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astragreenwoode · 6 months

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The Spitfire Curse - Chapter Six

Previous: Chapter Five • Next: Chapter Seven • Masterlist • AO3 Version

Rating: Explicit(18+ ONLY)

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC, Steve Harrington x Fem!OC, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Non-specified Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Drug Use, Hypersexuality, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Genre: Adventure, Thriller, Horror, Slow-Burn Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Smut, Fluff, Slight Canon-Divergence, Fix-it fic

And a special thanks to my beta-reader @take-everything-you-can! Thank you so much for all your feedback and ideas, love!

Chapter Six: Red Means "I Love You"

Word Count: 12,861

Chapter Warnings: Sexual Assault, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Drugging, Disembodied Voices, Self-Deprecating Talk, Hypersexual Behaviors and Thoughts, Language, Confusion, Hallucinations, General Angst

Chapter Summary: Billy had been Maeven's classmate since Middle School but only got to know her at a party at the end of their sophomore year. As treasured as that night was to them both, the current state of their relationship isn't as pretty.

THERE'S A HUGE SHIFT IN TONE IN THE STORY FROM HERE ON OUT. REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES. IF ANY OF THE WARNINGS CONTAIN TOPICS THAT ARE TRIGGERING FOR YOU, PROCEED WITH CAUTION OR FEEL FREE TO NOT READ PAST THIS SYMBOL: !*!*!

I feel super nervous publishing this, as it's one of the darkest things I've ever written. This fic is my main outlet for processing all my trauma, so I hope others can understand and appreciate that. Remember to be kind to yourself and do what you need for self-care.

*Originally posted on AO3 on December 20th, 2023

May 1983

The love Billy Hargrove felt for Maeven Mayfield bordered on obsessive.

Growing up, he didn’t exactly have the best example of what real love looks like. One could barely even list his parents as an example. He knew how much his dad loved his mom, even if the way he showed it confused him from time to time. He had pieced it together in his mind that his mom left because she couldn’t handle Dad’s beatings anymore. Neil drove her away from them. It wasn’t Billy’s fault, it was Neil’s.

He wasn’t sure if this made it better or worse, but he sometimes pretended that his mother never loved him at all. At least then, he would have a simple answer for why she left him behind. Knowing how much she cared for him meant she left her little boy with a despicable man, but just didn’t care enough to bring him with her. And he suddenly understood why his dad grabbed women and pulled them back to him; to make them stay.

Eventually, Billy learned to grieve and cope the same way his dad did. He had taken enough beatings from his old man in his short life that the anger and pain that grew inside him only went away when he was inflicting it upon others. He passed his father’s abuse through his heart and soul before forcing that pain upon someone else. And even though Neil refused to show it, Billy knew he missed her as much as he did. Over time, his demeanor grew more cocky and his sense of humor dimmed darker. But he never dared to bring up his mother, lest he get another black eye from his dad that he’d be forced to blame on a sports accident once he stepped inside the school.

Like most High School jocks, sports was a way for Billy to channel all his aggression in a way that no one questioned. Each game played is fueled by rage, aggression, and excitement from both players and spectators. It gave him an excuse; a way out of being seen as a bully. He was well aware that he was a bully, of course. If he could be a different person, he would. But these were the cards he was dealt with by whatever bullshit, narcissistic higher power was in charge. He couldn’t just trade them in for something new. Billy knew he was tainted; born broken. There was no cure for what he was.

And then, Maeven walked into his life, with her long, fiery hair and adorable gap-toothed smile. Billy had seen her around before, of course. She made an impression by being one of the most intelligent kids in their grade once she entered middle school. There were even whispers that she would go on to become Valedictorian once they all entered High School together. But she was also that weird girl who collected animal bones and drew patterns on her arms with sparkly gel pens in class. She was a smartass and a showoff, always the first to volunteer to help the teachers; a goody-two-shoes, someone Billy would never hang out with in a million years. Until she suddenly became a badass out of nowhere.

In June of 1982, before school was let out for the year, rumors spread that Maeven was arrested for beating the ever-loving shit out of her now ex-boyfriend, Jordan Bernard. Billy wasn’t surprised by this. Jordan always talked big in the locker room about how tight he had two girls wrapped around his fingers, and sometimes his cock. Of course, he stayed quiet about the whole thing, not wanting to admit to his teammates that his broken nose was from a 5’4 freshman girl. But he also seemed ashamed that the situation happened at all, and ended up convincing the police and his father to drop all the charges against her.

Neither he nor Maeven spoke a word about it, leaving Emily Bernard, his sister, to spill the beans. Not only did the peace-and-love preaching hippie freak punch someone, but she was arrested as a result.

So maybe Maeven wasn’t a complete nerd or loser like Billy initially thought. That didn’t mean he liked her now. She’d get a free pass from him, sure; maybe even a compliment or two if he happened to catch her in a fight. She ended up getting noticed for being the most aggressive player on the girl’s soccer team, but that was really it. He never thought he’d have to care about her until Susan somehow wandered her way into his dad’s heart.

The following October, after starting his Sophomore Year, Billy noticed his dad was acting differently. Normally, he wouldn’t give a shit about Neil or how he was doing as long as he left him alone and kept the beatings to a minimum. But he seemed suspiciously pleasant when he came home from his job as a security guard at a bank in downtown San Diego. Billy could’ve also sworn he saw him smile, something he had to sit down and process for a moment. He still didn’t dare to ask him what had him so damn happy all of a sudden, as he knew he would probably receive a “mind your own damn business, boy” as a result.

Billy’s only real option to get answers without fueling the fire of his father’s rage was to investigate himself. He drove by the bank, dressed in sunglasses, a baseball cap, and a jacket he otherwise wouldn’t be caught dead in. His dad wasn’t by the front doors like he was supposed to be, but instead chatting up an older redhead woman behind the counter. At first, Billy didn’t really care. His dad fucked around with a different woman every other week, so it wasn’t a surprise to see him sweetening up his next meal before he would eventually toss out the leftovers.

But this was different than all the other women. Neil seemed constantly fixed on her, acting too sweet and sappy for this to just be another booty call. A month after catching a glimpse of her, he came home late one Friday night to see another car parked in the driveway next to his dad’s station wagon. Billy had to park on the street that night as he crashed into his bed, trying his best to drown out the cringe-worthy sex noises coming from the other room.

The next morning, he found himself face-to-face with Susan Mayfield making his dad breakfast, as she awkwardly introduced herself to him. Billy paid her no mind except a quick nod before going back to eat the eggs and bacon he begrudgingly took from her. He didn’t have it in him to admit that her cooking was actually delicious.

For three months, Billy avoided his father and his new shtup like the plague. Neil didn’t ask much of his son, just to acknowledge Susan when she hung out there and not mention her outside of their house. Billy was okay with that. In fact, he could care less. Until he spotted her outside of the regular booty calls and secret date nights with his dad, that is. The worst part? It was at school. Three months after their first, awkward meeting in his kitchen, he finally knew why Susan seemed so familiar. He had seen that shade of red hair on a particular strange classmate of his.

It was only then that Billy took a sudden interest in Maeven. He took a moment to wrap his head around the mere idea that Susan the Buzzkill and Maeven the Freak were mother and daughter. But the more he thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. Both Mayfield women shared the same annoyingly bubbly personality and stubbornness.

He considered telling her about her mom’s little affair; how the seemingly perfect housewife with the perfect family was sneaking with his revolting carpet stain of a father. Before he got the chance, rumors circulated in school that Mr. and Mrs. Mayfield were getting divorced. Maeven was visibly sour for weeks that the entire grade now knew the details and circumstances of her family drama.

It pissed him off a little bit, sure. Billy would’ve liked to play a part in shattering Susan’s life after she had the nerve to crawl into his. It didn’t matter, though. Somehow, she managed to shatter her life and her marriage without any help. And he had to admit, it made Maeven more interesting. He tried all different flavors of girls; smart, dense, pretty, sporty, bad, good, sluts, and virgins. But nothing caught Billy Hargrove’s attention quite like a good girl gone bad.

She had always stood out among their peers, of course. Maeven was constantly fidgeting in her seat, drawing on whatever surface she could find, and using every chance she got to talk about animals. She was in waaayy too many after-school clubs, always raised her hand first in class, and was way too proud of herself. Maeven was always such a show-off, a try-hard, a good girl.

All these years, she was just a familiar stranger. Billy noticed her around and heard about her, but now that he’s seen her in a different light, a flattering light, it was like he was properly noticing her for the first time. He hadn’t expected someone so nerdy and dorky to suddenly be so naturally pretty, as well. The night he formally introduced himself to her ended up being one of the best nights of Billy’s life. And she didn’t know it yet, but it would end up being one of Maeven’s, too.

Melody Chandler always threw the best parties. Her parents were never home; sort of rich nomads, always on trips for both business and pleasure. They just never bothered to include their daughter in any of them. Every week, they’d have her aunt come in and check on her, but for the most part, Melody had free reign to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted to do it. It was a monthly ritual amongst the Newport Student Body to drown themselves in their drink or drug of choice at Melody’s place. It was the place to be.

In the months following her parents’ separation, Maeven had gained a reputation as quite the fox. Billy wasn’t that surprised that she grew up to be a horny little freak, something he discovered she and her mother had in common. He still remembers when she the hottest topic for weeks in seventh grade after their class trip to the aquarium. That night was still so vivid in his head. He wasn’t sure he could forget about it even if he wanted to.

The night of the field trip, Maeven went to sleep earlier than their other classmates, tired after a day of running around and telling everyone random facts about the fish and aquatic animals. He remembered that her favorite was the sea otter. When the rest of the grade returned to the auditorium to sleep, everyone was shell-shocked to find her humping the stuffed otter she had gotten that day at the gift shop while in her sleep. She was so mortified she ended up crying herself to sleep in front of the fish tanks with her gang of girlfriends who joined to comfort her. While Billy felt incredibly bad seeing her embarrassed like that, he couldn’t deny that the whole experience left him walking away with something new awakened in him. He still thought about it from time to time; remembering that he had never blushed so hard in his life than he did watching her accidentally humiliating herself. Maybe he liked Maeven for longer than he wanted to admit. He wondered f she still had that otter, and if she still used it the same way she had that night.

Melody’s parties eventually became her favorite place to hunt for people to play with. According to most of the jocks, she was a tease; she liked playing with her food and rarely ever took a bite. She enjoyed taking control, pleasing them with her hands and mouth, often leaving them desperate for her to touch them again. If they were really lucky, she’d grind her clothed sex on their laps until they begged her to stop. Only maybe two or three of them could claim that she let them inside her, including Jordan Bernard.

Apparently, she liked messing around with girls, too, but no girl in school was brave enough to admit that. So the rumor remained unconfirmed. That didn’t stop boys from trying to convince her into a threesome with her and their girlfriends. Most of these attempts were followed by a surprise groping of her ass and ended with her throwing them against the lockers and collapsing their urethras when she kicked them where it hurt most. Maeven the science nerd was now bolder, stronger, sluttier, but definitely not as easy as some of the boys she hooked up with claimed.

All this and more were the reasons that Billy now understood why she gained so many nicknames for herself; Iron Maeven, Metal Maeven, Spitfire. That last one was his personal favorite, as it was criminally underused. It was what her Dad called her, something Billy discovered while spying on Susan.

The second to last of Melody Chandler’s monthly parties for their sophomore year ended up being memorable, indeed. After humiliating yet another sleazeball who tried to grab her without her permission, Maeven retired to the poolside lounge chair where she lit up a freshly-rolled joint she got from Madison Gray. You could always tell when it was hers because of how lush and thick they were.

Most people partied inside towards the second half of the night, the wallflowers chilling outside in the quiet of the night by the now calm pool. Melody’s place wasn’t isolated, per se. It was, however, far away enough from town that the stars could be viewed in all their glory. Maeven even caught a glimpse of the Milky Way, naming the constellations the way her dad used to do with her and Max on clear summer nights just like this.

She missed all the tiny beautiful moments that made up the love she shared with her family. Living without it as a constant reminder every day left her feeling hollow. It may not have been the healthiest coping mechanism, but the only things that made her feel whole again were weed and random makeout sessions. Maeven couldn’t just bury herself in her clubs and projects the way she used to. Of course, she still went on regular hiking trips to sketch the flora and fauna of California and find more animal bones, but it just wasn’t doing the trick, anymore.

Occasionally, Maeven would get this feeling whenever she was sad, scared, or worried, that made her feel like gravity no longer applied to her body and that she was being pulled away from the safety of the planet and drifting off into the abyss. It worsened when her parents started fighting, and only grew and grew after their divorce. But the night she finally lit up one of Madison’s legendary blunts, she finally felt safe in her own head, her own body for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

As she inhaled another hit from the blunt, Maeven sunk back into the lounge chair. The warm bliss delightfully fogged up her senses and grounded her to the earth. Everything felt so warm and fluffy, and it still tasted like Heaven despite the grassy, sour flavor of the weed. She giggled to herself.

“Maybe space isn’t so big and scary, after all,” the voice said to her. Maeven silently agreed. It was nice when they found neutral ground even if those times were hard to come by. She furrowed her eyebrows in curiosity and found herself raising her hand.

“What if we could touch it? It’s worth a try.”

Her eyesight blurred the bright constellations and clusters in the sky, almost the same way a blob in a lava lamp would. She wanted to dip her fingers into the Milky Way and use it to paint. But alas, she could only do that once she inquired Madison for some psychedelics. So, Maeven settled for tracing the patterns amongst the stars. Some were the real kind her dad showed to her and Max one night last summer. The others popped into her head with no warning or prompt as her mind wondered if there was more hidden between all the lines that the ancient astronomers already charted.

“Hey there, Iron Maeve-”

Startled by Billy’s sudden appearance, Maeven’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest as she tumbled off the lounge chair.

“AAAH! What the fuck, man?!” she exclaimed, brushing her hair out of her face as she put her half-finished blunt in the ashtray. “You can’t just sneak up on somebody like that!”

“Awww. Are you scared of me, Mayfield?” Billy fake-pouted as he mocked her, leaning down to face her with his hands on his knees. Maeven gracelessly pulled herself back to her feet as she snarled back at him.

“I don’t know. Should I be?”

“. . .maybe,” Billy answered. He honestly had no clue. That all depended on her and how the rest of the night went. Maeven looked him up and down. She wasn’t sure if it was just her or the effects of the weed, but, Goddamnit, was he better looking up close.

“Eh, I think I can handle it.” she shrugged, taking her joint from the ashtray before walking over to the bar by the pool to raid the snacks, thinking the conversation had ended. Billy trailed behind her, observing and sizing her up like a predator as she foraged around the table for leftovers.

“You seem awfully confident for someone getting high at a party alone,” he noticed aloud. By then, Maeven had grabbed the last piece of large, double chocolate cake and ate it shamelessly. Whenever she had the munchies, chocolate was always her go-to snack. As she gulped down another bite, her eyes threateningly narrowed, gently pressing the sharp end of her silver fork right below Billy’s collarbone. Now, he was the one a little bit afraid.

“Do I come over to you while you’re having fun with your keg boys and shame you for the way you choose to party?” she blankly asked, playfully tapping it each time she emphasized her words.

“No?” he laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood while his breath hitched in his throat. God, this girl really was a fucking unreadable freak. But maybe Billy liked that. He wasn’t completely sure, yet.

“Yeah, well, I’d appreciate it if you did the same,” Maeven pulled her fork back, returning to her slice of cake as if what just happened didn’t at all.

Billy relaxed once he no longer felt the metal against his skin, letting the air back into his lungs. Although he knew he could’ve smacked her hand away at any time, he didn’t want to. He enjoyed the thrill in his body he got from her empty threats. It all felt so dangerous, so hot; maybe he had finally met his match.

“Now that that’s established, will you at least let me introduce myself?” Billy asked as if he was doing her a kindness by waiting for her permission.

“Alright, then, Pretty Boy. What’s your name?” Maeven laughed as she shrugged, taking a seat at the pool bar.

“It’s Billy. Billy Hargrove,” he answered, holding out his hand for her to shake as he sat on the bar stool next to hers.

She hesitated before cautiously reaching for his hand as she tilted her head to the side, her brain still foggy and warm from her buzz. A gasp caught in her throat as Billy tugged on her wrist to brush a soft kiss against the back of her hand, followed by his trademark smile and sly wink. His sudden forwardness sent an electric shock through Maeven’s bones and tickled her spine. Again, was this guy actually coming on to her, or was she too under the influence of Madison’s blunt that reality began to blend with her mind? She hadn’t been properly asked out on a date since Jordan broke up with her.

It took a moment for both her body and mind to catch up when Maeven realized she had been too silent and too still for too long. She still had a role to play. If she jumped in too fast and this guy turned out too good to be true, she’d regret it later. Re-masking herself, she playfully wiped the back of her hand on her dress, faking repulsion before she continued.

“Margaret. I mean Maeven. Mayfield,” she stumbled on her words, her hands moving in many different directions as she talked.. “Well, 'Margaret' is my first name, but I go by my middle name because I'm named after my aunt and two Maggies are confusing. So, I go by 'Maeven.' 'Mayfield' is my last name,”

“Yeah. I know who you are, Iron Maeven,” Billy chuckled.

“Oh. . .okay. . .” she awkwardly trailed off at the sound of her other nickname, going back to her slice of cake as her mind wandered. She didn’t hate the name. On the contrary, it was actually quite an improvement after years of being called a nerd or teacher’s pet. However, it originated from her breakup with Jordan. Every time it was used, she couldn’t help but be haunted by the awful memories that day left her with.

Billy noticed Maeven’s face drop when he used it, Maybe she didn’t like being called that? He didn’t understand why. It was good; it was badass. She always seemed to like it when people called her that when she got into a fight or scored a goal in soccer.

“How’d you get a name like ‘Maeven’ anyway?” he commented, just now realizing that he didn’t really know her; he just knew the version of herself she presented to the world. Billy wanted to know Maeven; her secrets, the parts of her no one else knew about. He had to know exactly why just the thought of her was driving him insane.

“‘Makes it sound like you’re some. . .mythical creature, or whatever the fuck. . .” he trailed off, catching her attention with just a few weird words.

The last hit she took was a while ago, but Maeven could’ve sworn the world had suddenly gone crazy. Never in her wildest dreams could she imagine a jock like Billy using the term ‘mythical creature.’ But she rolled with it. Her mind could never really stay on topic for too long, anyway.

“My dad picked it, initially. It kinda. . .has multiple meanings for both him and my mom,” she told him, grabbing the blunt that rested on her plate. She felt she was going to need it if she was going to survive a long conversation with a jock that hopefully didn’t end in a fight. . .this time.

“Oh, really? Care to explain?”

Maeven inhaled, tilting her head up to the sky as she breathed out the cannabis through her nose and mouth. As she opened her eyes, the stars in the sky brightened up like a black light poster amidst her cannabis and chocolate-drunk vision. Her hand tilted to the side, offering the blunt to Billy, which he accepted gratefully.

“My dad was raised Celtic Pagan and my mom’s Scottish Catholic. In the bible, in Hebrew, it means ‘one who understands.’ But in Irish Gaelic, it means ‘sage.’ Which, of course, means the plant, but it also means someone who is a spiritual expert or just very smart in general. And. . .” she trailed off, taking a few seconds to get her train of thought back to its main rail. “. . .it comes from the Gaelic word ‘Meave,’ meaning ‘she who rules,’ or ‘intoxicating.’ In Irish Mythology, Mebh is the Goddess of Love and Desire.”

It took her a while until Maeven realized it was completely silent. Did he leave? She turned her head to the side where Billy was, still sitting as his face twisted to a half-confused, half-curious combo. By now, he had taken another hit. Maeven felt her cheeks light up once it dawned on her that this jock probably didn’t want to listen to her ramble, and the voice crept back in behind her.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit. You talked too much. He even had to take another hit to process all your stupid and insane words. That’s it. This is the end of your social life, Maeven. Get ready, because this guy is about to ruin everything once another rumor starts. You should just kill yourself. Right here, right now. You can use the fork! Go on! Do it!”

Once her brain was no longer attacking itself, she broke the silence.

“Sorry. I’m a bit talkative when I get high. I’ll shut up now.” she fake-laughed, turning away to shove the last few bites of cake in her mouth as if it would finally keep her from talking.

Billy laughed, knowing too well that she was talkative even when she wasn’t high. It wasn’t exactly a secret amongst the other kids in their grade that she was the one who participated the most.

“Holy shit, Mayfield,” he coughed out. “I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“Really? That’s your takeaway?” Maeven laughed.

“No offense, but that's. . .a lot of information to process in 30 seconds, dollface.” he joked, unsure if it would be a compliment or an insult in her eyes. She just smiled as she rolled her eyes, leaning over to give him a playful shove.

“You signed up for this, Billy. You asked me about my name and I delivered, didn’t I?” Maeven pointed out, swiping back her joint and taking another hit.

“That you did. It’s definitely a lot better than ‘Margaret,’ that’s for sure,” he observed, not bothering to hide the way he was looking her up and down, anymore. It was a good name; it suited her.

“So. . .I was right, then?” he asked.

Maeven rapidly blinked, bringing herself back from zoning out before taking a sip from her bottle of coke.

“About what?”

“About you being a mythical creature,” Billy clarified. “I feel like you just pitched me a fantasy movie or the back cover of that Tocain book or some shit.”

Maeven narrowed her eyes and tilted her head as she almost choked on her soda. She definitely couldn’t recall seeing that name in the Dewey decimal system or any of her English classes.

“What the fuck’s a ‘tocain?’”

“Y’know, that. . .the guy that. . .wrote the books about magic rings and shit. . .”

It took a moment for the gears to turn in Maeven’s head before she finally connected the dots. She couldn’t help but start laughing.

“Oh, my God. . .are you trying to say ‘Tolkien?’”

“Don’t patronize me, Mayfield! I’m not the fucking nerd, here!”

Maeven started laughing harder, holding her head in her hands as she balanced herself with her elbows on the counter.

“Oh, please! If anyone’s a nerd, it’s the guy who doesn’t know how to pronounce the name of one of the most popular writers of our generation!”

Billy would’ve been offended if anyone else had said that to him. But for some reason, it was different with Maeven. Maybe it was because of how endearing and contagious her laugh was.

“I’m not a nerd, you little freak!” he audaciously chuckled as he jokingly shoved her shoulder, not caring who might be listening for once. “Everyone wants to fuck me ‘cause I know nothing about this Tolkein dude you’re so obsessed with!”

“And yet, I’m the one with the slutty reputation?” Maeven pointed at herself, finally getting a chance to catch her breath as she rubbed the tears of laughter from her eyes.

“There’s just no winning with you, is there, Maeven?” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Oh? I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we were playing,” she laughed, letting gravity take over her body as she melted off the chair and onto the ground. Her legs felt like jelly. At this point in her high, Maeven couldn’t find it in herself to care. Billy, however, practically jumped from his bar stool to grab her arm.

“Woah there, hey. You doing okay?” he asked, not noticing until now how fast his heartbeat was racing. The last time he saw a woman fall like that, it was his mother. Neil had gotten her way too drunk, resulting in her slipping out of her chair and leaving her with her head bleeding on the kitchen tile.

But Maeven wasn’t passed out and bleeding. She was fine, just drunk. Or high? At this point, Billy was certain it was both. She may have fallen to her knees on the stone flooring, but she didn’t seem too upset about it. She was giggling, and her skin was warm. She was fine; everything was fine. Billy needed to remind himself of that.

“You wanna go lie down or something?”

Maeven softly nodded, leaning against the pole of the pavilion covering the pool bar. She spread her legs apart to keep herself balanced in her black leather boots, drowsily grabbing onto the pole like she was hugging it, catching her breath.

Billy almost let his intrusive thoughts win but resisted the urge to grab her butt. Even if she looked a bit ridiculous right now, accidentally displaying herself like she was ready to be taken from behind, she was drunk. Billy was just glad he was here with her instead of some other dirtbag guy who would’ve probably taken what he wanted from her while she was drunk.

For what was probably the first time ever, Billy ignored the primal instincts to seek sex from this girl. She deserved better than that. He approached her slowly, putting a hand on her shoulder just to let her know he was there. Before he could lead her back to the lounge chair where he originally found her, Maeven stumbled back to the bar to grab her blunt from the edge of her now-empty plate.

Rolling his eyes at her vivacious nature, Billy made sure she had regained her balance before leading her by her wrist.

“Get that pretty ass back in that chair before you hurt yourself, you little animal,” he impishly asserted, prepared to have her lean on him in support if she needed. Surprisingly, Maeven didn’t waste a second flopping back down into the longue chair as if her body melted.

“No arguments here,” she groaned, unpromptedly stretching her body; she stretched her back by keeping her shoulder on the chair and shamelessly lifting her hips up as far as they could go. She also couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling in her stomach at the word ‘pretty.’

Did she seriously not notice how lewd she was being right now? Maybe the weed gave her the extra courage? Billy couldn’t tell anymore. All he could really do was lay down in the chair next to her, cross his legs, and try to conceal how aroused she was making him.

“Isn’t sage that weird plant that witches use in potions or some shit like that?” he asked, suddenly remembering one of the many meanings of her name. If only he could remember math equations this easily, maybe Neil would finally get off his ass about it.

It was quiet for a moment. Maeven had to silently process Billy’s question as she continued to zone out looking at the night sky.

“What? Oh. No. We burn it. For cleansing rituals and to clear the air,” she clarified.

“Like weed?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side. Maeven rolled her eyes as she scoffed.

“No, dipshit. Not like weed,” she laughed, thinking of the right way to explain this to him without sounding like a total freak. “ More just. . .like, to smell good. Like a candle. You can’t get high off it. . .or maybe you can? I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it,” Maeven wondered aloud. Maybe that was something she and Madison could try experimenting with. Would that even work? Either way, there was only one way to find out.

Billy, meanwhile, didn’t feel like he got a definitive answer. She already seemed pretty damn magical.“So. . .you are a witch?”

Maeven just shrugged, taking another hit of her blunt.

“That’s what people are saying,” she replied, offering her blunt to Billy, which he willingly accepted. This was her favorite aspect of these parties; playing with her food. But tonight, she didn’t want to stop. Maeven couldn’t remember the last time she had such a casual conversation with someone. Even if she was always on edge and suspicious of the guys she met at parties, Billy was the first one in a while that didn’t seem. . .malicious.

“They’re saying other things, y’know?” he breathed out, recalling the many rumors he heard through the Newport High Grapevine. He turned his head to Maeven, handing her blunt back to her as he eyed her up and down “That you go around seducing guys with your magic touch and mysterious powers.”

There it was. Maybe she had gotten her hopes up about this guy too quickly.

Maeven tilted her head to the side and playfully raised her eyebrows, still refusing to give him a definitive answer.“I can neither confirm nor deny any of these rumors, Billy.”

“They also say that you beat the shit out of Jordan Bernard last year. He still denies it to this day,” he mentioned, remembering the day everyone in the locker room teased Jordan for his black eye.

Maeven’s eyes widened as she fought herself from laughing. She knew that their breakup wasn’t exactly a secret, but to say she ‘beat the shit out of him’ was a little much. However, she was pleasantly surprised that Billy seemed to drop the subject once she refused to answer his questions about her. . .body count.

“Oh, no. That’s definitely true,” she laughed, not seeing the point in being in denying any more questions. “I have the burn to prove it.”

“Burn?” Billy cocked his head to the side in confusion.

Maeven tilted her arm and rolled her short sleeve up her arm to expose her shoulder, leaning in to give Billy a closer look. Even if it was coming close to a year of healing, it was still noticeable. The burn mark was about the size of a baseball, maybe even the size of his fist. It was way pinker than the rest of her skin, but it was recovering fairly well; freckles had even started to come back.

“Asshole thought it was a good idea to throw a log from his fire pit at me,” Maeven explained.

When he was younger, Neil often threatened to put out his cigars on his son’s skin. His mother always ended up taking it in his place. Billy had lost count of how many times his Dad left lash marks from his belt on his back, but he had yet to experience a burn. He was hoping it would stay that way. But he had never met someone else who also had evidence on their body like that until now.

“Shit,” he laughed in disbelief. “Bet you gave his ass the beating it deserved, right?”

Maeven looked back at Billy, noticing the supposed fascination his eyes held, before looking back at her scar. Billy Hargrove was the first boy she met who wasn’t repulsed by the mark when she let it show. He really was full of surprises. She pulled her sleeve back down before getting comfortable in the longue chair again, turning her attention back to the night sky as she continued the conversation.

“I don’t know about that,” Maeven sighed. “It was really just a. . .’heat-of-the-moment’ rash impulse I didn’t think through. I guess I was just. . .mad at him,” she shrugged, tracing the constellations with her fingers again.

“As you should be,” Billy agreed. He had yet to be cheated on. If he was anything like his father, he would be the first one to cheat. He prayed he wouldn’t end up like him, but the whole concept always lingered in his head.

“We both said and did some things that day we regret. But. . .he does seem really sorry, y’know? That he hurt me like that,” Maeven observed, turning to lay down her head toward Billy. She hadn’t had a real conversation with Jordan since their breakup; she didn’t know what to say to him. Every time she tried, nothing came out. All Jordan had to say was how sorry he was and she was sick of it. The memory haunted her every day when they crossed paths in the hallway at school

“You thinking about forgiving him?” he asked her, more curious than anything. Still, he crossed his fingers and hoped she wouldn’t. She was too good for Jordan Bernard, anyway.

“Kinda? Sorta? I dunno,” Maeven shrugged, moving around in the longue so that she was curled up on her side, now fully facing Billy before taking another hit. “Maybe he just feels guilty? Is that really the same thing as being sorry?”

“I don’t think so. Guilt isn’t the same as remorse,” he replied.

Billy Hargrove witnessed the difference between the two in his own parents. His Dad wasn’t sorry that he cheated; he was sorry that he was caught. If he was really sorry, he wouldn’t have cheated, punched, and driven his mother away in the first place.

“I’d forget about him if I were you. Cheaters are the worst. They don’t deserve to be forgiven. . .they don’t deserve love,” he said suddenly, taking Maeven by surprise. She wondered what happened to make Billy so passionate about this, handing out her blunt once more as her way of saying ‘Chill Out, Dude.’

“If I’m being honest?” she trailed off, her buzz making the stars brighter and more mesmerizing than they were before.“Even if I did forgive him, I wouldn’t wanna get back together with him. Not a chance.”

Billy took that as a good sign for himself. He swiped away her blunt from between her fingers for another hit. Maeven didn’t even flinch, too high and too talkative to notice; in her own little world.

“He’s a bit of a douche, anyway. Even if he has changed, you shouldn’t waste your time on him.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I had a good time with him and he, uhmm. . .he taught me a lot. But he’s just. . .not my person.”

All Maeven wanted was to not feel terrible every time she saw him again. Maybe they could even go back to being friends again. Was that really too much to ask?

“Well. . .you’re a pretty interesting person, Iron Maeven. I’m sure you’ll find someone good enough for you.”

“My aunt Maggie said being interesting is all you really need in life.”

Billy always wondered if she was just so self-centered that she liked to hear the sound of her own voice. But watching how she froze up in embarrassment once she realized she was rambling about her name gave Billy a new perspective. Maeven Mayfield had so much going on in her head. She had no choice but to talk until it was no longer crowded in there.

“She’s not wrong,” he laughed along with her as her high was clearly starting to grow to its peak. Billy had to admit that the way she giggled was downright adorable. Seeing the infamous Iron Maeven zone out from her joint was a sight he never thought he’d see, much less enjoy. In all honesty, all the things he found annoying about her suddenly turned adorable.

There was something about Maeven’s voice that suddenly made him want to keep on listening to her ramble. He suddenly realized that her voice sounded so much better when she was high. Melodic and Beautiful.

“When you do find the right person, make sure to hold them real tight and never let them go. You got that?” He was surprised he held her attention for this long with her being so easily distracted. It felt almost like he had hypnotized her or something. Or maybe she was the one who hypnotized him.

Billy became absolutely obsessed with the way she was looking at him, unsure if it was from the high or something else. He had completely forgotten all about the stars at that moment. Maybe she was some sort of mythical creature after all. He was almost mesmerized by it. He hadn’t ever been this distracted by someone before. “Okay. I promise.”

. . .

By the time the sisters had finished unpacking all of Maeven’s books, the sun was now setting over the western horizon. The girls stretched as they stepped out of her room and made their way to the bathroom to brush their teeth.

“Thanks for helping me unpack Squirt,” Maeven said after spitting out her toothpaste and rinsing her mouth. “We can start yours tomorrow,” she promised, patting Max on her head. As she yawned and rubbed her eyes walking out of the bathroom, her little sister pulled her arm to stop her.

“By the way, here’s your night light,” she said, handing her big sister a bundled-up bath towel. “It was in the trash in the bathroom.”

Maeven took the towel from Max, unwrapping it to find her beloved token from her childhood now shattered to bits. It was in the shape of the sun surrounded by a couple of clouds. Susan and Neil made it together when they first found out they were pregnant with Maeven.

“What?” she asked allowed. It didn’t make any sense. Even if she was sleepwalking, why would she throw it away?

“That’s where I found it,” Max clarified, just as confused as her sister. “Did you sleepwalk again last night?” she asked.

Maeven debated on lying, but that wouldn’t help anything. Max would eventually find out, anyway, if she did.

“Yeah. I blacked out,” she softly admitted, trying to hold back her tears.

Max said nothing back, only walking forward to wrap her sister in a hug. No words were needed to describe how either of them felt about the situation.

“G’Night, Sis.”

“Goodnight, Max.”

As she watched her little sister turn the corner of the hallway to her room, Maeven’s smile dropped before she walked back into her room and shut the door behind her. She collapsed backward onto her bed with a bounce and stared blankly up at the ceiling as her heartbeat quickened.

“Fuck,” she breathed out, shaky and laced with panic.

Maeven silently cursed herself for leaving Nutmeg behind so easily. Whenever she felt herself panicking at home, she would immediately come sprinting over from whatever room she was in to crawl into her lap. She’d often stand on her hind legs and lean herself into her person’s chest. The sense of deep pressure she applied usually calmed her down. She was their kitty, both to Maeven and Max. Every night as they went to bed, Nutmeg would curl up on top of the blankets with either of the sisters.

Max was insistent that she was safer with Dad in California. The incident where Billy nearly caused a fire after he burnt a stray cat’s corpse played a big factor in that decision. Maeven didn’t blame her in the least. She would be lying if she said witnessing Billy showing no remorse as he set the decaying dead body aflame didn’t put her on edge. Most importantly, Nutmeg would be safe from her.

“You can’t be trusted with another life, anyway. You should call that woman from the store and tell her you’re too insane to watch her son.”

Maeven abruptly sat up, her legs shaking as her toes curled in a rapid wave of spine-chilling, fear-fueled pain. She pressed the heel of her palms against her ears in an attempt to drown out how loud the world became all of a sudden. Her sharp nails sat atop her head and pulled at the roots of her hair, threatening to dig them into her scalp as they pulsed with a terrifying bloodlust to tear into her flesh; maybe if she could do it, she could finally stop overthinking.

“Please. . .don’t ruin this for me,” she begged the dark voice.

“I don’t need to. You’ll ruin it all by yourself,” it laughed at her.

Maeven slapped her own cheek to silence it, even if just for a minute. As she found her bearings and looked around her room, her eye caught the now-shattered night light atop her desk. She could faintly identify splatters of dried blood; an explanation for her bandaged palm.

“Billy was right. You did throw it away,” the voice said as it returned to her side.

“Yeah. . .I guess I did,” Maeven still hesitated, even if the evidence was right in front of her face. It was so hard to look at it. She thought she was getting better. Billy wasn’t lying. He wouldn’t do that. She really did black out and sleepwalk last night. And that only meant one thing; she was getting bad again.

“Too bad it’s broken. Just like you.”

“No, I’m not,” she shook her head, reaching for her water bottle on her table and gulping down half of the sugary strawberry-flavored water that Billy mixed for her. It had more to do with the act somehow calming her anxiety than it did with being thirsty.

“Yeah. . .you just keep telling yourself that.”

Maeven groaned in annoyance as she flopped down aggressively onto her bed. Underneath the soft glow of the Indiana sun, she curiously examined her own hands the way a newborn would. As she fiddled around, running her fingers over the calluses and scratches and weaving her digits together, she didn’t feel like a person at that moment. She sinks down into her mattress as she starts feeling numb. It was as if nothing else existed outside her room painted in the soft glow of the sun.

Maeven eyed her nails, growing just barely past her fingertips. She liked to file them down to make them pointed and sharp, like an animal’s claws. It was another one of those little things that helped her feel safer. She also made sure never to let them grow too long, lest she end up hurting herself when rubbing out an orgasm. The other downside was when she would clench her fists in frustration or anxiety, they would literally cut into the palms of her hands. Having people ask why she was wearing bandages on her palms was an incredibly awkward conversation.

She liked to imagine what it would be like to use claws. She often pictured herself using her sharp nails to cut into herself; to reach deep inside her body, turn herself inside out, and become something else. Something better. It didn’t matter what she would find in there. All that mattered to Maeven was that she was no longer herself, and life would suddenly be so much easier. She wouldn’t mind being a monster, even; anything to be relieved from the pain she endured from just existing, from being human.

This feeling wasn’t new. It started in childhood and only grew the more she ignored it. And this feeling only grew in the last nine months. She wouldn’t admit this to herself, but it made her feel good. The foreboding need to brutally destroy those who hurt her made the pain disappear, even if only for a moment. At the same time, she was scared; she was terrified of losing her mind even further than she already did, and what exactly that meant for her in the not-so-distant future.

As Maeven’s breath started to quicken, she could feel her body getting warmer; it began as a soft flame below her belly, slowly heating up her body so deliciously. It made her squeeze her thighs together for relief, as she curled up on her side and began rolling her hips. The warmth manifested from her womb and spread like wildfire blissfully throughout her torso and limbs.

On instinct, as if her body was being controlled, Maeven crawled underneath her covers in a blissful haze. Peaking her head out to feel the chilling breeze from the open window, she grabbed her extra pillow from the other side of the bed and shoved it in between her legs as she squeezed it with her plush thighs. The way the skin of her inner legs stuck and touched together always bothered her, but she couldn’t properly say why.

It was a weird occurrence, as she felt as relaxed and dazed whenever she smoked a joint before bed. But she hadn’t even gotten the chance to do it, yet. Maybe she was just tired. That was it. Between checking out her new school, meeting some of her new classmates, having to check in with the Chief of Police, and being berated by her mom at the store, Maeven had a busy day. Then again, if her body was winding down naturally without the extra assistance of drugs, recreational or otherwise, who was she to complain?

She closed her eyes and willed her brain to sleep, afraid her busy mind would blink it way if she didn’t. After a few moments of fidgeting as she curled up like an animal underneath the oasis of comfort and warmth of her blankets, Maeven’s mind finally allowed her body to lose all feeling and sink deeper into her mattress without a care in the world; slowly, and then all at once. Everything was warm and quiet for her first few minutes of rest, the dark nothingness cradling her in it’s embrace. More often than she’d like to admit, she found herself never wanting to wake up. It was just something to add to the list of things to tell the school counselor. Said list was locked away in her head, and seemed to get longer and longer each day.

“Go on. Do it. You deserve it,” the voice came up from behind her, now turning sultry and inviting. Maeven felt a familiar pulse of arousal between her legs as her cheeks tinted red.

“Mmm-hmm. . .” she whined, subconsciously burying her face into the sheets as she rolled her body to lay on her stomach with her hips elevated by the extra pillow between her legs. She preferred having Oscar the Otter, her favorite toy to “play” with, as opposed to a pillow. But Oscar was still in a box and Maeven's body was so comfortably numb. The pillow would have to do for the night.

“That’s right. Get into your favorite position, you little nympho,” it continued to encourage her.

The feeling of the blankets on Maeven’s bare, sensitive flesh imitated the feeling of a warm hug from behind her from what she could only describe as a monster. It was something she could never tell if it was really there or not; another frustrating side effect of her damaged psyche. But this was one of the only times she welcomed the voice with open arms.

It wasn’t scary during the intimate moments she shared with herself in the dark of her room. It became seductive and comforting; something that she never really understood, but always relied on at the end of a long, hard day. And when she was asleep, she found that having orgasms came to her easier. Her record was having five different orgasms throughout the night wash over her with little to no effort.

“So. . .that guy you and Billy met, today? Steve?” the voice reminded Maeven, who felt its looming, heavy presence press its weight against her back.

“Yes?” she suddenly gasped

“He was pretty cute, right?” it purred in her ear, “Tall. I bet he has soft hands. The guy looks like he takes care of himself.”

Steve reminded Maeven of Jordan Bernard before he turned on her; sassy and confident, while also somehow being awkward and shy depending on the day. She noticed the two boys even shared the same eye color. Her hips began slowly grinding against her pillow.

“He was asking you all kinds of questions. He’s totally into you,” the voice teased her, but Maeven wasn’t so easily persuaded tonight. Nancy was also very pretty. Too pretty not to notice. She didn’t have bags under her eyes or bite her lips to the point of bleeding. A girl like Nancy was perfect for a guy like Steve, unlike Maeven.

“It doesn’t matter. He has a girlfriend. And even if he didn’t, he still wouldn’t fuck me,” she said, verbally fighting off the beast’s words before it spoke again.

“You don’t know that,” it argued, not willing to drop it and determined to get Maeven warmer and wetter. “He probably would if you gave him the chance.”

Maeven would be lying if she said she hadn’t been thinking about Steve roughly taking her against the locker-lined halls of Hawkins High School. The beast on her back constantly reminded her for the rest of the tour.

“Billy would get too jealous,” she ventured a guess. He tended to be possessive, the reason behind all the bites and bruises she accumulated after they started dating.

“Don’t be so sure, Maeven. You two have fucked around with other people before. You like being passed around, don’t you?”

Maeven quivered at the mere idea of being used as a toy, rolling her hips faster against her pillow and adding fuel to the fire soaking beneath the thin cotton of her underwear. There must’ve been something seriously wrong with her to be into having her body used like that, especially after everything she went through. But that didn’t stop her from fantasizing about it.

“Aw. . .fuck. . .” Maeven gasped out as she rolled her hips, the blood rushing down and sending ever-building waves of pleasure to her clit.

“What about that other guy you saw today? The one coming out of detention?”

“The guy who sells drugs behind the school?” Her breathing was heavy now, whining in frustration as she attempted to visualize. It did have a point; that Munson guy, she thinks that’s right, was pretty fucking gorgeous. Anyone who would dare to say otherwise was dead wrong.

“Yeah. That guy’s definitely into some kinky shit. He had a pair of handcuffs for a belt.”

“He’s a metalhead. It’s part of the fashion.”

“Maybe. But did you see that black bandana in his pocket?”

“Either way, I think he’d definitely be into tying you up,” The beast laughed wickedly, seductively, bringing her deeper into her fantasy and sending her body on autopilot as her brain continued to drift. Again, this was something she absolutely shouldn’t get drenched from. She was disgusted with herself that her mind and body ached for the things she should be afraid of. Nevertheless, she leaned into it; she always did.

“Oh, God, fuck. That’s it. . .that’s it,” she whined out, finally able to paint the perfect picture in her head as she continued shamelessly grinding her clit against her pillow.

“I bet if you let him hit you raw, he’d give you free weed.”

. . .

!*!*!

It had been about an hour since Billy had refilled Maeven’s water bottle. And if he planned the timing and the dosage correctly, which he always did, she should be under her covers humping a pillow or a stuffed animal by now. He wouldn’t dare make the same mistake twice. To be fair, he didn’t think he’d still be doing this almost a year after he first thought of it. Now, it had just become a part of his normal routine.

Of course, it was no secret that Maeven Mayfield was a horny little spazz. Hell, Billy was living evidence of that; they both wore the bruises and love bites to prove it. But if he thought she was spastic without these drugs mixed into her drinks, he was in for the ride of his life. And this wasn’t just for his benefit. It was for Maeven’s, too.

Maeven didn’t always know what was best for her. As much as she loved making precise plans and carefully following lists of steps, she was equally impulsive and stubborn. In the months following what happened to her last New Year’s, it was like she was a completely different person; angry, self-loathing, irrational. And Billy knew he was partially to blame for that. He over-indulged and enabled her during those months.

It was fun at first. He thought taking her out to parties and encouraging her reckless behavior helped her grieve what she lost that night. He now knew that if he enabled her any further, it would most likely end in her death. Billy was just glad he was able to stop her and that she got the proper professional help she needed before it was too late.

Who knows? Maybe if he had measured the dose correctly that night, none of this would have happened. Billy wouldn’t have had to put her back together again. He wouldn’t have to slip drugs into her water multiple times a week just to keep her calm. She wouldn’t be a shell of her former self. They would still be in California. Maeven would still be on the honor roll and not expelled. She wouldn’t have to repeat her Junior Year.

Would his dad and her mom still have gotten married? Maybe if those guys hadn’t been so rough with her, Jordan would still be alive. Maeven wouldn’t have to live with the extreme guilt he knew haunted her every day. She wouldn’t be crippled by the pain of her injuries. But none of that mattered now, anyway. At least one silver lining came out of that horrible night; it brought Billy and Maeven together again, and closer than they had ever been.

As he approached her bedroom, he could already hear her hushed gasps for air and needy whines. Silently pushing the door open, Billy palmed himself through his sweatpants in anticipation. Just as he had planned, Maeven was already under her comforter, blissfully unaware of her surroundings as she ground her hips against her extra pillow. He loved it when he was right.

. . .

In her mind’s eye, Maeven was back in Hawkins High School, being carried like a freshly hunted animal. Steve was holding her wrists so tightly in his grasp that they hurt. Munson held her ankles together as they both carried her down the hallway. Maeven twisted and struggled her body in protest with all the strength she could gather from within, but their hold never loosened. Walking backward, Steve opened the lever handle on the door to the Janitor’s closet with his elbow. Once they were all inside, the boys let the door slam shut. They were planning on letting it stay that way for a while.

Steve was now holding Maeven’s wrists together with just one hand, sliding the other down her body to grope at her breasts through her sweater. She liked to imagine that Steve had strong hands like Billy’s, but possibly had softer palms than him. Nothing about Steve Harrington was threatening. He was definitely intimidating in terms of his size and muscle mass, but his eyes held a sense of vulnerability and tenderness. He’d never touch a girl in anger, unlike others. She could tell.

“What do you think she’s hiding underneath all those layers, Harrington?” Munson laughed, tugging at Maeven’s long skirt as he continued holding her ankles together.

“Only one way to find out,” Steve slyly replied, pointing to the set of handcuffs weaved through the metalhead’s belt loops. “Gimme those.”

Munson didn’t need to be told twice, immediately dropping Maeven’s ankles and hastily removing his makeshift belt. Seeing an opportunity to fight back, she started clumsily kicking into the air as she tried to catch her balance. Steve then forced her down on her knees onto the cold floor, sending a sharp pain through her legs. He firmly, yet gently, trapped her in his arms, pinning hers to the sides of her torso and not giving her a chance to struggle.

Once Munson successfully removed the cuffs, he playfully swung them around in a circular motion, signaling Steve to bring Maeven over. Her continuing struggle did nothing to draw the boys off course; they were on a mission and nothing could get in their way. Steve picked her up like she weighed nothing, forcing his arms underneath hers to raise them up high. Once they were able to cuff one wrist, Munson through the other end up, looping it over a large pipe above them before cuffing her other wrist.

The cold metal bit at Maeven’s skin, forcing her up so that the tips of her boots were just barely touching the floor. Her raised arms made her sweater ride up her stomach and left her freckle-kissed hips and navel bare to them; a sneak peek of what they were in for. Maeven grunted as she dangled from the ceiling, unable to regain her footing as her face flushed an even darker shade of red if that was even possible. The best she could do to fight this was clench her thighs together.

“There we go. All bound up the way you belong,” Billy’s sultry voice echoed throughout the closet as he emerged from the shadows, sending a shiver down her spine.

. . .

After over a year of knowing someone up close and personally, you tend to pick up on a few things. You start to notice the little things in their behavior that make them who they are. If you pay close enough attention, you notice the physical changes in their body when their mood changes. Whenever Maeven became anxious, her shoulders would tense up as she crossed her arms to hug herself. She would curl into herself and keep her head held low instead of tall and proud the way she used to; these mannerisms had become more common since she was released from that treatment center, to be fair.

Seeing these little changes in her demeanor throughout the day, Billy knew Maeven could benefit from an orgasm or two after a long hard, day; and he wouldn’t mind taking at least one for himself. She had practically been begging for him all day with the way she moved her body as she walked. And she also should’ve known by now that he couldn’t exactly control himself whenever a girl wore fishnets.

Time and time again, she kept proving him to be correct. The drugs Billy slipped into her water bottle may have. . .enhanced Maeven’s libido, but it simply revealed to him what he already knew she kept hidden inside. These days, she was anxious all the time; shaking like a leaf at the smallest things. He was helping her; that’s what he told himself. Eventually, he believed it without question.

Stepping inside Maeven’s bedroom, he shut the door slowly to not wake up Susan or Neil. Leaning his hand on the surface of her desk, he quickly pulled it back at the sharpness piercing his palm. Looking down, Billy recognized the remnants of what he threw away last night; Maeven’s nightlight. It didn’t stay that way, obviously. Damn Maxine. She was too old to still have something like that, anyway. Besides, she didn’t deserve it after defying him last night; those cuts he gave her weren’t enough. He’d deal with it later. This wasn’t what he came for.

Focusing his attention back to the task at hand, Billy tiptoed to Maeven’s bed, spreading his weight out to make sure it wouldn’t creak too loudly. Eyeing her figure under the covers up and down, he gently tugged the comforter to reveal her bare flesh, hot to the touch from her arousal and constant movement. She squeezed the pillow tightly between her legs as she continued to roll her hips, already soaking down the pillowcase and dripping onto the sheets.

Maeven was still in her lucid state, unaware of what was happening in the world outside her dreams. Billy always wondered what sort of dreams she had when she was on the aphrodisiacs. Then again, it didn’t matter. As long as he could take what he needed from her and she was lubed up and submissive enough, he didn’t care what went on in there. Still, Billy wanted to pick her brain; dissect her beautiful, crazed mind, and discover her deepest secrets like an archeologist unearthing a treasure. And each time he slipped another dosage into her water bottle, he came closer and closer to the whole truth.

Positioning himself behind her and pulling her waist into his lap, Billy picked up the pace and guided Maeven to rub her soaking heat away from her wrinkled pillow and against his clothed cock, tenderly massaging her ass. She let out a hushed gasp at the soft sensation of her pillow being replaced with something harder.

. . .

Back inside her head, Maeven shivered in suspense as the boys tore her long skirt off her waist. She stumbled in place as she squeezed her net-covered legs together. Steve came up behind her, one hand squeezing her ass while the other softly danced its fingers along her thigh, attempting to find her ticklish spot and coax her legs open.

“So, what kind of girl hides her legs all day, but wears fishnets?” he laughed in her ear, delivering a sharp slap to her butt, causing her to shriek and flinch away. But Steve held her in place, continuing his torment on the sensitive flesh below her waist.

Munson walked over, helping Steve try and pry her legs open. Maeven let out weak whimpers of protest, quickly turning into whines of desperation when the metalhead forcefully shoved his hand between her thighs. He laughed at the way she somehow got even more hot and bothered by the way he rubbed his ringed fingers against her heatsource covered by the soaked fabric of her panties.

“I knew I saw these, earlier,” he smirked, snapping the fishnet stocking against her thigh before fishing a pocket knife from behind his back.“She’s just a little freak, isn’t she?”

Maeven eyes widened in fear at the sight of the knife, her blood racing as she tried to wriggle from their grasp. Steve shoved his fingers inside her mouth before any more cries could escape.

“You have no idea, Munson,” Billy practically cackled, walking closer to help the boys keep her legs steady as he pulled at the waistband of her black panties before letting it snap.

“C’mon, let’s get these off her. You don’t need them, anyway. Do you, Maeven?” he asked, grabbing her by her cheeks and forcing her to look straight at him.

Swallowing her pride to keep herself safe, Maeven agreed, shaking her head. From the look at that knife, she had no choice. At least she put up a good fight until the end. It was only when she agreed did Steve take away his fingers, causing her to choke and gasp for air as she prepared herself for what was to come.

Munson’s one hand kept her legs steady as he dragged the cold metal across her skin, the mixture of fear and arousal growing as he brought it closer to her heat. He continued to leave her in anticipation, letting her guess when and where he would cut before carefully slicing the net atop her panties. Her heart was beating so fast she felt like it would burst out of her chest as the evidence of her lust dripped onto the blade. This was so wrong. So why did it feel so hot?

Tired of the teasing, Munson slid the knife beneath the drenched fabric, carefully pressing the metal against her wet lips which made her whine and shiver before cutting through the cloth of the crotch and accidentally knicking her thigh.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs, dollface,” Billy purred in her ear, tearing her stockings from her legs with no effort. “I told them what a cute little cunt you have. You don’t wanna disappoint them, do you? So. . .are you gonna be a good girl for us?”

. . .

“Ahhh, fuck, yeah. . .just like that,” Billy moaned out, grabbing Maeven’s hips tighter as she matched his pace on her own. He bit his lip to keep his volume down as his cock twitched beneath his thin sweatpants, reacting to her needy pussy already soaking through her panties.

Whatever was happening in Maeven’s dream must’ve been hot, because the way she was writhing against Billy made him wonder if he was the one dreaming. It didn’t matter how many times they had fucked beforehand; every new time was better than the last. Her body always left him crawling back and wanting her again and again.

There were many good things about this girl, but Billy still couldn’t figure out what it was. Maybe she really was a witch who lured guys to her bed, and he was just really lucky that she decided he was worth keeping. Even when she called it off, she didn’t mean it. He knew that she didn’t. Did she? His memory was fuzzy. Regardless, Billy got what he wanted, what he craved, needed; Maeven by his side. Maeven Mayfield was much more addictive than any cigarette, drink or drug Billy Hargrove could ever find and he never wanted to sober up.

Tired of teasing both her and himself, he roughly tugged her hips to meet his, always mesmerized how her needy little pussy swallowed his fingers. She now lay flat on her mattress, her back arched as she buried her face in the pillow she was previously writhing against, too powerless to stop his love-drunk-disguised assault.

. . .

Maeven said nothing as Billy held her face tightly in his hand, the adrenaline in her body and the intense anticipation causing her eyes to water. She silently nodded with a look in her eyes that told Billy, “I’ll be Good.”

Steve wasted no time using his now saliva-soaked fingers to test the waters, experimentally massaging the lips of her pussy perfectly framed by soft ginger fuzz. Maeven imagined that he’d take his time warming up a girl, passionate and gentle like he was; taking his time to learn about his partner’s body instead of just diving head-first into the deep end like other guys.

“Nancy’s one lucky girl. . .” Maeven’s inner voice echoing inside her head.

“Holy. . .shit. . .” Steve quietly exclaimed, pleasantly surprised that she did his job for him. She didn’t need any warming up

Munson roughly nudged Harrington to the sidelines like an excited kid cutting the line to get the first pick of the candy bowl on Halloween, aggressively spreading Maeven’s legs. He hooked her left one back to wrap around his hips. She was definitely more flexible than she appeared. Munson snaked his hand around her and cruelly trailed from her navel down to her pelvis, eager to finally discover her nooks and crannies.

“What the fuck? She’s already soaking wet!” he laughed in disbelief.

Maeven shrieked again at the contrast from the cold metal of his rings against her painfully desperate pussy. She could see Munson being a generous lover; something about his abundant amount of energy allowed her to picture him reducing a girl, or maybe another guy, to tears with his aggressive tongue and hands.

“Yeah, that’s the thing about little Maeven, here; she’s always turned on,” Billy growled in her ear, watching eagerly as the bound girl’s whines and moans became more frequent. He could watch her fall apart forever. Munson kept relentlessly thrusting his fingers in and out of Maeven’s aching heat-source as he teased her clit with his other hand.

“Always waiting for her pussy to be filled like the greedy little whore she is,” Billy finished.

. . .

Maeven could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy when her heart suddenly dropped into her stomach. The mystery presence she usually seeked comfort in had twisted into something sinister that aggressively trapped her body in it’s invisible grip, crushing her underneath it’s weight. It felt so familiar, but also so. . .foreign.

This wasn’t right.

What was this feeling? Why did Maeven recognize it? What was happening to her body? Why couldn’t she stop herself? Why couldn’t she move anymore?

The heavy breathing and moans against the back of her neck accompanied with the hot weight on top of her was enough to bring her somewhat out of her haze. If it were possible for her heart to drop any deeper, it would’ve, because she knew that musky scent.

“Billy?” she gasped out, her heart immediately starting to race so fast it hurt.

“Shhh, babydoll. ‘Gotta be quiet, remember?” He said it as if it was the most casual situation in the world. What the hell was happening?

“What’re you doing. . .aah!” Maeven choked on a silent scream as Billy wrapped his bicep around her neck to shut her up, cutting off both her voice and her air before he slipped his fingers inside her quivering cunt.

“Just be still and keep your mouth, Maeven. Be a good girl and let me take care of you,” he whispered, biting her earlobe following his last words as he removed his bicep from around her throat and kneeled straight up. Once Maeven briefly celebrated with a long inhale of air, she then involuntarily clenched her pussy around Billy’s thick fingers as he violently massaged her moist walls and prepared her for what would come next. Drawing them from her core, he delivered a sharp slap against her aching pussy before lining himself up.

Why couldn’t she move? Why was she so wet? Had it really come down to this; her own body betraying her?

Her mind became even more fuzzy from the lack of air, the veil between the fantasy inside her head and the world outside it where she was supposed to be sleeping had blended until she couldn’t tell which was which, anymore. And when something so passionately aggressive was shoved deep inside her without warning, Maeven couldn’t even comprehend the difference between unbearable pain and mind-numbing pleasure. She had cried from both before, but the tears falling from her now was something entirely new, and she didn’t like it.

“Fuuuuck, you feel so good. . .” Billy shamelessly moaned out, ramming all of himself into Maeven, from the tip to the base in one thrust. Pressing his chest against her back as her buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent like his life depended on it, Billy’s sharp thrusts continued. He never wanted to let her go. He couldn’t let her leave him like his Mother did. Maeven was the only ray of light he had left.

“Billy, please wait,” she sobbed out, finally regaining control of her limbs as she attempted to fight her way out from under him. “Let’s just-”

“Shh, we’re just having a little fun. That’s all. We’ll go nice and slow, okay?” he promised, his thrusts then turning harder and quicker as he succumbed to how heavenly Maeven felt around him.

“You don’t want me to reopen that cut, do you, dollface?” Billy took his bicep off from around her throat and trailed his fingers down beneath her to pinch her swollen clit. His other hand traced along the bandaged cuts along her arms and chest; his fresh handiwork from the night before.

The sudden harsh rubs on her clit forced Maeven’s back to arch, giving Billy the perfect opportunity to grab her hair. She stopped breathing and her world stood still as she realized how close he was bringing her to the edge. Maeven panicked. She didn’t want to cum. Not like this, at least. It was fine when it was only her and the vivid scenes she around played with in her head. But she didn’t ask for this. Billy’s pace picked up and Maeven could tell he was close by the way he was growling; desperately hungry for release.

Images of the night her life was ruined then intruded her mind; the party and the woods, and what they did to her. How betrayed she felt. How much the knife carving into her flesh hurt. The knife in her hands and how monstrous and free it made her feel. Her blood-drenched, naked body shining underneath the glow of the winter moon.

Maeven squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will all these bad feelings away, attempting to ground herself by focusing on how nice the cold autumn wind felt in contrast to how heated her cheeks were. She wanted to go back to that fantasy. She was safe in there, so that’s where she went.

Billy chuckled to himself as Maeven drifted away once again, knowing that by the next morning, she wouldn’t remember a thing.

. . .

Stay Wild and Safe, my dears!

A/N: ♫♫ I'm sorry I was gone, but look, I made you some content!♫♫

♫ Mommy made you your favorite! Open Wide!♫

♫♫ Here comes the content!♫♫

♫It's a beautiful day to stay inside!♫

Also, Happy Birthday to Me!! I turned 23 on the Solstice! Working my full-time retail job has left me burnt out without any time or energy to create, and my huge family is going through some hardships right now. I'm grateful that I was able to get family leave and it's going to last until February! Hopefully, that'll give me time to rest and put my life together while my family and I heal.

It felt really weird but somehow fitting that I finished this chapter on my last day being 22. Despite the Angst and Heartbreak this held, I really hope you enjoyed this one. I ran into a few roadblocks trying to get it just right. It's my longest one yet. A lot of you wanted some lore dumps and I hope I delivered well. As always, please let me know your thoughts and theories; they really help motivate me.

The Spitifre Curse Taglist:

@yaidothat

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #my writing #the spitfire curse #stranger things fanfic #stranger things oc #maeven mayfield #max mayfield #billy hargrove #st fandom #stranger things fandom #the party #scoops troop #hellfire club #steve harrington #eddie munson #2023

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strangersynth · 11 months

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i enjoy s3 what can i say

#like yeah not narratively tbh #this is certainly not the best season #but ig there's the moments like will sensing the mind flayer or breaking castle byers apart which is not good but storyline wise #and mike honestly what can i say i loved him he was shitty and said a lot of shit and it wasn't always okay and thats him and hes priceless #stobin kinda carried a bunch of it alongside too. so did dustin. the scoops troop actually #lucas was already setting the bar pretty high for all men ever too. season 3 is not excluded from this #i would say billy ending up dead and gone if it wasn't for how the whole redemption vibe it gives the entire time kills it's core

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nyptagypta · 2 years

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Seeing so much hate for season 3 and have come to the conclusion that stranger things season 3 is only for sexy people.

#stranger things #stranger things season 3 #robin buckley #steve harrington <3 #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #jim hopper #will byers #joyce byers #jonathan byers #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #scoops troop #max mayfield #billy hargrove

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hrrgrve · 2 years

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ever since I read this one harringrove fanfic on ao3 where billy and erica meet I’ve wanted nothing more than to see those two being the best of friends and annoying the shit out of steve together. Billy showing his softer side and giving her cute nicknames and they’d just have the best big brother little sister bond ever. we were robbed.

here’s the fanfic:

it’s honestly so good, I never even thought about billy and erica getting acquainted until this and now i’m obsessed with their dynamic

#harringrove #erica sinclair #stranger things netflix #billy harringrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #scoops troop

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wildspringday · 2 years

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stranger things 3x04 | chapter four: the sauna test + f a c e l e s s

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kaleidoscopic-quiddity · 2 years

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anyways my unpopular opinion is that season 2 was actually the best season of stranger things and i’m willing to die on that hill

#stranger things #cracks me up how s2 is the most hated season when s3 is right there #like. be honest. if it werent for the scoops troop fucking nobody would like season 3.#and like!! dont get we wrong s2 had some terrible writing as well lmao #max and billy were introduced only to basically do nothing #whilst i love kali i admit that ep 7 is basically a trainwreck #but its still better written that s3 or s4 #and ofc i love s1 we all do but s2 expands on characters + worldbuilding more tho so i prefer it #og post //

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looopylupin · 2 years

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steve: *picks up a call from an unknown number*

steve: hello.

murderer: i can see you.

steve: ...

murderer: ...

steve: do i look good?

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ruksanada · 1 year

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Set one of Scoops troops trio~♡

This is the cute set. It will slowly dissolve into chaos!

Steve: Mielzayu

Eddie: Yuuke_kun

Billy: Me

Photos by: David

#steve harrington #eddie munson #billy hargrove #mungrove #harringrove #mungroveson #stranger things #stranger things cosplay #cosplay #scoops troop #billy x steve #steve x billy #billy x eddie #eddie x billy #i'll vanilla your thunder

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solarmorrigan · 1 year

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I love when people label different members of The Party as Steve’s favorite in fics. There is no wrong answer, they’re all good. Like,

Dustin: The obvious choice. He was Steve’s first duckling, they spend the most time together, they have that dorky/adorable secret handshake routine. Dustin will always be Steve’s favorite, even when he’s going through moody know-it-all teen phases

Max: He threw himself in front of a monster to save her before he even knew her. She saved him from being murdered by Billy. Big brother-sister vibes in s4. She gave him a goodbye letter!

Erica: SCOOPS TROOP. It’s probably hard not to feel extra attached to her after being responsible for her for however long they were trapped in the Russian elevator. Trauma bonds, man. Plus, she’s littler than the others, even if she doesn’t act like it; Steve’s maternal instinct snaps her up

Lucas: Look me in the eye and tell me that Steve didn’t practice basketball with Lucas to help him get ready for tryouts. Tell me he didn’t hype the shit out of Lucas. Tell me he didn’t take Lucas out to celebrate when he made the team. Tell me he wasn’t at every single one of Lucas’ games. You can’t do it

El: Obviously Hopper adopts both Steve and El, and obviously El is Steve’s little sister and he loves her. Next question

Will: Actually says please and thank you. The patience of a saint. Has been possessed by a demon but is the only one who doesn’t act like a demon. Steve’s calmest child. His favorite. (Also: queer kid solidarity)

Mike: It’s never Mike

#steve harrington #the party #stranger things #steve & the party #OKAY NO I really do enjoy steve and mike interactions #they have such interesting potential #but I've never seen anyone say that mike is steve's favorite I'm sorry #solar wrote #sorta

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astragreenwoode · 11 months

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The Spitfire Curse - Chapter Four

Previous: Chapter Three • Next: Chapter Five • Masterlist • AO3 Version

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC (Only Mentioned)

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Non-specified Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Drug Use, Hypersexuality, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Hearing Voices

Genre: Adventure, Thriller, Horror, Slow-Burn Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Smut, Fluff, Slight Canon-Divergence, Fix-it fic

As always, thank you @take-everything-you-can for your beta reading and all your feedback!

Chapter Four: Filled With A Distrust In Authority

Word Count: 8,374

Chapter Warnings: Disembodied Voices, Police Brutality, Anxiety, Self-Deprecating Thoughts, Assault, References to Murder and other Criminal Activities, Mentions of Drug Use, Self-Harm, Mental Illness

Chapter Summary: Maeven reflects on her relationship with cops before her nerve-wracking meeting with the police chief of Hawkins, who turns out to be the complete opposite of what she expected.

June 1982

Billy and I had our fair share of run-ins with the cops. I can count on both hands the times we were caught smoking weed, trespassing in abandoned buildings, or fooling around in his Camaro. We were only arrested or put in a holding cell twice, but it was twice too many times. Mom and Dad gave me hour-long lectures that ended up with me running to my room and slamming the door on them as I yelled back, “I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

I never used to do that before.

I wasn’t always frightened of cops. Up until I learned about the Gay Liberation Movement from my uncle, I saw them as people I could trust with my life and safety. But even then, I always felt some uneasiness shaking up my body. Even though I knew I was supposedly ‘safe,’ their presence filled me with a fear similar to the kind when I would get in trouble with a teacher when I didn’t even understand what I did wrong.

After my uncle told me his story of being in so many protests and what cops did to people like him, like me, my seemingly pointless fear of authority figures was validated. This wasn’t long after I had my first kiss with a girl in Middle School.

Even if this sudden realization made my life feel on edge from there on out, something that was constant during this period in my life was my Dad; I never felt unsafe with him. And I had a better understanding with him about why he’d have Max and I favor him instead of the cops in terms of our safety. The waters of doubt became clearer after I was arrested for the first time.

My friend, Emily Bernard, was my first ever kiss and almost girlfriend, but we were awkward with each other whenever we weren’t making out. Her brother, Jordan, was my first-ever boyfriend. He was my first everything. On one hand, being his girlfriend kept me safe from the possible bullying I’d get if it got out that I liked girls. On the other hand, I genuinely did like Jordan. Being with a guy could be just as charismatic and breathtaking as being with a girl.

Sure, he was a bit clueless and headstrong, but he meant well. He was reckless with himself for fun, and I was always the one to talk him out of making bad decisions. It was exhausting at times, but we really enjoyed each others’ company. I was naive enough to think that maybe, just maybe, we’d be together forever. Maybe it was my inner child still trying to hold onto that fantastical hope that disappeared the older you get. Maybe it was my brain telling me how much I needed close bonds like this in order to survive, the way animals do in the wild. But I wasn’t a princess. I wasn’t an animal. I wasn’t in a fairytale. Life wasn’t perfect.

When I was a freshman in high school, two years into our relationship, I found out that Jordan cheated on me. He was my first heartbreak, the last first he’d ever be to me. Even when he tried to deflect my anger toward the girl he hooked up with, I stayed mad at him. He was the one in a relationship. Jordan could’ve simply told her that, but he didn’t. It was the fact that he chose not to that made me so mad, and it was insulting to try and make himself out as the victim.

After a week of burying my heartache in ice cream and horror movie marathons with Max and a month of avoiding eye contact with Jordan at school, I went to his house to drop off a box of his things we kept in my room. I was also hoping to get my stuff from his room in return. It was what adults did; it was the mature thing to do. I had come to terms with our breakup and was ready to move on.

But we weren’t adults; we were kids. And more often than not, kids are villainously petty. The day I came back to the Bernard family home to return Jordan’s things, I went from mature to petty in a flash. It was a cool summer night as I was about to ring the doorbell, I heard Jordan curse out in the backyard.

“OW! GODDAMIT!”

When I trailed around the house, I found him tripping over a bundle of tree branches. He was really good at building fires. We used to camp a lot. As soon as I saw I box with all my things I left with him next to the roaring fire pit, I lost my shit. It was the first time I heard the jumbled voice that taunted me with intrusive thoughts and impulsiveness.

They told me, “Fuck being the bigger person! He’s about to burn all your shit! Are you gonna let him get away with that, Maeven?”

Without even realizing it, I snuck up on Jordan so that the next time he turned around, he’d scream and fall backward.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He screamed like your average horror movie victim; it was probably the reason he didn’t like to watch them with me. Jordan could be tough and headstrong in certain situations but was a clumsy scaredy-cat once he stepped outside of them.

“Oh, hey, Mae-Mae! Hi, uhmmm, what. . .what’re you doing here?”

“You don’t get to fucking call me that, Jordan! Not anymore! So, I’ll ask you again; what the hell are you doing?!”

As he awkwardly looked me up and down, he frantically gathered the branches and threw them into the fire pit with some old clothes I didn’t recognize. It must’ve been for kindling.

“What’re you doing here?”

I rolled my eyes. Did he honestly think I was that stupid? Did he not see the completely obvious box of his things I had in my hands?

“I asked you first,” I sneered at him. He jumbled on his words momentarily, making random vowels and sounds before straightening his train of thought.

“Spring cleaning?” He gave me a nervous smile that said ‘please buy it,’ as he began sweating.

“It’s June, and that’s a fire,” I pointed out.

His pupils dilated with panic as he stood up before a lame attempt was made to hide my box of stuff behind his dumbass legs as if I hadn’t already seen it. One of my worst pet peeves of his was how he refused to admit when he was cold. I rarely saw him out of shorts.

“My turn. What’re you doing here?”

“I was gonna be the bigger person and return the stuff you left at my house before proceeding to never speak to you again.” I gestured to the box of his things in my grasp before placing my hand on my hip and tilting my head.

“Good for you, Maeven. I’m proud of you,” he said so matter-of-factly. I could tell he was bursting with the energy he needed to make a run for the house.

“Yeah. But now. . .now I’m having second thoughts.”

The closest thing to Jordan shitting his pants was his heart dropping into his stomach. He had never seen me this angry before, but I had been bottling up all the bullshit he made me endure these past two years.

“Really? Why is that?”

If it were possible, he’d fill a barrel of nervous sweat like an old cartoon.

“Because you’re burning my shit, Jordan! That’s why!” I almost cut him off, my intrusive thoughts and instinct response jumping against his verbal attack.

“No I wasn’t,” he defended himself, surprisingly calm. “Can I have my box back now?”

Yes. This was the hill I was willing to die on.

“I don’t know, Jordan! Can I have my virginity back?!”

The world around us suddenly went deadly silent and laced with tension. Jordan’s eyes widened in shock, but he remained speechless. If I’d been able to see beyond my anger at his betrayal, I would’ve noticed the small changes in his body that indicated when his heart split in half.

“I didn’t even burn it, yet!” he whined.

“But you were going to,” I clarified. His eyes widened as he realized he was caught red-handed in a lie.

“. . .shit.”

As if he was an animal using its defense mechanisms, he took one of the branches out of the fire pit and swung it at me, hitting my arm as the flames burnt my skin. It felt like someone pushed me into a hot grill.

“Are. . .you. . .SERIOUS?!?!”

My face scrunched up in anger as I subconsciously threw his box on the fire pit. I didn’t feel the pain in my knuckles until after it collided with his face; at least it didn’t hurt as much as my arm burned. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did to see him clutching his face on the grass like that as he pinched his nose to stop the flow of blood. He was pathetic before, but he looked even more so now.

“What’re you two idiots doing??” Emily yelled at us as she stood on the porch.

“I’m not an idiot!” Jordan and I yelled in unison.

“Right,” she rolled her eyes. “Hey, Idiot and Maeven. Knock it off.”

I let out a laugh so unnecessarily loud, making me feel even better than before now that I knew at least someone was on my side. . .for now.

“Whose side are you on??” Jordan whined again, getting up to walk towards the porch to his sister.

“Let’s see who wins first, then I’ll decide,” she replied.

“She burnt my stuff, Em!” he yelled, using his now blood-covered hand to point at me like a tattling toddler. “Skating and rock music have driven her to violence!”

I walked right up to him as he backed off like a cornered rabbit. I got up right in his face as I narrowed my eyes.

“You were gonna burn my stuff first, Jordan! And the only thing that has driven me to violence is you, you small-dicked son of a bitch!”

At my last syllable, he stumbled backward on his feet and knocked the back of his head on the wooden railing of the porch.

“HA!” Emily laughed before covering her mouth with her hand.

Jordan got up almost immediately and towered over me, ready to defend his honor.

“I told you never to mention that!” he yelled, shoving my shoulders, forcing me to step back from him a bit. I turned my eyes toward Emily.

“Will you please talk some sense into your lunatic of a brother!?”

She exhaustedly groaned, tilting her head up to the sky.

“You’re both acting like lunatics! And if you don’t knock it the hell off, someone’s gonna call the cops!”

In her defense, we were pretty loud.

“Fine. I’ll go as soon as you apologize and give me back my stuff,” I said, turning my head to Jordan. He had gotten what he deserved. I burnt his stuff, gave him a bloody nose, and announced the size of his dick to his whole neighborhood. That should’ve satisfied me, I should’ve known when to walk away, but I didn’t.

“Apologize?!” he laughed in my face. “I don’t have to apologize for anything, Maeven! You punched me in the face and burnt my shit! And technically, you don’t get a say in what I do with ‘your’ shit. You left it at my house, therefore, it's mine.”

I considered punching him again, but I didn’t. It would’ve landed me in more trouble than I already was about to be in.

“There she is! Right there!”

I turned around to see Mr. Bernard pointing his finger at me, two cops behind him as they stomped their way toward me. One of them took out their set of handcuffs.

“Dad?” Emily asked him. “What’re you doing?!”

“Oh, shit-AAAHH!!”

Before I knew it, one of the cops shoved me in the chest and sent me falling backward on the grass. My head collided with the ground and made my ears ring as I tried to find my bearings.

The one without the handcuffs aggressively turned me over onto my stomach before proceeding to push his knee into the small of my back. It forced the air out of my stomach and lungs. My brain tried to force my body to move, but I was frozen in place. I understood now that it was my body’s way of keeping me safe; it knew better than my head that I couldn’t fight this situation.

“What the hell!? I didn’t do anything!”

He shoved my head into the grass with his hand as his partner bound my hands. They hauled me up by the chain of the cuffs as they dug into my wrists, roughly grabbing my arms as they dragged me away.

“You’re under arrest for domestic violence and destruction of property. You have the right to remain silent-”

I blocked them out and turned my eyes to the Bernards.

“You’re arresting me for a bloody nose and a bad breakup?!” I scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me?! He’s the one who burnt me!”

I couldn’t prove it, but I swear that one of them dug his fingers into the fresh burn on my arm. My feet refused to move as they dragged me along the grass from the backyard to their squad car; it was hard to believe this was really happening. It certainly wasn’t necessary for them to be this aggressive with a 5’4 fifteen-year-old girl.

“Dad, what’re you doing?!” Emily yelled behind me.

I could hear them trailing behind us as one of the cops kicked at my feet, forcing me to stand and walk with them.

“She assaulted him! It’s the least she deserves!” Mr. Bernard replied to his daughter.

“Dad, it’s just a bloody nose! I’m fine! Just let her go!”

That was certainly a surprise. It was the first time I heard Jordan show any type of courage. Even after I burnt his things and punched him, he wanted to help me.

“Maeven, it’s gonna be fine! I’ll call your mom!”

“What?! No!” I turned to Emily as the cops pushed me into the back of the car. “She’ll kill me! Call my Dad!”

“I don’t have his number!”

“Fuck! Okay, just. . .just don’t worry about it, Em. Okay?” I yelled through the glass. “Don’t call anyone. I’ll call him when I get there.”

As they drove me away to the station, I wasn’t certain of it, but I thought I could see Jordan mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ to me. I shut my eyes and did my best to put my mind anywhere else but here. I wasn’t being arrested. This wasn’t happening. I was with my Dad and my sister in the woods. We were having fun. Everything was fine. It felt like heaven.

That trick never worked, but I still try it to this day.

A week later, I found my box of stuff returned to me on the front steps of my house, along with a note I didn’t have the strength to read. Jordan was officially the bigger person in this equation.

. . .

Without his morning cup of coffee, Jim Hopper couldn’t comprehend the busy sounds of the police station; the ringing of the phones, Flo’s daily notifications about his upcoming meetings, and the occasional pats on his back for just being present before noon. The small coffee machine was a gift from God, he convinced himself. A sip from the strong, fresh-brewed cup of coffee melted away all his sleep deprivation, muscle tension, and lingering hangover; as well as the headache from taking care of a certain little girl whom he shared his cabin with.

Taking a seat at his desk, his vision cleared and focused as he stared into his cup as he added his desired amount of sugar and a splash of the thick creamer. Hopper faced the tower of manilla folders, stacked as high as they could go without tipping over. He flipped open the folder on top before being interrupted by a rapid knock at the door.

“What?” he groaned out. There was never a moment of peace around here.

“Well, good morning to you, too, Hop. Or should I say ‘afternoon?’” Flo let out a laugh. She flopped yet another Manilla file on his desk right in front of him, almost tipping over his coffee. The digital clock on his desk read 3:26 PM in red letters.

“Flo, why would you do that? Can you seriously not see the big stack right next to me?” he whined, palming his face and rubbing his eyes with both hands. Flo rolled her eyes.

“This might just be my personal opinion, Hop, but if you didn’t spend most nights drinking and your mornings nursing your hangovers, maybe that damn stack wouldn’t be as tall as the Empire State Building,” she retorted back at him, hand on her hip.

“You’ve never been out of Hawkins, Flo. How do you know how big the Empire State Building is?”

“Just read the damn file, smartass. It’s the most recent one, anyway. You got a meeting with them in about a half hour, so study up.” Flo had worked with him long enough to know he needed a playfully harsh nudge to get his ass going in the morning. She wasn’t gonna let him get off that easy after showing up late and only working for a couple of hours. And Hopper thought it was the coffee that did it.

Before strutting her way out of his office, she turned to him once more for a final note. “Also, you’re four o’clock is running behind, so don’t expect to be out of here before five tonight, you big oaf,” Flo added, one hand on the doorknob while the other pushed up her glasses. Hopper softly banged his head against the top of his desk in response, pointing to the hot cup of coffee in his fist.

“You want this open or closed?” she laughed out.

“Closed.”

Flo left the door halfway open; a compromise.

The Chief picked his head up and let out a long and therapeutic groan, blindly opening the folder in front of him. He kept his eyes closed for a short moment of calm to officially prepare himself for the rest of the day, however long that ended up being. The contents of the now open file caught his eye, as it was faxed to him all the way from San Diego. How did someone end up in the back-forty of Indiana from the busy city streets in California?

Margaret Maeven Mayfield, it read, a month away from turning eighteen. Hopper could’ve sworn he had heard ‘Mayfield’ somewhere before. It sounded like a distantly blurred name of someone from his military days. Now wide awake, he actually took his time to thoroughly read it in all its details instead of just skimming over the fine print to get each case knocked out as soon as possible. ‘Maeven’ was certainly a unique choice for a middle name. He wondered what it meant.

Despite being reported as being intimidatingly smart and well-behaved by all the staff at her old school and the San Diego police, Margaret had made quite the case for herself as a rebel. Her first arrest was when she was fifteen. The charges, in order, were Domestic Violence, Destruction of Property, Drug Possession, Vandalism, Public Indecency, Public Intoxication, Assault, Inciting a Riot, and Manslaughter. What was even more enticing was that most of all these charges were dropped against the girl, and she was sentenced to community service instead of jail time. Apparently, she was very enthusiastic about her punishment and was rewarded for her work by the community. Who does that? Certainly, not anyone Hopper knows.

Her mugshot emanated an unsettling tone of both heartbreak and terror. She was randomly splashed with blood as she held her name up in front of her, her eyes sunken in. They were dark, both in and under, but still wide as if she had just come face-to-face with the devil himself. She looked so scared. Margaret had a past as wild as Hopper’s entire life had been, and she hadn’t even finished High School yet; expelled from School after her assault, a history of fighting and drug problems, and three months in an In-Patient Mental Institution was enough to grab anyone’s attention, let alone a Police Officer’s.

He knew appearances could be deceiving, but the known victim and suspected criminal looked nothing more than a scared little kid. It reminded Hopper of the Munson boy; practically stolen after his mother’s overdose, both done by the hands of his father, Al Munson. Poor little Eddie just got dealt the wrong cards and had no choice but to accept his place in society as the future resident burnout, both put in place and enforced by the league soccer moms in Hawkins. Hopper wasn’t sure any kid deserved that, even if Munson and Maeven weren’t really kids, anymore. How could someone so young and full of life be accused of so many horrific things?

Jim let his mind wander for a moment back to the times when he himself was a dumb teenager who didn’t know any better. Under the young girl’s circumstances, he could definitely see how and why wrongful accusations could be made against her. He saw himself in the file; a misunderstood kid from the other side of town guilty of nothing but defying their ‘destiny’ and tainting their reputation as a straight-laced good kid. In small towns like Hawkins, you cross a certain street and it’s like a whole other world; divided between the shabby cabins and trailer parks with the so-called ‘town bums’ and the suburbian paradise the soccer moms and their nuclear families shielded themselves within.

The ringing of the phone interrupts Hopper’s thoughts, and he’s suddenly now aware of how he’s been studying the Mayfield file for so long that the red digits on the clock suddenly read 4:32 PM. He huffed out a long sigh before picking up the phone and pressing it to his ear.

“What d'ya got for me, Flo?”

“Mrs. Hargrove and her daughter are here. Should I send ‘em in, or are you still nursing that hangover?”

“Yeah, yeah, send ‘em down. . .smartass.”

. . .

Maeven missed her long hair.

As a child, she wanted nothing more than to have what she, Max, and her parents dubbed ‘princess hair.’ Rapunzel was always her favorite, and she had complained multiple times that the Walt Disney Company was yet to make a movie about her. But she always pictured herself being a wild princess who runs through the woods with leaves and twigs in her hair.

It took her a while to learn how to properly take care of it. She was always so sad when it had to be cut shorter; a result of her failed attempts to grow it out ending in a barrage of too many tangles and knots. After a few too many cuts than she was comfortable with, Maeven finally grew old and patient enough to settle into a good hair-care routine when she was around ten years old.

She loved having so many ways to flaunt her wavy red locks; ponytails, pigtails, braids, and buns. But her favorite way to wear it was to just let it flow down past her shoulders, below her breasts, stopping at the small of her back, so wild and free. Maeven loved the way her partners stroked or tugged on it whenever she was intimate with them. Billy once told her when he fucked her on his lap that running his hands through her hair felt like he was touching the setting sun.

Having Maeven’s hair draped across his body like a silk curtain was one of the only places he felt truly safe. Of course, he had never admitted it aloud to her. It was partially to keep up his tough reputation, but he also didn’t feel like he needed to tell her. Maeven already knew, he could tell. She was always good at reading him.

Maeven’s hair was always the first thing people noticed about her. It was the first thing they noticed about Max and their Mom, too. Besides the blue eyes and the freckles, it was the Mayfield ladies’ defining feature. It was why everyone was so disappointed when she cut it all off so suddenly. One night last February, she woke up from yet another nightmare, a flashback, that someone chased her, hunted her down like a wild animal, and caught her by her hair.

New Year's Eve, 1983 ruined a lot of things for her; parties, drugs, nighttime, and outside, just to name a few. But the worst part of it was no longer feeling safe in her own body. It was the feeling that she was no longer safe being herself. So, acting on sheer impulse and instinct, Maeven took the sewing shears from her mother’s craft room and hastily cut off her long ginger locks until her hair ended up choppy, just below her ears.

She wasn’t sure if she should’ve felt sad at what she had done to herself, or feel relieved now that the cause of her paranoia was severed from her head. All she did know was that she had one less thing to worry about; one less thing that people liked to take advantage of. She didn’t want to be hunted, anymore. She was a little bit safer. . .for now, Even though her emotions weren’t certain, she still cried her eyes out that night.

After letting it grow a bit and finally evening it out, Maeven did her best to embrace her new look. She just decided that she wasn’t going to look at herself in the bathroom mirror unless she absolutely had to brush her hair or put on makeup. It was easier that way; less painful. As the cold, autumn wind passed through Hawkins and made the back of her neck chill that she missed her former length the most. It helped that she never needed a scarf in the winter, as she could always use her hair to cover her neck.

Maeven scratched the back of her neck, running her fingertips over her hairline and short fuzz to soothe herself. She twirled her short locks around her finger and pulled hard; a not-so-healthy way to cure her boredom and keep her anxiety occupied. It was times like this she regretted cutting away her hair the most. The times when she wanted nothing more than to hide her face behind her firey red locks and just sink into herself.

She had slowly gotten used to the constant presence of police since her first arrest at fifteen and all the times that followed afterward. Whatever name you give them, cops, police, pigs, dicks, every officer of the law was different in their own way. Maeven had met maybe a handful of them who actually seemed concerned for her well-being and genuinely wanted to help her. That didn’t make their looming presence any less threatening to her. More often than not, they were the kind to attack first and ask questions later.

Since being discharged from inpatient psychiatric treatment, Maeven did her hardest to appear non-threatening and be on her best behavior, especially around the police. She steered clear of them. Even though she tended to steer clear of everyone these days, she avoided confrontation with police especially. With all the charges that had been brought against her in the years following her first arrest, Maeven knew that whatever was on her permanent record, it wasn’t a flattering portrayal.

The treatment program she went to maybe have helped her with a lot of her many mental issues, but Maeven still felt broken. Even if she recovered, she didn’t feel quite like a human again, and she secretly wished she could just change. It didn’t matter what or who. Honestly? She wouldn’t mind being a rock or a dying star, an animal or an insect. It wasn’t important to her. All that mattered was that she wouldn’t feel like this; being a human was a messy, painful merry-go-round of inconsistencies. It wasn’t worth it, anymore.

Maeven wasn’t sure exactly what was keeping her alive. She felt it getting stronger once they moved to Hawkins, and she was determined to find it. But, for now, her life would just be a mundane and painful routine of various medications, her many coping skills that ranged from healthy to unhealthy, visits with cops and therapists, and trying to stop herself from getting in her own way. It was working. . .slowly. But that's the thing about healing; it isn’t always linear.

She didn’t even hear the receptionist call to her and her mom until she felt her grab her hand in an attempt to bring her daughter along to, . .

“Wait. . .where are we again?” Maeven thought allowed, not even realizing it until her mom looked at her with wide eyes, a mixture of disappointment and concern. It hurt to look at.

“The Police Station, Maevey. You have a meeting, remember?”

Maeven said nothing, her brain still catching up with the rest of the world and the concept of time. She dug her sharply manicured nails into her palms, taking a moment to swallow her anxiety down before smiling and nodding at her mom.

“That’s right,” Maeven silently remembered. After the tour of the school, Neil dropped her and Susan off at the police station. Billy took Max to the arcade and he was no doubt killing time by using the back roads of Hawkins like his own personal race track.

“You were disassociating again, bitch,” the voice scolded.

As her mom gently tugged her along toward the Chief’s office, Maeven felt like the world around her was growing smaller. Technically it was; the walls narrowed as Susan led her down the hallway from the front desk. It wasn’t long at all, or even that narrow. But that’s how it felt.

Susan Hargrove, on the other hand, walked in front of her daughter like she owned the place. Another flaw of Neil’s that rubbed off on her. Maeven wasn’t sure if she should feel scared or safe. She hadn’t felt like she needed her mom’s guidance and protection since she was little. Were either of the Mayfield women themselves, anymore?

Her mom stood halfway through the threshold of the Chief’s office as Maeven mentally prepared herself to remain calm in front of him. This man had access to her file; a collection of her worst moments where she was decided to be bad by people who didn’t know her. He had the power to use everything in that file to make her life worse if he wanted to. It all depended on his impression of her, on whether or not she can do a good job convincing him that she wasn’t the person those documents painted her as.

“I take it you’re Mrs. . .Hargrove? I thought it was ‘Mayfield?’”

“That was my last husband’s name, Mr. Hopper. I remarried this year,” Susan promptly corrected him. Hopper’s eyebrows raised as his eyes narrowed.

“Another Suburban Soccer Mom. Go figure,” he thought to himself.

“Alright, then. C’mon in and have a seat, ladies. I don’t bite,” Hopper gestured to the chairs facing his desk.

“Yeah. You might not bite. But what about you, Maevey?”

Maeven didn’t acknowledge the voice this time but crossed her arms around her middle to hug herself.

She rounded the corner and looked at the Chief. Hopper looked like someone her dad would get along with. Not the sleazy, sexist drunk ones who hovered around him in San Francisco. Out of his police garb, Maeven predicted that he’d be someone’s dad or cool uncle who takes you fishing or cooks you a classic American breakfast. She took a seat next to her mother in her matching leather office chair. The urge to play with and pick at the tears and cracks was annoyingly strong.

Maeven sat so that both her hands were tucked under both her legs, hidden underneath her skirt. She didn’t want her mom to draw any more unnecessary attention to her fidgeting. That was embarrassing.

Hopper couldn’t help but stare at the nervous girl in front of him. She was definitely smaller than he expected, maybe because of the way she carried herself as if she was trying to disappear. No matter how many years he had under his belt as an officer, the cases that involved kids never got easier. In fact, they had only gotten more difficult in the last year. Between Will going missing in a whole nother goddamn dimension and suddenly becoming a parent to a girl again, Jim had a lot to adjust to, lately. And it seemed like he certainly wasn’t the only one.

This girl was too impossibly young to know grief this large. Yet, here she sits in front of him. And even if her files were up to date, Jim had his doubts. He knew that looks could be deceiving, but Margaret Mayfield didn’t look or act like a criminal, much less a bad person. There was just no way.

“So. . .what brings you in today?”

For once, Maeven decided not to count the stains on the carpet or the scratches on the Chief’s desk. Not that she wanted to talk to him, but she just didn’t want to be silent and awkward anymore. In the past, the cops she dealt with before interpreted her silence as a threat, or a confession of her guilt. And she left the school tour feeling oddly confident after meeting Nancy and Steve.

Of course, her mother just had to speak for her.

“My husband called in and spoke with your receptionist, Flora, to make sure you got my daughter’s file from Captain Daly down in San Diego. We just moved here, and we wanna make sure she has a. . .a good relationship with the law enforcement here so that she hopefully doesn’t repeat her past mistakes,” she explained, finishing with a smile on her face.

Susan grew a little too used to assuming Maeven’s feelings. It was fine at the beginning when she at least asked for her permission via a silent nod, but it was more often than not that she just took over and micromanaged the conversation.

“Well, now she just has to pay. Go on, now.”

“No, no, no. Please just stop. Please.”

It took a moment for Jim to process what just happened. He didn’t blame Susan’s daughter for looking at her the way she did, with such frustration and annoyance as she bounced her leg. The psychiatric evaluation in her file did say she suffered from anxiety. Hopper wouldn’t be surprised if this girl listed her mother as a stressor.

“Y’know, I’d actually prefer to speak with Margaret alone, if you wouldn’t minds, Mrs. Hargrove?”

The very thought of her mother leaving the room for a little while lowered the tenseness in Maeven’s shoulders and the air suddenly return to her lungs. She tried not to let it show too much, though. Her mother developed a tendency to notice the little changes whenever her mood fluctuated. No matter how infuriating Susan acted sometimes, the thought of hurting her feelings still broke the young girl’s heart to think about. It was both an impressive and scary hidden talent, like a lighthouse with a giant eye as the light.

“Maybe you should sketch that. It’d look cool,” the voice suggested. Maeven fought the urge to reach for her sketchbook. She could already see the picture in her mind’s eye.

Susan paused for a moment as she processed the Chief’s request.

“Oh. . .sure! Of course! No problem, I. . .” Susan stood up from the chair and placed her hand gently on her daughter’s shoulder. “I’ll just be waiting outside, okay?” she reassured, her eyes turning sad when she looked at her.

Maeven blinked away her idea for a moment to give her mom a half-smile.

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m fine,” she replied, her hand squeezing, then brushing her hand off her shoulder. Susan nodded before walking to the door.

“And it’s Flo, by the way. Not ‘Flora,’” Hop made sure to mention before she had a chance to close the door on her way out.

“Yes. . .of course,” Susan stuttered as she closed the office door. The silence that filled the room after it slammed wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable for once. In fact, it was oddly freeing.

“Thanks. I, uh. . .thank you,” Maeven squeaked out as she fidgeted with her hands just itching to reach for her backpack.

“No problem, kid,” Hopper chuckled before continuing. “My wife was the same way with me and my daughter. She just worries.”

Maeven said nothing, but nodded in understanding, making eye contact with the Chief for about two seconds before turning back to her lap. Hopper could already see that his theory about her being misunderstood in her reports proved to be correct already.

“So, Margaret. Or do you go by ‘Maggie?’” he asked

“No one calls me that,” she said softly. “It’s Maeven.”

Hopper’s eyes darted back to her file just out of her sight.

“Oh, your middle name. Alright. Sorry,” he reassured. But, again, Maeven said nothing.

“Okay, then. Well, welcome to Hawkins, first of all. You like it?”

“Yeah. It’s okay,” she muttered, bouncing her right leg while swinging the left.

“It takes a little getting used to,” Jim mentioned, continuing his attempt to coax this girl out of her shell. He couldn’t help her if she didn’t talk to him.

“Mmm-hmm. . .” Maeven nodded.

The Chief exhaled loudly through his nose in contemplation, suddenly noticing that her eyes were darting back and forth between her fidgeting hands and her backpack. What did she have in there that was so important? According to her file, Maeven could be nervous about drugs in her bag. Her behavior was, after all, common for a druggie, but Hopper didn’t think that to be the case. Still, he treads lightly.

“I see you eyeing your bag, there. Do you need something?”

Maeven’s eyes darted back to him for longer, this time, her demeanor that of a cornered animal unsure how to react.

“Sorry. Do you mind if I draw?” she asked, shaking her head as if to bring her back to herself.

“Draw? Why?” he asked.

“It, uhm. . .it helps with my restlessness and keeps me focused,” Maeven fumbled to explain herself, almost defensive about her hobby. Hopper shrugged.

“If you promise to answer my questions, I got no problem,” he admitted. He really didn’t care, just a little confused.

She gave him a soft smile before immediately reaching for her bag and pulling out a black sketchbook and a small pouch of pencils, pens, and markers. Swiftly, she turned to a fresh page and pulled out a red colored pencil.

“. . .thank you,” she muttered before getting to work.

“So. . .I got a call from Captain Daly all the way out in San Diego, and he filled me in on your. . .recent situation,” Hopper explained, pausing every so often to observe Maeven’s movements as she sketched. The way her hands moved the pencil across the page was random, both erratic and calm with no clear order or pattern, but still had a sort of rhythm.

“Apparently, you had quite a reputation with your school and the law back over in California?”

At the mention of her past, Maeven’s drawing hand came to a dead stop, as if her mind was somewhere else and had to adjust to his words in her own way.

“He knows, Maeven. He knows how insane you are. One toe out of line and he’ll have you sent to an asylum. And you know what’ll happen then, right? You’ll never be seen again.”

“. . .yeah, I guess so,” Maeven admitted, trying her best to swallow her obvious fear of Daly before going back to her sketch. She had finished the basic outline of the lighthouse from a bottom perspective, continuing to draw a giant, graphic eyeball in place of the searchlight.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too proud about it,” Jim observed.

“I’m not. I never was,” she defended, moving on from the iris to the veins. “I’m the complete opposite, actually.”

She brought the leg she was once swinging up to sit on the chair, almost melting into it. He chuckled softly. Now she was starting to act like a kid her age should.

“Do me a favor and keep your boots off my chair, Maeven.”

He wouldn’t have said anything if he knew that the girl would suddenly switch moods and sit the way a mother would nag her child to.

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, sir,” she apologized.

Hopper mentally scolded himself. She was just started to get comfortable with him and he had to go and ruin it with his big mouth and closed-minded understanding of manners.

“Have you dealt with a lot of law enforcement before, kid?”

“I. . .I don’t have any intention of causing any trouble, Officer, I promise.”

It was clear to him now that Maeven didn’t have an ideal relationship with cops. No doubt due to Captain Daly and his officers. Some of the reports of arrests in her file indicated that she fought(as any other kid would do in her situation) and the officers weren’t exactly.

“It sounds like Captain Daly gave you some hard times. I’m not gonna blame an officer for doing his job, handling your investigation.”

“I know. I don’t either. I know I wasn’t the. . .easiest person to handle,” she confessed, now sketching slowly, moving on to add the details of the lighthouse.

Her attitude toward the situation was delightfully humble, but just as depressing. It was always tragic to see someone so young also filled with so much pain. Jim turned back to her file and skimmed over a couple more pages that mentioned how she gradually started getting into more and more fights throughout the second semester of her failed Junior Year.

“It says here that you’ve had some. . .bad luck with others. And that you’ve dealt with behavioral issues. But you’re on medication now and have been managing your impulses.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded, not looking up from her page.

“That’s not something to be proud of, Maeven. You shouldn’t have to rely on pills to keep from hurting yourself and fucking everything with a heartbeat.” the voice scolded in her ear.

“I don’t do that,” she argued against it, shaking her head free of those thoughts.

Hopper looked at her list of medications on her medical records, including the trials and tribulations of finding the right pills that worked for her. It couldn’t have felt too good to have to take that many pills so often.

“So. . .why don’t you tell me what happened, Maeven? Tell me about yourself,” he suggested as she relaxed her shoulders and continued to sketch. Jim didn’t want to pry. Even if it’d been a while since her incident and recovery process, she was still clearly fragile about it.

Maeven shrugged as she finished coloring the red roof of the lighthouse.

“What is there to know? You have my file. You know exactly what I am,” she pouted. It was strange to Jim that she could switch from being a mature young lady to a frustrated child so easily and quickly.

“No. I can’t really say I do,” he gently argued with her. After pausing to take a look at her sketch so far, Maeven shut her book, tapping and scratching her nails against the cover.

“Look, I know that I haven’t made a lot of good choices in the last few years. I know I’m pretty crazy, too. And I know that’s not an excuse and you have no reason to believe me, Sir, but I’m very sorry and I don’t wanna get in any kind of trouble again, and I-”

The longer she talked, the more discombobulated her movements became, and the more frantic and anxious Maeven appeared to Hopper. Her leg shakes as the tapping of her nails on her notebook turned more rapid. It became clearer to him that when Mr. Hargrove called in to say this girl was extremely fragile, he wasn’t kidding.

“Woah, okay. Just calm down, kid. Enough with the formalities,” Hopper held out his hands as he spoke as if trying to show an abused house pet that he meant no harm; the act made Maeven suddenly realized she needed to breathe in between sentences.

“Stop calling me ‘sir,’ Maeven. ‘Makes me feel like a Grandpa,” he laughed, holding out his hand as he awaited a shake. “It’s Hopper. Jim Hopper. My friends call me ‘Hop.’”

“Okay, uhmm. . .Thank you, si-I mean Hop,” she tripped over her words as she accepted his offer for a friendly handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Miss Mayfield.”

It had been a while since Maeven interacted with an adult this way; just a casual, friendly interaction between two fellow adults. The chief’s handshake was firm with respect and emanated a familiar warmth. It reminded her of her Dad.

“Don’t worry. I won’t make too big a deal about this. I won’t let your troubles follow you into Hawkins if that’s what you want. But that also depends on you and your choices from here on out, you understand?”

“I do, yes,” Maeven smiled, feeling a small sense of pride that she thought died on New Year’s.

“Thought so. You seem like a smart kid. Took a look at your grades from Newport. Said you almost broke some record at their school for scoring so high on the SATs.”

“Yeah. . .it’s not that big of a deal,” she laughed, humbling herself again as she looked down at her tapping nails on her sketchbook.

“It is in Hawkins, kid. Trust me,” Hopper playfully argued. He wasn’t exactly wrong, either. Even back when he went to High School, a lot of his graduating class was made up of jackasses that didn’t know their ass from their elbow. The more academic ones ended up leaving Hawkins for better opportunities. Joyce could’ve been one of those people, too. But she was happy where she was. That was the kind of future he knew Maeven could reach. She was too good for this place.

“Not a lot of our kids have that kind of potential. I’m sure you’re gonna be fine,” he finished.

Maeven wanted to accept his compliment, but the voice inside her wouldn’t let her.

“He’s lying to you. He’s just trying to be nice,” it taunted, disguising it as a warning, she was sure.

“So, we both know what your file says. But I wanna hear it firsthand. You wanna tell me about what happened to you?”

Again, Maeven could only speculate what was in that manilla folder. She remembered a meeting with Captain Daly and her mother where he slammed her case file on the table of the interrogation room. She couldn’t bare to look at it. It was painful enough watching Susan read it through the gasps and sobs. She was sure that reading it herself would tear her very soul apart more than it already had been.

“He already knows. Stop buying pointless time and just get it over with. It’ll be easier.”

Chief Hopper wasn’t Captain Daly, though. He wasn’t like any of the other police she dealt with in the past. The ones who blamed her for her fate and tried to turn her into the villain. The ones who didn’t hesitate to draw their weapons on her when they found her bleeding and begging for help in the forest.

No. Hopper was different. Maeven knew he couldn’t fully comprehend what she went through. She lived through what most people would find unimaginable. But Hopper at least had more empathy and a sense of emotional intelligence than any cop she’d crossed paths with.

“Uhm. . .I’d rather not, if that’s okay? Not yet, at least.” she asked, hoping her instincts were right, switching from tapping her sketchbook to scratching the back of her hands

Hopper frowned at the sight. Maeven’s nails were so sharp that her hands were red and threatening to break out in blood.

“I get it,” Hopper said to her. “It’s the first meeting. You’re a little on edge. I have you back here next Sunday, right?”

At the sound of his voice, Maeven ceased her scratching.

“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded, letting out a sigh of relief at his understanding. Hopper returned her nod before handing her a slip of paper he had just signed; a weekly attendance sheet that she would eventually show to her mom and Neil so they’d know she was ‘improving.’ She would probably get another one from the school counselor tomorrow.

“Just focus on getting yourself adjusted to Hawkins for the next seven days and then we can talk about your. . .situation,” Jim told her, once again treading lightly.

“I can do that,” Maeven agreed, tucking the piece of paper beneath the cover of her sketchbook.

“Alright, kid. You’re dismissed,” the chief said with a small wave of his hand. “Besides, I’m sure your mom’s probably anxious not having you around,” he joked, sure of himself that he wasn’t overexaggerating.

Maeven slipped her book and pencils back into her backpack before zipping it shut, scrambling out of her seat as she walked towards the door and pulled the knob. Before exiting, she took one last look at the Chief, still glancing at her file.

“Officer Hopper?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I. . .I really appreciate it,” she stuttered out.

“Anytime, Maeven,” Jim smiled back at her. As he watched her leave his office, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the little girl who awaited his return at his cabin in the woods. El and Maeven would get along well.

. . .

A/N: Sorry for the delay in this chapter coming out. I had to split it up so it wouldn't be too long. That doesn't necessarily mean that I don't like writing chapters at a longer length, but 20-25 pages is my comfort zone. I usually start by just outlining a chapter with all the dialogue I want to include and build the actions and descriptions around that.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! The next one shouldn't take as long as this one did as I already have all the dialogue written out for it. I'm writing both chapters five and six at once. Please be sure to leave some kudos and comments, as they are my lifeblood and are incredibly helpful whenever I need inspiration. I'm glad that people seem to be resonating with Maeven. She's definitely the hardest I've worked on when it comes to all the characters I've created over the years.

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puppy-steve · 7 months

Text

Between discovering the Russian bunker under Starcourt, discovering their plans to get into the Upside Down, being caught by said Russians and tortured, after making sure Dustin and Erica got out of there, Steve was confident that this was an isolated incident.

Hopper had assured them that El had closed the gate at Hawkins Lab, saw it with his own eyes. So maybe if they (he, Robin, Dustin, and Erica) dealt with this one on their own, it wouldn’t be so bad. There were no monsters this time, at least.

Steve had naive hope that the others wouldn’t have to get involved.

But as the four of them are chased through the mall by a big guy with a gun, Steve and Robin still coming down from a truth serum high, his hope turns into dread.

Because a show car is suddenly flung from the floor and into the group of Russians that have them cornered behind a counter in the food court, and there’s only one person he knows with the ability to do that.

They all slowly peer over the counter, and sure enough, El is standing at the forefront, her hand extended in front of her and her nose bleeding. The other kids plus Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie are with her. Steve’s stomach drops and the nauseating feeling from earlier is back, but it’s not from the drugs this time.

Eddie makes a beeline toward him and Robin while Dustin greets the others with enthusiasm, Erica a little starstruck over El.

“What the hell happened?” Eddie demands, eyes flitting frantically all over Steve’s face and taking in the worst of the damage. Steve knows he must look like shit– he can’t see that great out of his left eye and that whole side of his face has gone numb.

Billy bashing his face in last year has nothing on the pain he’s feeling now.

“It’s a long story,” Steve says as he leans heavily into Eddie’s space. Eddie’s hands land on his shoulders and he holds him gently, like he’s afraid of hurting him even more. “I’ll tell you after this is all over.”

“Steve–”

“Teddy.” Steve pulls back and looks him in the eye, as well as he can. He must have not puked everything out of his system like Robin thought because he still feels a little giddy when he reaches up and taps Eddie on the nose. “Later. I promise.”

There’s really no time to say anything else because Robin and Erica need to be brought up to speed about everything and he and Dustin need to be caught up on what’s happening now, and when they are, Steve desperately wishes that it was just the Russians they had to deal with.

Help comes in the form of Hopper, Ms. Byers, and a balding man that Steve’s never met. While they’re all squabbling and trying to come up with a half baked plan, Eddie finds a first aid kit in one of the kitchens and makes Steve sit on a counter so he can try to patch him up. They don’t speak, but Steve grips Eddie’s unoccupied hand while Eddie stands close between his legs.

There isn’t much time between then and everybody splitting off into groups. Scoops Troop plus Eddie all pile into the TODFTHR (“You sure you’re her daddy, sweetheart?” Eddie teases with a smirk and Steve’s glad the bruising hides his blush.)

Everything gets a little fuzzy after they leave the kids at Weathertop. When he’s asked later, he’ll say he remembers hearing that song from that one movie, but he’s not sure if it actually happened. He’s so hyped up on adrenaline, it’s probably the only thing keeping him conscious.

Steve doesn’t remember making the decision to t-bone Billy’s car, but he does remember the horrific scene inside the mall; the Mindflayer screeching and its tentacle-like appendages swinging this way and that. He remembers pelting it with explosives to distract it from attacking El. He looks down and his stomach lurches when he sees the monster go straight through Billy’s chest.

He hears Eddie let out a strangled curse beside him and Steve has to ignore the bile rising in his throat. He knows there’s been casualties; Barb in ‘83, Ms. Byers’ boyfriend last year, however many people the Mindflayer had killed this year.

This is the first death he’s ever seen in person.

He’s still reeling from it when Owens and the military swarm the building once the monster is finally defeated. They’re all pulled in separate directions for medical attention and questioning. Steve feels downright miserable, sitting in the back of an ambulance with Robin, a shock blanket over his shoulders. He squeezes her hand and gives her a small smile.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” he says.

Robin takes a shaky breath. “Yeah. I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of it. I think for once in my life, I’m speechless.”

Eddie finds them after he’s been looked over and Steve opens his arms to pull him in for a hug, wrapping both of them in the blanket. Eddie presses a kiss to his forehead and Steve sags against him. They take a moment to breathe each other in, basking in the fact that they’re both alive.

“They want to take us to the hospital,” Steve says. “They’re pretty sure I have a concussion but they want to run tests to make sure there isn’t any other damage.” He nods to Robin. “And they wanna keep us under 24 hour observation 'cause of the drugs.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes, eyes sliding shut.

Steve frowns and uses the corner of the blanket to brush against Eddie’s cheek comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes with a grimace. “This probably wasn’t how you were expecting to spend your birthday.”

Eddie turns his head and kisses his fingers. “No, baby,” he says. “Absolutely nothin’ for you to be sorry about. Had me and Wayne worried sick when you didn’t come home last night, though. I was close to callin’ Hopper when Lucas started screaming code red over the radio.”

Steve doesn’t want to think about how that probably worried them even more. “Your present’s in my car,” he says instead. “You can’t have it until I’m discharged, though. I wanna see your face when you open it.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “That just makes me even more curious, sweetheart.”

He pinches Steve’s side playfully, but gently. Steve stifles a giggle and leans into him more, very aware of how Robin’s watching them like a hawk.

“No peeking,” Steve warns, pointing a finger in Eddie’s face. “It’s a surprise.”

Eddie only nips at his finger. Steve doesn’t even blink. Sighing, Eddie releases his finger and marks a cross over his heart. “I promise I won’t do any snooping.”

Steve pats his cheek. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a shit liar, Munson?”

They break into giggles, their heads bent forward, and Eddie would’ve leaned in for a kiss if it weren’t for Robin clearing her throat rather loudly. Steve curls into Eddie’s front, Eddie’s arm going around his shoulders. God, he’d give anything to be at home and asleep in their bed.

“I’m still very confused about this whole thing,” Robin says, waving a hand in their direction. “I just fought a monster from a whole other dimension, but this is probably the biggest shocker of my life.”

“Strange things follow this group around like a shadow,” Eddie says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. And for him, it is. “You better get used to it, Buckley, 'cause you’re one of us now.”

written and originally posted for @flowercrowngods birthday 🤍 dio is an absolute treasure and a great friend to have and is my #1 gseb stan. happy belated birthday!!! 💙

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee?

#cj talks #gseb #steddie #steddie ficlet #dio 🤍#steddie fic #cj writes

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 1 year

Text

The Only One

Steve Harrington x Reader.

Summary; I was watching Stranger Things earlier and the part where Nancy is in the trance that Vecna has her under and all I can think about is writing a similar story with the reader (like it's you it happens to instead of Nancy) and Steve freaking out.

You've been sleeping together for a while, it's just casual to him at least but you're falling for him but don't want to tell him, especially with all the shit going on in The Upside Down and Hawkins and with Steve and Nancy kinda connecting again.

Steve realises when he thinks he's going to lose you that he loves you and not Nancy and he confesses he loves you just as Vecna's hold on you breaks.

Warnings; Angst with a happy ending. 18+ minors dni

I don't give anyone permission to copy, reuse or repost my work.

❤️

The relationship between you and Steve had started a few months ago, both of you growing closer since July 4th last year.

The first night you slept together was a combination of Steve bemoaning a string of bad dates he had went on with a girl called Demi and you wanting to forget all the nightmares surrounding July 4th for a little while.

Then it snowballed to meeting up regularly, sneaking around during your shifts together at Family Video.

Honestly, the sex was mind blowing and the more you lost yourself in Steve, talking to each other until the early morning, getting to know him the more you fell for him.

Yet you kept quiet even as the new threat plaguing Hawkins was in full force.

It was no time to confess feelings, not now.

The new threat, Vecna. It drew Nancy and Steve together again, the unresolved tension hung in the air and you could only watch your stomach sinking as Steve gazed at Nancy.

He still loved her. He would never love you and it broke your heart.

Nancy dove right after Steve as fast as you did when he was pulled under water by the vines and into The Upside Down.

You saw the looks as she tended to his wounds after the demo bat attack, the way he reached for her when earthquakes rocked the Upside Down.

Every interaction tore your heart in two and yet you couldn't say a thing because no one knew about you and Steve.

Let's face it even if they did it's not like you could compare to Nancy. She was the first girl Steve loved, she was special.

You were just an outlet to him. Even if sometimes you thought that his feelings for you were deepening it was most likely wishful thinking on your part.

It didn't matter though, not now. Not when you had a possible brewing apocalypse to help stop.

So you pushed your broken heart aside.

❤️

You didn't know what happened. One minute you were climbing the rope made of bedsheets that Dustin had fashioned to help aid your way out of The Upside Down.

The next minute everything changed and you were falling through the air into nothingness, hearing the faint echoes of Steve calling your name fading away.

When you finally landed after what feels like hours, you're at the mall standing up shakily as fireworks burst around you.

Anna your friend who died last year near the mall, flayed just like all the other poor souls who had lost their life is currently walking towards you with a soft smile on her features.

Memories from last summer flood through you, how she died.

She was heading to the mall to pick you up from your shift at the small boutique clothing store but unbeknownst to her you were with the Scoop Troop at the time when you were meant to be finishing your shift and meeting her.

On the way there she had met Billy and it was too late for her, she had joined the flayed.

Guilt filled you up inside because you hadn't told her what had been going on with Billy, no matter if she thought it crazy or unbelievable if she knew what was really going on in Hawkins then she wouldn't have been out in the first place.

You were with Dustin, Erica, Robin and Steve at the time, pulled into the Scoop Troops mission to decode a translation that Dustin had heard on the radio.

You were friends with Robin and she reached out for your help in decoding the saying as both of you learnt many languages.

Everything after that was a blur, investigating that delivery company, being trapped in the lift that plunged down to the depths of Starcourt mall, being captured by Russians, Steve taking a beating for you and Robin...

Helping Dustin's friend El from Billy and that horrifying monster from trying to kill her, it was terrifying, your heart hammering in your chest as you were introduced to the horrors of living in Hawkins.

Another dimension of sorts right under your feet.

Anna walks over to you and your frozen on the spot. When Anna was confirmed to be part of the many people that died as the part of the Flayed, you were inconsolable.

The guilt plagued you, survivors guilt the counsellor had told you when you spoke about Anna to her briefly.

"Why didn't you mention what was happening? You knew what was going on in Hawkins with Billy, that monster and yet and not once did you mention anything to me?"

The words eat away at you and tears roll down your cheeks because you could have said something, found Anna and warned her once you escaped from the Russians but you didn't.

Between being drugged by the Russians, to escaping them and then all the shit that followed everything was focused on the absolute nightmare you and the rest of the Scoop Troop found yourself in.

But what if you had managed to find Anna somehow? It was irrational as there was no time but your mind constantly clung to the what ifs?

"There was no time, I'm so sorry, I wish I could have found some way to save you. Every day I think of what I could have done...I"

The smile from her face slips and anger flashes across her features.

"Lies! You could have but you didn't! You'd rather run around with Steve Harrington!

I bet you're so happy right now that his attention is all on you, sleeping with him to dull the fact that you're a bad friend, the guilt eating away at you"

Sobs escape your lips and you shake your head desperate for her to understand but she grips your arms tight, shaking you.

The smile is back but it's eerie, it makes your stomach bottom out.

"No matter, you'll die soon too, you all will" the voice that speaks isn't Anna this time. No, this voice sends chills down your spine and Anna morphs into a thing of nightmares.

The evil that killed Chrissy, Jordan and Freddie. Who had cursed Max.

Vecna.

✨

❤️

You're someplace new now, surrounded by the bodies of people, children, teens and adults blooded and dead on the floor.

Fear pulses through you as you run through the halls. There's a sinking feeling inside you that this is where El was kept and experimented on, the others like her.

Sadness aches deep in your bones. What happened here?

Growls fill the air and fear roots you to the spot as Vecna approaches and calls your name.

No matter where you run it's no use because he will find you, even as you try desperately to move the boards blocking off the door you know it's no use.

Still, every instinct in you compels you to fight, to escape.

Vines snake their way up your jeans and tighten around your skin before you can stop it.

They wrap around your legs and your arms to keep you in place.

Vecna walks slowly towards you, and your heart pounds in your chest.

"It's time for me to show you who I am. What is coming. You can't escape it. Victory will be mine" his fingers latch onto your face and visions flash through your mind.

Vecna was Henry , Victor Creels, son, he was the cause of the physiological torture of his family, of his mother and sisters deaths.

Brenner found Henry at the hospital when the power overwhelmed him, fabricating that Henry died in a coma when in reality he became Brenners first test subject.

001

Then there's flashes of things, all of it leading up to a fight of powers between El and 001 after he murdered all the others like El, the doctors and scientists.

El refusing to join him to rid the world of mankind.

Then she sees how he became Vecna, how he first ended up in The Upside Down, his hatred for humans, thirst for revenge palpable.

Then the vision changes.

Death, screaming, blood everywhere. The bodies of your parents, of Robin and Steve lay dead as monsters ravage Hawkins.

This is Vecna's endgame. To open the gates between Hawkins and The Upside Down for good. To unleash hell.

Steves voice is calling to you. You hear it barely at first but it grows stronger.

I love you.

It must be a trick, a torture method of Vecna's because you know that isn't true. Steve doesn't love you.

At that moment the thrall you are under breaks and you are back in The Upside Down with Steve gasping for breath and shaking from what you have seen.

❤️

At the very second you were under Vecna's curse in The Upside Down, Steve had gestured for you to go next to climb the rope and get out of the hell scape you were in but when you don't respond he turns to you in confusion.

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, your body twitching and it feels like there is ice in his veins as realises that Vecna has invaded your mind.

The curse. Pure fear shoots through him and he swears his heart almost stops and he rushes to you, shaking you and shouting your name.

Confused voices echo from above as he sees Dustin, Nancy and Eddie peer down at you and him in worry.

"Get tapes, anything you can! Now!" he yells at them as he begs you to snap out of the trance.

"Please, please sweetheart"

Were you going to die? The thought of your body broken, limbs bent in unnatural angles, just gone... almost breaks him.

The thought of not seeing you smile, hearing you giggle at his lame jokes or curling up beside him, head rested on his chest terrifies him.

"Baby, please. Can you hear me?" he begs but it's like talking to a brick wall. You don't respond just stay under the trance and Steve just for a few seconds feels numb with agony.

Quickly he snaps out of it. No, he will reach you and you'll be fine he tells himself even when it feels like he can't breathe and dread and panic clouds his mind.

He can hear the faint sounds from up in Eddie's trailer and he shouts for the others to hurry.

There has to be something in the Munson trailer to use, some tape that Munson has that possibly includes your favourite song.

As he thinks of this he knows it's a long shot because your musical tastes and Eddie's were worlds apart.

You sang along to Blondie or Madonna, danced around your room to Duran Duran and The Beatles, tapes of Journey, AC/DC, would Munson have something of them?

He knows your favourite song though, it comes to him as he remembers you singing it in his car when he picked you and Robin up one day.

Crazy for you- Madonna. Frantically he shouts to the others to find the tape with Crazy for You on it, even though he knows deep down Munson won't have anything like it.

Time is running out and he's desperate, begs you to wake.

"I can't lose you, sweetheart. Come back to me please come back to me"

It's then he realized something that he's known deep down for a while and yet never fully accepted until now.

Nancy and him could never work, not again. They were too different, yeah they needed to clear the air between them, many things were left unresolved but there was no going back.

He didn't want Nancy back because he had moved on. Over the last few months, he had slowly fallen in love with you.

It was you who he wanted to be with. It was you who he loved.

"I love you, sweetheart, come back to me. I love you" he calls to you.

He startles as you come out of your trance and he catches you before you drop to the ground.

Relief floods through him and he cradles you to his chest. Did you hear his confession? What had happened when you were under Vecna's spell?

"Steve" you choke out as tears run down your cheek and he wipes them away tenderly.

"I'm here honey, I'm here"

❤️

Somehow Steve had managed to get you and him out of the Upside Down and when you woke up to Nancy and Max kneeling next to you the vision Vecna showed you comes to the forefront.

"What happened?" Nancy asks kindly and you recall everything that occurred, leaving nothing out.

Everything Vecna showed you. Including the vision that would haunt your dreams.

"All I could see was death everywhere, cracks along Hawkins splitting the town in half, monsters and darkness and my parents were dead... Robin and... Steve" he is at you at once and his hand entwines with yours.

"It was what would happen if Vecna won, if Max died and the gates opened. Hell would follow, death. We can't let that happen" you say and your voice goes stronger, fiercer.

It was time to save Hawkins, save Max and avenge Chrissy, Jordan and Freddies death.

❤️

A few days had passed since Vecna's defeat, The Upside Down being gone for good.

Eddie was recovering in hospital, Hopper miraculously back from the dead had taken on the role of sheriff and cleared Eddie of any involvement in Chrissy, Jordan and Freddie's deaths.

Max was recovering in hospital as well, she almost didn't make it when she was under Vecna's curse but somehow, by some miracle El's powers had come back and even in California she helped Max.

All of you banded together to weaken Vecna but El delivered the killing blow that destroyed the mind flyer and The Upside for good.

Now she was back along with Hopper, Joyce, Murray, Jonathan and Will.

Also, their friend Argyle who you liked immediately, the guy knew how to chill out.

There's a light tapping on your window and you peer up and giggle at what you see.

Steve was perched outside your window, flowers in hand and you smile as you open the window and let him inside.

"You could just use the front door you know" he shrugs, looking nervous.

"Where's the fun in that? He jokes and sits down, I spoke to Nancy, was long overdue. Cleared up some things"

Was he here to tell you he was back together with Nancy? You want so desperately to tell him you love him but what would be the point?

It would just add to his confusion, make him feel guilty he didn't return your feelings and you didn't want that.

His expression is tender and he stares down at you.

"Are you and Nancy together again?" you blurt out and he softens and shakes his head.

"No honey we aren't" This wasn't what you expected to hear.

"I don't understand. You still love her?" he settles beside you on the bed.

"We talked a lot. Both of us realised we would never work. I don't love Nancy, she's the past sweetheart. We both agreed that"

He hands you the flowers and something akin to hope blooms in your chest.

"I didn't see any of this coming you know? Getting to know you better, us being together. I didn't expect to fall in love with you but I did"

He loved you. What you heard wasn't a trick. He truly loved you.

"When I thought I was going to lose you I told you, I don't know if you even heard me" he murmurs and you take his hands on yours feeling giddy.

"I heard. Shit, I thought it was some torture trick from Vecna and all along it really was you?" his lips press to your forehead.

"I'm sorry it took so long for me to realise sweetheart, sorry you thought I still loved Nancy when it's you I want, only you sweetheart"

Gently you touch his cheek, wincing as you gaze at the scar around his throat, the scar made by the Demobats tail.

"Does it still hurt?" you ask worriedly and he nods as you press a tender kiss near it.

"Sometimes, not now though" his arms wrap around you and he pulls you onto his knee.

"I love you, Steve, so much. I've been wanting to tell you for so long" he smiles as his head rests on top of yours.

"How about a date tomorrow? A chance to spoil my girl, dinner and a movie?" you agree to this and the joy in the air is palpable, you would discuss paying half for the date tomorrow even if Steve would argue against it.

For now, you just let the glow of happiness fill you.

"It's a date"

❤️

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff

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