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camdendaylight · 3 months

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a/n: this is gonna be a one shot inspired by the song willow off of taylor swift's evermore. this does not include taylor as a character in any way. enjoy!

tropes: childhood best friends to lovers; family issues; good girl x bad boy; strict parents; neighbours to lovers; fluff; teenage love

Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark.

My old rusty window creaked, when I shoved it open, the cold autumn breeze setting off a series of shivers that ran down my body. I was wrapped up in my usual checkered coat, determined to step out on the rooftop of our garage in front of me, but the unexpected sound I had caused made me look back at my door in fear. I was supposed to be asleep by now, but instead my mind was wide awake and hesitant, debating on whether this was a good idea.

It was not like I had never done this before, sneaking out when I though they weren't gonna notice my absence. Actually I had done it ever since I was child, when I first befriended with the kid that had just moved into the house next to ours. I was ten, back then. Now, as a sixteen year old, my parents were still treating me the same. Don't do this, don't do that, that's what I heard most times in the exact same tone out of both of their mouths. It was never: What do you want to do?

What I wanted to do in that moment was to leave, so that's what I did. They couldn't control me in the nighttime, I thought. As soon as the sun set and the moon lit up the lake where our garden met the pure nature of the forest, I was free. Free from them, free from schoolwork and extracurriculars, free from all my worries. The only thing left controlling me was the sound of my phone going off every few seconds as I squeezed myself through the tiny gab between the windowsill and my open window.

"You coming?", I read on the dimmed screen and rolled my eyes at the text I had received. It wasn't as easy as you might think to escape out of this old house my mother had inheritated from my grandparents. Patience was the key, otherwise I would get caught. Even though it was mostly dark outside, I knew ever single step that I had to take on the wooden panels in order for them to be as quiet as possible. That was one of the positive effects that came with doing this for six years.

I didn't reply to the message, I just shoved my phone in the pocket of my coat and carefully made my way to the edge, where I sat down. The hardest part was yet to come, since I had to climb down gutter that was always shaking more the my adrenaline ridden hands. On top of that, the coldness of the imminent winter withdrew all the feelings out of my fingers, making it even more challenging for me to grip onto the metal pipe.

Halfway through, I received another notification that frightened me so much, that I lost all of my strength. My feet slipped from the icy surface and butt forward I plopped down on the wet grass to the sound of a thud, as I pressed my lips together to keep myself from crying out in pain. It wasn't that painful though, since the I hadn't been that high up anymore, but still, my hands were now covered in mud and so was my coat, that covered my hurting behind.

Thankfully, I had not drawn any attention from inside the house to myself with my graceful fall, since it seemed to be exceptionally quiet around me. I stood up, shaking my hands, then patting on the back of the coat, trying to get rid of all the dirt. It was useless, my mother was for sure gonna see the stain it had left. I would just have to hide the coat or tell her that I've had a ball kicked into my butt school. Both options were terrifying, if you knew my mother. Lying to her was a sin.

I let out a deep breath I was apparently holding, before turning around to finally make my way to my well known destination. My boots were making funny squishing noises as I stomped towards my neighbors garden through ours, passing the fireplace my dad had set up ages ago and the trampoline we used to jump on as kids. There was no fence or any sort of border separating each of our properties, but I knew when the bushes around me weren't as perfectly trimmed anymore I was that I was overstepping the line.

In the back of their garden, close to the lake and far away from their house, the majestic willow tree opened up in front of me, its branches moving to the rhythm of the november wind. Every night I had been sneaking out here, yet the astonishing view of the scenery never failed to fill me with awe. As I reached the massive trunk, my expression turned into a frown. This was our usual meeting spot, our secret place of comfort, but there was no sight of my companion. "Dylan?"

"Sup?", a familar voice called in an obnoxiously relaxed tone and I leaned my head into my neck to look up. I was frightened once again, even though I should have known that he would never bail on me. He never did. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that he was simply hiding not under, but inside of the tree, casually sitting on one of the more stable branches that were not swaying around. As so often, there was smirked plastered on his face, his hazel eyes directed downwards, to me.

"Jesus, you scared me!", I let out, taking in the sight of my childhood best friend and neighbor hovering above. He was wearing dark jeans, an olive sweater and a grey windbreaker on top, a black beanie covering most of his brown curls. He looked like the complete opposite of me, bold and edgy, wich he was. He was the complete opposite of me, still we got along very well, for the most part. "How on earth do you have the energy to climb all the way up?"

"Well first of all, I just left right through the front door of my house", he said with a chuckle, knowing I had to go completely out of the way to even make it to the tree were our initials were carved into the bark. He never had to worry about his parents finding out about our late night meeting. They probably knew about and didn't care. Or they didn't know, but wouldn't care. "And secondly, I didn't just fall six feet down on my ass. So-"

"You saw that?! Great another thing you're gonna make fun of me for till you die", I huffed, rolling my eyes at him. For the last six years, he had been making fun of me for every single time I had slipped, tripped, stumbled. I was used to it my now, as much as I was used to our daily meetings by the willow tree. We had made it to our own, shortly after we had met for the first time, when the old pair from next doors passed away and left behind their empty house with the overgrown garden and Dylan's parents decided to leave the city to live in a quieter area.

"I'm gonna make fun of you even after I die. I'm gonna haunt you as a ghost and play tricks on you and then watch you get scared", he said sticking his tongue out to me, before climbing down a few branches, only to jump the remaining six feet. I could have done it the same way with the gutter, I thought to myself, as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, watching him. He was now leaning against the trunk. "Are you cold?"

"What does look like?", I said sticking my tongue out to him in return. The autumn breeze had struck me once again and I was shivering, which he seemed to have noticed in the same way he always seemed to notice if I wasn't well, which was often, but lately more and more often. Sill, I fired back jokingly, "No, I'm hot actually. Don't you feel the heat of the sun burning on your skin?"

"Give me your hands", he demanded, stretching his out to me. I looked from his face down to his hands and back up to his eyes in mistrust. A dubious frown creased my forehead, my pale fingers clung to the material of my coat. I was convinced that he was messing with me, probably planning something to embarrass me, scare me or make me fall again, but he chuckled at my hesitation. "Come on, I'm trying to help."

"But they are dirty", I said, holding my hands up for him to see the dirt that the wet grass had left on them from my fall a few minutes ago. He rolled his eyes, followed by sigh and slowly realization hit me that he was indeed being serious and that he didn't care about them being dirty. In desperate need of some sort of warmth, no matter what kind, I was willing to give in. "I swear if you lick my hand or some shit like that, I'm gonna cut your head off."

"Aspen, if you're dearest mother could hear the way you're speaking-", Dylan began laughing and I playfully clipped his ear, before ultimately placing my hands in his. The tip of my frozen finger brushed along the palm of his hand sending an electric impulse through my numb limbs, that I tried not to question. The skin on his hands felt rough against mine, yet transported the warmth I needed into not just my hands, but my whole body apparently. The heat was starting to get to my head.

Staring at my hands in his, seemingly in disbelief that I had agreed to this, he thankfully hadn't noticed yet how much this effected me all of the sudden. But his laughter died down completely, when he looked up. The hazel of his eyes met the blue of mine, setting my cheeks into an undeniable red flush. I was sure he noticed then, but he didn't say anything, at least for awhile, until a devilish smirk formed on his unreadable face. "Aspen, are you- Are you blushing?"

"That's just the heat of the sun", I replied sarcastically, but in a rather startled manner, taking a step back in order to pull my hands away, but he wouldn't let me. Instead he tightened his grip, his mischievous gaze dropping down to what I assumed were my lips. Another shiver ran down my spine in response, this time though, it was not caused by the autumn breeze. I wasn't cold anymore, my heart was rapidly pumping blood into my overworked brain. Why was I feeling this way? I had no idea, but it scared the hell out of me.

"Hold on, I think you're bleeding", Dylan said in a serious tone, that I wasn't grazed with very often. I breathed a sight of relief, because whatever my first assumption was, turned out to be wrong, but only then I fully registered what he had just said to me. Now that he mentioned it, I could actually taste the iron in my dried out mouth. "Dang, that fall must have been a lot more brutal than it looked from the distance. I'm sorry for making fun of you."

His right hand let go of mine, but only so his index finger could reach for my bruised lip. Before he actually touched the sensible spot though, an invisible force inside of me made me turn my head away as fast as I could. "Wait what?!", I cried out, now using all of my strength to create some distance between us. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I opened the front camera to inspect the results of my little accident. I must have bitten my own lips when I landed on the ground earlier. "Sh*t. What am I gonna tell you parents when they see this?"

"Tell them you were absentmindedly chewing on your own lip, you do that all the time anyway", he said chuckling lightly and my irritated eyes flickered from my screen to him. He was right, I had caught myself chewing on my lip many time. It was foolish habit of mine that my parents, particularly my mother hated as much as she hated my phone going off at the dinner table whenever Dylan texted me. She had always noticed, but I never figured Dylan had noticed too.

"You know what? I-I gotta go", I stuttered, feeling a tremendous urge to flee from the situation and the intimacy it had oddly created. The fact that he recalled such a minor observation about me shouldn't have confused me, especially since I also noticed how eyebrow twitched every time when he was trying to figure something, to figure me out, like in this moment. With my eyes averted and the tip of my toes pointing back at our house, I set off, mumbling some last words. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

"Same spot, same time?", he called after me, forming his hands that previously held mine into a megaphone, because I had already made it back to the perfectly trimmed bushes while he was still leaning against the trunk. I nodded hastily, my mouth not allowing another word to slip out, and soon enough his tall figure was blurred out by the fog. When I reached the spot of flattened grass where I had plopped down earlier, I was shaking out of fear, not of my parents, but of him.

Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife.

A warmth was surrounding me as I was absentmindedly poking around my plate of peas in front of me. The warmth came from the heater, and unlike the warmth I had received the day before while standing under the willow tree in the garden next to ours, it didn't reach my inside. My expression was a cold as I was feeling, being crumped up in the house that should have been my place of comfort, but rather turned into a place of constant surveillance and judgement.

"Aspen, dear, what happened to your lovely coat?", my Mom asked me, as expected, while we were having dinner in our fairly suburban dining room. I was sitting opposite of my parents on the wooden table that was as old as my rusty window since it had once belonged to my grandparents. The only thing that was new in this house was the glass front to my right. "I found it all dirty stashed under your bed. It was expensive. It has to be cleaned, dried and ironed properly."

"You were in my room?", I replied in a sharp tone, refusing to answer her question before I would accidentally expose myself. My question though was enough for my farther, who had just gotten home from work, to clear his throat as a sign of warning, reminding me of the right way I was supposed to be speaking to them, friendly, innocently, like a child. I curled my lips into a smile. Raising my tongue behind my top teeth, I said, "Of course you were"

"Honey, we're your parents. We are obligated to know what's going on in your life or what you're hiding from us in that case", my Mom said, noticing the sarcasm in my voice. "And don't think we haven't noticed the bruise on your lip. Have you gotten that while rustling through the streets with the Hollis boy or is it just another consequence of your constant daydreaming that's keeping you from actually doing your school work lately?"

"What?!", I said in disbelief, dropping the fork down on my porcelain plate to the sound of a horrendous clink, causing my father to slam his massive hand on the table top. My head started spinning and I was sure that my face must have looked as pale as grandmas finest porcelain. Not only did she just hint at knowing that I had been sneaking out to meet Dylan, she also blamed him for something that wasn't even close to the truth.

Okay, maybe I had been a little distracted when I was in class that day, thinking about my hands in his and how weirdly my body reacted to a touch I had felt multiple times before, but any other day my parents were the root of my worries. I was often with my head in the clouds, but only because I was imaging how the future, how my future might look like. I wished for freedom more than anything else, a freedom, as it turned out, I was more than far away from.

"We've been watching you", my Mother admitted finally and I felt my heart drop down to the wooden floor that was covered in a crimson red rug. "I had heard weird noises coming from the roof of the garage a few days ago and immediately had a feeling something must be wrong. I went to check up on you, but you were gone. I didn't say anything that night, because I wanted to find out who you were doing all this childish nonsense for."

"Do you have any idea how scared I was?! Underaged drinking, drug abuse, physical violence, who knows what teenager are up to these days", she said, causing me to shift my gaze to the glass front and therefore to the majestic willow tree I could see in the distance. Her voice had started to become more and more angry. A tone I had been used hearing from her, but it had never been that intimidating to me, even though she was talking nonsense. "Although, I wouldn't be surprised if that Dylan guy would expose you to such things. You're not gonna see him anymore!"

"Mom, he's my best friend! He does neither of those things! You can't forbid me to spent time with him!", I snapped, turning my head back to face her. Her face was flushed with anger. I had never raised my voice at her before, but I couldn't believe the imagine she had of him. I was expecting to be in trouble once she found out about my nightly adventure, but I had never thought about the possible consequence of not being allowed to see him. We didn't do anything. Teary eyed, I sought for some empathy from my farther. "Dad, say something!"

"Do not raise your voice at us, young lady!", my Mom chimed back in, before my dad could even get rid of his omnipresent pokerface. My mother always spoke for the two of them. "He can't be your best friend if he's distracting you from school. He probably doesn't care about his grades, but you should care about yours. He's not good for your academic performance and for you in general. We're gonna talk to his parents and tell them about his foolish actions. Hopefully they can talk some sense into him. This has to stop once and for all!"

Dylan may not have been the perfect student or a perfectly well behaved child, and although he sometimes made fun of me, he was still kind and compassionate when it was necessary. In fact, he was one of the few things I had consider to actually be good for me. He got me out of my comfort zone, made me explore new places and kept me from being buried in books for too long whenever I needed a break but wouldn't allow myself to take one. The day they moved in was blessing to me, but rather a curse to my mom.

My mom had made a cake for them as a welcome gift and forced me to tag along when she brought it over. Always having been a lot bolder than me, Dylan opened the door. A few days later, he had dared me to climb all the way up the willow tree, but I was way too scared and didn't make it past the lowest branches. Still, I had managed to fall down, breaking my arm in the same motion. Ever since then, my mom was convinced that he meant trouble, ever since then the two of us were inseparable.

I stared at the green pieces of perfection in front of me and suddenly couldn't bear their sight anymore. I had never been allowed to leave the dining table before everyone had finished their dinner, neither I did I feel hungry anymore, nor could I sit still for another second with my parents blaming the one person that brought some light into the darkness that had become my life for all that went wrong in their eyes.

I stood up, wiping away the tear that was rolling down my reddened cheek and stepped closer to the glass front. The weather was similar to the night's before, but the fog had cleared up slightly, at least for my vision. The willow tree was drawing me outside, but as soon as I placed my hand on the door handle, I was stopped. "Where do you think you're going?!", my Mom scowled from behind me. "You're grounded, if you're finished, go in your room, but don't you dare try sneaking out on the roof!"

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in.

Staring at the closed door to my left that was separating my room from the hallway that lead to my parents bedroom, a thunderstorm of thoughts was roaming around in my pounding head, while simultaneously a drought of empty emotions settled in my body. I had watched the light in the hallway go on and off, sometimes it had flicked through the small gap under the door, when footsteps approached and passed. For a while now there had been no light, no sound, no motion.

I had no idea what time it was, even though there was an alarm clock on the nightstand to my right, but I hadn't bothered to turn around just yet. My gaze had been set on the door, as I laid in my bed with my head on the pillow, it would have been too heavy to be hold up anyway. On top of that, my parents had taken my phone away from me for the night. My reckless behavior had caused me yet another rule I had to follow, meaning I had to hand them my phone after dinner every day from now on.

The salty liquid that had previously been leaking from eyes had dried out, same as my anger, but I knew that both of those things would come back as soon as I was fully gonna realized that I was not gonna be able to meet up with Dylan at our secret spot anymore from now on, that I was not gonna go over to his house after school to eat his mother's delicious chocolate chip cookies anymore from now on, that he was not gonna make fun of me for slipping, tripping, stumbling anymore from now on.

As expected, the thunderstorm of thoughts won over the emptiness and caused a river of tears to escape down my face and land on my pillow. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to finally fall asleep. A rustling near my window by the foot of my bed made me shoot them wide open though. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage up until it reached my throat when I lifted my head up in fear. A tall figure was standing outside on the roof, rightfully struggling to get in.

"Dylan?", I let out quietly as if I hadn't just identified the person trying to break in by their silhouette. I jumped out of my duvets, now being more scared that my parents would hear my rusty old window creaking than by the intruder himself and helped him by carefully shoving it open. In front of me stood indeed my very concerned looking neighbor, disguised by the hood of his windbreaker. I must have looked about the same amount of concerned. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you by the tree and then I couldn't reach you so I figured something must have went wrong", he whispered and I took a step back so he could climb in. I didn't know if it should have been alarming to me that he had managed to climb up the slippery metal pipe or if I should have felt flattered that he came to check up on me, but the unfamiliar feeling in the pit of my stomach decided that for itself. It grew even stronger when Dylan's eyes bore into mine and therefore revealed to him that I had been crying. "Another argument with your parents?"

"Yeah, but it was worse than any other one I had", I admitted, turning away from him only to slip back under my covers, leaning my back against the rose coloured wall. He was still standing next to the window, leaning against the windowsill, watching me attentively. He knew damn well arguments with my parents oftentimes ended up with me crying alone in my bedroom, but not once he had actually took it upon himself to sneak into my house. I took a deep breath, before meeting his gaze. "It was about you."

Being lit up by nothing but the moon, I could still see that his eyebrow formed a frown after my confession. Even in near darkness, every feature of his face was clearly visible, perhaps because I had mesmerized it so well after six years. I knew I had to tell him about my mother's demands at some point, so why not do it as fast as possible. It was gonna destroy me if I needed to keep in for any time longer. I was prepared to somewhat end my long term friendship with him, unwillingly of course.

"They know that I've been sneaking out to meet you. Luckily they think I've been only doing it for a few days. If they only knew it's been years", I mumbled, lowering the tone of my voice at the end of my sentence, not only because I was afraid they might here, but also because I couldn't bear to even think about the consequences of that. "They-They don't want me to spend time with you. They think I'm being brainwashed by you or some shit. They even want to speak to your parents. I'm so sorry."

For me, it was one thing that I had gotten into a fight with my parents and had been punished for sneaking out, but it was even worse that they wanted him to be punished as well. Dylan's parents were nothing like mine, they would have never forbidden him to see me. They were respectful, to say the least, of me and our friendship, but they were also respectful of my parents. If my mom was gonna talk them into taking action, they would do as they were told. That's how manipulative she could be.

"Aspen, you don't have to apologize. I don't care. I don't care if I get in trouble, I don't care if I'll get grounded and I don't care if your parents don't like me", he said with a serious expression, removing the hood from his head by aggressively sliding his hand through his hair, before leaving his spot by the windowsill to place his hands on my bedframe. He bent down, with a sigh, and then looked back up at me with a straight, but self confident, face. "I simply don't care."

"How can you not care?!", I spat out, accidentally increasing the volume of my shaky voice. This was not meant to be an insult. I genuinely could not understand how he managed to care so little, not just today, but everyday, about what other people thought of him. I so desperately wanted to know how it felt like to not be controlled, to not feel judged, to not feel pressured to be perfect, or at least to appear as perfect to the outside. I wished I wouldn't care either, but the guilt was eating me up.

"Nothing's ever gonna stop me from seeing you", he replied in a soft tone, sitting down on my bed next where my legs were curled up in the blanket. I watched the matress shift under his weight, my mouth was wide open in shock of the weight his words carried. He said it in such a light manner, that it took a few changing digits on my alarm clock to my right until another thunderstorm of thoughts hit me with such an enormous force that I was left speechless and with nothing else but the urge to search for the hazel in his eyes with the blue in mine.

I was interpreting way too much into that, I was sure, but the look, or more so intense stare, he gave me brought me right back to when I was sat on one of the lowest branches of the willow tree as a ten year old. Around me the leaves had been rustling in the wind, my hands had felt sore from the rough bark and my legs had been as numb as they were now, while Dylan had been standing below, cheering me on. There had been two options for me that day: Conquer my fears and keep climbing all the way up or let the fear win and go back down.

I had decided to go back down, but while doing so I lost balance which caused me to fall down and land right on my arm, in front of Dylan's feet. If that had happened to me after I had climped all the way up, the consequences of my fall would have been much worse. If I had never agreed to his dare at all, I wouldn't have had to wear a plaster cast for the whole winter. But also, I probably wouldn't have become best friends with the new neighbor. Sometimes things were worth taking the risk, sometimes things were worth not caring.

Dylan's eyes were sill piercing into mine, when I slowly became aware of my sorroundings again. With that, I also became aware of his hands getting closer to my face. Too mesmerized to flinch, I allowed him place his index finger on the bruise on my lower lip that I had absentmindedly started chewing on, which sent another electric impulse through by body. I must have not been the only one that had gotten somewhat lost in thoughts, because he cleared his throat, before asking, "How's your lip?"

"B-Better", I stuttered, despite barely being able to open my mouth and even though I could taste iron on my tongue thanks to the foolish habit of mine. I didn't feel any pain though, the bare minimum of skin from the tip of his finger sent provided me with enough heat for me to feel any other kind of emotion that the one that was suddenly rising in my stomach. Through my tear stained eyelashes, I noticed that his gaze had dropped down to where he was pointing. For a second I though he was gonna-

He leaned closer, his hand grabbing onto my chin and before I could register what was happening, his lips met mine, lightly, but somehow still forcefully. As I closed my eyes, the tremendous urge to flee from the situation camer over me, the fear of being broken grew stronger, but I decided to not let it win. Dylan was the only one that knew my life wasn't as picture perfect as it seemed. He was the last person I should have been scared of.

I was taken aback, not entirely sure what I was supposed to do. This was my best friend sitting in front of me. I had known him for six years and here he was kissing me. Someone was kissing me, and it was him, out of all people. I still needed to process that. Luckily, I was gonna get at least a chance to do so, because he pulled away shortly after, leaving my numb, pounding lips. His face remained in close distance to mine though and I took it upon myself to say something. "I-That was my first kiss."

"I know, mine too", he said, the corner's of his mouth turning up to form a smile that was unfortunately only halfway lit up by the moonlit shining through my window. Once again I was left speechless, in a positive way of course. I was surprised, I thought he had kissed someone before, which was dumb considering we told each other everything, but I figured he may have just kept this one thing from me. "Uhm, do you want a second one?"

"My parents wouldn't like this", I said with an expression as cold as my dad's pokerface. He nodded in understanding, scooting away from me a little. The twitching in his eyebrows didn't stay unnoticed to me though. He wanted to be respectful of my parents rules, as if he hadn't just broken into their house, but there was an ounce of annoyance seen on his face, even in the darkness of the night. I could see it, because I knew him well.

He knew me well, he could have seen that I was messing with him, but the more he was surprised when I closed the gap between us and clashed my lips onto his. I chuckled into the kiss and naturally, as if I had any clue on what I was doing, I lifted my hands up from the covers and placed them on each side of his face. They were anything but cold, but he still shivered under my touch. "Dylan, are you-Are you blushing?"

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marwritesgood · 11 months

Text

Hide and Seek | S. Harrington

Pairing: Steve x Hopper!Reader

Timeframe: Season 5

Summary: It's time to take down Vecna once and for all and, much to Steve's protests, Y/n puts herself on the frontline.

warning description of violence and injury

PREVIOUS PART

series masterlist // main masterlist

a/n: and we're back to the main storyline :) this part was not initially planned, but it felt awkward moving forward without addressing what goes down during the big battle with Vecna! hope you enjoy :)

September 21st, 1978

Y/n sat at the kitchen table quietly, stewing in her nervousness as she waited for her mom to explain further. She had called her eldest to sit with her, which wasn't what made Y/n anxious. It was when her mom called her by her full name. That was never a good sign.

From underneath the table they sat at, Y/n's mom held up her daughter's school bag, unzipped it and pulled out a sheet of paper. Y/n hung her head, cursing herself for not just throwing it in the bin like she initially contemplated doing. Seeing her reaction, Y/n's mom softened her gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was a school trip coming up?”

She could not understand it. Y/n was not the type to hide things from her mom, nor was she the type to pass up an overnight school field trip.

Y/n locked eyes with her mom for a short moment before averting them quickly. Her face was burning up from the embarrassment. She never meant for her little white lie to turn into a whole thing.

“I forgot.”

“Y/n, don’t lie to me.”

The young girl hung her head once more.

“There’s a fee. I didn’t know if we could afford to…”

She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. Not after the sharp inhale her mother took almost immediately. Y/n glanced up at her momentarily. She had seen her mother do a heck of a lot of crying over the last few months, but never like that, and never over her.

The older woman rose from her chair and sped around the table, pulling her daughter into her embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” she said softly, before finally pulling away. “I know your dad and I have been fighting a lot, and constantly going back and forth about Sara, instead of making sure we were looking after you.”

“I get it, mom,” Y/n whispered.

Her mother felt her stomach drop further. This was the last thing she wanted for Y/n. Her sweet, vibrant Y/n who had gotten far too good at and far too accustomed to pulling a brave face. The older woman lifted her hands to the sides of her daughter’s face and frowned regretfully.

“We’ll do better, I promise,” she said before glancing back down at the sheet of paper on the kitchen table and taking it in her hand once more. “Starting with this field trip, because there’s no way you’re missing out.”

“Mom, you don’t have to-“

Y/n’s eyes widened as her mom held her hand up, stopping her from saying anything further. She pursed her lips tightly, giving the field trip handout a onceover before looking her daughter dead in the eye.

“I’m the mom, you’re the kid, ok?” She snapped, her voice filling the room to the brim, startling Y/n at first and then filling her with relief. She nodded.

The entire time Sara had been sick, nurses and doctors and family friends were commenting on how strong and mature her big sister was, shouldering extra responsibilities to help out her parents and spending all her free time with Sara all while keeping her grades up at school. Y/n never wanted to be strong and mature, but by the way everyone spoke about her, it was obvious that’s what everyone needed her to be.

Y/n’s mother sighed. The fees and the finer details were not to be any of Y/n’s business, she declared to herself. That was hers and Hopper’s. All she wanted from Y/n was a simple answer, and then she would move however many mountains necessary to make it work. The woman gazed intently at her daughter.

“You wanna go on this trip?”

Y/n opened her louth and hesitated for a moment before answering in a hushed tone, “I-I do.”

Her mom nodded once and looked at the handout yet again, her eyes searching for the information on the fee. It would be a stretch, but the woman’s mind was already decided. One of her girls was going to have some semblance of a nice year if it was the last she did.

“I’ll talk to dad. We’ll make it happen.”

Y/n blinked, dumbfounded. It was that simple? She had spent weeks analysing every sentence on the hand out, contemplating if the trip was even worth bringing up to her parents and contemplating ways she could come up with the money herself.

In one conversation, her mom had fixed it all for her.

The young girl was grinning ear to her. With glossy eyes she stepped forward and hugged her mother tightly. It was a small but immensely meaningful win for her, and she needed her mom to know that.

“Thank you.”

The woman felt her breath hitch. After several months of hell, a thank and a hug from a happy daughter was more than she could have asked for. She kissed the top of Y/n’s head and hugged her just as tightly, with no intention of letting go until she did first.

***

November 27th, 1984

Y/n needed a second to breathe. She left Steve with the kids for a few minutes so she could lock the backdoor and the windows, but she found herself standing in the hallway and catching her breath.

When Y/n finally made her way back to the living room, she did so slowly, puzzled by the gruff voice coming from the living room where the kids were. She could only just make out the words being spoken.

“You know what happens when I get angry, Max. I break things."

Her stomach turned as realisation hit and she raced towards the sound of the kids screaming. Billy Hargrove was yet again causing trouble. By the time Y/n reached the living room, he had already broken one of Joyce’s plates and held a petrified little Lucas against the wall by his shirt.

Instantly fuming, Y/n made her way towards him with clenched fists, her thumbs tucked in just as she had been taught by her old man.

“Hey asshole,” she shouted, pulling Billy back by his shoulder as hard as she could. Once he let go of Lucas and turned to Y/n, she swung her right fist with all her might and aimed right for his stupid face.

Billy doubled back, lifting his hand to his nose and kissing his teeth when he saw blood on his fingertips.

“Yeah, kick his ass Y/n!” The kids were cheering from the corner of the room, making Y/n forget about the pain in her hand, but only just for a moment. Billy laughed dryly.

“You know, I’m getting real sick of you butting your nose into my business,” he hissed, starting to get the impression she was more than just an old babysitter to the little boys who kept hanging around Max. “Just ‘cause your dad’s the stupid police chief, doesn’t mean you run this town.”

Y/n furrowed her brows, resenting being referred to nothing but the chief’s daughter, even moreso from a dingus like him. He inched forward, trying to intimidate her, but Y/n straightened her back and planted her feet.

“Just shut up and go pick on someone your own size, Billy,” she spat, still fuming. It was bad enough he had a habit of beating up unsuspecting freshman at school, now he was terrorising her kids.

Billy kept moving closer to her, the crease between his brows remaining steady, and it started to dawn on Y/n that if he had no issue with hitting a kid as sweet as Lucas, there was very little chance he would have an issue with beating her up. Her feet shifted backwards ever so slightly, and Billy took immediate notice of it. He smirked.

“Already did,” he taunted, nodding his head towards the window facing the front yard. “Didn’t you see your little boyfriend on the ground outside?”

Y/n was swinging her fist again before it could even register, but unfortunately Billy caught it before another blow could be made to his face. Just as his lips instinctively curved into what Y/n knew would be another infuriating smirk, Y/n jolted her foot upwards until it came to a sudden and aggressive collision with his groin.

Billy doubled back yet again, wincing momentarily and then donning an expression far more sinister. He recovered his stance in a seconds and was glaring daggers at Y/n, completely fed up.

“Oh, you are so dead,” he growled, moving forward with his hands balled up and winding back ready to swing. If he was holding back before, he clearly did not plan to anymore. Y/n stumbled backwards. Before she could remember to tuck her thumbs, a pair of strong arms pulled her out of the way.

“No you are.”

Steve, bloody nose and all, caught Billy’s fist mid-swing and sucker-punched the left side of his face before he could see it coming. Instinctively, Y/n lunged forward and reached for her boyfriend, startled by the injuries already evident on his face.

“Steve!”

While relieved Billy didn’t get the chance to punch her, Y/n did not have time to feel grateful for Steve’s impeccable timing, nor did she have time to watch him get into fight with Billy Hargrove.

Her fingers barely grazed her boyfriends arm before he was following Billy. Y/n stepped back and signalled for the kids to stay out of the way. She knew Steve had had a bone to pick with him ever since he got to Hawkins, so there was no telling where things would go, but something told Y/n it was gonna get ugly. Billy began laughing maniacally, clapping his hands sarcastically before shoving Steve back.

“So you do have a bit of fire in you,” he chuckled. “You know, I’ve been waiting to see the King Steve everyone’s been talking about.”

“Just leave,” Steve hissed, shoving him back just as hard. Billy’s smirk never faltered, despite losing his footing for a split second. Instead, he stood tall and inched forward again, narrowing his eyes at Steve tauntingly, as if testing to see what would set him off.

“Didn’t realise all I had to do was go after his bitch-“

Y/n inhaled sharply. Before Billy could get another word out, Steve was jabbing his face and his torso repeatedly. He could tolerate Billy poking fun at him, but not at Y/n. Never at her.

The kids were back to cheering again, and Y/n was grasping at straws trying to de-escalate, before one of them ended up seriously hurt. Sure, maybe she thought Billy deserved a few sucker-punches to the face, and maybe she didn’t mind if Steve was the one handing them out, but there was a bigger battle at hand and time was not on their side.

The two of them brought their fight into Joyce’s kitchen, where Billy took a plate and smashed it against Steve’s head, giving him the upper hand. Y/n muffled a shriek behind her hand and decided it was time to step in. Billy showed no evident intention of slowing down anytime soon, even with Steve on the floor and him towering over. Y/n sped forward and tried to pull him back like she had done before.

“Billy, get the hell off him!”

Steve was already losing consciousness, but Billy just kept going. Y/n tried to get a good grasp of his arm to yank him back, but he was moving too quickly. He swung his fist back just as Y/n leaned forward again, hitting her in between her eyes and sending her backwards.

“Uhh-“ she groaned as she tried to regain focus. Her ears were ringing and her vision was beginning to blur. The last she remembered was seeing Max’s faint figure come marching in wielding something. Then she lost consciousness for a few minutes.

When Y/n finally did begin to see and hear things clearly, Max had a strange bat in her hands and Billy was lying on the floor with a needle sticking out of the side of his neck.

***

March 31st, 1986

The days following Vecna’s attack on Y/n came by like a series of punches, not giving anyone a chance to recover. From kissing Steve in his bedroom, helping Eddie evade an angry mob and then helping Steve and the kids lie to the police about why they were all at lover’s lake in the middle of the night. Y/n could not wait to have a good night’s sleep again.

Unfortunately, the end was nowhere in sight. Everyone gathered around Nancy in Eddie’s living room as she explained what she saw— what Vecna showed her before she and Robin could leave the upside down. Almost immediately afterwards, a few of them started to discuss what to do next. Y/n, on the other hand, could only think about El.

She left to call the Byers’ house phone, but after twenty minutes of nothing, Y/n started to fear for the worst. She came back to the living room just as Dustin came up with a bright idea about thinking Vecna and his powers as another version of El’s.

“That all sounds great in theory, but we don’t even know when he’s going to attack next,” Robin argued, “we don’t even know who he’s gonna attack next.”

Y/n's breath hitched. Suddenly it was beginning to make sense why she still did not feel like herself again. Though she was definitely much happier than she was when Vecna was first targeting her, she could not definitively say her symptoms were completely gone.

“Yeah we do,” she said, looking up and seeing everyone's eyes glued on hers. Y/n had become accustomed to their worried expressions since recovering from Vecna. She knew they were going to be on the fence on what she was about to propose, one of them in particular

“I can still feel him," Y/n clarified before clearing her throat. "I think… I think I’m still a target. Still cursed.”

The room was silent. Everyone exchanged looks with each other. Everyone but Steve, whose attention never left Y/n. She couldn't be serious, he thought. But she was. If she wasn't before, she was now that she knew El might be involved.

“So, maybe I ditch the Bee Gees. I draw his focus back to me... and I keep him busy long enough so that you guys can get into that attic," she proposed. “Then you can chop his head off… or stab him- I don't know.”

Y/n shrugged her shoulder and finally looked up, meeting everyone's intense gaze. If she was going to do this, it meant they would have only a small window to do what was needed, to kill the son of a bitch once and for all.

“Just try not to miss.”

Steve furrowed his brows. His frustration grew as he looked around and saw everyone seemingly accept that as the official plan. Like there was nothing alarming about sacrificing his girlfriend to Vecna.

“Woah, hold on, time out," he scoffed, walking towards Y/n and taking hold of her hand, pulling her into the kitchen and out of earshot from the other. Y/n sighed, knowing any lecture he was about to give her would be in vain.

“Steve, don’t try to talk me out of this-“

He narrowed his eyes at her incredulously.

“What, so I should just let you get yourself killed?!”

“I’ve dealt with him before,” Y/n pointed out.

“And you were this close to dying,” he argued, holding his index finger and thumb up to show just how narrowly she escaped the same fate as Chrissy and Fred.

“But I’m not dead! I survived that, I can survive this too.”

She had to tell herself that. She had to force herself to believe it too. If not for her own sake, then for the sake of her loved ones, both in and out of Hawkins. The crease between Steve's brows persisted, and Y/n knew she had to get him on board.

“No one in California is picking up the phone. I’ve rang about 5 times already,” she explained shakily. “I have this… this gut feeling that they’re in trouble. And if Nancy’s right-“

“And what if she’s wrong?” Steve questioned, knowing he would never be able to live with himself if Y/n got hurt or died unnecessarily.

“But what if she’s right, Steve?” Y/n sniffled, her eyes brimming with tears. She was not happy about it either— far from it actually, but what other option was there? She pressed further. “I mean, what if me doing this is our best chance at putting an end to all of this?— An end to Vecna?”

He paused for a moment and realised she was right. If they didn’t go after Vecna with their best foot forward, there was no telling where things would go or how many more people he would hurt.

Even so, he still couldn’t bring himself to be ok with it. Steve wanted to find another, any other course of action that didn’t involve putting Y/n’s life in the palm of Vecna’s hands again. He knew his reasoning was selfish, but to hell with it.

“I just got you back, Y/n.”

Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping and lips pursing to form a frown. A lump formed in the back of her throat as it dawned on her what he meant. She did not just come back from the clutches of Vecna, she came back to Steve and they found their way back to each other. Inching closer to him, Y/n placed her hands against the sides of Steve’s face.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured reassuringly, before dropping her hands and weaving her fingers with his. “This time is different. We have the upper hand, because I know Vecna’s moves.”

“You do?”

He studied her closely as he traced circles with his thumb against the back of her hand. She shuffled even closer until their hips met and nodded her head.

“I think so,” she answered quietly, thinking back to how she escaped Vecna before, a memory still vivid in her mind. “It’s like he uses my memories— my really bad ones, to make me vulnerable and easier for him to attack.”

It started when she was looking back at the cabin, she remembered. Then she saw her dad and everything got worse. Y/n tried not to reminisce for too long. That wound was still fresh.

“Oh,” Steve muttered beneath his breath before letting out a defeated exhaled. He hated that Y/n went through that, knowing just how bad things were and everything she had been through. He couldn’t stomach the thought of her going through it again just to stall Vecna.

“But when I survived the last time it wasnt just because I heard the song, but because I thought about good memories,” Y/n explained, smiling weakly, knowing that pulling a brave face would be in the best interest. Luckily, she had years of practise doing just that. “Shouldn’t be too hard to do again.”

“What if he does something unexpected?”

“I just think of a really good memory.”

Thankfully, she had a good number of those. Some with her mom and Sara, a lot with El, but most were with Steve. Her eyes locked with his and, without saying it aloud, Y/n knew it was mutually understood.

“But, even if something goes wrong, I’m not worried, because…”

Her eyes never left his. Y/n knew Steve was running out of reasons to be against it, but she also knew that no matter how much of a fight he put up, if she was going to through with being Vecna bait, Steve was going to be right there with her.

“I know you’re not gonna let anything happen to me.”

All she had to worry about was what would happen in her mind nad in Vecna’s territory. She knew Steve would keep her safe in the real world until she was back.

He gave it another moment’s deliberation. In a perfect world, it would not have come down to this, but there was clearly nothing he was going to be able to do to change her mind. Steve sighed.

“Ok.”

Y/n smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He pulled her closer to him and took the time to appreciate it all— the feeling of her waist beneath his fingertips, her head against the crook of his neck and the smell of her perfume.

He knew it before and he knew it then. Whatever trouble she found herself in, he was always going to be at her side.

***

April 2nd, 1986 - 6PM

Y/n tested her flashlight a couple times against the doors to the Creel house and then turned back to the the other three. The plan was for her and Steve to lure Vecna out by going inside what was apparently his childhood home, with Erica and Max keeping an eye from the outside, while the others were headed into the upside down.

She had manage to pull a brave face for the last few days, but standing at the doorstep was beginning to test what little bravery Y/n had left.

“Max, you and Erica will be ok on lookout?”

The young girl nodded, "yup, we got it covered.” She then gestured towards Erica who was already setting up base on the front yard. Y/n watched Max head off and turned back to the front door, her hand reaching out to open it only to be stopped by Steve's.

“Wait, um..." He looked at his shoes, then at the door, then at his shoes again, trying to find the right words without putting a damper on morale. He licked his lips and sighed. "Just be careful, please.”

“I will."

Steve continued to hold her hand firmly, his expression beginning to morph from concern to desperation. He knew once they entered the house, there was no going back.

“If you start to feel like something’s wrong, just-“

“Steve. I will," Y/n assured him, knowing where he was going. Just let me know, she presumed.

Y/n did not need to be reminded that Steve had her back and would be ready to step in if things went south. It was already common knowledge to her. However, that was not what Steve was concerned about.

“You don’t need to put yourself on the line anymore than you already are," he croaked, his tone almost pleading. Y/n drew her brows together.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you, Y/n,” Steve whispered. “Don’t do anything reckless.”

Her breath quickened as she met Steve's gaze. Sometimes it felt like he could read her mind. Like he knew she made peace with the chance of not returning if it meant killing Vecna and any plan he had to destroy home and her loved ones.

“This is bigger than just us," Y/n reasoned. Steve kissed his teeth, frustrated. She gripped his hands tighter. "If Nancy’s right about what she saw, the whole of Hawkins could-“

“To hell with this shithole of a town," he scoffed. If the cost came at Y/n's life, it was never going to be worth it to him. Never. Steve narrowed his eyes. "If it comes down to it, I need you to promise me you’re gonna save yourself.”

Y/n froze. No one had ever asked anything like that of her, at least not that she could remember. All her life she had grown used to giving. Her time, her love, her kindness and her patience. There were times she seriously questioned if her selflessness was her primary source of value.

Steve inhaled sharply, trying to keep his composure, as hard as it was. Too much had happened over the last few weeks, much less the last three years. Even so, he knew exactly where his breaking point was, or rather who it rested with.

“Vecna’s taken enough people. And if he takes you too, I don’t-" He shook his head, not daring to finish his sentence for fear it would speak the worst case scenario into existence. Instead, Steve squeezed “Just, please… promise me.”

Y/n nodded, feeling a new and strange sensation in her gut. For so long she had been hyper-fixated on her death- humouring the thought of it, wishing would come sooner and then fearing it would arrive too quickly. Now, all she wanted to do was come back and live to have another burger date with Steve at the lookout and then some.

***

April 2nd, 1986 - 8PM

Steve and Y/n's first couple of hours in the house were spent wandering around and playing hangman while the Bee Gees played on the cassette they were borrowing from Eddie, until finally they found it.

She signalled for him to turn the music down and, while hesitant, Steve obliged. He gave her space to sit and try and lure Vecna out, but didn't stand too far away. Steve wanted a clear view of his girlfriend so he could begin timing from the moment her eyes turned grey. 15 minutes and the Bee Gees were to be back on and at full volume, not a second delayed.

Y/n sat down, placing her torch in front of her and crossing her legs. She was unsure where to begin. Hey Vecna it's me again, seemed an inappropriate start. She thought back to what he showed her and he said through the image of her dad, the very words that had been weighing heavily on her.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…."

The dark and horrid words he said and he accusations he made, all of which were too heavy for her to repeat aloud even to Steve. It took her a while to realise why they haunted her so much.

"Because it was true.”

Y/n hated every second of realising it, but there was no denying it anymore. Vecna was just echoing thoughts that already existed in her mind. She took a deep breath in and out. If she needed to make herself vulnerable, she knew just the thing to talk about.

“My dad was a ghost after my mom died," Y/n began, the lump in her throat growing as she continued to remember it.

The police at the doorstep explaining that there had been a car accident, the moment at the hospital, the funeral and the memorial he was too inebriated to show up for.

“He stopped looking after himself. Stopped looking after me. Then, he started drinking all the time, and then... he just became the worst.”

He was a shell of a person who came in and out of the house, most times without saying even a word to his daughter. Even so, Y/n remembered the few nights he came home and lashed out at her for no particular reasons more than she did the nights he said nothing at all. Her anger and resentment grew and grew over time with nowhere to go but inwards.

“It was true, I used to wish I had died when Sara and our mom died," she admitted, her eyes falling down to the floorboards. There was no shame in admitting it anymore. If Vecna infiltrated her mind, he would have already known.

Steve's grip on his torch was beginning to weaken. Y/n had told her bits and pieces of the same story, but never this part. He wondered how she was able to this to herself for as long as she did.

“I felt like- um," Y/n sniffled, briefly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat before continuing. Steve did not like where this was headed. "I felt like maybe, to my dad, I was just a walking reminder of them, and of the fact that they were still gone... Maybe me living was just insult to injury.”

When Hopper did speak to Y/n in the years following his wife and Sara's death, he never called her a walking reminder in plain words. He didn't need to. His actions said more than enough.

“But then my dad sobered up,” Y/n continued, her tone and expression turning bitter. The day she had prayed for for years, and it came in a way that left her even more wounded and angry. “- and he cleared the heavy stuff out from the bathroom cabinet, and I thought things were finally turning around… But he was still awful to me.”

Perhaps not in the same way. Hopper and her talked more often and he did not lash out at her as often as he did before, but he still found a way to neglect her and inadvertently let her know she was both an afterthought and a burden. And it hurt Y/n all the same.

“And so, I guess between that and watching him be a better parent to El, I just… I started to hate him," she confessed. The thought used to terrify her, but Y/n had since come to terms with the fact that there was no other way of putting it. “I hated that he was good to her. I hated how he made me feel like shit, and I hated how everyone praised him for getting clean.”

From the people at the station, at her school and even at the post office. All people saw was a grieving father father turn his life around for his daughters. Y/n resented it and, because of it, she resented her dad even more.

“Then, I started to realise… I hated him so much, I didn’t want him to be around anymore," she squeezed her eyes shut. The thought came to her over time, but when it did it was vivid. “I wanted him gone, so all the pain and anger could go too.”

Y/n wanted that more than anything. The anger and the pain was all she knew for so long, but she didn't want it anymore and didn't know how much longer she could carry it all.

“It got to the point where some nights, I wished my mom and my sister had never died and I wished he had instead. And I told myself that maybe it was ok to think that, because I…”

This was it, she thought to herself. This was what the tipping point.

“I could never imagine my mom doing this to me.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He never knew that- any of it, and it killed him she was only just talking about it now, in the Creel house attic of all places. When he opened his eyes and turned his focus back to Y/n, he realised she was still and silent but her eyes were wide open.

“Y/n?”

He waved his hand in front of her face, hoping for a reaction but there was nothing. Steve let out a huff and began to count in his head, trying not to think too much about whether the entire plan was a massive mistake.

***

April 2nd, 1986 - 9:00PM

The first time Steve took her to the lookout. That was the good memory Y/n held onto and focused in on once she was sure Vecna had come for her. She was inside Steve's BMW when Vecna himself appeared, only to be sent flying backwards into the woods. Y/n got out and scanned the empty parking lot until her eyes landed on a familiar silhouette. She was instantly running towards it.

“Is it really you?”

Her head was shaven and she was dressed in white, but Y/n recognised her El. Her little sister. She placed her hand on the sides of El's face, touching and tugging it, unsure if she really was El or just another illusion.

The younger girl held her big sister's hands and smiled, “it’s me.”

Y/n scrunched her brows together, puzzled. She knew this time would be different, but she never expected to see El.

“How?”

“I piggybacked from a pizza dough freezer.”

The older girl blinked, unsure if it was worth questioning further.

“Are you… are you ok? Are you safe?”

El nodded and Y/n felt instant relief. She glanced back at the woods where Vecna would undoubtedly reappear from anytime soon, then turned back to El. There was a chance they might never see each other again, and Y/n could not get past it or past the one thing she had been dying to say to her- that she know she would regret not saying.

“El, I’m so sorry," Y/n cried, her words spilling out in a panicked hurry. "I’m so sorry for every mean thing I’ve ever done or said to you.”

It was the first few weeks after moved in and the weeks following Hopper's death. Y/n was frustrated, resentful, and angry which resulted in being less than kind to El, who was the least bit deserving of it. She needed her to know she was sorry.

“Y/n stop,” the younger girl pleaded, gripping her sister's arms and shaking her slightly. “Don’t think about it.”

It would only make her more vulnerable to Vecna, which was the last thing El wanted. Besides, she never cared about those moments. El had plenty of moments herself where she was the same to Y/n. The memories El held onto and treasured the most were the times Y/n looked after, cheered her. Those moments outweighed the bad ones by miles.

Y/n shook her head. Maybe it wasn't the best time, but there was a decent likelihood it was her only chance at getting it off her chest.

“I never thought I’d get to have a little sister again," Y/n whispered. "I’m so lucky it was you, El.”

“I’m lucky too," the younger girl responded, not missing a beat.

Before anything more could be said, Y/n was lifted off the ground by dark vine-like tendrils outstretched from the woods where Vecna emerged from and began walking towards El.

“Y/n!”

The young girl screamed and lifted her hands, trying to fight back, but Vecna’s grasp on her sister only tightened. Y/n tried to fight it, but the tendril wrapped around her neck suffocated her windpipes. The last thing she saw was El, fighting with all her might to fend off Vecna. The last thought she had was was of how much she wanted and hoped for El to make it out ok.

Then she lost consciousness.

***

April 3rd, 1986 - 12AM

El was running and searching. Though still haunted by Vecna’s dying words, El could stand to worry about it later. First she needed to find her sister snd make sure was ok. El closed her eyes and focused, then she heard it— the sound of Steve screaming.

She could see where they were. She watched from a distance as Y/n’s levitating body come crashing against the floor beneath her. El started to run, praying Vecna hadn’t done irreparable damage.

There were gashes along her arms and legs and she was unconscious from the fall, but her limbs were still in tact and her eyes were unharmed. El let out a sigh of relief, counting it as a win.

“Y/n, Y/n wake up!”

El watched Steve pull Y/n into his arms and shake her roughly, shout her name and begging her to wake up, but to no avail.

Panicked and desperate, the young girl placed her hand atop Y/n and closed her eyes, chanelling all her focus and power into guiding her big sister back to consciousness, back to her body and back into Steve’s arms.

Y/n’s life flashed before her eyes, only it was the good parts. The best parts. All her best memories with all the people she lived— her sisters, her parents, Steve and everyone in between.

Then she heard the faintest voice whisper to her.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Back in Hawkins, Steve tightened his embrace around his girlfriend’s unconscious figure, tears streaming down his face as he continued to call out Y/n’s name, desperate for her to wake up. The cassette player gave out and there was no telling when the ambulance Max called would arrive at the scene. Steve was willing to try anything, do anything.

“There’s a light,” he croaked, his voice coarse from the screaming and shouting. Even so, he owed to Y/n to keep going. “— a certain kind of light, that never shone on me.”

Y/n fingertips moved first, then her eyes and then lips.

“Steve?”

“Oh my god,” he cried out, tears flooding his eyes as he watched hers slowly blunk open. Relieved, Steve leaned down and kissed her temple fervently. “Oh my god, you’re ok!”

Y/n tried to moved her arms so she could sit up, but with every slight movement came a piercing ache in her bones and a burning sensation against her skin. She sunk back into Steve’s embrace and groaned painfully.

“Max already called for help, an ambulance should be here soon,” he explained.

She took deep breaths and glanced up at Steve, smiling weakly.

“You used to hate singing that song.”

“I think I’ve got a newfound love for it now,” Steve quipped, a faint laugh beneath his breath. That Bee Gees song saved his girlfriend’s life twice now. As far as Steve was concerned, it was the best song in existence.

Y/n’s eyes drifted shut as the energy it took to stay conscious came to be too much. Steve shifted his arms and stroked the side of her face.

“Hey, c’mon… Baby, you need to stay awake.”

She opened her eyes and used all the energy she had to stay alert, but the linger she stayed concious the more time she had to remember what had happened— what Vecna said to El about everything that would happen to Hawkins. Y/n began to pant as tears formed in her eyes.

“It’s not over, Steve,” Y/n whimpered. Vecna may be gone, but they weren’t out of the woods. “It’s not over yet.”

“It’s over for now,” he assured her. Whatever it was was not important. Not to Steve and not in that moment. All that mattered was that she did what she needed to do and she made it back alive.

***

April 6th, 1986

Y/n placed her last box of donations on the table. The older woman smiled gratefully and passed to one of the volunteers for sorting. She turned back to Y/n, her eyes darting towards the bandges along her arms.

“How are you healing?”

Y/n came to the shelter at the school gym for three reasons: to donte, to volunteer and to get bandages for her injuries.

“It doesn’t hurt or bleed as much.”

“That’s good,” the woman smiled, remembering how much Y/n was in when she came to get her bandages changed the first time. “Just be sure to take it easy until everything fully heals, ok? And come see me if anything gets worse.”

“I will,” Y/n nodded, “— and hey I’ll come by tomorrow with a few others to help out for the day.”

With more and more families turning up seeking shelter or supplies, Y/n knew they could use as many volunteers as they could get. The woman nodded gratefully.

“That would be really great, Y/n. Thanks.”

Y/n turned around and fished her keys out from her bag as she weaved through the cots and headed for the exit. She looked up and saw a young girl sitting next to an older man.

“How long are we gonna be here dad?”

Y/n frowned as she listened in. Seeing the kids that came to the shelter always brought a pain to her chest. She watched the old man wrap his arm around his daughter and sigh.

“I don’t know, bug,” he huffed.

Y/n froze for a brief second, then quickly sped off before anyone nlticed her staring. When she started the car and turned the steering wheel, Y/n’s hands were shaking. She listened to the radio the entire drive home and by the time she reached the driveway, Y/n was thinking about something else.

Y/n parked Steve’s car in front of the cabin. As she got out and approached the front porch, she was puzzled by the strange vehicle parked adjacent to the house.

When she walked inside, she saw Steve sitting on the couch and tossed him his car keys. Then, when she turned towards the kitchen, she saw a woman standing with her back towards her. Y/n’s bag fell from her shoukder and she went racing towards the woman.

“Oh my god, Joyce!”

The woman wrapped her arms around Y/n, hugging her tightly and then letting go so she could get a good look at her.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re ok,” Joyce smiled, placing her hand against Y/n’s cheek. She had a million burning questions.

“Wh-where’s El? And Will and Jonathan?”

“I-I don’t know,” Joyce answered honestly. “… I was in Russia.”

Y/n blinked, unsure if she heard her correctly. Of all the explanations for not answering the phone when she called before, Y/n was not expecting that to be it.

“You were what? How did you get here then?”

Joyce started grin and patted Y/n’s shoulder, which left her puzzled. There was something going on, but Y/n had a feeling Joyce was not going to outright tell her what it was, and she had no clue what to make of it.

“I’ll tell you later, honey,” the older woman answered, knowing there was something else far more important for Y/n to do. The girl knitted her brows together.

“Why not now?”

Joyce nodded her head towards the door to one of the bedrooms, her smile never faltering, not even for a moment. The woman’s demeanour left Y/n greatly unsettled but also extremely curious.

“There’s someone waiting for you in the room.”

***

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