threw back over his shoulder while flipping pancakes. He eyed Munson with a protective dad look on his eyes.

“The weird peanut butter smelling kind,” Murray added, reading a newspaper and gritting at the taste of his straight vodka.

“Thank you, Murray,” Joyce reprimanded him.

You were seated next to El and Mike, not allowed to help given your sharp shoulder pain and the medication beginning to sink in. Steve placed your food in front of you, along with the kids’.

“Fresh pot of coffee going on,” Hopper announced while cooking.

You sighed, turning to Steve. “Baby, do you —”

You stopped, catching yourself. But so did everyone else. Too late now.

“...have…decaf…?”

Steve’s heart swelled, his cheeks flushing.

Lucas and Dustin made eye contact, trying not to laugh or get giddy. Mike and El did, too, along with Will. All the kids were in on it now — thanks to last night’s impromptu sleepover in Max’s room, unbeknownst to the rest of the household. The OG party knew the secret, but they also agreed (thanks to Dustin’s firm warning about Murray’s rampage last night) not to press either you or Steve about it yet. Big emphasis on yet.

Robin poured syrup in slow motion, and Eddie bit back a shit-eating grin. Argyle looked unfazed, though, dishing up a plate of food.

Hopper was grinning down at the pancakes he was serving up, back turned to everyone still. Joyce unabashedly looked like a very happy mama, as Murray’s eyes peeked over the newspaper gleefully.

“Yeah, baby, I do,” Steve said, shooting you a wink and moving to go get some. You blushed at Steve’s returning the pet name. Steve walked towards the large pantry, passing Nancy — who you saw was now standing in the doorway, having heard it too. She looked tired, similarly to Jonathan. You gave her a soft smile, which she reluctantly returned.

Walking towards you, she asked in the smallest of voices —

“How're you feeling?...”

You could tell that something was wrong, wanting to ask but also not. “Shoulder’s screaming, but not broken thankfully. Just out of the socket, Dr. Owens’ popped it back into place. I’ll be alright. Thanks, Nance.”

She gave you a relieved, tight-lipped smile. You gave her as soft a look as you could, and Mike chimed in to break the tension.

“Nancy, I swear, Jonathan’s gonna turn into a palm tree if he keeps blazing it up,” he snorts, the joke very ill-timed. But Dustin’s chuckling, along with Lucas’s, keeps him in a state of oblivion. Something flickers in Nancy's eyes, and to your surprise she chuckles too — humorlessly. Darkly.

“Yeah. You can say that again.”

…so she agrees with her brother’s joke? Nancy moved to dish herself up a plate, expression bitter and her movements aggressive. You felt bad and you didn’t even know why.

Mike definitely looked confused, along with his friends. Will looked concerned, along with Joyce. Mother and son made eye contact.

Steve returned, ready to make a pot of fresh decaf. He brought an extra coffee pot with him. Rich kid perks.

“Morning, Nance,” he acknowledged her, moving to make the coffee.

Her heart seized, voice tight. “Hey.”

Hopper made uncomfortable eye contact with Murray, who buried himself deeper into his chair with the newspaper. He did not account for this sort of awkwardness when going on a rant last night… Hopper shot him a high-raised eyebrow while flipping another pancake.

Steve heated up the pot of decaf, taking a plate that Joyce dished up for him and moving to sit next to you. Mike made room for him, not even questioning it. That made Nancy scoop more than enough eggs onto her plate than necessary.

Hopper clocked it. “You, uhh…need some cheese, or…?”

Joyce gave Hopper a disapproving look, old married couple behavior in full swing. Nancy looked down at her plate, embarrassed. “Oh…n-no, I’m —”

Nancy awkwardly moved to sit down at the table next to Dustin. Robin gulped, knowing what this was all about. Finally, everyone was seated at the table – aside from Steve, who stood to pour you a cup of hot decaf coffee before bringing it over to you. You sipped it, eyes becoming hooded with exhaustion as the pain medication set in. Steve scooted his chair closer so that you could lean on him if needed. Nancy had to peel her eyes away, staring down at her food — playing with it, unable to stomach eating it now.

She couldn’t even be mad. How could she? What right did she have to be mad? And who would she even be mad at? You? Steve? Jonathan?

Herself. She was mad at herself.

That’s what she realized last night, when she and Jonathan didn’t get a wink of sleep in their room. They’d stayed up, hashing it out once and for all. It was a hurricane of sadness, harsh truth and reality – all at once. Words that had been left unsaid. Feelings that had never been expressed. Regrets, empty promises and words of disappointment. All aired out like dirty laundry. He had asked how long she’d been falling for Steve again, which she had countered by asking him how long he had been planning to dump her while he was in California. Jonathan had been stunned into silence, asking how the hell she knew that and if she had spoken to Argyle. Nancy’s eyes, filled with tears, had stared at him with the look of utmost betrayal. “It was a hunch. Until right now.”

Neither of them got closure that night. Nearly 5 hours of back and forth, and it got them nowhere. They went to bed angry. Sad, heartbroken and lost. But sleep didn’t find either of them. Instead, they both stared in opposite directions — backs turned to one another in a shared bed. The morning had re-ignited the argument whenever they heard Dr. Owens arriving, because when Jonathan had moved to get up, Nancy asked him bitterly: “need to go hide your stash?” That started back up all sorts of hissed, whispered arguing.

“Nancy, where’d Jonathan go?” Joyce’s question, soft and a bit worried, rattled Nancy’s thoughts.

“He just…wanted to get some fresh air.”

Everyone was silent. Dr. Owen’s looked up from his files. “It’s really bad out there. He really shouldn’t be breathing any of that in.”

Nancy grit her teeth, fork scraping across her plate and making Robin cringe at the jarring sound.

Mike snorted as he ate more pancakes. “His lungs are already in rough condition as it is. Probably doesn’t even matter.”

Nancy narrowed her eyes down at her plate of toyed breakfast food, nauseas. She nodded her head bitterly, speaking through gritted teeth: “Agreed. What’s it matter? Likely irreparable anyway.”

No one missed the double meaning behind that as she rose to stand and dump her plate into the trash. She quickly made her way out of the room, knowing the damage was already done but not having it in her to care. Nancy couldn’t get away fast enough.

Eddie looked so uncomfortable but also sympathetic. He knew this was a result of last night, along with Robin. They shared a quiet, concerned glance. Mike and the kids were just confused. What was her deal?

Steve’s brow was furrowed, along with yours — however, you were already feeling the medicine kick in so everything was starting to feel fuzzy. Your fingers were wrapped around the hot cup of decaf, warming them. You were wearing a few rings that Eddie had gifted you while in the upside down, and as Steve focused on them now he realized just how hot you looked wearing them. He took in your slightly hooded eyes, moving to stand. “Wanna go lie down?”

You nodded, excusing yourself and thanking Dr. Owens again. He told you that he’d make sure to get the medication later today, then to Eddie — “Hey Munson, let’s go check on how those stitches are holding up, yeah?”

Eddie gulped. He hated needles and doctor tools.

Robin smirked. “Let’s go show him my handywork.” They all moved off to the living room, followed by Hopper.

Joyce looked perplexed still, unsettled by Nancy’s exit. She turned to Will, speaking softly, “Did Jonathan tell you anything? Is something wrong?”

But Will shook his head, shrugging, just as confused and concerned. “Nothing,” he whispered back. “I was gonna ask you that.”

The eldest and youngest Byers looked pensive, thinking. Wondering. Worrying.

Mike’s face was quizzical. “What do you mean? Why would anything be wrong with them?”

An incredulous scoff from behind the newspaper made everyone turn in Murray’s direction. The grouchy man just sipped on his morning cup of poison, minding his business — even though he stuck his nose in everybody else’s.

Joyce’s eyes narrowed at the front page of the Hawkins Press. Of course…

“Hey, Mur?”

Murray cringed at Joyce’s sugary sweet, all-knowing tone… Hesitantly, he lowered the paper by just barely an inch. He internally winced at the motherly eyes that bore into his soul from the table.

“Wanna go help me start clearing out the basement?”

Oh my god, Joyce Byers is going to murder me in Steve Harrington’s basement.

That’s all Murray thought while he set down his newspaper, swigged the last of his drink and followed her downstairs. He began to mentally write his eulogy.

Hopper grunted, setting his fork down. “Ahhh, geez,” he huffed, standing up to follow them.

The kids all eyed each other, left alone at the table — no adults or older teens in sight. What the hell just happened?

***

Steve got you upstairs safely, tucking you into bed and making sure you had water at your bedside table along with a walkie so that you could signal for him if you needed anything. It made you chuckle.

“What?” he asked you, quizzically.

You shook your head. “Still wondering why you’re considered the mom?”

Steve shot you a wry look, no heat in his eyes. You were already beginning to doze off, the better pain meds doing their thing – thanks to Dr. Owens.

With a little shake of his head and fighting a smirk, Steve crouched to kiss your forehead, then your neck.

“Careful, Harrington,” you murmured sleepily. “Don’t wan’g’my heart rate up.”

“Shush, I’m keeping it steady,” his lips murmured into your jaw. You hummed in approval, feeling yourself beginning to drift off as his breathing tickled your neck. Steve whispered that he loved you, and you faintly whispered it back as you fell asleep.

Unable to contain himself, Steve placed his ear to your chest for a moment — listening to your heartbeat. He frowned to himself, hearing the sporadic beat. Thump. Th-thump, thump. Thump thump. His throat started to burn, along with his eyes. But your fingers gently scratching his head, ceasing as you finally fell asleep, kept his emotions at bay.

Steve reluctantly pulled himself a way, pressing a lingering kiss to your hand before making his way out of your bedroom door.

He jogged downstairs to meet with the adults again, checking on Eddie as he was finishing up with Dr. Owens. The older man smiled at Steve.

“I gotta say, Harrington. Your friend’s a natural caretaker. Could be a nurse one day.”

Robin gave a smug grin. “See? I’m not just a band nerd. Turns out, I’m a real geek. A medical one, at that.”

Steve smirked back at her. “Yeah well, hope you like blood and needles and guts.”

“Psh. After the shit we’ve seen?” Robin scoffed. “Think I can handle it.”

“Touché,” Steve nodded.

“Speak for yourself,” Eddie grumbled. “I never wanna see my own blood ever again. I feel like a voodoo doll. Vecna can suck my whole hairy ass.”

“Thaaaank you, Munson,” Robin cringed. “Love that visual.”

“He can honestly suck mine, too.”

Dr. Owens muttering that was ten times more disturbing than Eddie. The three teens were awkwardly quiet, aside from Eddie finally chuckling out of pity. The older man didn’t even notice as he packed up his belongings.

“Alrighty then,” Dr. Owens said politely. “Best be off. I’ll be back tonight with the prescription for your lady.”

Steve blushed slightly at that, giving the doc a thankful nod.

“Keep an eye on her,” Dr. Owen’s said kindly. “She’ll be alright. She’s a tough one. Murray’s got one helluva soldier for a niece.”

“She’s bad to the bone,” Eddie reveled.

“Made of steel,” Steve agreed, fondly and voice soft. But he nibbled at his lip, mind elsewhere. He was still worried, and the doctor could tell.

“Just make sure she stays horizontal and lets those ribs heal. That’ll do her heart some good. And don’t fret. I’ve seen way worse.”

Dr. Owens’ gave a firm pat and squeeze to Steve’s shoulder, hoping it would give him plenty of assurance. Steve gave him a quick, tight-lipped grin, pretending it helped. Robin looked at her best friend worriedly.

With that, Dr. Owen’s made his way out. Hopper met him at the doorway, walking out with him.

“STEVE, WHERE’S THE PUDDING?”

Dustin’s sudden shouts from the kitchen made everyone jump.

“Jesus H. Christ —” Eddie hissed, clutching his heart.

“Henderson,” Steve exhaled, raking a hand through his hair as he turned to march towards the kitchen. “I swear to god.”

“Lemme handle it,” Eddie huffs. “Yo, BUTT MUNCH. WE JUST HAD BREAKFAST.”

Stepdad of the year.

Steve would normally wave off the offered help, being the assigned mother of the group. But even as the kids all made noise with Eddie, he found himself just…letting him take care of it. He needed a break. Needed to think.

“Steve, Joyce is asking where the keys to the basement breaker are,” Erica was asking him as she rounded the corner.

Steve blinked, nodding and wrapping his head around the request. But Robin stepped in, sensing his internal overwhelm.

“I’ll get them,” she told Erica, shooting a quick look at Steve. “Kitchen drawer, yeah?”

He nodded, sighing with relief. Robin made her way there with Erica, and Steve took that as a chance at escape. He could feel his chest tightening, breathing constricting a bit. Yikes, he needed some air. But that wasn’t an option either. Best bet was the nearest empty room. Max’s room was closer than his. Steve quickly bound the stairs, pinching his nose and slipping into the room quietly — needing a moment, just a moment.

El walked out of the hallway restroom, right after Steve had closed the door. She made for the stairs, heading down to find Hopper. When he walked back inside from his chat with Dr. Owens, the two of them made for the basement — telling the kids to follow, while Robin told Lucas she would handle replenishing Max’s feeding tube upstairs. She knew how to, since Dr. Owens had given strict intrusions to not only the adults but also to her. She, along with you and Steve, knew how to handle it thoroughly. Robin found herself oddly keen on helping people with the medical stuff. It gave her a newfound sense of purpose. She headed upstairs, pep in her step — who knows? Maybe she’d found her calling, she wondered to herself.

She opened Max’s door, freezing when she found Steve on the other side of it. Her heart sank.

Her best friend stood leaning against the wall to the right of the door frame — facing Max’s bed. His face was scrunched, pained.

“Steve…” Robin murmured, heartbroken. She quickly shut the door, locking it and placing a hand on his shoulder. The sight of a tear-track on his face, glistening in the gloomy natural light of the room, made her frown.

Steve looked at her for all of a millisecond, feeling caught but unable to stop now. His emotions were definitely catching up with him, and Robin wasn’t surprised — given just how long he’d been keeping shit in. She’d known for a while now: Steve Harrington needed a good, long fucking cry. She watched him pinch the bridge of his nose, his pretty face crumpling even more and shoulders shaking as he bit down on his lip hard.

“Steve, hey, it’s just me,” she whispered kindly, hugging and rubbing his shoulders while resting her chin there. He kept as much noise trapped inside of his throat as possible, mainly just letting it all come out through a quiet flow of steady tears as he stood tensely. He gratefully clasped onto one of Robin’s hands — with the one hand he wasn’t holding to the bridge of his nose with, willing the tears to stop.

“You’re really overdue for this,” Robin nudged him gently, squishing her cheek deeper into the curve of his shoulder. “Seriously, I’ve been wondering when the hell you were gonna let it all out…”

Steve coughed on what seemed to be half a laugh, half a sob. He was frustrated with himself. With everything. Your heart is failing you now and maybe forever. Max is still in a coma. His loved ones are all in danger. His kids can’t catch a break. His parents left. Hawkins is basically dead. And the upside down just gets closer, no matter how many gates they’ve closed over the last 3 years.

SO YEAH. Robin was right. Steve needed to fucking cry.

She stood there with him for a little while, letting her presence comfort him and not pushing. Steve really did hit the jackpot with her in the best friend department.

“Sometimes, I wonder if she’s still there.”

Steve’s voice was thick, low and vibrating the room. Robin knew who he meant, following his gaze. Max.

Robin hummed. “Trust me. That little firecracker is very much alive and can’t wait to tear into all of us with her redheaded temper and sarcastic wit.”

If Robin had been looking at him, she would have seen the corner of Steve’s lips quirk up briefly in amusement. She was right, of course.

“Think she knows?” Robin asks softly, still leaning onto Steve. “About…anything?”

She felt Steve take a deep breath, exhaling deeply as he rubbed his face. “M’not sure,” he murmurs, thoughts grim. “Honestly, I hope not. That’d mean she’s still trapped in there. Somewhere dark. Vile, and awful.”

Robin shuddered at that, hating the thought. She decided to ask something different. Lighter.

“Think she knew you were head over heels for a girl you swore you couldn’t stand?” She turned her head on Harrington’s shoulder so that she was looking up at him with teasing eyes and a wiggling brow. “Vowed to hate, forever and always, cross your heart and hope to die?”

Steve shook his head, beginning to grin. He looked at Max the whole time while doing so, imagining his little sister/daughter figure giving him hell for falling for you but completely loving it. Because while he knew that Max loved him — that little shit loved the hell out of you.

Steve’s frown suddenly returned, face crumpling all over again. It broke Robin’s heart as she watched fresh tears fill his eyes, which he trapped from falling by quickly scrunching his eyes shut again and digging the heels of his palms into them. It made Robin want to bawl. But she held it together for Steve’s sake, lifting her head to turn and hug him tight. She shushed him softly, desperate to calm him. Comfort him, assure him.

Steve sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, forbidding his cries to make noise. He couldn’t. Not right now. He could scream into a pillow later. Right now, he just let Robin hold him until he got it together again.

Eventually, Steve pulled back — swiping at his eyes and nose, sniffing hard. Robin looked at him sadly, rubbing his arms and letting him steady his breathing.

“Jesus, Robin, a heart arrhythmia…”

Robin had a feeling that was what was weighing heavily on Steve’s mind. You, and your newly failing heart. It made her upset, too. Deeply upset. It worried her sick. But she couldn’t let Steve sense that. Not right now. She needed to be there for him — and by extension, you.

“We’re gonna steady it, Steve,” Robin promised, voice low but fierce.

Steve shuddered a sigh, eyes downcast and mind racing as he carded his fingers through his hair. “It’s the end of the fucking world and all our heart rates are already on edge as it is —”

“So we keep her here,” Robin interrupted, gently. “Out of harm’s way, as best we can. We don’t let her put herself in a position to freak out.” She paused, thinking. “Yknow, come to think of it, Bauman’s probably the coolest outta all of us big kids. Pretty sure that chick has freaked out the least.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. Oh, you. “Yeah, because she’s a fucking sociopath like her uncle.”

Robin genuinely laughed at that, unable to help it. Steve smiled, too. But a few tears met the smile and the breathy laugh he let out. Robin thumbed them away sweetly.

“She’s great,” Robin told him. “Really great. Stupid great. Maybe my favorite lady I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. Aside from Vicki.”

Steve sniffed. “You tryna steal my girl?”

Robin cocked an eyebrow, happy to hear him teasing. Good, it’s working. “Oh, so she is your girl now, huh? Exclusive, off-limits?”

Steve bit back a big, bashful smile — looking at her almost shyly and nudging her foot with his shoe. He turned to look at Max, nodding in her direction.

“Think she’d approve?”

Robin looked at the sleeping girl, too. She smiled sadly. “Depends. Of you two as a pair? Yeah. You’re mom and dad. As far as she’s concerned, neither one of you has anyone else out there deserving of you both. So I’d assume she feels you guys deserve each other more than anyone else deserves either of ya.”

Steve actually smiled at that, eyes sparkling as he looked at Max. He took a minute to take in her still form, thinking back to when he first met her with the kids. She was a badass. You’d have thought she’d been fighting monsters all her life. She actually took better to the whole upside down shit than he had, whenever he went over to Jonathan Byers’ house to apologize then got roped into all the madness. He had to give it to her: Max was hardcore.

“I really need this shithead to wake up,” Steve chuckled humorlessly.

Robin did, too, squeezing his arm as she shook her head at Max’s sleeping face hooked up to a breathing tube. “When she does…it’ll be a helluva reunion.”

Steve liked that. When.

“And whennn your girl gets her strength back,” Robin continued, “along with her ribs back in tact, you know…given you, Byers and Munson took her to pound town…”

Steve made a face. “Gross. Don’t say that, no.”

“Damn, Harrington, get your head outta the gutter,” Robin popped her hip into Steve’s side. “Even when I’m being serious, talking about resuscitation — not sex…you’re still jealous…at a hypothetical.”

Steve gave her a wry look, but then placed his cheek on top of her head as he looked at Max.

“As I was saying…” Robin murmured, a smile in her voice. “When your girl is back up to speed, she will give you all the heart attacks to make up for it. You won’t be able to stand her guts but you’ll be so in love with her it won’t matter. And then Max will wake up…give you two shit for it…then be a mess of joy because the two babysitters turned enemies have suddenly become lovers.” Robin paused, smiling to herself. “And I’ll be the happiest, proudest, most sappy-go-lucky best friend in the world.”

Steve breathed a sigh at that, content. It brought him peace in this moment — the idea of you, perfectly fine and all in one piece. The idea of his kid waking up, her memory still intact along with her sarcasm and quick wit. The idea of his best friend being so happy to see him so happy.

He threw an arm around her, and the two best friends just stood there for another several moments to revel in the quiet of it all — allowing themselves to dream. Allowing themselves to believe.

***

Meanwhile, Eddie definitely did not feel guilty for having eaten the last 3 puddings that Henderson had selfishly stashed for himself. Little bro’s just gonna have to cope, he thought to himself as he jogged up the stairs.

He almost broke into song, Master of Puppets rambling on inside his head -- but stopped himself when he heard voices. Tense voices.

Eddie’s pace came to a slow, and he became not only more aware of his steps — but the voices, too. Where they were coming from…to whom they belonged…

"So he was then. He was going to break up with me."

"Listen, I...I realllllllly don't wanna...speak outta term here..."

Only one guy under this roof talked that slowly, and only one lady under this roof spoke with that crisply.

Argyle and Nancy.

"Look, just -- tell me exactly what he said."

"That is what he said, man, I swear..."

Eddie could hear Nancy huffing exasperatedly. For a rich family, Steve's parents' house had some really cheap, thin doors...

He crept closer, still standing a few paces down. Just in case he needed to bolt, should someone catch him listening in -- or in case one of the two speaking on the other side of the door barged out of the room. Eddie listened, his senses on high alert and his curiosity burning.

"Then he was going to break up with me -- God, I knew it. I just knew it!"

Wait, Eddie thought. Jonathan was going to break up with her...? And Argyle knew...? But then...wait, then how did Nancy...?

"Look, Nancy," Argyle was sighing, sounding pretty worried despite his usual lackadaisical tone. "He didn't want to, alright? I'm a bro. I know when a brother's down bad, he was just freaking himself out, you know -- because of where you wanna go to college...where he wants to go to college..."

"Oh, that is so NOT an excuse."

"Which is whyyy I told him to talk to you --"

"Then why didn't he. Huh? Why didn't he??"

Eddie gulped. He could hear the genuine hurt and betrayal in Nancy's voice. Sheez, Byers was in for one helluva fight...

"Honestly, I'm asking myself that too, Nancy," Argyle was huffing this out, matching her energy. Even he sounded exasperated with his best bro. "But I'm also remembering that...like...that creepy Vecna dude kinda threw off everybody's groove. I mean -- I came to pick them up from the house and it was all getting shot up and stuff, liiiike...shit kinda hit the fan...you know...?"

"That's...still, that's not..."

"Annnnd you guys were all caught up in the shit going down back in Hawkins, man...you know? Chrissy, and...that coworker of yours, annnnd...that other random dude who hung out with... shiiiit, what was his name...? Jake...?"

"Jason," Nancy muttered lowly.

"That guy."

"Look -- Argyle." Nancy huffed again, flustered at life but regaining her edge. "Upside down stuff aside, Jonathan still took the time to talk this out with you. Not me, you. For weeks."

There was an awkward pause before Argyle spoke.

"...yeah, that's pretty bad..."

"He could have called. He could have written me. He could've, he could've, he could've. But he didn't."

"Why didn't you tell him that?"

"...what?"

Oh shit, Eddie gulped.

"Whenever we all got back here," Argyle explained. "Back in Hawkins. Why didn't you confront him about it?"

Another awkward silence.

"...I..." Nancy stumbled.

"Why didn't you go up to him, call his ass out, and call him out for not talking to you?" Argyle was suddenly sounding pretty sure of himself. It was out now character for him. Oddly? It suited him.

"I...I..."

Meanwhile, Nancy was uncharacteristically not sounding sure of herself.

Argyle gained speed.

"Think about it! You say you knew something was off...you say he was giving you mixed signals...you say he got back and suddenly acted like everything was fine, but that you sensed things still were not fine...so then why let it go? Why not tell him yourself? You're a loud woman."

"Whoa, what?" Nancy stuttered.

"You are!!! That's a compliment! You're loud and proud. You wear the damn pants. You have a gun collection. You don't hold back, even if you don't say fully what it is that you mean. Your poker face is shit."

"Argyle...!"

"You've been avoiding it too, Nancy," Argyle cut her off.

At this point, Eddie was frozen as he listened. Damn. When did Argyle become a therapist?

Clearly, Nancy was asking herself the same thing. Because it was quiet. Severely quiet.

Eddie started tracing shapes into the carpet with his mind while he stared at the ground, waiting to hear more dialogue. But it was crickets.

Finally, he heard Argyle sighing deeply. "Maybe if you both just...I dunno, man...listened to each other. Like...heard one another. You both just keep using whatever it is that you ask each other to like...one up each other...and it doesn't get either of you anywhere, man... Just hear each other out."

A tap on Eddie's shoulder made him flinch back, nearly jumping out of his skin. He whipped around to see Robin, staring at him with wide eyes. She held a finger to her lips.

Eddie couldn't believe that he managed to keep the scream trapped inside of him. He sagged with relief, heart pounding and silently pantomiming strangling her. Don't scare me like that. Her head bobbed back and forth as he shook her by the shoulders, and together they realized that they were both in on the secret:

Nancy and Jonathan are not alright.

Together, they softly crept down the hallway into Steve's bedroom. As Robin closed the door, Eddie whirled around to speak in a hissed whisper.

"Holy shit, what the fuck, this is like a soap opera --"

"Shhhhh," Robin hissed back, swatting at him to keep quiet.

"I'm literally whispering."

"And spitting."

"Sorry."

They continued whispering through gritted teeth, relieved to have each other to confide in. Eddie and Robin were beginning to feel like the zany aunt and uncle of the group who knew too much about everything going on around the house. It bonded them for sure. They knew about you and Steve, which also became a topic of whispered conversation right now as they sat cross-legged on the floor of Steve's bedroom.

"Sorry, but can we talk about how off we were trying to push Wheeler back on Harrington?" Eddie's eyebrows were raised practically to the top of his hairline.

Robin scoffed at themselves, shaking her head. "I'll say..."

"It was right there under our noses and we just..." Eddie moved his hand in a straight line, "...breeeeezed onnnnn past it."

"Yeah, but honestly?" Robin whispered eagerly. "I thought Bauman hit a sore spot that could never be repaired. Steve seriously was in love with Nancy. Like, really in love."

Eddie chuckled lowly, shaking his head. "Trust me. I said the same thing. To his face directly, while we were in the upside down. Told him that what Wheeler did -- diving into the lake after him -- was the most unambiguous sign of true love I'd ever seen in my life." He paused, thinking. "But what I failed to realize was that...it was Bauman who freaking lunged for him first on the boat. And the way he clung to her hand, despite also looking mad at her for doing that --"

Eddie was reliving the memory, realizing something. Robin was, too.

"He was mad that she put her life on the line," Robin nodded along, slowly stitching together his thoughts.

"But it was just so fast," Eddie pointed out as he agreed. "Literally, one moment Harrington's back to the surface, getting ready to hop back on the boat. Next, he's being tugged down by that -- that thing... And Bauman just -- lunged for him. And he grabbed her hand, but the look he shot her?... It was so...conflicted..."

Robbin nodded, swallowing hard. "Like he grabbed her hand back gratefully, but also hated what she'd just done to herself by putting her life on the line."

"Which is whyyyy," Eddie continued, figuring it all out. "Whenever she got dragged underneath with him, and the two of them went at it -- bickering like crazy when we all got down there with 'em and fought off the bats...he was so mad at her. And she was mad that he was mad."

Robin scoffed a laugh, pace palming. "And all we saw was Nancy diving in after him --"

"After Bauman already beat her to it," Eddie muffled into his palms. “Duuuuude, they’re so in love. Been love. Unambiguously in love.”

"We are idiots," Robin giggled, face palming.

"Not as big as they are, though," Eddie corrected, snorting. They both snickered like big kids into their hands, trying to keep quiet.

Eddie finally sighed, thinking fondly. "Those two are actually stupid fucking adorable."

Robin smiled wistfully. "Yeah. Yeah, they are." She bit her lip, thinking. "Honestly, I've...I've never seen Steve this torn up."

She told Eddie how worried she was for her best friend. How worried she was for you. How desperately she wished that all of this would go away. How she prayed that Max would wake up, and that Vecna would choke on his own guts and that the upside down would cease to exist.

Eddie nodded, eyes solemn as he gnawed on his cheek. "I wish I could've known Chrissy better."

Robin's brows pinched together. She could see the genuine remorse -- maybe even regret -- in Eddie's eyes. Had there been...feelings there...?

"Wish that I'd..." Eddie mumbled, eyes on the ground searching for the words. "That I'd just...I don't know. Tried to notice, or care about something other than living in my own world all the time."

Robin gave his hand a squeeze, shooting him a synaptic tight-lipped smile. Eddie squeezed her hand back, gratefully.

"You're doing that now," Robin reminded him softly. "Chrissy sees that."

Eddie looked at her, his eyes going glassy. He looked like a sweet puppy when he got emotional. Robin noted just how wholesome that was as she placed her other hand on top of theirs.

"We seriously need to kill this son of a bitch," Eddie whispered, angered anguish briefly flashing in his dark eyes.

Robin nodded fiercely. "We will."

They took a few moments to just be in silence, letting it all land.

A light knock at the door broke through the tranquility of the silence, concluding the tender moment. Eddie and Robin looked at Steve's bedroom door, taking a second before Robin rose to answer it. Eddie figured that was best, given she is the platonic soulmate of the room's owner.

Neither of them were sure what to expect exactly, as far as who was on the other side of the door. Robin half expected it to be Steve himself. Eddie's expectations looked a lot like one of the kids.

So when they saw Jonathan standing on the other side, that made them all go stiff.

He still looked awful. Eyes rimmed red from exhaustion, a little bloodshot. His hair was messy, not sure how to sit on his head. These days, Jonathan looked haggard. While he was never the pretty-boy type, Jonathan was always good looking in a moody, brooding sort of way. The unconventionally attractive type. Lately? He just looked worn down, tired and a little bit like a bum. Definitely not the type of guy you would expect Nancy Wheeler to be going steady with, given how polished and precise she is. Opposites attract, but at this rate the two of them were becoming contrasts of one another.

"Hey," Jonathan said softly, timidly. He looked caught, but so did Robin and Eddie as he looked at both of them.

"Hey," they awkwardly repeated.

After a long, awkward, pregnant pause, Jonathan finally cleared his throat and gave his legs a little pat -- as if that might help break the tension.

"Is uhh, is Steve here?"

Robin shook her head. "No, he's with Bauman. I told him to go take a nap, since Dr. Owens got her so early and I know he's not sleeping."

Jonathan's eyes softened, looking sympathetic and giving her a light nod. He scratched his neck. Eddie clocked some weird sort of guilty glint in his eye. Like something was really on his mind and he needed to get it off his chest. There was almost an anxious twitch to him.

Eddie began to realize that he knew what this was about. About why Jonathan was looking for Steve, and why he looked so glum. So anxious.

Because Eddie was there that day. When you fell. When you died. When Jonathan tried to step in and bring you back, before Steve was finally able to step in. Eddie was there, watching it all happen. He watched Steve fall apart, fraying at the seams. He watched Jonathan exhaust himself with the attempted CPR. He watched how it completely exerted him, no doubt thanks to the lack of decent nutrition and lung damage that was due to the purple palm tree delight. That had to have to have set Jonathan's lungs on fire, as he desperately tried pumping air back into your lungs. Eddie had watched Jonathan lean back, only for Steve to verbally tear into him.

DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP.

IT'S NOT WORKING, IT'S TOO LATE.

NONE OF US GAVE UP ON YOUR BROTHER. FUCK YOU, BYERS. FUCK YOU.

The storm of words between Harrington and Byers was no doubt long overdue. That was evident with every single word that Steve spat at Jonathan, and every word that Jonathan bitterly wept. Both men had shrieked at each other, shrill and angry and hurt.

Eddie had watched as they both went at it, Steve lashing out and Jonathan feebly fighting back. He might not have been close with them in high school. He might have run in completely different circles than them. He might not have known anything about the two of them, or what sort of crucial role they played in each other's lives, or how the upside down not only existed but also forced them to merge worlds. But fast forward to yesterday, when you were dead at everyone's feet and no one knew if they would save you -- Eddie saw 3 years of unspoken words go flying between Steve and Jonathan. He watched it all unfold, ugly and loud and anguished.

Because while Steve might have found some sort of silent (albeit avoidant) peace that he inwardly had made with Jonathan Byers, his bitterness was still there. Festering, festering, festering...never truly unloading itself whenever he projected onto you.

Because you hadn't taken Nancy away. Jonathan had.

Maybe that's partly why Steve got so livid with Jonathan. Because he could now. Now that you were gone, or so they'd thought, he had no choice but to scream at Jonathan. To finally let him have it.

FUCK YOU BYERS. FUCK YOU.

Steve had screamed that in Jonathan's face, voice wrecked from angry tears and shrieks of pure fear. It was fucking personal.

And Jonathan had taken it. Like he deserved it. Because maybe a part of him did. Maybe, just maybe, a big part of him did. Not because he wasn't a decent guy. Hell no, Byers was a great dude. He had just...lost his way. And that was fine. But really, he wasn't as present as usual -- given his more frequently ~high~ state, and his newfound friendship with Argyle. That wasn't a bad thing. It just...changed things.

Eddie had watched Byers go from the super observant, introverted wallflower to a nonchalant, low-key absent-minded, slightly lazy guy. Not nearly as driven as before. Not that he was ever this super academic, wildly driven type to begin with. Still, there had been something more to Byers prior to now. Something alive. Lately? Byers looked like he was simply surviving. Doing just a bit more than the bare minimum to get by.

Meanwhile, Steve had grown exponentially. He'd gone from being an entitled, snobbish rich kid who made C's and D's to a street-smart hero who knew how to protect and care for both kids and his friends, along with being trusted by the adults involved in all of these terrifying circumstances. He wasn't the teacher's pet growing up, but he certainly was the favorite now. He was Steve Harrington: bad boy turned supermom/superboy. He wasn't quite superman. He'd lost the girl, because Lois Lane had chosen Bruce Wayne over him. But along the way, he'd unexpectedly fallen for Gotham City's badass princess who floated under the radar until she found her way into the circle of Hawkins Heroes -- the upside down underdogs. Steve was strong, he was loyal and he was true.

So that afternoon next to the electric fence, those two men were having a 3-year standoff without even truly acknowledging it. It was bound to blow up in their faces at some point. And you had been the catalyst.

Eddie took all of that in by looking at Jonathan Byers as he stood in Steve Harrington's doorway, looking into the eyes of the former jock's best friend and his new unexpected friend of a metalhead.

"When he's up...I need to speak with him."

Jonathan's voice shook a bit, nervously. But he made eye contact with both Robin and Eddie. His eyes were sincere, remorseful and eager. "Please."

***

:) thank u all for reading. thoughts on this chapter? guesses as to what might go down? TAGLIST: @xprloki @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst notlilyyyy

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irish-dress-history · 4 months

Text

Irish dress history sources online:

A list of sources for Irish dress history research that free to access on the internet:

Primary and period sources:

Text Sources:

Corpus of Electronic Texts (CELT): a database of historical texts from or about Ireland. Most have both their original text and, where applicable, an English translation. Authors include: Francisco de Cuellar, Luke Gernon, John Dymmok, Thomas Gainsford, Fynes Moryson, Edmund Spenser, Laurent Vital, Tadhg Dall Ó hUiginn

Images:

The Edwin Rae Collection: A collection of photographs of Irish carvings dating 1300-1600 taken by art historian Edwin Rae in the mid-20th c. Includes tomb effigies and other figural art.

National Library of Ireland: Has a nice collection of 18th-20th c. Irish art and photographs. Search their catalog or browse their flickr.

Irish Script on Screen: A collection of scans of medieval Irish manuscripts, including The Book of Ballymote.

The Book of Kells: Scans of the whole thing.

The Image of Irelande, with a Discoverie of Woodkarne by John Derricke published 1581. A piece of anti-Irish propaganda that should be used with caution. Illustrations. Complete text.

Secondary sources:

Irish History from Contemporary Sources (1509-1610) by Constantia Maxwell published 1923. Contains a nice collection of primary source quotes, but it sometimes modernizes the 16th c. English in ways that are detrimental to the accuracy, like changing 'cote' to 'coat'. The original text for many of them can be found on CELT, archive.org, or google books.

An Historical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish By Joseph Cooper Walker published 1788. Makes admirable use of primary sources, but because of Walker's assumption that Irish dress didn't change for the entirety of the Middle Ages, it is significantly flawed in a lot of its conclusions. Mostly only useful now for historiography. I discussed the images in this book here.

Chapter 18: Dress and Personal Adornment from A Smaller Social History of Ancient Ireland by P. W. Joyce published 1906. Suffers from similar problems to An Historical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish.

Consumption and Material Culture in Sixteenth-Century Ireland Susan Flavin's 2011 doctoral thesis. A valuable source on the kinds of materials that were available in 16th c Ireland.

A Descriptive Catalogue of the Antiquities in the Museum of the Royal Irish Academy Volumes 1 and 2 by William Wilde, published 1863. Obviously outdated, and some of Wilde's conclusions are wrong, because archaeologists didn't know how to date things in the 19th century, but his descriptions of the individual artifacts are worthwhile. Frustratingly, this is still the best catalog available to the public for the National Museum of Ireland Archaeology. Idk why the NMI doesn't have an online catalog, a lot museums do nowadays.

Volume I: Articles of stone, earthen, vegetable and animal materials; and of copper and bronze

Volume 2: A Descriptive Catalogue of the Antiquities of Gold in the Museum of the Royal Irish Academy

A Horsehair Woven Band from County Antrim, Ireland: Clues to the Past from a Later Bronze Age Masterwork by Elizabeth Wincott Heckett 1998

Jewellery, art and symbolism in Medieval Irish society by Mary Deevy in Art and Symbolism in Medieval Europe- Papers of the 'Medieval Europe Brugge 1997' Conference (page 77 of PDF)

Looking the part: dress and civic status and ethnicity in early-modern Ireland by Brid McGrath 2018

Irish Mantles, English Nationalism: Apparel and National Identity in Early Modern English and Irish Texts by John R Ziegler 2013

Dress and ornament in early medieval Ireland - exploring the evidence by Maureen Doyle 2014

Dress and accessories in the early Irish tale, ‘The Wooing of Becfhola’ by Niamh Whitfield 2006

A tenth century cloth from Bogstown Co. Meath by Elizabeth Wincott Heckett 2004

Tertiary Sources:

Medieval Ireland: An Encyclopedia edited by Sean Duffy published 2005

Re-Examining the Evidence: A Study of Medieval Irish Women's Dress from 750 to 900 CE by Alexandra McConnell

#resources #dress history #irish dress #irish history #early medieval #bronze age #textile history #late medieval #16th century #historical dress

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Ghostin' (Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader): Chapter 8

Summary: With Vecna defeated, Little Bean has decided to make an arrival--a month early. But you still have a lot of tough decisions to make, and they may require encouragement from surprising sources.

Warnings: depictions of labor, injuries, S4 is canon

WC: 2.9k

A/N: The final chapter! I hope you all enjoyed this series :)

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @kaybee87 @sidthedollface2 @chelebelletx @livsters @atombombbibunny @tattooedkiss13 @manda-panda-monium @charming-winchester @corroded-hellfire @sweet-villain @slightlyvicked @hxllfired @yogizzz @tlclick73 @thefreakofhawkins86 @sheisjoeschateau @harrypotteranna23-blog @harringr0ve @josie955 @luna-munson83 @blhemmings @lxvesickreality @palmtreesx3 @stephierro

The ride to the hospital is far too long for your liking, even with Murray flying over the speed limit. You sit in the backseat with Steve, who whispers sweet nothings in your ear to keep you relaxed, and Joyce, who spends the drive rubbing your back with utmost care.

“Deep breaths,” she urges you. If it was anyone else, you’d snap at them for reminding you to engage in an automatic bodily function, but Joyce’s calm voice is exactly what you need. “We’ll be there soon, and the doctors will be able to figure out what’s going on.”

Tears bulge at the corners of your eyes. “It’s t-too early,” you stammer, pain and fear surging through you. “This is all my fault…there was too much stress…”

Why didn’t I stay home? You silently berate yourself. Why couldn’t I let everyone else handle this? What kind of mother knowingly puts her unborn baby in danger–danger that involves an alternate dimension, nonetheless?

You don’t have time to search for answers to your rhetorical questions before another contraction hits you, leaving you doubled over in pain.

“Any way we can speed this up?” Steve calls out to Murray. “I’d really like to keep my girlfriend from having a baby in the car.”

“Seriously, Murray,” Joyce hisses. “Now is not the time to do the speed limit.”

The older man rolls his eyes but begrudgingly puts more pressure on the gas pedal.

Steve winces as Murray hits a pothole, jostling the car and everyone inside. “Everything will be alright,” he tells you, though you can sense the doubt in his tone. “I’ve got you, okay? Whatever happens, I’ve got you.”

“Just…get me…to the goddamn hospital!” you mutter through gritted teeth. You’re unsure whether you’re trying to bite back sadness or pain; probably both. You rest your head on Joyce’s shoulder, and Steve uses his right hand to hold yours. “‘S not fair,” you mumble, blinking back tears. “All I w-wanted was one thing to go right, but Steve got hurt, and Eddie’s r-really dead now, and my baby is going to be born early.” The dam breaks, and breathy sobs escape your lips. “I f-feel like I’m b-being p-punished for something.”

“No.” Steve shakes his head in vehement disagreement. “No, baby, none of this is your fault. You didn’t ask for any of this.” He unlaces his fingers from yours and places his hand on your cheek to wipe away the tears. “We’re gonna get to the hospital, and whether we meet Little Bean today or not, I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

“Actually,” Joyce pipes up, poking her pointer finger in the air to interject, “you’re gonna go get bandaged up, and I’ll stick with Y/N until you’re done.” Steve opens his mouth to protest, but she quickly cuts him off. “You’re not gonna be any use to us if you hurt yourself more. Murray will take you.”

Murray grunts from the front seat. “Will you stop volunteering me for stuff?”

Joyce ignores his grumbling, turning back to you and Steve. “When you’re good to go, you can meet us in the maternity ward.”

You’ve quickly learned that there’s no winning an argument with Joyce Byers, so you sit back and try to think positive thoughts. Steve will be okay. Little Bean will be okay.

But will you be okay?

Labor is fucking hard.

Joyce presses a cold compress to your head, guiding you through the breathing exercises she remembers from her own Lamaze classes. “You’re doing amazing,” she whispers. “Your body knows what it’s doing. You were meant to do this, and Little Bean will be here before you know it.”

“Wh-Where’s Steve? How long has it been?” you cry out, squeezing Joyce’s hand as another contraction rips through your core.

“Two hours, hon,” Joyce says after checking her wristwatch. “The doctors will patch him up and Murray will bring him right over, okay?”

The pain of labor has completely erased any semblance of a filter on your thoughts. “What if he’s not here in time? I-I can’t have the baby without him here!” You throw your head back on the pillow and tug the itchy wool blanket up to your chin.

“Let me tell you something: you can do anything. You’re strong, you’re capable, you’re a mom.” Her tone is kind but firm.

It takes another thirty minutes for Steve to make his way to the maternity ward, a crutch under one shoulder and his arm wrapped in cast. “Did I make it? Is Little Bean here yet?”

“Not yet,” Joyce shakes her head, standing up from her spot next to you and relinquishing it to your boyfriend. “She’s already eight centimeters dilated; this baby wants out.”

Steve frowns when he hears your teeth chattering, noticing your whole body shaking with shivers. “Why is she shivering like this? Is…is something wrong?”

“That’s just a side effect of the epidural,” Joyce explains calmly, rubbing his shoulder. “Everything’s looking good. She’ll be pushing in no time.” She leans over to you and adds, “I’m gonna get going, but you got this.”

You reach out to Steve, saying his name with a whimper. “I don’t know if I can do this, Steve.”

“Yes, you can. Y/N, holy shit, you can. You’re gonna be the best damn mom in the world. And I can’t wait to watch you do it.”

He repeats that as your labor continues progressing, letting you grab his uninjured hand as tightly as you can as you push. You grit your teeth, willing your body to do everything it can to let Little Bean arrive safely and quickly.

“Dad, you wanna see your baby being born?” the nurse asks, and Steve instinctively races to watch. It takes a few seconds to realize that he’s Dad; maybe not biologically, but he’ll treat Little Bean like his own child.

“Babe, I can see the head. I can see our baby’s head!” he exclaims, and he brushes the tears from his cheeks. “You’re incredible! I can’t believe you’re having our baby, holy shit!”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“For the love of God, stop talking and hold my hand!”

Glancing down at the newborn baby in your arms, you press a soft kiss to his nose, careful not to wake him. “How…how do I love him so much already?” you murmur. “Hi, Little Bean. I’m your mom.” Your eyes well up at the statement; you’re someone’s mom.

“You did amazing,” Steve says, running his forefinger along Little Bean’s tiny knuckles. “He’s perfect. I’m so proud of you, and…and I know Eddie would be, too.” He moves his finger so it grazes the baby’s hair. “Does he have a name? Or are we gonna call him Little Bean for the rest of his life? ‘Cause I gotta be honest with you; I think that’ll be a problem when he starts school.”

You smile, not wanting to take your eyes off of your son. Your son. “I was thinking that his first name could be Jimmy, after Jimmy Page,” you tell Steve, “because Led Zeppelin saved your life. And then his middle name would be Edward, so he always has a piece of his dad.”

“What about his last name?” Steve asks. It’s an innocent question, but to you, it’s loaded. You have no idea what last name Little Bean–Jimmy–will have. Eddie is biologically his father, so it could be Munson; but Steve will be the one helping you raise him. Is it too much to give him the last name Harrington?

“Can I come in?” a soft voice calls from the doorway. You manage to pry your gaze from Jimmy’s sleeping form to see Wayne holding a bouquet of daisies in one hand and a little gift bag in the other. Bunched up blue tissue paper spills over the sides.

You nod, giving him a smile. “Of course. Come say hi to your grandson.”

“He’s beautiful,” Wayne says, placing the flowers on the bedside table. “How are you feeling, darlin’?”

“Exhausted,” you admit, “but so happy. He’s here, and he’s healthy, and…I never knew how badly I needed him until now.” You kiss the wisps of hair atop Jimmy’s head. “Wayne, I’d like you to officially meet Jimmy Edward.” You wince as you try to shift your baby into Wayne’s waiting arms, still sore from labor, so he hands the gift to Steve and leans over to help you.

“Hi, Jimmy,” he whispers, gently rocking him. “I’m your grandpa, and I’m gonna spoil the h-heck outta you.” He lets out a nervous chuckle. “Not used to watchin’ my language; guess I’ll have to get used to it.”

“Don’t worry, you still have plenty of time before he can start echoing everything you say,” you reassure him.

Steve lovingly squeezes your shoulder. “I’m gonna leave you two to talk, but if you need me, I’ll be right outside.”

“Thank you, babe,” you say gratefully. You watch as he hobbles away with his crutch, but not before taking one last look at the woman of his dreams and the most adorable baby he’s ever seen. I’m so lucky, he thinks. It’s the little family he’s always wanted, and he’ll never let it go.

Wayne cradles Jimmy to his chest, visibly melting when he coos. “I can’t believe I have a grandson. Never thought…” he pauses, using the shoulders of his jacket to wipe tears from his eyes, “...never thought it’s happen. ‘Specially after Eddie…”

“Wayne?” you break in, voice wavering with nerves. “I don’t…he doesn’t have a last name yet. I know he’s Eddie’s, but Steve…I’m just so confused.”

“Well, seems like an easy choice to me,” Wayne chuckles softly, looking at you intently. “Darlin’, there’s one last name this sweet boy should have. Yours.”

“Mine?” you squeak out.

He nods, making silly faces at the newborn in his arms. “You are the bravest, strongest person I’ve ever met. I mean, anyone who goes through pregnancy and labor is a goddamn superhero in my eyes. But doing it at nineteen? While dealing with everything you’re dealing with.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I couldn’t do it; that’s for sure.”

Wayne stays for a few more minutes until he sees you struggling to keep your eyes open.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed that you can’t stay awake. The pull of sleep is too inviting to fight off any longer, despite the soreness that radiates through your lower body.

He places Jimmy back in his bassinet and shoots you one last warm smile. “Ya did good, kid.”

“Sweetheart? Are…are you awake?”

You blink a few times at the sound of an all-too familiar voice. Wiping the sleep from your eyes, the hazy shape begins to focus. The frizzy brown curls, denim jacket covering a mud-spattered Hellfire shirt, and torn jeans can only mean one person.

“Eddie?”

He nods, stepping towards you. “It’s me. Really me this time.” He takes in your incredulous look and offers a small smile. “I can prove it: ask me anything. But, uh, don’t take too long. ‘M kinda on borrowed time here.”

“Where was our first date?” you try, cocking your eyebrow with disbelief.

“It was supposed to be at Enzo’s, but their power went out, so we ended up splitting gas station sandwiches at Lover’s Lake.” Eddie answers easily.

Your eyes well up with tears and you let out a sob you didn’t know you were holding. It’s so loud that you wake up Steve, who sits up with a start.

“Wh-What…Munson?” he sputters, hobbling to your side and grabbing your hand with his good one. “Baby, is he…”

“It’s him,” you confirm, wiping your cheeks. You feel Steve relax, his fingers untensing but still remaining laced with yours. You reach into the bassinet and carefully lift Jimmy, doing your best not to wake him. “Eddie, this is your son. His name is Jimmy Edward.”

“My son,” Eddie repeats incredulously. “Holy shit, my son.” Steve shifts over so Eddie can stand next to you. His fingertips appear to brush against the wisps of Jimmy’s hair, but pass through them, a somber reminder that he’s not truly here. But your baby stirs slightly as if he can feel his father’s touch. It’s comforting, and he falls back to sleep without so much as a whimper.

“Hey, little guy,” Eddie whispers. “It’s me…y-your dad. I’m glad I got to meet you.” A tear slips down his cheek. “This is kinda a weird situation we got goin’ on here. I mean, I can’t stick around for too long. But your mom and Steve are gonna be here for you, okay? And I’ll be watching over you, lookin’ out for you.

“It might not seem like it, but you’ve got a pretty sweet deal, kid. You’ve got the best mom in the world. She was seriously the most amazing thing to ever happen to me.” He looks at Steve with a warm smile before bringing his attention back to the snoozing baby. “And Steve? One of the greatest dudes I know. Total badass, and his hair? Impeccable.”

“Shut up, man,” Steve mumbles, but he’s grinning when he says it.

“I mean it,” Eddie insists. “I know…I know he made you think that I hated you. But I don’t. You took care of Y/N, and you’re gonna take care of my kid. I’m so fuckin’ grateful for you, dude.”

“You promise you’re not mad?” Steve asks dubiously. “‘Cause I’d get it if you were.”

“Steve.” Eddie tilts his head and starts to place his hand on the man’s shoulder before remembering that he can no longer do that. “Just make sure you aim your hairspray away from his sensitive little eyes.”

A tinkle of laughter echoes through the hospital room, followed by brief silence. “Eds?” you say finally, voice tinier than you wish it was, “How long can you stay?”

His brown eyes are filled with remorse. “Not long. I needed to meet him. And tell you how much I love you.” The kiss he tries to press to your forehead has no weight, just a slight chill, as though there’s a gentle breeze blowing through. “Look at you, Sweetheart. Just had a baby and you’re as gorgeous as ever.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes; the cold stickiness of dried sweat all over your body begs to differ with his statement. “I’m a mess.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “No, you’re not. And you’ve got two guys who think you’re the most beautiful woman in this dimension, or any other.” He raises his eyebrows at Steve, cuing him to chime in.

“He’s right,” Steve agrees easily, rubbing your shoulder with his thumb. “The most beautiful, badass, strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

“See?” Eddie shrugs. “Now you can’t deny it. I mean, what are the odds of us both being wrong?”

This time, you do roll your eyes.

Eddie flickers, like some sort of glitch, and you know exactly what that means without even having to ask. “It’s time for me to go,” he says. The reflexive upwards curl that dances on his lips is a mixture of sadness and relief. He’s free, he’s finally free, and Vecna can no longer rob him of the experience of a peaceful afterlife. “But you can bet that I’ll be watching over you. My…my family.” He once again glances at Steve; this time, it’s for approval.

“‘Course you’re our family, Munson.” If Eddie were really here, in the flesh, Steve would sling an arm around his shoulder and pull him in tight. Instead, he settles for a kind smile. “We love you.”

Eddie bites his lower lip. “I love you all, too.” His voice warbles, though you’re unsure if it's from emotion or from his waning presence. “Good-bye, my love. I’m so glad I got to meet our boy.”

The next time you blink, he’s gone.

You think you dreamed it. In fact, if Steve wasn’t here to corroborate what just happened, you’d swear on it.

“Did that just…” Steve starts, shaking his head. “There’s no way, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer in agreement. “There’s no way.” But as you look over to Jimmy’s empty bassinet, you notice something that hadn’t been in there earlier.

A red and black guitar pick.

Steve sees it, too, and gingerly places it in the palm of his hand, as though he expects it to vanish just as Eddie had. When it remains there, he lets his gaze drift to Jimmy.

“Little Bean–Jimmy–I’m gonna make you a promise right now,” he starts, rubbing his thumb over the pick. “I’m never gonna shut up about your dad. You’ll know all about how awesome he was.” He clears his throat of the lump that builds. “And I-I know I can never take his place, but I’m gonna be the best father figure I can be.”

The energy that fills the room is like a warm hug. The threat of Vecna is gone, Steve is alive and by your bedside, your son arrived in the world healthy and happy, and Eddie got to meet him.

You know that there are many long days and sleepless nights that stretch ahead of you, but for now, you allow yourself to be enveloped in love.

We'll get through this, we'll get past this I'm a girl with a whole lot of baggage But I love you, we'll get past this I'm a girl with a whole lot of baggage, yeah

#ghostin #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #fanfic

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hothammies · 2 months

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Hi!!

I've been nervous to ask this, but I'm so invested in this au it's killing me on the inside.

What exactly happened to the amilies of the party? (Joyce & Jonathan, Hopper, Nancy, etc.)

Did they get killed, or separated? Im so curious!

-🪼 (jellyfish anon)

hi jellyfish anon!

no need to be nervous :D it's a really good question! i've been itching to answer something about the party backstories anyways - i want to make a long post about their families for each of them later on but i'll give a small bit of exposition for all 6 of them regarding their family!

short answer - the og party (the boys!) all got separated from their families because of a raid on the community they lived in. they don't know if their families are alive or not. el's and max's family situations are part of their story arcs and how they find the boys.

individual family situations under the cut :)

---

short summaries for the party's family situations

will: jonathan and joyce taught him about medicine + healing while his dad taught him the basics of shooting -> lonnie was exiled from the community when will was 7

mike: his dad died when he was 9, a few months after holly was born - after that, nancy started taking more responsibility over mike and teaching him more general survival skills while karen was more detached from nancy and mike afterwards, focusing more of her efforts on holly.

lucas: parents are chilling and happy -> dad is a combat vet! he taught lucas and erica everything they know! lucas' relationship with his sister is similar to canon's (snarky but loving). he's not very protective over her because she's very capable on her own :P but still defends her when necessary

dustin: mom got infected and turned right when he entered the community (rip dustin's mom claudia i'm sorry) -> lived in a dorm w/ a bunch of other kids (not the party) and was taken under steve's unofficial wing

el: mom was killed by brenner, who she lived with in a separate camp dedicated to infection research -> similar backstory to canon's and was found by the boys when she was 12 (don't want to reveal too much ;D)

max: has lived with billy since she was 8 -> when she meets the boys, she's in a community of raiders (again, don't wanna spoil!) her relationship with her stepbrother is similar to canon and very abusive

---

other notes: el's relationship with hopper is definitely an endgame type thing unfortunately! i absolutely love their parent-child relationship but a lot of the emphasis in my au is about the found family dynamics between the party and how they live by themselves :')

#stranger things #the party #st apoc au #jellyfish anon #ask

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sawyerconfort · 2 years

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more winona characters x reader, please!

winona ryder is turning your kids gay 51!

so I decided that, in celebration of that, I would take this old request and make it a special preference for her birthday!

here we go, preferences with my favorite Winona characters (the best known ones too, because it would be easy for everyone to read and recognize the situations), to celebrate her birthday!

Masterlist is pinned on the blog!

Enjoy!

Got any requests? Please send me an ask!

===========

First “I Love You” With Winona Ryder characters

W H A T H A P P E N S W H E N...

(Veronica Sawyer, Joyce Byers, Kim Boggins, Lydia Deetz and Mina Murray)

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

Veronica Sawyer

You were lying on her bed after an exhausting day at school. Veronica was your one and only girlfriend, and all the times you had spent together were your best moments.

But in the midst of it all, there was JD. Jason Dean and his obsession with Veronica, on the sickest level imaginable.

You knew he wanted Veronica, but it annoyed you a lot and you thought you were insufficient when she paid attention to him and fell for her charms. However, he never asked your girlfriend if she had feelings for him.

At least not until now.

“Seriously, (Y\NN), why are you so sad?”, Veronica asked, while you were cuddling on the bed. She was the smallest spoon and had noticed how distant you seemed as you petted her.

"I'm not."

“Yes, you are,” she nodded. "Actually, I think I already know why...", Veronica smiled and took your face with both hands. “Is it because of JD?”

You swallowed hard but didn't respond.

“Oh, (Y\NN), that's bullshit!”, she smiled, still with her hands on her face. "Everyone knows he's a little shit looking for attention, and that I only have eyes for girls... in fact, one girl in particular who is the most beautiful girl in the world..."

Veronica kissed you in a quick peck, and you remained speechless until then. She was still holding her face when she broke the kiss, and close to her lips, whispered a loud, resounding, "I love you," just so you could be sure she was yours, and would never be anyone else's.

Joyce Byers

It all happened after what happened with Will. It had been a difficult time for Joyce, and you had come along just in time, as the savior of the homeland, heroically returning to the city and helping her and Deputy Hopper solve the mystery of the Hawkins Lab and its shenanigans.

Now the two of you were sitting on the porch of the Byers' house, smoking casually, you amused that Joyce was no longer a smoker. Suddenly, she turned and smiled at you.

“I probably would’ve died without your help, (Y\N).”

“My help?”, you widened your eyes. "I didn't do anything, Joyce, really."

“Yes, you did” she whispered, calmly. “If it weren't for you, I never would have found out where Will was. And I would never have had the courage to go into that horrible place and suffer those psychological tortures with that half-baked doctor, you know?”

Joyce smiled and took you free hand. “Remember how cowardly you were in high school, (Y\N)?” that was funny. “No, I'm serious. You couldn't even kill a fly. Seeing you like this reminded me of something I had promised myself I would forget...”

“What something?”

You dropped the question, knowing you'd regret it later.

Joyce cleared her throat and pressed her fingers through yours. "I used to like you. I loved you. Since high school, when you were a coward,” she sighed. “And since then, I've never been able to love anyone .I love you, (Y\NN), since we were eighteen..."

Kim Boggs

In fact, the whole thing happened because you were talking to Kim's family after Edward disappeared. She was visibly shaken, because she loved him more than she could have predicted, and she didn't imagine that one day he would leave her for good, despite her faults.

She was casually walking down the hall when she overheard you talking in the kitchen:

"I don't know how I'm going to do it, sir, actually..." You cleared your throat uncomfortable. “I don't know how I'm going to be able to tell her I love her even after what happened. I'm in love with Kim, but she hasn't gotten over the loss of the boy with the Scissorhands..."

Kim cocked her head into a corner of the hallway, hoping you wouldn't see her. And she did, because she was good at hiding.

"And not that I hate it, I understand it more than it seems, because..." you sighed. “I also feel guilty and shaken by his escape. The boy had so much to teach us and he just decides to leave...” You took a step forward. “But the point is, I love Kim, and I'm not giving up on her until I can make her happy again. But for this to come true, I will need your blessing.”

Kim listened for a few more minutes behind the wall, but collected herself when you passed her. In a split second, Kim lost her posture and grabbed you by the arm, kissing you in surprise.

“I'm in love with you too, (Y\N). I love you, sincerely.”

Lydia Deetz

“Alone again, Lydia?”

“I wish it were like this every day.”

You smiled, sitting down next to her. People used to say Lydia Deetz was just a weirdo, but you didn't think that of her. At least not that she remembered. Lydia had her personal problems and her anger at the world, but that didn't mean it made her weird or mean.

You wanted to do everything to make her happy. You liked the rare moments when her smile lit up the dark environment in which she was isolated.

"If you came here to see me, it's because you're in trouble, right, (Y\N)?"

"You're right, Deetz," you replied, smiling awkwardly. “Not that I expect you to be able to help me, but I wanted to ask you for advice. It's about a girl, one of those girls I'm in love with right now,” you sighed. “She's beautiful, but she doesn't see it. And she lives in her world, she fascinates me day after day. But I don't have the courage to tell her that..."

“What are you afraid of, exactly?” Lydia returned the question.

“Of rejection.”

"Serious? Dammit!” she yelled, a little loudly. “I don't know why you fear. You're one of the nicest girls I know, there's no way anyone can turn you down. Unless he's someone like Beetlejuice.”

"You think?"

Lydia shrugged, and you hoped she'd change her mind, but she just kept saying, “Not only do I think you're one of the nicest and nicest girls I know. No one has ever been as good to me in their life as you have been. They always think I'm weird, weird, out of the ordinary... and you think I'm normal. Someone who rejects you has chicken brains for a head.”

You blushed a little and replied, in the lowest possible voice:

“I think…I'm sure I'm in love with you, Lydia Deetz. Even more so after that declaration of love.”

She smiled, rolling her eyes. “It wasn't a declaration of love, idiot,” but she turned around and pressed a kiss to your cheek suddenly. “It really wasn't.”

Mina Murray

"MINA!"

You screamed, but it was too late. The woman, now a vampire, stood with her arms out in the sun, waiting for certain death to come. You were trying to save her, but Mina was on the higher side of the mountain, where she was cold—she obviously wouldn't feel that cold.

“I told you to leave me alone. I can bite you,” she said, taking a deep breath, her voice muffled by the noise of the fog.

“I WON'T DO IT!” you yelled back. “AND YOU WON'T BITE ME ALSO, BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU. I DON'T WANT YOU TO FEEL THREATENED BY ME, MINA.”

“Go away,” she pleaded in a scream that was cut off, her voice cracking. “Can't you see I've become a monster now? A demon, like who bit me?”

Suddenly, the sun hit Mina's skin full. She fell, moaning and screaming as you ran to help her. Holding her in his arms, he could see a trickle of blood running down and the fangs showing.

"Are you…afraid of me…are you…" Mina whispered weakly. “It was what I feared, but I knew it would happen. That's why I wanted to keep you out of my existence as one of them..."

You squeezed her closer. “I'm not afraid of you, Mina! I want to save her.”

She was silent, eyes open towards the sun. And then, minutes later, she pressed your lips together in a kiss, which ended with something that felt like a moan, like she was forcing herself not to hurt herself and not to hurt me either.

“I love you, Mina. Vampire or human, you will always be my Mina.”

“I love you more,” the girl breathed. “I love you more than my existence.”

#winona ryder #winona #winona ryder x reader #heathers #beetlejuice #edward scissorhands #dracula #stranger things #veronica sawyer x reader #joyce byers x reader #kim boggs x reader #mina murray x reader #lydia deetz x reader #lgbt #romance #oneshot #preference #in honor of her birthday #sorry i'm almost too late

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bookishcatcafe · 1 month

Text

Ristretto in Pink (A Huskerdust Fic) Part Five

“They moan, passing upon the clouds, the horned and capricorned, the trumpeted with the tusked, the lionmaned the giantantlered, snouter and crawler, rodent, ruminant and pachyderm, all their moving moaning multitude, murderers of the sun.”- Ulysses James Joyce (p. 414)

Why did the film bring such a reaction to me? I’ve never done that in all the years I’ve seen that flick. Why now? Why now? The stomach churns and in silent reflection, there it is…OIL!

Angel breathed heavily, leaning a hand against a light-post, and wiping his lips of what was his popcorn. His ears were ringing as he felt the sidewalk tilt to and fro, leading him to flop onto the street, only a hand catching his fall and barely creating a scratch. Behind him, out of breath, was that cat of the day. He stopped himself behind Angel and panted as he tried to get the words out.

“W..Wh..Why did you leave like that! Are you okay?” He notices the puke and sighs, offering a handkerchief, which the spider hesitantly takes and wipes his lips with. Angel coughs and lays his head behind his crossed arms that sit atop his knees. A moment feels forever. In the silence of this part of town, minus faraway gunshots, laughing, and car crashes, the sudden rush turns silent too as the pair sit not as observers of silver frames, but as participants pulled together by Fate’s thread.

Such a thread seems unforgiving, making one captive to their passing companions or lack thereof. Both had erred in their afterlives, knotted as a blind hydra, abused in their individual metamorphoses; both without the nectar of the one Eternal Rose, dripping liquid light, and eternal redemption.

“I’m sorry.” Angel sniffles underneath his apology.

“I’ve never once…reacted that way before…I-“ Husk sits beside him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t need to apologize.” His eyes dilated as he looked at Angel.

“You never need to apologize for something like that. We…have emotions…sometimes we just get all caught up in em that…we lose sight of what’s in front of us.” Husk’s chest felt a slow warmth from beneath his heart. He opened his wings, not in some sight of grandeur, but of polite compassion and wrapped one around his new friend.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to, you don’t owe me any explanation. Just at least, when you’re ready, let’s get out from the gutter else we’re going to get in a shit ton of trouble.” Angel looked to Husk, his face a gentle blush when he lifted his head, the world was shiftless and unmoving. Angel saw the subtle smirk on the man’s face and to him it was good.

The two were quiet as they walked back to Angel’s apartment. Without speaking, he had let Husk into his place. Without speaking, he went into the kitchen and made some glasses of water for the pair. Without speaking, Fat Nuggets quietly sauntered over, nuzzling at Husk and Angel, before going back to his fluffy bed and flopping asleep.

It was through this silently agreed silence, that Husk felt Angel did not want to talk just yet, except to just soak in the moment while his nerves calmed down.

The radio was quietly humming as Angel turned it on. The hum grew into static and then into soft violin.

Angel rubs the back of his neck and closed his eyes. He could feel the warmth of homemade soup trickling down his throat, the radio on in quiet ambience, while the family cat purred against his leg. His mom came from behind, ruffling Anthony’s hair gently, humming to the song.

Anthony moved away from the table, the cat taking his place, while he took his mother’s hand and brought her with him into the living room a couple feet away from the kitchen, and swayed to the music. He twirled her around and she did the same. She brought out a handful of coins.

“For the movies later, Anthony. Don’t go spending it all at once! There’s extra for concessions.”

“Thanks, Ma.” The door swung open, Anthony’s father stomping in, his face covered in a layer of dirt, blood on his hands. Anthony turned his face to see his father, his mother’s expression changing, and after a moment of silence after the door slammed open all that could be mustered up were:

“Arackniss is dead.”

Anthony sat in his chair, staring past Husk’s shoulder into the wall. Tears flowed down his cheeks. Finally, he noticed his parents were gone and Arackniss was somewhere across the other side of Hell or who knows where.

“My brother is dead. My brother is dead and it’s all my father’s fuckin fault! If he didn’t…if he didn’t rope us into his fucking money-making, blood money, stealing—FUCK! I dunno where we’d be if we weren’t in that mess! I’d be with Ma! I’d be with Sis! I’d be with them for eternity, but I’m here smoking dope, sucking dick, and barely scratchin by for all the rest of my afterlife!” Husk sat there and listened, looking at Angel, saddened by his distraught emotions, he does not talk back.

“I had a life up there…I had a better life with my ma. I just—Husk I fucking miss her. I’m just a bottom feedin loser. I died cause I couldn’t cope with losing my brother. I couldn’t deal with being who I was there. I had to hide it, else my pa or worse my brother would kill me. Ma knew, dad knew too, they all fucking knew. I’m just too dumb to see it. I was just too dumb to take notice. And they say life starts on the day you die, whoever said that can eat it!” He breathed hard, his heart beating out of his chest, and without warning Fat Nuggets was nuzzling by his leg, oinking to be held.

Angel dust sighed, looking down at his Nuggets, and picking him up, holding him close to his face as the pig licked at his cheeks.

“Angel, I’m sorry.”

“Why should you be? You don’t need to apologize for me. I’m the one having a fuckin existential breakdown here.”

“Because I’m sorry you are feeling this way. We all did shit to end up here, whatever that was, truth is I’m just a loser like you are.”

“Loser? I ain’t no loser.”

“Hey we’re losers together. It’s a compliment!” Anthony started to laugh.

“I’m just jerking your dick, Whiskers. I got it. I…I got it.” He sipped his water and looked to his upper cabinet, which held bottles of liquor and wine.

“You wanna have a drink?”

“Only if you want to.”

“You said you’s a bartender, right? Mind making us a couple of specialty drinks?” Husk smiles and nods, standing up and walking toward the shelf. He took a gander at the inventory.

“Damn, you’re stacked with good shit. You really must be getting good pay from doing all your porno shit.” He grabs a couple bottles.

“You okay with whiskey?” Husk asked.

“Could you make something with rum instead?” The cat nods and grabs the bottle of rum.

Angel and Husk sat in the living room on the couch, the radio still playing quiet classical music. They sat sipping pina coladas.

“This is really good, I can never make these right.”

“It’s all about the ratio, plus if you like it extra sweet you just add a bit more juice, ya know? Can’t be no different from your barista gig.” The liquor began to take hold.

“No. No it really isn’t any different. Coffee instead of alcohol.”

“And sober customers instead of blacked-out ones.”

“For the most part, coming from you Mister Drunk at 8 in the morning.”

“Touche, haha, fuck you.” Husk laid back and exhaled.

“You know, to be honest I cannot really remember much outside of my life here, it’s been so long that I don’t even remember how I died.” Anthony turned to him.

“What do you remember?”

“Only thing I can recall was I did the same shit up there, down here, gambling, magic, booze an-“

“Magic? I mean I shoulda guessed, but still.”

“Hey don’t be making fun of my own gigs, you still take dick in alleys so I’m told.” Anthony snorted.

“Touche.” Husk chuckles and takes another sip. Despite his clear lapse in memory, the cat was opening-up to him. Anthony hadn’t planned on exposing too much of his past, yet as it happened, his emotions took hold of him. He crossed his legs and sat back too, staring at the ceiling, the cat seemed to be doing the same shortly after him.

“Anthony.”

“What?” Husk turns to Angel, his ears flickering.

“My name on Earth was Anthony. No one else here calls me that ‘cept my boss.” Husk looks back up to the ceiling, his cheeks flushed as the liquor flowed through his system.

“Anthony.” He smiles.

“That’s a cute name.” Anthony blushes hard and without turning his head he looks down between them, and sees as Whiskers held his hand with his.

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #gay #fanfic #fanfiction #my art

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garadinervi · 3 months

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Audre Lorde, Prism (for Joyce Serote), in The Marvelous Arithmetics of Distance. Poems 1987-1992, W. W. Norton & Company, New York, NY, 1993, p. 13

#graphic design #poetry #book #audre lorde #w. w. norton & company #1990s

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munamania · 6 months

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hii ok i was tagged by @vulpinedyke to take the statistical which character are you quiz and list my top results (thank uuu kisses sorry this took me like a week)

marie kreutz (the bourne identity) - 90% (ok...)

nymphadora tonks (h*rry p*tter) - 89%

riley blue (sense8) - 89%

sam button (perks of being a wallflower) - 88%

amanita caplan (sense8) - 88%

joyce byers (ur aware) - 88%

robin buckley - 88%

claire colburn (elizabethtown) (PLAYED BY KIRSTEN DUNST!! SLAY!) - 88%

ally maine (a star is born) - 88% ive been telling u all that i need to be in an insane mutual muse situation

elisa esposito (the shape of water) - 88% alright

special mentions that didnt make in the top ten: jo march 87% (which is just so funny bc trust and believe i was having a moment the other night). donna sheridan 86% <3 TONI TOPAZ 84% LOL

i'll tag @livvyofthelake @munadyke @sariphis @jerrydevine @jovalencia @laurapalmergraduates ummm and anybody else who wants to share w the class <3

#i havent seen sense8 in 4 everrrrr like i was in middle school... dan and phil era even...#abby talks #tag games #i also wanna finally read little women at some point. hmm...#i have some reading goals for break alr we'll see #anywayyyysssss excited to see if u guys choose to do this <3 but no presh

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crappymixtape · 1 year

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something infinite • part seven

SOMETHING INFINITE • PART SEVEN I ‘ L L P R O M I S E I ‘ L L P I N K Y S W E A R

part seven of something infinite – steve tries to decide what it is he wants, to keep burying everything down deep and keep it locked away or crack open his chest and trust you with his heart | ( 4.1k, angst, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader – find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here )

J U L Y 1 9 8 7 🎶 i’ll be here, joel ansett

“Not here?”

“C’mon, Steve. Don’t make me say it again.”

“But, I’ve tried—“

“It’s just not a good time.”

“Please, I—“

“Steve.”

“Okay. Alright. Just, here,” Steve handed over a stuffed bear to Jonathan who took it gently. “It took me til the fair closed, but–” he stopped, realizing Jonathan probably didn’t care about the inside joke Steve shared with you, and shook his head.

Jonathan gave Steve a small, hesitant smile, maybe a promise to give it to you, and as he turned to leave Hop appeared in the doorway. Steve’s stomach lurched, but the grizzly bear of a man grunted a piss poor noise of reassurance.

“I’m not gonna bite,” he grumbled, “C’mere.” He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and pushed him to the porch swing, leaning against the railing as the boy sat down. “Take it you didn’t fix it, huh?” his voice was gravely, but a bit softer than usual and Steve’s brows knitted together in frustration.

“Think I made it worse to be honest,” the boy confessed, unsure of why he was being honest with the man in front of him. Maybe it was the look of pity on his face.

“Probably,” Hop pulled a cigarette out of the pocket over his chest, wedging it in his mouth as he dug around for his lighter. “We all fuck it up at some point, just a matter of how bad you wanna fix it.” The man finally found the Bic in his jeans pocket. Lighting the cigarette he took a slow drag and glanced down at Steve, “You wanna fix it, Harrington?”

Steve scoffed, “Well, yeah.”

“Okay. Then own up to your shit. Apologize,” Hop shot him a stern look before blowing smoke off over his shoulder, and then his expression shifted. Softer somehow. “Look, I know it hasn’t been easy for you. Your dad–” he drifted off and shook his head, “–but not everybody knows that, huh?” He raised his brows, prodding Steve forward and the boy nodded before dropping his gaze to his feet. Hop took another drag. “Tommy, Kyle, those shitheads are only gonna keep gettin’ you into trouble.”

The man stepped forward and grabbed hold of the boy’s chin, tilting it roughly from side-to-side, inspecting the now yellowing bruise below his eye, the one on his jaw. Steve didn’t pull away, but he felt his chest tighten. Guilt. Regret.

“You keep hangin’ around with them–” Hop let Steve’s chin go, “–and everyone else is gonna leave.”

The boy huffed a sigh, folding over to rest his elbows on his thighs, burying his face into his hands. His voice was muffled when he finally spoke up, “Think I took care of that at the fair.”

“Good. Keep it that way,” Hop took one more drag, a hasty exhale of smoke, and then ground out the cigarette in the ashtray on the railing. Stepping in toward the boy he put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “You gotta figure yourself out. What you want. Not what your dad wants. Not what Tommy wants. Not even what I want,” he let out a bark of a laugh, “Though I’d appreciate you not stealin’ my rig again.”

Steve pulled his head away from his hands and rolled his eyes.

Hop’s expression hardened again. Tough and sure. “I’m serious. About my rig, but more so about all the stuff before that. You try and fit other people’s expectations and Steve Harrington ain’t gonna exist anymore. Least not the one I know. The one I see with the kids. The one in here,” Hop pushed a couple fingers hard into Steve’s chest, tapped on his heart, and shook his head. “Figure it out, kid,” and with that he went back inside, screen door slapping behind him on the frame leaving Steve alone on the porch to figure it out.

Joyce knew. She was the one who’d heard you come home crying, heard your door slam, heard from Hop. She’d been through her own share of heartbreak and it always got worse before it got better and you were right smack in the middle of worse. So she gave you time. Gave you space. Gave you a break from the library. Gave Steve what little encouragement she could when he came in to do his hours.

The first time she saw him after everything she knew it would be okay because he was miserable. Worse than she’d ever seen him. Wading through things, more drowning than swimming, but damn if he wasn’t trying. He asked after you every single day for almost a week and she’d always tell him you needed time, that you’d come around, and he never pushed despite how much it killed him.

She was like everyone else, giving him the benefit of the doubt, but – like everyone else – she could afford to. She knew. She knew what Gary Harrington was like, knew all too well what it felt like to get yelled at, to get hammered on. Knew what it was like to be a verbal punching bag and for it to have happened to Steve, especially so young, her heart ached for him.

Of course it didn’t excuse his actions, didn’t make up for how he’d hurt you. She’d said her piece in frustration after Hop recounted the evening, but she understood. She understood and knew it was difficult, knew it was complicated, and so she tried to encourage Steve to do something about it. Like Hop had. Like Robin and Nancy did. Like you would. And he wanted to, he knew he wanted to, but it took time to work through things and as he clocked in and out of his shifts at the library that week without you time flew.

The day had started off gloomy. Clouds heavy and billowing and dark in the sky. The air thick and charged. Electric. A storm coming. The kind where you felt it before it happened. Could smell the rain before it fell.

Steve had just finished his shift and piled into his car to leave, but before he could back out, Joyce appeared at his window motioning for him to roll it down.

“Hey, d’you need me to stay a little later?”

“Oh, that’s sweet of you hon, but no. Hop just called. Wanted me to tell you he cut Fridays off your schedule. Just twelve hours a week now, so you can take the day tomorrow.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open into a little ‘o’, “Was nice of him.”

“Well, you’ve been really helpful with covering things, so I told him maybe you deserved to have a little bit of your summer back,” she gave him a smile. A small one. Like she knew something he didn’t and gave his arm a soft pat before hurrying back inside the library.

Little bit of his summer back, but one less day with you. If you ever decided to show up again. Despite what should’ve been good news, Steve’s lips pulled down into a frown and he shifted his car into reverse, rolling out of the lot and down the road home. He didn’t bother with a tape and just let the radio play Freddie Mercury’s voice for a minute before it slowly bled into the next song.

You with the sad eyes, don’t be discouraged, oh I realize. It’s hard to take courage in a world full of people you can lose sight of it all, the darkness inside you can make you feel so small.

Steve felt his heart start to pound in his chest as he drove, window open, thick summer air wrapping around him. He could hear your voice singing along in the car, the sound of your laughter squeezing his chest tight.

But I see your true colors shining through, I see your true colors and that’s why I love you, so don’t be afraid to let them show. Your true colors, true colors, are beautiful like a rainbow.

Raindrops began to fall then. Small at first as they hit the windshield, slow and warm, and he felt the air through the open window turn muggy. Drawing everything in. Like it was waiting to exhale and as he turned down your street, his street, he realized he couldn’t do it anymore.

He rolled right past his house, pulling into your driveway instead, and as he jumped out of the car the sky opened up. A breathy sigh. Tears of relief. Huge raindrops falling heavy on the hood of his BMW, the gravel in the driveway, the metal roof of the house.

It was only a few yards to the porch, but Steve was soaked in the seconds it took to run across the yard, shoes wet and trailing prints behind him as he took the front steps in one go.

Lightning cracked the sky in two. Thunder rumbling across the sky. Making the windows shake in their frames and Steve felt it deep down in his chest. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he reached the door, lifting a hand to knock, once, twice, three times. Waiting. Holding his breath. Praying.

When you’d heard the door you didn’t know who to expect. Maybe Robin? She’d been stopping by at least once a day to check on you, bringing you all kinds of candy and trashy magazines and movies, stuff to keep your mind off things.

Keep your mind off Steve.

At first all you could do was replay the moment in your head. Dumping your soda. Tommy laughing. The feeling in the pit of your stomach when Steve didn’t stand up for you. The wrecked look on his face after, all bruised and lip split.

You told yourself you didn’t have to feel sorry for him. Told yourself he did it all on his own. That he had to sit in it because who would do that? Who would do that to someone they cared about? Of course it was more complicated, a winding, twisted thing with layers that hadn’t been peeled back yet, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

After you finished crying. After you got over wanting to throw things at the wall. When the feeling of Steve’s arms around your waist overcame the feeling of cold, sticky soda on your skin, Nancy’s words had spiraled around in your head.

He’s sweet, it’s just not easy for him at home.

Give him a chance.

He’s got a big heart, he just needs someone who isn’t going to break it.

Hot sun, tangerine bikinis, smoke and skunky weed and the glittering water of the lake.

I can be asshole, I’m sorry.

Steve grinning at you through the window of his car and the words you’d promised.

I’ll go easy on you.

The confidence he’d had.

I won’t need it!

And he didn’t, at least not as the ferris wheel spun you both under the inky black sky. Not as he held you steady when you were afraid. Not as he kissed you all sweet and warm and summer. But maybe he needed it now, he just didn’t know it.

You opened the door barefoot with a can of soda in your hand and a lopsided smile on your face, “Robin, Cherry Coke is just as bad as regular–”

But it wasn’t Robin.

Standing there on your porch, soaked from head to toe, was an obnoxious boy. Hair wet and stuck messy across his forehead, shirt clinging tight to his skin, rain dripping off the tip of his nose, chest heaving and brows knitted together in remorse and guilt. Your hand moved to shut the door, but he caught it with his shoe.

“Wait!” came out too quick, desperate, and then, “Please.”

You struggled, an internal war waged on yourself over whether or not to let him in again. To your home. Your heart. Sucking a breath in you felt your pulse quicken at your neck, your heart fluttering and frantic, a bird trying to escape the confines of your ribcage and you decided no. Not on the first count anyway and you walked him firmly back out onto the porch.

“You suck,” came out simple, sharp, meant to cut.

“I know, I–”

“No. Like. Royally. You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.”

He clamped his mouth shut and looked down at his wet shoes, another clap of thunder rumbling against your eardrums.

“I know,” he said again, quiet, defeated.

“So? What’re you gonna do about it?” You crossed your arms over your chest, a silent line of defense, lips firmed into a line. Rain started falling impossibly harder, the assault of water on the metal roof above you loud and scratchy like static and Steve practically had to yell over the sound of it.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up and you deserve so much better than any of that.”

“I know,” you echoed him, but the feeling of your heart squeezing in your chest pushed you further. “I liked you. Really liked you, you know that?” a disbelieving laugh escaped you and you roughed your hands over your face.

“Liked?” Steve’s voice cracked as he looked over at you, rain trailing down the line of his jaw, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. Warm honey and caramel replaced with pools of deep maple, edged in damp lashes.

“You left me! While those assholes ran their mouths you didn’t say anything. Not one word,” you didn’t shy away from him, voice shaking.

“And it was wrong, I’m a coward for it,” he took a step toward you and you took a step back. He let out a sigh and pushed a hand through his wet hair, resigned at first, but then his eyes flicked up from the floor to meet yours. Searching, working through something. Shifting on his feet he held your gaze, “Let me make it right.”

You didn’t say anything, at least not right away, and let his words settle with the rain that was gathering at the bottom of the downspouts.

“Please,” he asked, taking another step forward, but this time you stayed put.

“I don’t know how you can, but–”

“I can. I will or–or I’ll try,” he stuttered through his words, but didn’t give you any time to respond before turning to run back down the steps and into the rain. “Meet me at the skate park tomorrow, noon!” he called over his shoulder.

Climbing into his car to drive the couple of blocks down the street back to his place, Steve left you on the porch with your thoughts. As rain dumped overhead the little embers in your chest surprised you, flickering to life, giving you just the tiniest bit of hope that maybe, just maybe, Steve Harrington wasn’t an asshole.

Your skateboard wheels thudded blunt against the rough pavement as you pushed down the road. The sun was already making everything too warm and sticky, tiny beads of sweat clinging to your forehead, and you wished you’d taken Will up on the soda.

The day, despite being hot, felt fresh. Like the wash of rain had cleared everything away, like it was letting you start over and while you didn’t want to get your hopes up you really wanted Steve to be right. He hadn’t wanted to ‘fix’ it, didn’t make you listen to excuses, wasn’t begging or groveling.

Let me make it right.

After he’d left the day before you’d immediately called Robin.

“’Make it right?’ What does that even mean?”

“I dunno, maybe he’ll bring you flowers or candy,” Robin was oddly quiet, humming through your questions and conversation like she was waiting for you to change the subject. Did she know something?

Next on your list were Nancy and Jonathan and they were just as odd. Jonathan was talking too much and Nancy just kept shaking her head and mumbling under her breath, but Eddie. Eddie was the giveaway that something was up.

“What? Steve? Nothing, nope. Definitely nothing happening there. At all. With that, uh, situation.” Not one of them gave you anything to go off of.

Your stomach was twisted in a knot, heart pounding not only from the effort of skating, but from the anticipation of what was or wasn’t to come. As your board hit the gravel at the edge of the parking lot you kicked it up into your hand and tucked it under your arm, cursing yourself for not having a watch. How much longer til noon? You could hear Dustin, Time for you to get a watch, God! A huff of a laugh escaped you and you shook your head. Maybe you did need one.

The park was mostly empty, only a couple of older kids in the halfpipe, but you didn’t bother dropping in. Being this anxious meant you’d have piss poor focus and coordination and you’d probably just eat shit, the last thing you needed. So you posted up at one of the few picnic tables that had shade and waited. Eyes on the parking lot.

Time dragged, like you were wading through molasses, and you wondered for a minute if maybe he wouldn’t come. Maybe he’d stand you up. Make your decision for you by leaving you there with nothing. The thought made the knot in your stomach twist tighter and your leg started to jiggle under the table.

Why am I even here? He’s not gonna show. I should leave.

You felt your legs lift you from the bench, the instinct to run driving you away, but then you heard it. Wheels crunching on gravel and you looked over at the parking lot to see Steve’s BMW shift into park, but right behind it was a truck you didn’t recognize. What the hell? But then the truck door opened and it hit you. Tall, brown hair, cheeks covered dense in freckles.

Tommy.

You felt like you were going to throw up.

Steve met Tommy at his truck and they talked for just a minute before crossing the field to where you were waiting. Your heart was hammering in your chest, knot in your stomach twisting impossibly tighter, and god you’d wished you’d asked Robin or Jonathan to come with you.

As they got closer you could see what they’d done to each other after you’d left that night, a conversation had with fists, bruises lingering on both boys. Steve was a little worse than Tommy, but not by much and when they both finally reached the picnic table you had to remind yourself not to run in the opposite direction. You climbed up onto the table top, board upside down under your feet while the boys settled on standing, facing each other just in front of you in the dead, dry grass.

Steve glanced over at you quickly, a tentative look, a check-in, and you felt your nerves settle a bit, but your heart had other things to say. You were still mad at him, god you were mad, but you wanted so badly to fling your arms around him and just let the sun swallow you both up.

“The fuck is this Harrington? Why is Byers here?” Tommy brought you hurtling back to the present and he shot a scowl at you, the bruise on his cheek all faded plums and mottled yellow.

“Just shut up and listen,” Steve’s voice was firm, but cautious, toeing a line. Tommy didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t make any moves to leave. “First, you owe an apology,” Steve nodded toward you and waited, looking expectantly at the boy opposite him.

“An apology? For what? For running into me? For being a klut–”

“For being a dick, Tommy.” Steve cut him off and took a step toward him. They leveled each other for a minute, quietly measuring things up, and your stomach lurched uncomfortably. Then Tommy shook his head and tossed his gaze off away from you both, your ears catching a muttered fuck.

Tommy jammed his tongue into his cheek and as he shifted on his feet you didn’t find him as intimidating as he’d been on the fourth. He looked smaller here. Younger. His mouth was twisted into a frown when his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours, “Fine. Whatever. I’m sorry, okay? Sorry.”

Steve glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, wanting to hold your hand, wanting to pull you close, trying to gauge how you were feeling, but he stayed put. You didn’t say anything back, but Steve made sure you didn’t have to.

“Right. Second, we were together at the fair. On a date. And I’m an asshole for not saying so.”

A scoff came from Tommy and his stupid grin started to tug up at the corner of his mouth, “I can’t believe it. First Wheeler, now Byers–”

“Believe it,” Steve pushed two fingers into Tommy's chest, hard, punctuating what he’d said with a wordless Shut Up.

“Alright, Jesus. Do whatever you want, Harrington. It’s a free country,” Tommy shrugged Steve off, but his grin was gone when he looked back over at you. Point made.

“And I don’t want to hear about you saying anymore shit. Not from you or Carol or Kyle.”

Silence.

“I need a yes.”

“Christ, Harrington, fine! Yes. Can I get the hell out of here? I think you made your fuckin’ point,” Tommy was clearly losing his patience and Steve had pushed him, but knew when to stop.

“Good. That’s it.”

Tommy said nothing and simply flipped Steve off before turning and stalking back to his truck as what was undoubtedly a sigh of relief escaped Steve. He closed his eyes and he sank down onto the picnic bench below you, running both hands through his hair.

“Listen, I don’t expect you to stay or anything,” he sounded tired, like he’d been up all night, like he’d used every last bit of energy on Tommy. Then, finally, he looked up at you properly for the first time and gave you sad, lopsided smile.

You pulled your knees to your chest, chewing on your bottom lip, studying the boy sitting in front of you. Messy mop of brown hair, the curve of his jaw smeared purple with bruises, moles dotting across his cheeks, the long sweep of his lashes. You let out your own sigh, realizing you’d been holding your breath, and looked down at the scar on your knee. The one from when you’d fucked up an ollie the first week in Hawkins.

“I’m still mad at you,” you said quietly, flicking your eyes back up to look at Steve. His were still sad.

“S’okay. I don’t blame you,” he tried another smile, but it was weak.

It felt impossible swimming in all the thoughts and feelings that were flooding your brain at that moment. Mad. Mad at Steve for everything he’d done. Sad and disappointed that you couldn’t pull him into a hug right then and there. A deep longing to kiss the bruises on his cheek, the cut on his lip. Hope, or was it forgiveness? In the form of the tiny little embers that were flickering in your chest now as you looked at him, looking at you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, and the corner of his mouth lifted. It was small, but it was genuine. A little smile.

“You don’t need to say that.”

It was quiet for a minute then. The two of you just sitting in each others’ presence for a moment. Heat from the sun crept in through the shade and wrapped you up in the thick, summer air and made you feel all hazy. You didn’t want to leave. Even if it was to just sit in the quiet like this you’d stay all day, but what in the hell came next? It wasn’t simple. As much as you wanted to let Steve gather you into his lap and kiss you, you knew you weren’t ready for it.

You slid your board off to the side and turned to face him, folding your legs criss-cross-apple-sauce. It caught him off guard at first, but he slid his other leg over the bench and looked up at you, eyes still warm like honey.

“I forgive you, but you can’t do that shit anymore,” you said, watching as he dropped his gaze into his lap. “You gotta tell me what’s going on,” reaching a hand down you cupped his cheek in your hand and pulled his face up to look at you again, “Tell me.”

And then Steve said the most honest thing to you without even opening his mouth.

You watched as tears gathered along his lashes, welling up at the corners of his eyes as he took in a shaky breath and when he blinked he set them free to stream silently down his cheeks. For the first time Steve let someone else see him cry.

SOMETHING INFINITE SYNOPSIS: hawkins, indiana, 1987 – your mom is out of town for the summer on business and she sends you to live with your aunt joyce and her husband jim in hawkins while she’s gone. joyce works at the library and jim is the town sheriff – the kids, will, jonathan and el slowly warm up to you and it’s after you get in with them that you really start to feel at home, but there’s one person who just annoys you to no end. one person you’d love to just boot off a cliff – steve fucking harrington. ♥️ find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington stranger things #steve stranger things #steve x you #steve fanfic #steve x reader #steve x fem #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic

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