Summary: Hopper is forced to reckon with the idea that his relationship with his eldest daughter is past the point of repair.
series masterlist // main masterlist
a/n: an epilogue is to follow :)
full transparency, this part was a bitch for me to write bc i was really indecisive on which direction to go- literally wrote and rewrote multiple versions and multiple endings.
finished writing this one months ago but i wanted time to sit with it (lowk regret doing that haha). for this reason, it does not follow season 5 at ALL, so keep that in mind. even though i’m still on the fence about it, i feel confident enough to share it now <3
April 5th, 1986
A run down helicopter piloted by Russian men she had only recently met was not what Joyce would ordinarily consider an ideal flight experience; after escaping death by the skin of her teeth, it may as well have been first class.
Hopper, on the other hand, remained unfazed, even when told they would be back in Indiana within the next couple days. Joyce nudged his side with her elbow, breaking through his stoic gaze.
“Hey, cheer up. We’re going home."
It was all they talked about for the last week. It was all he thought about for the last 8 months. If there was ever a person to show enthusiasm about leaving Russia, Joyce thought for sure it would be him.
“Yeah,” Hopper huffed, his attention turning back to the helicopter interior. It wasn't that he was not happy about making it out of Russia alive. It was that he was far too paralysed by fear to revel in the fact that he was no longer prisoner. Joyce had an inkling as to why.
“Is it Y/n?”
His eyes fell to the floor, suddenly sheepish at the mention of his eldest daughter. How would she look at him when he makes it home? The more he humoured the lingering question, the more his anxiety grew.
“I’ve been so focused on getting out and finding my way back home, I don’t-“ He fumbled to find the words, a parasite of a habit, one he thought he had finally overcome. He ran a hand over his mouth and shook his head. “What the hell am I gonna say to her?”
Joyce hesitated to respond, unsure if his question was rhetorical or not. She thought of the expression Y/n had when they spoke on her front porch in California. The resemblance between her and Hopper was suddenly apparent to Joyce in a way she had not seen before.
“All you can do is show up and do your best.”
“What if my best isn’t enough?”
Joyce had never heard his voice tremble in such a way. Much to both of their dismay, she sighed defeatedly.
“You just keep showing up.”
Hopper knew Joyce was right, but he couldn't shake the temptation to scoff with dissatisfaction. Losing Y/n because he was imprisoned in Russia was hell, but it was something Hopper came to terms with. Losing her, because of nothing else but his own doing, was not something he could accept.
***
April 17th, 1986
El and Will came home to a disgruntled Hopper washing dishes alone in the kitchen, a telltale sign that something was wrong. Joyce had called it an early night, though not necessarily because she wanted to. From what she was able to make out from her side of the walls, she was better off getting some rest than attempting to diffuse an on-edge Jim Hopper. El was oblivious to the remnant tension.
"Where’s Y/n?"
Hopper kept his back to her. One glance at his expression and El would easily figure out what had happened. He swallowed thickly and tried to conceal how coarse his voice had become.
"She left."
"She told me she would stay." El's response came quick and accusatory. Y/n had told her about coming over for dinner and assured her that she would be home for at least a few nights. Something had clearly happened to make her want to leave and, given Hopper's guilty demeanour, El was certain she knew who the culprit was.
"What happened? What did you say to her?"
Hopper dropped the dish in his hand abruptly, causing a loud clank to sound through the room, startling a nervous Will who stood with his back to the wall, too anxious to get involved or ask El to leave it alone. Finally, the older man turned around and threw his hands up in frustration.
"El, I can’t get into this again."
She hated the way she felt. It was as if they had reverted back to their old dynamics, where tension would grow between Y/n and Hopper but she would never be able to do anything about it.
"Did you fight with her?"
Hopper's head dropped, too ashamed to admit what El had already deduced. The young girl huffed, her chest rising and falling with every breath. All he had to do was have a nice dinner with Y/n and not say anything to make her leave, but it seemed no matter how much she believed things would be different, they never would.
"Why?" El cried, "why do you always do this?"
It was not fair. All El thought about, for the better half of the past year, was being back in the cabin with her dad and sister. Now, despite the three of them being back in Hawkins, it seemed something was always keeping them apart.
Hopper flinched as El slammed her bedroom door shut. It was a sound he hated feeling all too familiar with.
***
April 24th, 1986
Y/n planned it strategically. She knew what time her dad, El and the Byers woke up and knew the right time to go home and leave again without being detected. She was not only avoiding her dad, but also any kind of awkward exchange with one of the Byers. She also knew if El knew she was home, Y/n might not have the heart to leave.
Hopper couldn't sleep. Anytime he came close to sleeping, thoughts of his daughters flooded his mind and jolted him awake. As a result, he was often up before sunrise. He would often still wait until the first signs of sunlight peeked through his bedroom curtains, before getting up carefully, so as to not wake Joyce, and sit outside on the front porch with his first coffee of the morning.
This morning, he knew something was odd. It wasn't until he saw light peeking in from Y/n's bedroom and Steve's BMW parked outside that he pieced together what it was. She was home. Joyce had tried to assure him that she would come back in time, but that never stopped him from fearing that she wouldn't.
Not wanting to scare her away or say something he would quickly regret, Hopper opted to sit on the porch with his coffee as per usual. Though he knew it was a risky move, Hopper couldn’t help but get his hopes up about Y/n being home. Maybe she was ready to talk to him again. Maybe she wasn’t, but was getting there. Maybe it would take her a while, but if she was willing to give him another chance, Hopper was certain not to let it be in vain.
Before he could ponder further, the front door bursted opened and Y/n came outside. Instinctively, Hopper rose to his feet and looked to his daughter with a hopeful gleam, only to be dimmed by the realisation that she was carrying a duffle bag on her shoulders— one filled to the brim with most of her important belongings.
Y/n’s face went blank and her stomach dropped completely. It was not lost on her the change in her dad’s expression and while she still had a white-knuckle grip on her grudges against him, it was hard not to feel some semblance of guilt for coming and leaving without intending to say a word.
“Bug, we have to talk at some point.” His voice was quiet and pleading, two things they rarely ever were. Y/n sighed.
“I really don’t wanna talk.” Her voice was tired and frustrated. Talking seemed pointless. It was always likely to end the same as it always did, and Y/n was doubtful either of them had anything to say the other hadn’t already heard.
Hoppers lips parted and he tried to grasp the right words and muster some semblance of an apology, but Y/n stopped him before he could finish saying ‘sorry’.
“We’re way past apologies,” she spoke bluntly. It was empty words to her, especially when it came from him.
Hopper was at a loss. He couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of frustration. What was the use in trying to say the right thing if she was unwilling to give him the time of day? How long could they keep this up? How long before not speaking to each other becomes permanent?
“I don’t know what you want me to say, bug,” he sighed defeatedly. Y/n resented his response; how easily he was willing to give up and leave it to her to spoon feed the right words to him.
“You wanna know what to say?” Her tone was piercing, and her glare was just as so. “Tell me what was so different between me and El that made you clean up your act for her, but not for me.”
There was more to the issue than that, but that truly was the twisting of the blade. All he had to do was deny it, or apologise for it. If he had done that, Y/n might have been willing to hear him out, but Hopper grasped for another response.
“It was different.”
Y/n’s chest felt tight. From her hardened expression, Hopper could tell he had yet again chosen the wrong words. It was seemingly vague, but heavily loaded. Different, Y/n repeated to herself. That was how her father viewed her and El. Differently.
“…Different how?” Her voice was coarse. Hopper was unsure if it was anger or sadness brewing beneath her tone, but he feared each just as much as the other.
He couldn’t answer her question. Not because he didn’t know the answer, but because it was something he was too ashamed to say aloud. Y/n didn’t need to heard anything more. It was pointless, she told herself. Talking to him was pointless. She should have left without giving him a chance to say anything to her.
She turned on her heels swiftly and attempted to leave, but Hoppers hand reached for her elbow, keeping her from doing so. Y/n didn’t need to explain why the duffle bag was so full or where she was going or how long she would be gone. Hopper knew, and feared, that once she reached Steve’s car, it would be a while before she ever stood foot on their porch again. He wanted to tell her so much, but none of the words were able to form except for one.
"Bug," he choked. It was a cry, a plead, but one Y/n remained unmoved by. With a steely expression, she shook her arm out of his grasp and cleared the lump in her throat.
“Don’t ever call me that again.”
Hopper was frozen. He heard her footsteps grow quieter and the sound of Steve's BMW leaving the driveway, but he could not bring himself to watch her leave for, what could very well be, the last time.
***
April 27th, 1986
Y/n never meant to but, over time, she grew to avoid everyone who stayed at the cabin, El included. The wound was still fresh to her and running into El or one of the Byers meant the risk of having to talk about it. When Miss Kelley had talked to her about setting boundaries, Y/n never anticipated doing so with anyone aside from her father.
El hated it. Hopper never told her anything and neither did Joyce. It was not until she went into her sister's room and noticed half her things missing that she realised how different this time was. Usually, when Hopper and Y/n would fight and she would leave, it would only be a matter of days before she was back home. Now, over a week had passed and there was no telling how much longer it would be before El had her sister back.
She waited for a few days to pass, knowing soon enough Mike and the others would want to go to Steve's house. That would be her opportunity to get some answers. Y/n was bringing groceries into the kitchen, where El sat waiting.
"Hey," the older girl said softly, placing her bags down on the counter before carefully approaching her younger sister.
"Are you not gonna come home anymore?"
Y/n winced. She should have known El would have questions. She knew it was not fair to keep her in the dark, but it was not an easy thing for her to talk about.
"El its complicated," she sighed.
"You always say that," the younger girl complained.
That was all she ever got when she asked questions. It may have been a sufficient answer for her when she was twelve, but El felt she had outgrown the little kid treatment. Y/n let out a huff.
"Because it is!"
El frowned and looked away. It was a childish reaction, but one she couldn't help and one Y/n sympathised with.
"i’m gonna come home, I promise," she murmured, sitting beside El at the kitchen table. The young girl reluctantly met her gaze. She was still upset, but willing to meet her halfway at the sound of her promise, something Y/n very rarely broke. "I just need a little time."
"How much time?"
"El."
Her shoulders rose and the sunk, along with her head. Perhaps it was not the right move to pester her older sister when she was clearly going through a lot.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled sheepishly. Y/n shuffled closer and placed her hand atop her sister's, wordlessly assuring her it was alright. El inhaled shakily, "I just miss you. and I don’t want to lose you, all because of this-"
"That’s never gonna happen," Y/n soothed, "I promise."
It was no specific timeframe, or any particular explanation about what happened, but it was assurance that El would have her sister back home again and, with her, their ice cream nights and secret conversations. Whil still annoyed at the situation, El supposed she could comply until that day finally came around.
***
May 2nd, 1986
Steve and Y/n had been going back and forth for almost twenty minutes about what movie to watch. The kids were, thankfully, all busy with plans for the night and Y/n had her weekend free while the shelter was being relocated. With shops slowly reopening and homes slowly being rebuilt, it felt nice to see everyone in town begin to return to normalcy.
Just as Steve was about defend his case for his pick for movie night, her heard a knock at the door. After a brief moment, he reappeared in the living room and called out to his girlfriend, who was sneakily putting her pick for movie night into the VHS player while she had the chance.
"It’s Joyce."
She couldn't make out from Steve's demeanour if it was good news or not, only that it was an awkward exchange for him. Y/n nodded and carefully made her way to the door where the older woman stood, nervously fumbling her fingers.
"Can we talk?"
Though suspicious of where their conversation would lead, Y/n nodded and stepped outside.
"Y/n. I'm really sorry."
The young girl furrowed her brows, perplexed. What could she be apologising for? Was it for everything that happened between her and dad? Had she somehow convinced herself that she carried any of the blame for how things turned out? Y/n shook her head.
"Joyce, you don't have to say that. Honestly, this really is just between me and Hopper."
"I know," the older woman spoke, her nervous demeanour still apparent. "I’m not trying to overstep, but I just… I feel like I owe you an apology."
"What are you talking about?"
Joyce pursed her lips together, recounting the amount of time she spent, over the past weeks, thinking over Y/n's complaints. She knew she was not meant to hear it, but she couldn't change the fact that she did.
"I realised neither of us really asked you how you were and what you went through."
It was new to Y/n, hearing Joyce refer to her and Hopper as 'us'.
"I was never expecting you to do that." Y/n did not meant to sound so snide, but it was the first thought that came to her. While it would have been nice if Joyce had better considered her feelings, Y/n never held it against her because, ultimately, Joyce was not her parent. Hopper was.
"Still," Joyce continued, "I wish I had done more to slow things down and I wish I had talked to you before going along with all the changes, because it's your home... I’m sorry I didn’t."
Y/n smiled weakly. She was grateful to Joyce, but felt a persistent bitterness that undermined it. She wanted an apology, but she wanted it from her dad. She tried to cast her reservations aside and just appreciate that her feelings were being validated, even if it was not by the person she wanted.
"Thank you for saying that, Joyce."
The older woman smiled, but something still seemed to be bothering her.
"You know, me and the boys living at the cabin, it’s all just temporary right?" It was something that had been weighing on her for a while. "Once things settle and I’m back on my feet-"
Y/n's brows knitted together in a mix of confusion and worry.
"Is that just because of me?"
"Its because that was always the plan," Joyce assured her, "- and because Jonathan and Will are driving each other crazy sharing a space."
While she was grateful to the Hoppers for giving her and her joys a place to stay, she wanted her own place— one her and her boys could call their home. The cabin was and would always be Hopper and his girls; Joyce had no intention of changing that, which Y/n appreciated greatly, even if she had no intention on going back there anytime soon just yet.
***
May 14th, 1986
At first, Steve thought it was a coincidence. It was a small town, he told himself. Hawkins was a small town; they were bound to encounter Hopper at some point. However, as he continued to pay closer attention to detail, he could no longer shrug off the feeling that it was no coincidence at all.
He had made spaghetti for dinner, partially to celebrate Y/n’s first week at a new job, but also to make the most of their time together before his parents would eventually come back into town for a few weeks.
Steve was washing up their dishes when he glanced out the kitchen window and caught a glimpse of an all too familiar truck. Though alarmed, he tried to maintain nonchalance until Y/n retired upstairs and he was certain she was out of earshot. She mumbled something about wanting to shower before bed so, once he heard her footsteps reach the top of the stairs, Steve dried his hands off and carefully snuck outside.
The older man seemed half asleep, his eyes heavy as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, as if struggling to stay alert. He had not noticed the younger man approaching him, that is, until Steve tapped his finger twice against the window.
“Hopper?”
The man sat up straight, fully awake. He sheepishly wheeled his window down, his mouth trembling as he struggled to come up with a response that did not paint him to be an obsessed stalker.
“Look, I can explain-“
“It’s ok,” Steve interjected, his voice low and calm, not wanting to draw any attention to them, “I… I get it.”
He didn’t. Not completely, at least. He just knew that Hopper was harmless, and that things between him and Y/n had never escalated to this point before: almost an entire month of no contact.
“It’s just that,” Hopper released a sigh, one he had been seemingly holding in for a while. It was dark outside, causing Steve to doubt his eyes, but he could have sworn he cought a glimpse of tears beginning to well in the former police chief’s sunken eyes. The older man drew in a sharp breath, “she’s not speaking to me, and she hasn’t been home in so long, and I just get worried.”
That, Steve could understand. Although it had been over a month since everything with Vecna came to a peak, he was still not fully convinced they were out of the woods. Even something as simple as saying goodbye to Y/n, when she would leave for work in the morning, made him anxious. It was as though he was constantly anticipating something dangerous happening, putting Y/n in harms way again.
“She’s ok,” Steve assured him.
As anxious as he still was about Y/n’s wellbeing, there was no denying how much improvement she had made. Reminding himself of this was what grounded Steve whenever his worries got carried away.
“She is?”
“Yeah, she’s been seeing Miss Kelley and nurse Jackson got her a job helping out at the hospital.”
Hopper nodded, appreciative of how much Steve was sharing, even if it was just small details. It was far better than knowing nothing at all and getting carried away with his worries and assumptions. She was getting help and getting back on her feet. An unwelcoming feeling began to settle in Hopper’s chest. If she was doing so well, what chance was there that she would ever go back?
“Does she say anything about me? Or about coming home?” Hopper knew it was indulgent of him to ask, but the words slipped away from him before remembered to hold his tongue. Steve shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t know if she’d want me to-“
“You’re right.”
Hopper huffed, disappointed. He wanted to know more. He wanted answers. He wanted to hear Y/n’s voice. He wanted her back home. But, he knew he had no right to any of it, and that Steve was already sticking his neck out for him by talking to him at all and not immediately telling Y/n. He knew he would have to accept that as enough for now, but Hopper struggled to do so. Steve could tell and, against his better judgment, sympathised.
"I just think she needs a little more time,” he assured the older man, “… and space.”
Hopper nodded, bashful. If he really wanted Y/n to come around and hear him out, keeping tabs on her was not going to help his case.
“Yeah. I’ll go, I won’t make a habit of this anymore,” Hopper promised, putting his key into the ignition, his eyes never leaving the Harrington kid, “- thank you.”
Steve backed away from the truck and cautiously made his way back inside the house. He could hear the sound of Hopper’s truck grow quieter as he drove away, until the streets were once again silence. A moment passed and he heard Y/n’s footsteps once again as she walked about his bedroom. He finished washing the dishes and felt riddled with guilt and worry, unsure if he had done the right thing.
***
May 27th, 1986
Y/n missed her room. She missed her knick knacks and her bed, but she mostly missed having a space that was her own. At one point, the thought crossed her mind that her dad and Joyce might rearrange her room and it would become Will and Jonathan’s bedroom. The thought was, however, quickly cast away following Y/n’s conversation with Joyce and El’s constant reassurance that she checked the room every other night to make sure it was exsctly how her sister had left it.
Steve’s parents had been back in town for almost a week. Despite being under the same roof, Y/n hardly spoke to them. She left for work long before either of them were awake and by the time she was back, they had already had their own dinner and called it a night. For a while, things were ok, but she soon pieced together that they were uncomfortable with her living there. Though Steve would never let it show or openly admit it to Y/n, she knew this left him in a difficult position.
When she packed her things and asked him to take her home, she had to spend most of the drive assuring him she was not at all upset to keep him from spiralling from guilt. It was not right for her to make Mr and Mrs Harrington uncomfortable in their own home, regardless of how she felt about them as absent parents. Besides, it was only a matter of time before they left town again, so Y/n was certain she could stick it out until then. Enough time and distance had passed, she decided. And, much more than that, she really missed her room.
After an overexcited reception from El and Joyce, Y/n threw her bags down on her bedroom floor and sunk onto her bed. She missed her pillow felt against her cheek and the gentle draft coming in from her window. Steve’s house was lovely, but it never truly felt like home for her. It was not long before she felt herself drift to sleep. Y/n could faintly make out El’s voice mumbling something about going to the store with Joyce and wanting to make something special for dinner, but she did not stay awake long enough to give it anymore thought.
Y/n woke up to quiet. She forgot, at first, that she was home. Then, when she opened her eyes and came face to face with the myriad of photos that adorned her wall, she knew there was only one place she could be. She yawned as she sat upright and stretched her arms out. Y/n couldn’t remeber the last time she slept so well in that bed, in her room or in that house altogether.
The wooden floors were cold against her feet as she walked out of her bedroom. She came to a stop when she realised Hopper was the only other person home. Not only that, it appeared he had been waiting for her to wake up and come out. He sat at the kitchen table, today’s paper clutched in his hands. The moment their eyes met, he rose to his feet, the newspaper slipping out of his hands and landing softly on the empty table.
“Hi,” Hopper eked out, his voice low and gruff.
Y/n swallowed thickly, her voice suddenly fading fast on her.
“Hi.”
Hopper held his breath as his daughter, slowly and seemingly reluctantly, made her way to him, taking the chair on the side of the table. When he came home late that morning, he tried to contain his joy when Joyce told him Y/n was fast asleep in her room.
She watched his lips twitch as he seemingly struggled over what to say. It was one thing thinking of what to say in the hour he spent sitting at the table, waiting for Y/n to come out; It was another thing, entirely, getting out with her sitting opposite him.
“I’m really happy you’re here.”
Y/n blinked, unfazed by his words and unwilling to respond to them. While she had experienced a lot of change in the month she spent away, she simply could not father her father had done the same, let alone enough to where she could trust that his words were sincere. She shifted awkwardly in her chair, her eyes falling to the wooden table beneath her arms, unable to look at her father for too long at one time. She remained silent.
Miss Kelley would not approve, Y/n knew. The counselor would undoubtedly shake her head and gently remind Y/n the importance of open communication and encourage her to engage in the conversation or walk away until she was ready to.
Y/n knew she could easily stand up and walk away, but something kept her from doing so. Perhaps it was time. Perhaps she was ready to engage. Perhaps she could not ignore how miserable her father looked, and wondered, and sheepishly hoped, if it was because of her absence.
“It’s not true,” Hopper whispered, throwing caution to the wind and just getting everything that was weighing him down out and off his chest, “- I didn’t decide to clean up my act for El.”
All Hopper had done for the past month was recount every part of his conversation with Y/n, to the point where he could recall her every word as if she spoke them just yesterday. She, on the other hand, had spent the past month trying desperately to avoid dwelling on it. Y/n talked it over a handful of times with Miss Kelley then, eventually, moved on to other conversations they had had over the years.
“What are you talking about?”
Y/n furrowed her brows, puzzled by Hopper’s demeanour and startled at his decision to confront things head on and so immediately. He was usually the one to avoid dredging up the past.
“You asked me why I did it for her and not you,” Hopper clarified, a lump forming in his throat as he remembered it, “- but that wasn’t true at all. Sure, El was a big part of the reason I got clean, but so were you.”
He cleared his throat, catching himself beginning to get choked up. He did not want to get emotional in front of Y/n, for fear that it would come off as a cop out. He had much to say to her and wanted, for once, for his words to be his saving grace.
Hopper waited a beat, wondering if Y/n had anything to say or if she was still willing to hear him out altogether. The young woman shrugged, not yet convinced Hopper meant anything he was saying. He was not discouraged because even in her disinterest, she was still sitting with him at the kitchen table.
“You remember when I first brought her home?” Hopper asked, “- and the fight we had?”
Y/n could not figure what he was trying to do or where he was going with things. She didn’t nod or say that she did remember, but Hopper needed no indication to know she remembered.
“When you told me I couldn’t look after myself, I hated that that was what you saw in me,” Hopper admitted honestly, remembering how miserable he felt sitting at the kitchen table alone after Y/n slammed her bedroom door shut that night. “I hated that that was what I’d become, and I wanted to change it. I wanted you to think better of me.”
That was his turning point. That was what motivated him to clean out the cabin that week and set up a proper bedroom for El. He hoped Y/n would see his efforts and think more of him than a walking liability in her life.
“That doesn’t change anything,” she muttered, crossing her arms and drawing her lips together to form a tight line. It was a nice thought, albeit. It still was not enough for her.
“I know,” Hopper nodded. He anticipated as much. “And I know there’s nothing I can ever do to make up for everything… but I need you to know that.”
He knew he was terrible at showing it to her, but she was always one of the most important parts of his life. While he was still avoiding having to confront the chance of never being given another chance to mend things, he knew coping with it would come easier if he was sure Y/n knew that she meant more to him than she thought.
“You’re my firstborn, Y/n,” Hopper’s voice broke. He ran his hand over his stubble, wiping away the few tears that broke loose. “You were my first girl, my first kid. No one in a million years could ever come close to replacing you.”
He still remembered the night he and his wife brought Y/n home from the hospital after she was born; how anxious he felt driving the car, fearful of going too fast or too slow or of something coming out of nowhere and hurting her. It was then that he truly felt the weight of fatherhood begin to sink in. It was then that he realised a love unlike anything he had experienced before, far stronger than he could have anticipated. Nothing was ever the same thereafter, and it was because of her.
Y/n cleared her throat, but felt the lump continue to persist. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, embarassed at how quickly they filled with tears. Shaking her head, she looked back to her dad and, for the first time, felt unfamiliar with the man staring back at her.
“It didn’t feel like that when El came into our lives,” she whispered, her even tone neither bitter nor angry.
“I know,” her dad responded, nodding solemnly. Hindsight was no longer a thorn at his side but rather a gift, through which Hopper gained a better understanding of his daughter. “It was wrong of me to do that, believe me, I see that now.”
He saw so much more than he had before. After a week and a half passed since Y/n last spoke to him, Hopper found himself sorting through the boxes of photographs and mementos that sat untouched in Y/n’s room and in odd corners around the cabin. In doing so, he was forced to face the past decade: how much he could not recognise, how much he tried hard to avoid and how much he had forgotten altogether.
It was difficult to reckon with the fact that Y/n saw him through it all, including the years that brought him great shame to recall.
“I was in a completely different place when we lost your mom and Sara,” Hopper began. Saying her name aloud still felt like picking at an old wound, but if he was going to do things right he knew he had to face everything. He looked at the ceiling momentarily, gathering his thoughts, “- and I guess I just… El was a new start. And it was easier for me to try and get it right the third time around than own up to everything I’d done wrong to you.”
He was not proud of it. Even admitting it aloud to Y/n filled him with great shame, but there was no way around it. He had tried to take the easy way out and thought, if things went well enough with El, all his past mistakes would fade into obscurity and there would be no need for him to confront his reality at the time: that he was so consumed by grief and guilt, he became a shell of a man who, in every way, fell short of being the father Y/n deserved.
“Everything you said to me that night at Starcourt… it wasn’t unreasonable,” he continued. “Took me a while to come to grips with it, but I did, and I hated it.”
Y/n sniffled, wiping her tear-stained cheeks with her trembling hands. It was one thing imagining what her dad would say when he finally took responsibility for his actions, it was another thing entirely having it play out before her eyes. Hopper swiped his thumb against the apple of his cheek. Neither of them could bear to look the other in the eye. For a moment, the only sound that filled the room was that of the two of them trying to contain their cries.
“I still… I still remember the drive to the lab after,” Hopper continued tearfully, “I kept thinking ahout what you said, and it just… it just hit me all at once.”
Y/n glanced at him briefly, curious.
“I realised I had been so far gone for so long, I completely missed it. I missed raising you. It felt like yesterday you were stepping on my toes and dancing to the Bee Gees with me, but it wasn’t and nothing I was ever gonna be able to do to was gonna get me that time back, and there was no telling if I’d ever get more. And I had no one but myself to blame.”
Hopper dropped his head, a quiet sob escaping. He tried to recover his composure quickly. He drew in a few short breaths until it was steady again.
“I should have said all of this to you second we get back, but I was just… a coward.”
Y/n knitted her brows together. That wasn’t necessarily fair, she thought to himself. The circumstances that led them to reuniting were not exsctly ideal. She wondered if, similar to her, he too felt a weird pressure to move forward, as though bringing up the past would taint the miracle that was their reunion. Cowardly was not the word she would have used, but she did not mind that that was the word he opted for.
“I’m so sorry, b-“ Hopper stopped himself, remembering the last thing Y/n said to him the last time they spoke, “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”
After a beat, she nodded her head, assuming that was all he had to say. Before she could begin to process it all, much less any kind of response, Hopper shifted in his chair and leaned forward. Y/n paused.
“Forgive me or don’t. Hate me or don’t,” he spoke softly, though Y/n could see how much it pained him entertain the thought, “it’s up to you. But listen, if you’re tired of this, I think I have enough left in the tank for the both of us— No… I know I do.”
Y/n blinked, unsure what he was insinuating and fearful of getting hopeful too soon.
“What are you talking about?
“However much room you decide to let me have in your life,” Hopper began, “I’m making the most of every inch of it; of every second you let me spend in it.”
It was not fair of him to feel entitled to any amount of time or involvement in Y/n’s future, not after everything he had done. However, Hopper was determined not to let that discourage him. He was going to show up for her as best as he could every chance he could get, even if she refused to give him the time of day ever again.
Y/n frowned.
“Why now?”
Why not sooner? Why not when she needed him the most? What was going to be different this time?
“The last 8 months,” Hopper began.
That was the short answer. The long answer was complex and difficult for him to articulate but, for the sake of showing he was making an honest effort, Hopper tried to do so.
“I didn’t know if I was ever gonna get to see you again. I didn’t know if I was ever gonna get a chance to even try and make things right between us,” Hopper’s tears ran free. He paid no mind to his trembling voice. His eyes were on his child, his focus was nowhere else. “Now that I’m here, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life trying. Even if your mind is already made up. Even if nothing comes of it. Even if the world ends tomorrow. Even… Even if it all seems pointless, because it isn’t. Not to me.”
Hopper huffed, winded from speaking so rapidly. His eyes never left Y/n. He did not want to pressure her, but also could not keep himself from watching her closely in anticipation. He planned to brace himself for possible rejection but, in the heat of the moment, could think only of her and what must have been racing through her mind.
She shrugged once again, just as she did earlier. Her demeanour was as though the tense and tearful portion of their conversation never ocurred.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see then,” Y/n muttered, before rising from her seat and heading towards the bathroom to splash cold water on her tearful face. Joyce and El would be home soon and she did not want her puffy eyes to raise concern.
Her face was unreadable, as was her tone, unwilling to give Hopper any indication of where her head was at. She needed more time to herself to figure that out for herself.
A ghost of a smile passed through Hopper’s expression. It was not a joyful reconciliation, but it was also not a complete cut-off. Y/n’s bags were still in her bedroom and she was still home. As far as he was concerned, that was the best reaction he could have hoped for.
Wait and see, he repeated to himself. He could work with that just fine, he decided. The weight of fatherhood settled within him once again, only this time like an anchor keeping him grounded right where he wanted to be.
***
i do not give permission for any of my work to be copied, translated or reposted onto another site
Summary: Hopper is forced to reckon with the idea that his relationship with his eldest daughter is past the point of repair.
series masterlist // main masterlist
a/n: an epilogue is to follow :)
full transparency, this part was a bitch for me to write bc i was really indecisive on which direction to go- literally wrote and rewrote multiple versions and multiple endings.
finished writing this one months ago but i wanted time to sit with it (lowk regret doing that haha). for this reason, it does not follow season 5 at ALL, so keep that in mind. even though i’m still on the fence about it, i feel confident enough to share it now <3
April 5th, 1986
A run down helicopter piloted by Russian men she had only recently met was not what Joyce would ordinarily consider an ideal flight experience; after escaping death by the skin of her teeth, it may as well have been first class.
Hopper, on the other hand, remained unfazed, even when told they would be back in Indiana within the next couple days. Joyce nudged his side with her elbow, breaking through his stoic gaze.
“Hey, cheer up. We’re going home."
It was all they talked about for the last week. It was all he thought about for the last 8 months. If there was ever a person to show enthusiasm about leaving Russia, Joyce thought for sure it would be him.
“Yeah,” Hopper huffed, his attention turning back to the helicopter interior. It wasn't that he was not happy about making it out of Russia alive. It was that he was far too paralysed by fear to revel in the fact that he was no longer prisoner. Joyce had an inkling as to why.
“Is it Y/n?”
His eyes fell to the floor, suddenly sheepish at the mention of his eldest daughter. How would she look at him when he makes it home? The more he humoured the lingering question, the more his anxiety grew.
“I’ve been so focused on getting out and finding my way back home, I don’t-“ He fumbled to find the words, a parasite of a habit, one he thought he had finally overcome. He ran a hand over his mouth and shook his head. “What the hell am I gonna say to her?”
Joyce hesitated to respond, unsure if his question was rhetorical or not. She thought of the expression Y/n had when they spoke on her front porch in California. The resemblance between her and Hopper was suddenly apparent to Joyce in a way she had not seen before.
“All you can do is show up and do your best.”
“What if my best isn’t enough?”
Joyce had never heard his voice tremble in such a way. Much to both of their dismay, she sighed defeatedly.
“You just keep showing up.”
Hopper knew Joyce was right, but he couldn't shake the temptation to scoff with dissatisfaction. Losing Y/n because he was imprisoned in Russia was hell, but it was something Hopper came to terms with. Losing her, because of nothing else but his own doing, was not something he could accept.
***
April 17th, 1986
El and Will came home to a disgruntled Hopper washing dishes alone in the kitchen, a telltale sign that something was wrong. Joyce had called it an early night, though not necessarily because she wanted to. From what she was able to make out from her side of the walls, she was better off getting some rest than attempting to diffuse an on-edge Jim Hopper. El was oblivious to the remnant tension.
"Where’s Y/n?"
Hopper kept his back to her. One glance at his expression and El would easily figure out what had happened. He swallowed thickly and tried to conceal how coarse his voice had become.
"She left."
"She told me she would stay." El's response came quick and accusatory. Y/n had told her about coming over for dinner and assured her that she would be home for at least a few nights. Something had clearly happened to make her want to leave and, given Hopper's guilty demeanour, El was certain she knew who the culprit was.
"What happened? What did you say to her?"
Hopper dropped the dish in his hand abruptly, causing a loud clank to sound through the room, startling a nervous Will who stood with his back to the wall, too anxious to get involved or ask El to leave it alone. Finally, the older man turned around and threw his hands up in frustration.
"El, I can’t get into this again."
She hated the way she felt. It was as if they had reverted back to their old dynamics, where tension would grow between Y/n and Hopper but she would never be able to do anything about it.
"Did you fight with her?"
Hopper's head dropped, too ashamed to admit what El had already deduced. The young girl huffed, her chest rising and falling with every breath. All he had to do was have a nice dinner with Y/n and not say anything to make her leave, but it seemed no matter how much she believed things would be different, they never would.
"Why?" El cried, "why do you always do this?"
It was not fair. All El thought about, for the better half of the past year, was being back in the cabin with her dad and sister. Now, despite the three of them being back in Hawkins, it seemed something was always keeping them apart.
Hopper flinched as El slammed her bedroom door shut. It was a sound he hated feeling all too familiar with.
***
April 24th, 1986
Y/n planned it strategically. She knew what time her dad, El and the Byers woke up and knew the right time to go home and leave again without being detected. She was not only avoiding her dad, but also any kind of awkward exchange with one of the Byers. She also knew if El knew she was home, Y/n might not have the heart to leave.
Hopper couldn't sleep. Anytime he came close to sleeping, thoughts of his daughters flooded his mind and jolted him awake. As a result, he was often up before sunrise. He would often still wait until the first signs of sunlight peeked through his bedroom curtains, before getting up carefully, so as to not wake Joyce, and sit outside on the front porch with his first coffee of the morning.
This morning, he knew something was odd. It wasn't until he saw light peeking in from Y/n's bedroom and Steve's BMW parked outside that he pieced together what it was. She was home. Joyce had tried to assure him that she would come back in time, but that never stopped him from fearing that she wouldn't.
Not wanting to scare her away or say something he would quickly regret, Hopper opted to sit on the porch with his coffee as per usual. Though he knew it was a risky move, Hopper couldn’t help but get his hopes up about Y/n being home. Maybe she was ready to talk to him again. Maybe she wasn’t, but was getting there. Maybe it would take her a while, but if she was willing to give him another chance, Hopper was certain not to let it be in vain.
Before he could ponder further, the front door bursted opened and Y/n came outside. Instinctively, Hopper rose to his feet and looked to his daughter with a hopeful gleam, only to be dimmed by the realisation that she was carrying a duffle bag on her shoulders— one filled to the brim with most of her important belongings.
Y/n’s face went blank and her stomach dropped completely. It was not lost on her the change in her dad’s expression and while she still had a white-knuckle grip on her grudges against him, it was hard not to feel some semblance of guilt for coming and leaving without intending to say a word.
“Bug, we have to talk at some point.” His voice was quiet and pleading, two things they rarely ever were. Y/n sighed.
“I really don’t wanna talk.” Her voice was tired and frustrated. Talking seemed pointless. It was always likely to end the same as it always did, and Y/n was doubtful either of them had anything to say the other hadn’t already heard.
Hoppers lips parted and he tried to grasp the right words and muster some semblance of an apology, but Y/n stopped him before he could finish saying ‘sorry’.
“We’re way past apologies,” she spoke bluntly. It was empty words to her, especially when it came from him.
Hopper was at a loss. He couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of frustration. What was the use in trying to say the right thing if she was unwilling to give him the time of day? How long could they keep this up? How long before not speaking to each other becomes permanent?
“I don’t know what you want me to say, bug,” he sighed defeatedly. Y/n resented his response; how easily he was willing to give up and leave it to her to spoon feed the right words to him.
“You wanna know what to say?” Her tone was piercing, and her glare was just as so. “Tell me what was so different between me and El that made you clean up your act for her, but not for me.”
There was more to the issue than that, but that truly was the twisting of the blade. All he had to do was deny it, or apologise for it. If he had done that, Y/n might have been willing to hear him out, but Hopper grasped for another response.
“It was different.”
Y/n’s chest felt tight. From her hardened expression, Hopper could tell he had yet again chosen the wrong words. It was seemingly vague, but heavily loaded. Different, Y/n repeated to herself. That was how her father viewed her and El. Differently.
“…Different how?” Her voice was coarse. Hopper was unsure if it was anger or sadness brewing beneath her tone, but he feared each just as much as the other.
He couldn’t answer her question. Not because he didn’t know the answer, but because it was something he was too ashamed to say aloud. Y/n didn’t need to heard anything more. It was pointless, she told herself. Talking to him was pointless. She should have left without giving him a chance to say anything to her.
She turned on her heels swiftly and attempted to leave, but Hoppers hand reached for her elbow, keeping her from doing so. Y/n didn’t need to explain why the duffle bag was so full or where she was going or how long she would be gone. Hopper knew, and feared, that once she reached Steve’s car, it would be a while before she ever stood foot on their porch again. He wanted to tell her so much, but none of the words were able to form except for one.
"Bug," he choked. It was a cry, a plead, but one Y/n remained unmoved by. With a steely expression, she shook her arm out of his grasp and cleared the lump in her throat.
“Don’t ever call me that again.”
Hopper was frozen. He heard her footsteps grow quieter and the sound of Steve's BMW leaving the driveway, but he could not bring himself to watch her leave for, what could very well be, the last time.
***
April 27th, 1986
Y/n never meant to but, over time, she grew to avoid everyone who stayed at the cabin, El included. The wound was still fresh to her and running into El or one of the Byers meant the risk of having to talk about it. When Miss Kelley had talked to her about setting boundaries, Y/n never anticipated doing so with anyone aside from her father.
El hated it. Hopper never told her anything and neither did Joyce. It was not until she went into her sister's room and noticed half her things missing that she realised how different this time was. Usually, when Hopper and Y/n would fight and she would leave, it would only be a matter of days before she was back home. Now, over a week had passed and there was no telling how much longer it would be before El had her sister back.
She waited for a few days to pass, knowing soon enough Mike and the others would want to go to Steve's house. That would be her opportunity to get some answers. Y/n was bringing groceries into the kitchen, where El sat waiting.
"Hey," the older girl said softly, placing her bags down on the counter before carefully approaching her younger sister.
"Are you not gonna come home anymore?"
Y/n winced. She should have known El would have questions. She knew it was not fair to keep her in the dark, but it was not an easy thing for her to talk about.
"El its complicated," she sighed.
"You always say that," the younger girl complained.
That was all she ever got when she asked questions. It may have been a sufficient answer for her when she was twelve, but El felt she had outgrown the little kid treatment. Y/n let out a huff.
"Because it is!"
El frowned and looked away. It was a childish reaction, but one she couldn't help and one Y/n sympathised with.
"i’m gonna come home, I promise," she murmured, sitting beside El at the kitchen table. The young girl reluctantly met her gaze. She was still upset, but willing to meet her halfway at the sound of her promise, something Y/n very rarely broke. "I just need a little time."
"How much time?"
"El."
Her shoulders rose and the sunk, along with her head. Perhaps it was not the right move to pester her older sister when she was clearly going through a lot.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled sheepishly. Y/n shuffled closer and placed her hand atop her sister's, wordlessly assuring her it was alright. El inhaled shakily, "I just miss you. and I don’t want to lose you, all because of this-"
"That’s never gonna happen," Y/n soothed, "I promise."
It was no specific timeframe, or any particular explanation about what happened, but it was assurance that El would have her sister back home again and, with her, their ice cream nights and secret conversations. Whil still annoyed at the situation, El supposed she could comply until that day finally came around.
***
May 2nd, 1986
Steve and Y/n had been going back and forth for almost twenty minutes about what movie to watch. The kids were, thankfully, all busy with plans for the night and Y/n had her weekend free while the shelter was being relocated. With shops slowly reopening and homes slowly being rebuilt, it felt nice to see everyone in town begin to return to normalcy.
Just as Steve was about defend his case for his pick for movie night, her heard a knock at the door. After a brief moment, he reappeared in the living room and called out to his girlfriend, who was sneakily putting her pick for movie night into the VHS player while she had the chance.
"It’s Joyce."
She couldn't make out from Steve's demeanour if it was good news or not, only that it was an awkward exchange for him. Y/n nodded and carefully made her way to the door where the older woman stood, nervously fumbling her fingers.
"Can we talk?"
Though suspicious of where their conversation would lead, Y/n nodded and stepped outside.
"Y/n. I'm really sorry."
The young girl furrowed her brows, perplexed. What could she be apologising for? Was it for everything that happened between her and dad? Had she somehow convinced herself that she carried any of the blame for how things turned out? Y/n shook her head.
"Joyce, you don't have to say that. Honestly, this really is just between me and Hopper."
"I know," the older woman spoke, her nervous demeanour still apparent. "I’m not trying to overstep, but I just… I feel like I owe you an apology."
"What are you talking about?"
Joyce pursed her lips together, recounting the amount of time she spent, over the past weeks, thinking over Y/n's complaints. She knew she was not meant to hear it, but she couldn't change the fact that she did.
"I realised neither of us really asked you how you were and what you went through."
It was new to Y/n, hearing Joyce refer to her and Hopper as 'us'.
"I was never expecting you to do that." Y/n did not meant to sound so snide, but it was the first thought that came to her. While it would have been nice if Joyce had better considered her feelings, Y/n never held it against her because, ultimately, Joyce was not her parent. Hopper was.
"Still," Joyce continued, "I wish I had done more to slow things down and I wish I had talked to you before going along with all the changes, because it's your home... I’m sorry I didn’t."
Y/n smiled weakly. She was grateful to Joyce, but felt a persistent bitterness that undermined it. She wanted an apology, but she wanted it from her dad. She tried to cast her reservations aside and just appreciate that her feelings were being validated, even if it was not by the person she wanted.
"Thank you for saying that, Joyce."
The older woman smiled, but something still seemed to be bothering her.
"You know, me and the boys living at the cabin, it’s all just temporary right?" It was something that had been weighing on her for a while. "Once things settle and I’m back on my feet-"
Y/n's brows knitted together in a mix of confusion and worry.
"Is that just because of me?"
"Its because that was always the plan," Joyce assured her, "- and because Jonathan and Will are driving each other crazy sharing a space."
While she was grateful to the Hoppers for giving her and her joys a place to stay, she wanted her own place— one her and her boys could call their home. The cabin was and would always be Hopper and his girls; Joyce had no intention of changing that, which Y/n appreciated greatly, even if she had no intention on going back there anytime soon just yet.
***
May 14th, 1986
At first, Steve thought it was a coincidence. It was a small town, he told himself. Hawkins was a small town; they were bound to encounter Hopper at some point. However, as he continued to pay closer attention to detail, he could no longer shrug off the feeling that it was no coincidence at all.
He had made spaghetti for dinner, partially to celebrate Y/n’s first week at a new job, but also to make the most of their time together before his parents would eventually come back into town for a few weeks.
Steve was washing up their dishes when he glanced out the kitchen window and caught a glimpse of an all too familiar truck. Though alarmed, he tried to maintain nonchalance until Y/n retired upstairs and he was certain she was out of earshot. She mumbled something about wanting to shower before bed so, once he heard her footsteps reach the top of the stairs, Steve dried his hands off and carefully snuck outside.
The older man seemed half asleep, his eyes heavy as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, as if struggling to stay alert. He had not noticed the younger man approaching him, that is, until Steve tapped his finger twice against the window.
“Hopper?”
The man sat up straight, fully awake. He sheepishly wheeled his window down, his mouth trembling as he struggled to come up with a response that did not paint him to be an obsessed stalker.
“Look, I can explain-“
“It’s ok,” Steve interjected, his voice low and calm, not wanting to draw any attention to them, “I… I get it.”
He didn’t. Not completely, at least. He just knew that Hopper was harmless, and that things between him and Y/n had never escalated to this point before: almost an entire month of no contact.
“It’s just that,” Hopper released a sigh, one he had been seemingly holding in for a while. It was dark outside, causing Steve to doubt his eyes, but he could have sworn he cought a glimpse of tears beginning to well in the former police chief’s sunken eyes. The older man drew in a sharp breath, “she’s not speaking to me, and she hasn’t been home in so long, and I just get worried.”
That, Steve could understand. Although it had been over a month since everything with Vecna came to a peak, he was still not fully convinced they were out of the woods. Even something as simple as saying goodbye to Y/n, when she would leave for work in the morning, made him anxious. It was as though he was constantly anticipating something dangerous happening, putting Y/n in harms way again.
“She’s ok,” Steve assured him.
As anxious as he still was about Y/n’s wellbeing, there was no denying how much improvement she had made. Reminding himself of this was what grounded Steve whenever his worries got carried away.
“She is?”
“Yeah, she’s been seeing Miss Kelley and nurse Jackson got her a job helping out at the hospital.”
Hopper nodded, appreciative of how much Steve was sharing, even if it was just small details. It was far better than knowing nothing at all and getting carried away with his worries and assumptions. She was getting help and getting back on her feet. An unwelcoming feeling began to settle in Hopper’s chest. If she was doing so well, what chance was there that she would ever go back?
“Does she say anything about me? Or about coming home?” Hopper knew it was indulgent of him to ask, but the words slipped away from him before remembered to hold his tongue. Steve shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t know if she’d want me to-“
“You’re right.”
Hopper huffed, disappointed. He wanted to know more. He wanted answers. He wanted to hear Y/n’s voice. He wanted her back home. But, he knew he had no right to any of it, and that Steve was already sticking his neck out for him by talking to him at all and not immediately telling Y/n. He knew he would have to accept that as enough for now, but Hopper struggled to do so. Steve could tell and, against his better judgment, sympathised.
"I just think she needs a little more time,” he assured the older man, “… and space.”
Hopper nodded, bashful. If he really wanted Y/n to come around and hear him out, keeping tabs on her was not going to help his case.
“Yeah. I’ll go, I won’t make a habit of this anymore,” Hopper promised, putting his key into the ignition, his eyes never leaving the Harrington kid, “- thank you.”
Steve backed away from the truck and cautiously made his way back inside the house. He could hear the sound of Hopper’s truck grow quieter as he drove away, until the streets were once again silence. A moment passed and he heard Y/n’s footsteps once again as she walked about his bedroom. He finished washing the dishes and felt riddled with guilt and worry, unsure if he had done the right thing.
***
May 27th, 1986
Y/n missed her room. She missed her knick knacks and her bed, but she mostly missed having a space that was her own. At one point, the thought crossed her mind that her dad and Joyce might rearrange her room and it would become Will and Jonathan’s bedroom. The thought was, however, quickly cast away following Y/n’s conversation with Joyce and El’s constant reassurance that she checked the room every other night to make sure it was exsctly how her sister had left it.
Steve’s parents had been back in town for almost a week. Despite being under the same roof, Y/n hardly spoke to them. She left for work long before either of them were awake and by the time she was back, they had already had their own dinner and called it a night. For a while, things were ok, but she soon pieced together that they were uncomfortable with her living there. Though Steve would never let it show or openly admit it to Y/n, she knew this left him in a difficult position.
When she packed her things and asked him to take her home, she had to spend most of the drive assuring him she was not at all upset to keep him from spiralling from guilt. It was not right for her to make Mr and Mrs Harrington uncomfortable in their own home, regardless of how she felt about them as absent parents. Besides, it was only a matter of time before they left town again, so Y/n was certain she could stick it out until then. Enough time and distance had passed, she decided. And, much more than that, she really missed her room.
After an overexcited reception from El and Joyce, Y/n threw her bags down on her bedroom floor and sunk onto her bed. She missed her pillow felt against her cheek and the gentle draft coming in from her window. Steve’s house was lovely, but it never truly felt like home for her. It was not long before she felt herself drift to sleep. Y/n could faintly make out El’s voice mumbling something about going to the store with Joyce and wanting to make something special for dinner, but she did not stay awake long enough to give it anymore thought.
Y/n woke up to quiet. She forgot, at first, that she was home. Then, when she opened her eyes and came face to face with the myriad of photos that adorned her wall, she knew there was only one place she could be. She yawned as she sat upright and stretched her arms out. Y/n couldn’t remeber the last time she slept so well in that bed, in her room or in that house altogether.
The wooden floors were cold against her feet as she walked out of her bedroom. She came to a stop when she realised Hopper was the only other person home. Not only that, it appeared he had been waiting for her to wake up and come out. He sat at the kitchen table, today’s paper clutched in his hands. The moment their eyes met, he rose to his feet, the newspaper slipping out of his hands and landing softly on the empty table.
“Hi,” Hopper eked out, his voice low and gruff.
Y/n swallowed thickly, her voice suddenly fading fast on her.
“Hi.”
Hopper held his breath as his daughter, slowly and seemingly reluctantly, made her way to him, taking the chair on the side of the table. When he came home late that morning, he tried to contain his joy when Joyce told him Y/n was fast asleep in her room.
She watched his lips twitch as he seemingly struggled over what to say. It was one thing thinking of what to say in the hour he spent sitting at the table, waiting for Y/n to come out; It was another thing, entirely, getting out with her sitting opposite him.
“I’m really happy you’re here.”
Y/n blinked, unfazed by his words and unwilling to respond to them. While she had experienced a lot of change in the month she spent away, she simply could not father her father had done the same, let alone enough to where she could trust that his words were sincere. She shifted awkwardly in her chair, her eyes falling to the wooden table beneath her arms, unable to look at her father for too long at one time. She remained silent.
Miss Kelley would not approve, Y/n knew. The counselor would undoubtedly shake her head and gently remind Y/n the importance of open communication and encourage her to engage in the conversation or walk away until she was ready to.
Y/n knew she could easily stand up and walk away, but something kept her from doing so. Perhaps it was time. Perhaps she was ready to engage. Perhaps she could not ignore how miserable her father looked, and wondered, and sheepishly hoped, if it was because of her absence.
“It’s not true,” Hopper whispered, throwing caution to the wind and just getting everything that was weighing him down out and off his chest, “- I didn’t decide to clean up my act for El.”
All Hopper had done for the past month was recount every part of his conversation with Y/n, to the point where he could recall her every word as if she spoke them just yesterday. She, on the other hand, had spent the past month trying desperately to avoid dwelling on it. Y/n talked it over a handful of times with Miss Kelley then, eventually, moved on to other conversations they had had over the years.
“What are you talking about?”
Y/n furrowed her brows, puzzled by Hopper’s demeanour and startled at his decision to confront things head on and so immediately. He was usually the one to avoid dredging up the past.
“You asked me why I did it for her and not you,” Hopper clarified, a lump forming in his throat as he remembered it, “- but that wasn’t true at all. Sure, El was a big part of the reason I got clean, but so were you.”
He cleared his throat, catching himself beginning to get choked up. He did not want to get emotional in front of Y/n, for fear that it would come off as a cop out. He had much to say to her and wanted, for once, for his words to be his saving grace.
Hopper waited a beat, wondering if Y/n had anything to say or if she was still willing to hear him out altogether. The young woman shrugged, not yet convinced Hopper meant anything he was saying. He was not discouraged because even in her disinterest, she was still sitting with him at the kitchen table.
“You remember when I first brought her home?” Hopper asked, “- and the fight we had?”
Y/n could not figure what he was trying to do or where he was going with things. She didn’t nod or say that she did remember, but Hopper needed no indication to know she remembered.
“When you told me I couldn’t look after myself, I hated that that was what you saw in me,” Hopper admitted honestly, remembering how miserable he felt sitting at the kitchen table alone after Y/n slammed her bedroom door shut that night. “I hated that that was what I’d become, and I wanted to change it. I wanted you to think better of me.”
That was his turning point. That was what motivated him to clean out the cabin that week and set up a proper bedroom for El. He hoped Y/n would see his efforts and think more of him than a walking liability in her life.
“That doesn’t change anything,” she muttered, crossing her arms and drawing her lips together to form a tight line. It was a nice thought, albeit. It still was not enough for her.
“I know,” Hopper nodded. He anticipated as much. “And I know there’s nothing I can ever do to make up for everything… but I need you to know that.”
He knew he was terrible at showing it to her, but she was always one of the most important parts of his life. While he was still avoiding having to confront the chance of never being given another chance to mend things, he knew coping with it would come easier if he was sure Y/n knew that she meant more to him than she thought.
“You’re my firstborn, Y/n,” Hopper’s voice broke. He ran his hand over his stubble, wiping away the few tears that broke loose. “You were my first girl, my first kid. No one in a million years could ever come close to replacing you.”
He still remembered the night he and his wife brought Y/n home from the hospital after she was born; how anxious he felt driving the car, fearful of going too fast or too slow or of something coming out of nowhere and hurting her. It was then that he truly felt the weight of fatherhood begin to sink in. It was then that he realised a love unlike anything he had experienced before, far stronger than he could have anticipated. Nothing was ever the same thereafter, and it was because of her.
Y/n cleared her throat, but felt the lump continue to persist. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, embarassed at how quickly they filled with tears. Shaking her head, she looked back to her dad and, for the first time, felt unfamiliar with the man staring back at her.
“It didn’t feel like that when El came into our lives,” she whispered, her even tone neither bitter nor angry.
“I know,” her dad responded, nodding solemnly. Hindsight was no longer a thorn at his side but rather a gift, through which Hopper gained a better understanding of his daughter. “It was wrong of me to do that, believe me, I see that now.”
He saw so much more than he had before. After a week and a half passed since Y/n last spoke to him, Hopper found himself sorting through the boxes of photographs and mementos that sat untouched in Y/n’s room and in odd corners around the cabin. In doing so, he was forced to face the past decade: how much he could not recognise, how much he tried hard to avoid and how much he had forgotten altogether.
It was difficult to reckon with the fact that Y/n saw him through it all, including the years that brought him great shame to recall.
“I was in a completely different place when we lost your mom and Sara,” Hopper began. Saying her name aloud still felt like picking at an old wound, but if he was going to do things right he knew he had to face everything. He looked at the ceiling momentarily, gathering his thoughts, “- and I guess I just… El was a new start. And it was easier for me to try and get it right the third time around than own up to everything I’d done wrong to you.”
He was not proud of it. Even admitting it aloud to Y/n filled him with great shame, but there was no way around it. He had tried to take the easy way out and thought, if things went well enough with El, all his past mistakes would fade into obscurity and there would be no need for him to confront his reality at the time: that he was so consumed by grief and guilt, he became a shell of a man who, in every way, fell short of being the father Y/n deserved.
“Everything you said to me that night at Starcourt… it wasn’t unreasonable,” he continued. “Took me a while to come to grips with it, but I did, and I hated it.”
Y/n sniffled, wiping her tear-stained cheeks with her trembling hands. It was one thing imagining what her dad would say when he finally took responsibility for his actions, it was another thing entirely having it play out before her eyes. Hopper swiped his thumb against the apple of his cheek. Neither of them could bear to look the other in the eye. For a moment, the only sound that filled the room was that of the two of them trying to contain their cries.
“I still… I still remember the drive to the lab after,” Hopper continued tearfully, “I kept thinking ahout what you said, and it just… it just hit me all at once.”
Y/n glanced at him briefly, curious.
“I realised I had been so far gone for so long, I completely missed it. I missed raising you. It felt like yesterday you were stepping on my toes and dancing to the Bee Gees with me, but it wasn’t and nothing I was ever gonna be able to do to was gonna get me that time back, and there was no telling if I’d ever get more. And I had no one but myself to blame.”
Hopper dropped his head, a quiet sob escaping. He tried to recover his composure quickly. He drew in a few short breaths until it was steady again.
“I should have said all of this to you second we get back, but I was just… a coward.”
Y/n knitted her brows together. That wasn’t necessarily fair, she thought to himself. The circumstances that led them to reuniting were not exsctly ideal. She wondered if, similar to her, he too felt a weird pressure to move forward, as though bringing up the past would taint the miracle that was their reunion. Cowardly was not the word she would have used, but she did not mind that that was the word he opted for.
“I’m so sorry, b-“ Hopper stopped himself, remembering the last thing Y/n said to him the last time they spoke, “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”
After a beat, she nodded her head, assuming that was all he had to say. Before she could begin to process it all, much less any kind of response, Hopper shifted in his chair and leaned forward. Y/n paused.
“Forgive me or don’t. Hate me or don’t,” he spoke softly, though Y/n could see how much it pained him entertain the thought, “it’s up to you. But listen, if you’re tired of this, I think I have enough left in the tank for the both of us— No… I know I do.”
Y/n blinked, unsure what he was insinuating and fearful of getting hopeful too soon.
“What are you talking about?
“However much room you decide to let me have in your life,” Hopper began, “I’m making the most of every inch of it; of every second you let me spend in it.”
It was not fair of him to feel entitled to any amount of time or involvement in Y/n’s future, not after everything he had done. However, Hopper was determined not to let that discourage him. He was going to show up for her as best as he could every chance he could get, even if she refused to give him the time of day ever again.
Y/n frowned.
“Why now?”
Why not sooner? Why not when she needed him the most? What was going to be different this time?
“The last 8 months,” Hopper began.
That was the short answer. The long answer was complex and difficult for him to articulate but, for the sake of showing he was making an honest effort, Hopper tried to do so.
“I didn’t know if I was ever gonna get to see you again. I didn’t know if I was ever gonna get a chance to even try and make things right between us,” Hopper’s tears ran free. He paid no mind to his trembling voice. His eyes were on his child, his focus was nowhere else. “Now that I’m here, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life trying. Even if your mind is already made up. Even if nothing comes of it. Even if the world ends tomorrow. Even… Even if it all seems pointless, because it isn’t. Not to me.”
Hopper huffed, winded from speaking so rapidly. His eyes never left Y/n. He did not want to pressure her, but also could not keep himself from watching her closely in anticipation. He planned to brace himself for possible rejection but, in the heat of the moment, could think only of her and what must have been racing through her mind.
She shrugged once again, just as she did earlier. Her demeanour was as though the tense and tearful portion of their conversation never ocurred.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see then,” Y/n muttered, before rising from her seat and heading towards the bathroom to splash cold water on her tearful face. Joyce and El would be home soon and she did not want her puffy eyes to raise concern.
Her face was unreadable, as was her tone, unwilling to give Hopper any indication of where her head was at. She needed more time to herself to figure that out for herself.
A ghost of a smile passed through Hopper’s expression. It was not a joyful reconciliation, but it was also not a complete cut-off. Y/n’s bags were still in her bedroom and she was still home. As far as he was concerned, that was the best reaction he could have hoped for.
Wait and see, he repeated to himself. He could work with that just fine, he decided. The weight of fatherhood settled within him once again, only this time like an anchor keeping him grounded right where he wanted to be.
***
i do not give permission for any of my work to be copied, translated or reposted onto another site
Summary: A long anticipated reunion, but nothing was going to plan.
previous part
series masterlist // main masterlist
a/n: its good to be back :) adding a lil author’s note in the comment section regarding this pt x
December, 1978
Y/n couldn't sleep.
She wasn't sure what time it was. She wasn't sure how long it had been since her mom told her it was lights out, or how long she had been staring at the ceiling since, haunted by the silence. Time moved much differently now. Everything was different without Sara.
Knowing there was no chance she would be sleeping anytime soon, Y/n sat up shifted out from beneath her comforter, and carefully opened her bedroom door. As she crept closer to the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise to wake her parents, she realised her dad had already beaten her to the freezer.
“Y/n?" Hopper squinted and switched the kitchen light on to be sure. She looked a tired mess, but then again, so did he. “Bug, what are you still doing up?”
Y/n sighed, doubling back, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Explaining herself to either one of her parents had become something she dreaded. It was the very reason she tried to limit her conversations with them altogether, not that they made it all that difficult.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
To her surprise, Hopper smiled. It was faint and hidden behind a sigh of his own, but it was there. Y/n wasn't sure why she was expecting a lecture followed by an order to go back to her room, but she knew she was grateful such a reaction was nowhere in sight.
“Me neither," Hopper replied, his eyes dancing between the floor and the door to the freezer. He looked back to his eldest daughter, now his only daughter, and pursed his lips. “I know it’s more of you and your mom’s thing but… I could really go for some ice cream right about now.”
Y/n smiled weakly, a quiet chuckle slipping out from between her lips.
“Me too.”
She took her seat at the dinner table and Hopper followed suit shortly after with a tub of ice cream and two spoons. They ate together in silence, each stealing quick glances at the other from time to time, both grateful for the precious moment in time where there was no expectation of them to do or be anything other than a father and his daughter eating ice cream in the middle of the night.
***
March, 1979
Y/n couldn't sleep.
She couldn't remember the last time she was able to, but she knew there was no chance of her being able to for a hell of a long time now. Every time she came close to drifting off, all she could see was her mom and Sara, two faces she would never be able to see again.
However, this time was different. This time, she drifted off for only a moment before waking up abruptly, a panicked mess. Her chest moved rapidly as she heaved, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to calm herself down, but to no avail.
Desperate for something, anything, to soothe her, she sprinted to the kitchen barefoot, too numb to feel anything much less the ground beneath her. Instinctively, she opened the freezer, hoping a few spoonfuls of ice cream would be enough to bring some sense back to her body, only to be met with emptiness.
It seemed three weeks of avoiding the groceries had finally caught up to the Hopper household.
As she shut the freezer close, the front door swung open. Hopper came stumbling in, barely bothering to close the door shut behind him, much less look where he was going. Y/n realised that this was routine for him as she watched him navigate his way through the clutter and rubbish and into his bedroom. He didn't even notice her standing in the kitchen, still hyperventilating, still a panicked mess.
This was how it was, she realised, and this was how it would be for a hell of a long time. With half of their family gone, it seemed only inevitable. Y/n stood frozen in the dark for a while, haunted and paralysed by the silence. She didn't feel like she was anyone's daughter, and it didn't feel like Hopper was anyone's dad anymore.
It appeared that they were nothing more than two ghosts tethered to a house, they no longer wanted to be in, but in no way tethered to each other anymore.
***
April, 1980
After listening to him fumble with his keys for a solid ten minutes, Y/n watched from the kitchen as Hopper came stumbling into their home. She cleared her throat.
“Where have you been?”
Hopper stumbled back, startled that Y/n was still awake. His breath hitched when he realised the look she had on her face. He knew this was an all-time low for him, but he felt too far-gone to abandon the habits he had developed over the past year, however bad they were.
“There was a holdup at the-“
“Are you drunk again?” Y/n's voice was loud and angry, sobering Hopper up completely for a split second. She kissed her teeth and shook her head. “Dad, come on, you promised me.”
This was not the first time Hopper had been called out on having too much to drink, and at the rate he was going at, Y/n knew it would not be the last. She hated the person he was turning into and hated herself for giving him the benefit of the doubt so many times.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to stand straight and still, but failing miserably to do so. As he continued to sway, struggling to keep his balance, Y/n's brows drew closer together as she remembered the hellish evening she had to endure on her own.
“You know everyone was asking where you were.”
And naturally so, Y/n told herself. It was his wife's and his daughter's memorial and he was nowhere to be seen. Their friends and family came from all across the Midwest, but he couldn’t despite being in the same town.
“I’m sor—“
“Aunt Jenna kept telling me I was always welcome to go to her place in Michigan," Y/n interrupted him, her voice growing louder as she grew angrier just recounting the conversation.
Telling her she was welcome to come over anytime meant they had no faith in her dad’s ability to look after her, which Y/n resented and refused to play into.
"I had to lie to everyone, just to keep them from asking questions ab—“
“Dammit, Y/n, I said I was sorry!”
She gulped, taken aback by his outburst, but willing herself not to flinch or let it go. He had gone too far that night, and she was done giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Hopper's shoulders slumped and he drew in a sharp breath, regret seeping in almost instantly. He hated what his habits did to his temper, but not enough to resist what it did to his grief.
Usually that would be enough. A short apology and a half-hearted promise not to do it again and she would be off to her room and he'd be free to sleep the night off. This time, however, Y/n crossed her arms and clenched her jaw, giving Hopper the impression it wasn't enough. Far from it.
“You know, I wish you’d stop apologising and just be better, dad."
Her voice was as cold and piercing as the stony glare she unmistakably targeted at him. He lost her faith in him bit by bit over the course of the past year. Now, she was sick to death of his empty words.
Hopper winced. It was fair, part of him knew that. However, at the same time, an overwhelming part of him continued to scream that it was unfair. All of it.
He went to speak but found a quiet so escaping his lips.
“I just... I miss them so much.”
“I know, I miss them too," Y/n whispered softly, giving Hopper the impression that she was finally letting it go.
But, instead, her glare grew more piercing.
“That’s why I showed up to their fucking memorial," she hissed before going to her room and slamming the door shut.
Hopper collapsed onto the couch, but he couldn't sleep the night off. Instead, he laid awake, staring at the ceiling as it continued to spin, the sound of Y/n's voice echoing all night in his head. It was all unfair.
***
November, 1982
Y/n’s eyes closed and she was hoping to get even a few minutes of shut-eye but her father was not going to let that happened. It was bad enough she had to endure a lecture from him at the station, in front of her friends from school.
“You’re lucky officer Robinson recognised you and told me, otherwise you’d be spending the night at station with everyone else.”
Hopper gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were beginning to turn pale. He gave his daughter a quick sideways glance before ultimately deciding it was in both of their best interest he kept his eyes on the road.
“Lucky me,” Y/n muttered, not even bothering to open her eyes, her head still rested against her window. She desperately hoped he would just move on already, but from the audible huff he let out, Y/n knew he still had much to say to her.
“What were you even thinking? Anything could have happened to you.”
Hopper's heart sank when he got the dispatch call from Robinson. The entire drive back to the station, all he could think of was all the sorts of trouble his daughter could have been in had she not been taken in.
Y/n was quiet for a moment. Letting out a sigh, she opened her eyes and looked at Hopper momentarily before turning back to the view outside her window. Maybe it wasn't the wisest choice, but underage drinking at a house party definitely beat sitting at home alone on a Saturday night for the millionth time in a row.
“…You’re never home,” she mumbled quietly.
“That’s no excuse, Y/n.”
He was right. It was no excuse. Not for her at least. Him not being home never stopped her from keeping the house in somewhat order, keeping her grades up at school and staying out of trouble. There was no doubt Y/n had it in her to do everything expected of her, but it wasn’t fair that for all she did for her dad, the favour was never paid back.
The fact that he didn't know made Y/n's tears multiply. Usually the lonely Saturday nights didn't bother her quite as much, but it was the anticipating sitting alone at home again the following week that really tore her up.
"It’s my birthday next week."
"Oh."
She wiped her tears and looked down at her fingers, too upset to look at her dad but too prideful to continue to cry in front of him. Things were so different now, and she hated it. More than anything, Y/n wanted things to be how they were before when there were four of them and not just two.
"Mom used to make my favourite for dinner and bake my favourite cake and we’d all eat together. But you’re never home and mom and Sara are…" Y/n couldn't bring herself to say it aloud, knowing if she did the waterworks would return. She sighed, leaning her head back and squeezing her eyes shut. "I’m just so sick of being alone."
Hopper was quiet. His grip on the steering wheel loosened. Suddenly, he felt like the biggest jerk for scolding Y/n instead of realising she was hurting. He hoped it was not too late to make things right.
"Let’s do dinner."
Y/n glance at him for a second and then let out a scoff. She had heard enough empty promises from him to know better than to trust anything that came out of his mouth.
"I’m serious, bug," he added, knowing what that scoff meant. "I’ll get off early and pick you up from work and we’ll have dinner together here. Just like we used to."
Y/n studied him closely, unsure what to make of his proposal.
"You promise?"
"I promise, bug." Hopper didn't miss a beat. "I’ll make it happen."
Y/n felt her worries ease.
"Ok. But I’ll make dinner for us," she insisted, knowing if it was one less thing her dad had to worry about, it was all the more easier for him to follow through. "You just have to pick me up, ok?"
"Ok," Hopper spoke softly, smiling when Y/n closed her eyes and leaned against her window again. It seemed easy enough to do.
***
April 6th, 1986
Joyce’s weird demeanour made Y/n nervous to open the door to her bedroom, but when she did, that feeling vanished instantly. He was half his weight, bald and beard-less, but there was no mistaking it. It was him, and he was standing up from the edge of her bed and smiling at her. Y/n’s eyes watered and she inhaled a shaky breath, her voice a croaky hushed whisper as she spoke in disbelief.
“Dad?”
She closed the door behind her and stepped in cautiously. The last time she saw her dad was through the vision Vecna showed to her. Y/n felt her chest tighten as mind struggled to decipher whether this necessitated her flight or fight response. Before she could make her mind up, Hopper had pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, quickly becoming choked up by it all.
Seeing her again and hugging her again, it made the previous 8 months of hell worth every excruciating second.
Y/n didn’t know whether to scream or burst out crying. It didn’t make sense. For that reason, she couldn’t bring herself to trust it just yet. Pulling away gently, she placed her hands on the side of his face, revelling in the fact that it was him. It was her dad.
“I-I thought you were…” Y/n shook her head, tears rolling down her face. “Is it really you?”
After everything at Starcourt, part of her did humour the idea that maybe her father didn’t die, but she quickly dismissed that trail of thought as a coping mechanism. She knew holding out for a miracle would do her no good.
“I’m right here, bug,” Hopper smiled.
Y/n’s tears were free falling the second he called her bug, something she had accepted no one would ever call her again. She shook her head and hugged her dad tightly, savouring the feeling of his embrace but also revelling in the fact that she didn’t need to. He was not dead.
After they pulled away, the two of them sat on the edge of Y/n’s bed and found themselves crying the laughing then sniffling then doing it all again, all while briefly going over the obvious changes.
Y/n joked about her dad’s hair and he brought up the way she rearranged her room. Y/n asked what happened to him and he muttered something about a prison and Russia and how he would bore her with the finer details later. Y/n’s heart swelled at the reminder that there was a later. That he was no going anywhere. That he was not dead.
“So… you and Steve?”
“Yeah,” Y/n chuckled. That was another reminder that made her heart swell. She had Steve as well as her dad now. They both came back her. “He’s done a lot of growing up, and he’s never left my side.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Hopper smiled.
Whatever reservations he once had about the Harrington kid, none of it mattered to him anymore. Y/n confirmation that he stuck by her, that counted for everything to Hopper.
Y/n studied her father closely, her concern growing tenfold as she noticed remnats of cuts and brusises across his face and along his arms. She hated to think about what it took for him to get out of the Russian prison or what the effects would do to him.
“Dad, are you ok? Are you… are you gonna be ok?”
Hopper reached for hand and squeezed it three times.
“Yeah, bug,” he assured her. “I mean… it was rough, obviously, but… I made it home.”
He hoped that was enough to cast her worries at bay, but by her unchanging expression, he knew there was something else bother her.
“Dad, I’m so sorry for what I said,” Y/n wept. It was the one thing she had spent the past few months desperately wanting to tell him. “I didn’t mean it, I swear.”
At least not in any way that made it ok to say to him, she reconciled.
Hopper squeezed her hand again and shook his head dismissively.
“It doesn’t matter.”
He kissed the top of her head and gave her a reassuring smile which she returned only without the sincerity. Something about his response did not sit right with her. While Y/n couldn't quite put her finger on it, she knew part of it was her hope that in being the first to say sorry, he would finally come around to saying it back.
Before more could be said, the sound of another vehicle pulling into the driveway travelled through Y/n’s open window. Hopper’s eyes lit up.
“I think that’s El and the others.”
He shifted to stand up, but Y/n kept him from doing so.
“Stay here, dad. I’ll get her for you.”
Part of her wanted a break from talking to Hopper, while the other desperately wanted for El to have her own time with their dad. Y/n knew that if seeing her dad alive and well made her heart swell the way it did, El’s reaction would only be bigger.
The van they drove in on was what Y/n recognised as Argyle’s ride. She barely made it off the front porch before being enguled by the all too familiar embrace of her littler sister.
“Y/n!” El was beaming, unable to keep stil as she hugged her big sister firmly. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you so much,” Y/n replied, running her hand over El’s shaven head and the squeezing her tightly. Nothing compared to the real deal.
“I’m so happy you’re ok,” El exclaimed after pulling apart from Y/n.
She hoped her sister had made it out ok, but there was no way of knowing for sure until they made it home. The entire drive to Hawkins, El’s stomach was in knots as she kept remembering the sight of Y/n laying unconscious in Steve’s arms.
“Yeah, I owe you one.” Thought parts of that night were still hazy to Y/n, she remembered El saving her clearly and vividly. “… I owe you a massive one.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” El replied instantly.
It was nothing Y/n wouldn’t have done for her had the roles been reversed. It was a nice change saving her for once when, for the last few years of El’s life, Y/n had been saving her.
“I have so much to tell you.”
“Me too,” Y/n smiled inconspicuously. “But first, you need to go to my room.”
“What?”
Her confusion made Y/n chuckle. Suddenly, Joyce’s demeanour earlier made a lot of sense.
“Just… trust me,” Y/n grinned, gently pushing El up the front porch steps. “We’ll catch up after.”
“Promise?” The younger girl turned around and held her pinky up. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and looped her pinky with El’s, prompting her to turn back around and follow her sister’s instructions.
Watching El walk into the room where Hopper waited with illuminated eyes, a familiar knot began to form in Y/n’s stomach and she hated it fiercely.
***
April 9th, 1986
There was never a conversation about all the changes that would be made to the living arrangements at the cabin. When Steve, the Wheelers and Dustin went home, the Byers stayed and set up camp in the living room.
Y/n didn’t mind, at least not at first. However, the more Hopper, El and the Byers began to settle in, the more she found herself becoming irritated at the little disruptions it made to her usual routine.
She didn’t like having to constantly remind her dad she kept the mugs in a different cabinet now. She didn’t like waking up to a messy kitchen because Will and El raided the fridge at midnight. She didn’t like having to wait for the bathroom to be vacant to have a shower, only to realise her favourite shampoo was already empty because everyone assumed it was free for all.
Y/n hated feeling so annoyed by the people she cared so much for so, as much as the little disruptions irritated her, she tried her very best not to let her feelings surface. She told herself she just needed time to adjust and that, as overwhelming as the change could be, a full house was better than an empty one.
After a few days of much needed rest and settling in, Hopper announced to everyone that it was time to clean and declutter the cabin to make more room. Y/n reluctantly went along with it, even though watching Joyce and her boys move her stuff around the house made her skin crawl.
"Oh, hey Joyce, you cant throw that away," Y/n said hurriedly, recognising the box she was carrying outside to the 'trash' pile. Joyce stopped in her tracks, and sheepishly walked back in.
"Oh, I’m sorry. Hopper said he looked through and it was just old documents."
Y/n winced. Perhaps if her dad had spent less time reorganising her life and more time listening to her, they would be on the same page. Perhaps it wasn't fair of her to feel so irritated by Joyce and the boys when her annoyance should have been aimed at Hopper.
"Yeah, it is," Y/n began, softening her expression, "- but it’s also records of when the cabin came under my name."
It was sure to be important when it became time to sort through the nightmare of legal paperwork her dad's return from the dead caused.
"Oh, ok," Joyce nodded. "You want me to put it in your room for you?"
"Yes please."
The older woman obliged without another word, which Y/n appreciated more than she could say. It was nice to feel heard, especially after feeling like she was on the outside looking in for the past few days.
After a couple hours of decluttering and cleaning the living room with El, Y/n went to her room for a much needed break. By the time she mustered enough will to go back outside, she saw Joyce and El going through her box of all the polaroids and photographs Y/n came across when she cleaned the cabin 8 months ago.
“You guys found the old photos," Y/n beamed, picking up one of the pictures from the pile and grinning. It was of her and Sara.
“I was telling El it might be nice to put some up, make the cabin a little homier," Joyce suggested, smiling nervously. "Would you be ok with that, Y/n?”
She drew in a deep breath and smiled.
“Yeah, that sounds nice."
More than nice, Y/n thought to herself. She wondered if that was what made her so irritated about the Byers moving in: the lingering fear that the more Joyce and her sons settled into the cabin, the less space there would be for any memory of her mom and Sara.
This was a nice way of ensuring that didn't happen.
Joyce's eyes lit up when she pulled out another photograph. From the writing on the back, Y/n knew it was a photo Jonathan took of her, Steve and the kids after high school graduation.
“Oh my god, Hopper look at this one," Joyce beamed.
He stopped what he was doing in the kitchen and come to have a look. Joyce handed him the photo and he drew his brows together, smiling nervously as she glanced between the photo in his hand and the others in the box. Aside from the pictures with Sara and his wife, the rest were new to him.
“How come I’ve never seen these photos?”
Y/n didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or scream.
“You weren’t there," she muttered harshly. "I didn’t see a point in showing them to you.”
Hopper's demeanour turned sheepish almost immediately. Between Y/n's cold expression and Joyce's widened eyes, he found himself flustered and in desperate search for an exit.
“I’ll move them into your room.”
He didn't wait for her to say anything before putting the photos back into the box, then lifting it and taking it away, with it any chance of him letting her and Joyce put the photos up around the house.
Y/n's blood boiled watching him scurry, and then it dawned on her, surely and swiftly. The reason her stomach was in constant knots for the past few days had nothing to do with the Byers and everything to do with her dad, and the fact that just as he was not dead, so too were his old ways.
***
April 10th, 1986
Y/n lifted the glass of water in front of her and held it out, fully extending her arm. Nurse Jackson studied her closely, looking for any sign of discomfort, just as she did every time Y/n came in for her routine check up for her injuries.
“Any pain?” Nurse asked, to which Y/n promptly shook her head. “Good. I’ll get you some extra bandages just in case, but I think you should be in the clear now.”
The nurse wheeled her desk chair to the medical supply shelf behind her and came back with a handful of bandages for Y/n. She turned back to her and sighed. The young girl stared blankly at her shoes and nervously tugged at the hem of her t-shirt, not noticing nurse Jackson inquisitive eye.
“Is there anything else that’s been bothering you?”
The older woman's voice appeared to jolt the younger one back to reality. Her head shot up and without a moment of thought, she shook her head. Nurse Jackson narrowed her eyes.
“Y/n.”
The young woman sighed shakily, turning her attention to restless fingers. After a brief moment of silence, she cleared her throat and spoke quietly.
“I’ve actually been having a lot of trouble sleeping… for a while, but especially this past week," she began. “I wake up either in cold sweats or hyperventilating or both. Sometimes its like... I-I feel like I'm going crazy.”
Y/n half expected a look of concern from Nurse Jackson, but the older inched closer and gripped her hands, grounding her worries if only for a second.
“Honey, our town just had a record-breaking earthquake and your dad is back after being presumed dead for nearly a year…”
Y/n squeezed her eyes shut. She had heard that spiel a million times, to the point where it had lost most of its consolation. Nurse Jackson continued.
“Frankly, I’d be concerned if you were getting a good night’s rest.”
“I know," Y/n answered shortly, her patience growing thin. She shook her frustratedly. "I just… I’m sick of feeling like this. All I want is to move forward from all this. How do I do that?”
She wanted a quick fix. She wanted Nurse Jackson to have all the answers, write her a prescription for something and for that something to make her normal again. To make her feel like she had some semblance of control over her life despite the past year proving otherwise.
“There are a lot of ways of moving forward, and the best route is going to be different for everyone." Nurse Jackson tried to give a comforting answer, but knowing Y/n, she knew it would be met less than kindly. "- But the main thing is that you don’t do it alone.”
“I’m not alone," Y/n quipped defensively.
Nurse Jackson pursed her lips.
“The other main thing is that you let yourself process everything that’s happened."
Y/n let out a defeated huff. The past few weeks felt like a juggling act, with each day seemingly burdening her with one more thing to deal with. Now on top of it all, she had to find the time and the energy to reflect on everything that happened to her.
“I’m processing everything as best I can."
The older woman knew that, for the most part, she was telling the truth. But Nurse Jackson could also spot an avoidant patient from a mile away. This one, in particular, was a patient she had grown incredibly fond of.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Y/n.”
Her words caught the young girl by surprise. She didn't know whether to be apologetic, offended or defensive.
“All I’m saying is…" Nurse Jackson pursed her lips once more and drew in a deep breath as she tried to find the right words. "-As long as you keep burying your feelings and putting on a brave face, you’re never gonna move forward.”
Y/n hung her head, bashful that in the little time they knew each other, Nurse Jackson saw her so clearly, which was more than she could say for many of the people who knew her for much longer.
"You know, I think Ms Kelley is still offering free sessions." Nurse Jackson's voice was quiet and cautious. The last time she brought up the sessions to Y/n, she just about cursed her for suggesting it and stormed out of the room. "If you ever want to take her up on it, you just let me know and I'll sort that out for you."
The young girl didn't give her a definitive answer. She merely nodded her head and left quietly, discreetly wiping her teary eyes once her back was turned. However, Nurse Jackson was confident Y/n would take her up on her offer soon.
***
April 16th, 1986
Y/n's night was the same as it had been for what felt like an eternity. She woke up gasping for air, completely overcome by fear of impending danger despite being safe, sitting among Steve and the kids who were all passed out from movie night. She clung her fist to her chest and tried to steady and quiet her breathing.
Not wanting to wake anyone, she shifted Steve's comforter off her legs and left him sleeping on the ground by himself so she could sneak into the kitchen. She tried to shift her attention away from her frustrations, but as tears began to form in her eyes, it was hard to focus on the pot of coffee she was trying to make. Defeated, she dropped pot down abruptly on the counter and held her head in her hands.
"Still can’t sleep, huh?"
Steve's arms wrapped around her, his hands turning her around until she faced him. Y/n shook her head and dropped her hands, revealing her teary tired eyes to the only person she trusted enough to see them. Steve kissed her temple, just as he did the countless times he stayed awake with her.
He looked past her shoulder and spotted the coffee pot and grounds, and smiled playfully.
"Call me crazy, but I think having coffee in the middle of the night might not be helping."
Y/n rolled her eyes, nudging him gently.
"You don’t have any cocoa."
Steve chuckled, before pulling away and turning back to the pantry which Y/n had searched every inch of, for almost half an hour. He crouched down and moved a stack of canned soup to reveal a tin of cocoa. Y/n smirked weakly, her brow quipped.
“You’re hiding your cocoa now?”
“Just when the kids are here,” he explained sheepishly.
After the boys, under Dustin's leadership, got hot chocolate everywhere and gave themselves a sugar rush, Steve decided cocoa was not something he could leave unattended during movie nights.
Y/n sat at the kitchen table, mindlessly tapping her fingers against the surface as she waited for Steve to finish making their hot chocolates. Once he returned, he placed his hand atop hers to cease the tapping.
“What’s on your mind?”
She sighed. So much, that was the simple answer. There was so much on her mind, too much to unpack over one mug of hot chocolate.
“It’s weird seeing my dad again,” Y/n began. “- Having him around again.”
He nodded silently, sipping taking a sip from his mug.
“Everything is supposed to just be ok now because we all made it out alive, and I want things to be ok, but… it just doesn’t feel right. It doesnt feel fair.”
It should have been enough for her. She wanted it to be enough for her that everyone was ok and everyone was back home, but no amount of pretending made it so.
“It feels like I’m supposed to just forgive him? I’m supposed to just move on?… without even an apology?”
Steve’s brows rose and then knitted together.
“No one’s expecting you to do that, Y/n.”
She knew he was trying to comfort her, but she could name one person that was. She sighed and opted to squeeze Steve’s hand since he was keeping her from tapping.
“He asked me to go back home tomorrow night for dinner,” Y/n mumbled, unsure how she felt about the proposition.
She had been actively avoiding him and though it took him nearly week, it seemed Hopper was finally catching on. At least, that’s what Y/n told herself when he pulled her aside the last time she helped out at the shelter.
Steve squeezed her hand once, offering a small smile.
“That’s a good sign, right? Maybe he’s ready to talk.”
Y/n stared blankly at her mug.
“Maybe,” she huffed, though deep down she still was not sure.
***
April 17th, 1986
Dinner at home was not what Y/n expected. For one, it was only her, her dad and Joyce. While Jonathan was with Nancy, El and Will had plans with the rest of the kids. Walking in to a table set for only three left Y/n feeling uneasy, and yet hopeful that maybe her dad wanted time with her.
However, this hope dwindled as the night went on, because all they talked about over Joyce’s spaghetti was getting the cabin back in order. Y/n could hardly make sense of it, that was until her dad brought up meeting with an attorney before sliding a pen and a document across the table to her.
“What’s this?”
Startled, Y/n turned the document over and skimmed through it. While it was saturated with a lot of legal jargon she was unfamiliar with, she saw the words “title” and “transfer” then put two and two together. A red sticker flagged the place where she was to sign her name. She noticed that her dad had already signed his.
“Oh.”
Her face fell the very instant she pieced it together. A familiar knot began to form in her stomach. Hopper looked at her concernedly. When she met his gaze, she felt almost nothing.
“Bug, are you ok?”
Y/n wanted to laugh.
“You’re… so fucking priceless, dad.”
Hopper drew his brows together, taken aback at his daughter’s change in demeanour.
“What?”
“This is why you asked me to come home?”
She gestured towards the documents. There she was hoping that dinner at home meant finally having a proper conversation with her dad, when all it was was a ploy so he could get what he wanted. Hopper scrambled for a coherent response, words to keep things from escalating, but his mouth ran dry.
“When did you organise all this?” Y/n questioned, her cold glare going back and forth between the document and her dad. He sighed and ran his hand over his mouth.
“A week ago,” Hopper admitted sheepishly. As he suspected that escalated the tension in the room. “I sent the deed to the cabin to an attorney’s office.”
Y/n laughed coldly, remembering all too well the day he came close to throwing that very deed away. She felt a painful sense of clarity wash over her. This had little to do with the cabin and everything to do with controlling everything, Y/n felt certain of it.
“Of course,” she spat. “I should have fucking known.”
Hopper frowned, feeling an all too familiar sense of guilt settle in his stomach. He suspected that she might have some reservations about giving up ownership, but never expected this.
“I can understand if you’re upset.”
“Oh cut the bullshit, dad.”
He slammed his fist against the dinner table, prompting Joyce to come sprinting in from the kitchen.
“You don’t need to talk to me like that,” Hopper fired back.
“No, you know what? I will talk to you this. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You sure about that?”
Y/n did not take notice of the fact that they were both standing, leaning over the table, glaring at each other with the exact same expression. Nor did she take notice of Joyce, who stood at the end of the table, at a loss for how to de-escalate the situation, and if de-escalation was even possible.
“Y/n, maybe-“
Before the woman could finish speaking, Y/n kissed her teeth and shook her head, her tempermant getting the better of her.
“Joyce, this is between me and my dad.”
“Don’t talk to her like that.”
His words came with no delay, no hesitation, Joyce could see the way that upset Y/n.
“It’s ok,” the older woman told Hopper, before turning to his daughter and shaking her head reassuring. “It’s ok.”
Joyce excused herself and went to hers and Hopper’s shared bedroom. It was not until she closed the door shut that the argument resumed.
“What’s gotten into you?” Hopper asked, dumbfounded.
“You!” Y/n shouted, frustrated that she had to spell it out. “It’s bad enough you’re being accommodating to everyone but me, but you’re forcing your way back into everything on your terms and I’m really fucking sick of it.”
“Oh you’re sick of it?”
“Yes, because this is you! This is who you are! This is who you’ve always been and I feel like an idiot for expecting anything to be different with you.”
How could it be, she realised. While she was hoping her dad had changed for the better, he was hoping she remained the same. It was no wonder he was so nonchalant about everything, from moving in the Byers to stripping her of ownership of the cabin.
“Maybe a couple years ago, I would have let it all slide without kicking up a fuss, but I’m not doing that anymore,” Y/n argued.
She needed him to understand that while it was clear he wanted things back to how they were, she was far from the girl she was a year ago, and for a good reason.
“I can’t go back to doing that, dad. And it’s really shitty that you’re expecting me to.”
Hopper sighed, relieved that they were talking as opposed to yelling, but gutted all the same by what he was being accused of. He shook his head.
“I’m not expecting you to do anything, bug.”
“Yeah, you are,” Y/n argued. “You want me to be ok with you changing everything without a heads up. First you rearrange everything, then you move a whole family in, now this… You want me put up with everything, like I always did, but I’m not going to do that.”
She could not do that to herself again. Not after reliving it with Vecna. Y/n desperately wanted better for herself, and she wanted him to understand that and to want the same.
“I had no idea owning the cabin meant this much-“
“Oh my god, this isn’t just about the cabin!” Y/n shouted, frustrated that he was taking everything at surface level when there was much more to it.
Hopper winced, baffled as to how everything he says always ends up being the wrong thing.
“It’s about you and me, dad. All of it is about you and me and the fact that… you just don’t care about anything that’s important to me.”
“That’s not true,” Hopper argued, certain that while there was a lot he did not know about Y/n, especially after a year apart, he still knew the things that mattered most. She, on the other hand, was not so sure.
“You don’t even know what’s important to me.”
Hopper scrunche his brows together, offended that she thought so little of him. He knew her, he told himself. He had to.
“Looking after the people you care about,” he began, “protecting El and the kids… that’s important to you.”
Y/n scoffed and shook her head, leaving her dad to wonder how that was the wrong thing to say.
“Not the obvious stuff, or the stuff that we both care about.”
Those were a given, Y/n deemed. Those required no real effort on his end, which only proved her point further. Frustrated and partly defeated, Hopper tossed his hands up in the air.
“Then what are you getting at, bug?”
She swallowed thickly, but the lump in her throat persisted. It mattered less to Y/n that her dad did not understand her, and moreso that he never seemed to try to.
“Dad you were gone for almost a year. And El was gone and Steve and I weren’t together,” Y/n wept. “This cabin and everything I kept inside here… it was all I had for the last 8 months. It was all I had when you were still shitfaced drunk and were barely home. And you just come back and take it all away like its nothing.”
Hopper huffed, his gaze dropping down to the floorboards, too ashamed to look her in the eye. When he finally did look up, she wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands, sniffling quietly.
“Bug… I had no idea.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she scoffed.
He never asked her. He never really spoke to her. For all she knew, he never even thought of her or what she went through. How could he expect to know anything about how she was feeling?
Y/n caught a glimpse of herself in her reflection in the window, and a sense of fatigue began to linger.
“Look, I get that you’re ok and you’re fine and you’re past it all, but I’m not. I’m still stuck in the middle of it. I’m still hurting.”
“Is that what you think?” Hopper questioned, bewildered. “You think I’m ok? You think I’m past everything?”
“What else am I supposed to think when you’re too busy playing happy family with your girlfriend to consider my feelings in all of this?”
“Y/n, c’mon,” Hopper pleaded. “That’s not fair.”
She shook her head. Who was he to talk to her about unfair?
“If it wasn’t your addiction, it was El Now, if it’s not El, it’s Joyce and every other person in Hawkins. You’re always so preoccupied with everything and everyone else and I’m always just an afterthought. I’m not an idiot, dad, I can read between the lines.”
Hopper knew, now, what she was getting at, and he hated it. He resented the accusation he knew she was about to make.
“Bug-“
“I know when I’m not wanted.”
There it was. Hopper shook his head and went to reach for his daughter’s arm.
“Y/n, stop it.”
“I can’t!” Her voice snapped before she reached the end of her sentence, sending the worst kind of chills down Hopper’s spine. She shook her arm out of his grasp and moved away. “This has literally haunted me for years. It’s haunted me. You’ve haunted me.”
Long before Vecna got the chance to.
Hopper felt his lips tremble. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words could form.
His blank expression only pained Y/n more.
“I mean, honestly… Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me? Any recollection at all?”
She looked at him pleadingly, hoping for something. For any kind of confirmation that he knew all the things he had done. If he knew, she could have hope of him having remorse, of him apologizing and him making amends. But, if he didn’t, Y/n couldn’t see how having any hope would be possible.
Hopper blinked, still at a loss for words. He remembered some arguments, but the rest were a blur, and he knew no memory he could muster up would be one that Y/n was referencing.
She knew, at this point, she was grasping at straws, but Y/n couldn’t help herself. She needed to know.
“Do you remember my 16th birthday?”
Hopper said and did nothing.
A sob escaped Y/n’s lips. Alone, again; that was how she felt. That was a night so painful and so deeply etched into her memory because of him, but he could not recall any part of it. Hopper stumbled forward, terrified of what Y/n’s sobs meant and where their conversation was headed.
“Bug, please, I don’t wanna fight with you. I don’t wanna go back to doing that,” he started, his voice shaky, alongside his hands. “But, believe me, I also don’t want to pretend like things are ok. I want it to actually be ok. I wanna fix things, I wanna make things right with you.”
He should have done that first. He should have said that first, before anything else. Hopper hated himself for taking so long to realise that. He placed his hands on the side of his daughter’s shoulder, only to be met with silence.
Y/n had a blank expression, one which Hopper still studied profusely, hoping for some indication that things would be ok. She felt defeated. She felt fatigued. This was an argument she felt like she had had with her dad a million times before, and they all ended the same. Maybe it was finally time they cut their losses.
“And what if you can’t?”
Hopper flinched.
“Don’t say that.”
She couldn’t possibly think that, Hopper told himself. After everything that kept them apart, he could not accept that an argument would be the thing to sever their relationship. Y/n sighed.
“If the last 8 months couldn’t fix things between us, what are the chances that anything will?” She had no more tears. That was the part that terrified Hopper the most. That, and the fact that she was refusing to look him in the eye. “And… after everything that’s happened, I’m just… I’m so tired, Dad.”
“I know,” Hopper whispered.
Y/n finally looked at him, but nothing in her expression changed.
“No. You don’t.”
She knew that now, better than she ever had before. He could never know what she went through. He could never understand her now. And, for as long as that remained true, they would never truly see eye-to-eye on anything.
Y/n pushed past her dad and approached the dinner table. Hopper turned around and watched, puzzled by what she was doing until he saw her pick up the pen and sign the document.
If that was what he wanted from her, it would be the last thing she would ever give him, Y/n decided. He would have the cabin, but only she would have all the memories made in it. Time would move on, just as he so deperately wants, but she would always remain stuck reliving the pain on her own.
After signing the document, Y/n silently grabbed her jacket and headed towards the front door. Hopper stepped forward.
“Y/n-“
“Don’t,” she warned, turning around and facing him before he could get any closer to her. “I really don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
Y/n slammed the front door behind her as she left. The sound exhoed in Hopper’s head as he struggle to come to grips with everything. He saw so much of himself in her when they argued, but when she walked away from him, he saw so much of her mother. He had done it, he realised. He lost another one of his girls.
***
i do not give permission for any of my work to be copied, translated or reposted onto another site
this part took me an uncharacteristically long time to write because i’ve been toying around with the storyline since the day i started writing this series. as you will know, this moment has had so much build up to it throughout the seriea and i won’t lie the pressure has given me the worst writers block, but i’m really happy with how its turned out.
i’m weary some of yall will not be happy with me re: the ending of this part, but i hope you’ll understand why i felt that an immediate happy ending would not be true to this story.
whatever your feelings are, i’d really love to hear them!
if you’ve come this far in the series, thank you so so much for reading 🫶🏽 if you plan to keep reading, i hope to get the next part out for you very soon, honest promise x
Summary: A long anticipated reunion, but nothing was going to plan.
previous part
series masterlist // main masterlist
a/n: its good to be back :) adding a lil author’s note in the comment section regarding this pt x
December, 1978
Y/n couldn't sleep.
She wasn't sure what time it was. She wasn't sure how long it had been since her mom told her it was lights out, or how long she had been staring at the ceiling since, haunted by the silence. Time moved much differently now. Everything was different without Sara.
Knowing there was no chance she would be sleeping anytime soon, Y/n sat up shifted out from beneath her comforter, and carefully opened her bedroom door. As she crept closer to the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise to wake her parents, she realised her dad had already beaten her to the freezer.
“Y/n?" Hopper squinted and switched the kitchen light on to be sure. She looked a tired mess, but then again, so did he. “Bug, what are you still doing up?”
Y/n sighed, doubling back, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Explaining herself to either one of her parents had become something she dreaded. It was the very reason she tried to limit her conversations with them altogether, not that they made it all that difficult.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
To her surprise, Hopper smiled. It was faint and hidden behind a sigh of his own, but it was there. Y/n wasn't sure why she was expecting a lecture followed by an order to go back to her room, but she knew she was grateful such a reaction was nowhere in sight.
“Me neither," Hopper replied, his eyes dancing between the floor and the door to the freezer. He looked back to his eldest daughter, now his only daughter, and pursed his lips. “I know it’s more of you and your mom’s thing but… I could really go for some ice cream right about now.”
Y/n smiled weakly, a quiet chuckle slipping out from between her lips.
“Me too.”
She took her seat at the dinner table and Hopper followed suit shortly after with a tub of ice cream and two spoons. They ate together in silence, each stealing quick glances at the other from time to time, both grateful for the precious moment in time where there was no expectation of them to do or be anything other than a father and his daughter eating ice cream in the middle of the night.
***
March, 1979
Y/n couldn't sleep.
She couldn't remember the last time she was able to, but she knew there was no chance of her being able to for a hell of a long time now. Every time she came close to drifting off, all she could see was her mom and Sara, two faces she would never be able to see again.
However, this time was different. This time, she drifted off for only a moment before waking up abruptly, a panicked mess. Her chest moved rapidly as she heaved, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to calm herself down, but to no avail.
Desperate for something, anything, to soothe her, she sprinted to the kitchen barefoot, too numb to feel anything much less the ground beneath her. Instinctively, she opened the freezer, hoping a few spoonfuls of ice cream would be enough to bring some sense back to her body, only to be met with emptiness.
It seemed three weeks of avoiding the groceries had finally caught up to the Hopper household.
As she shut the freezer close, the front door swung open. Hopper came stumbling in, barely bothering to close the door shut behind him, much less look where he was going. Y/n realised that this was routine for him as she watched him navigate his way through the clutter and rubbish and into his bedroom. He didn't even notice her standing in the kitchen, still hyperventilating, still a panicked mess.
This was how it was, she realised, and this was how it would be for a hell of a long time. With half of their family gone, it seemed only inevitable. Y/n stood frozen in the dark for a while, haunted and paralysed by the silence. She didn't feel like she was anyone's daughter, and it didn't feel like Hopper was anyone's dad anymore.
It appeared that they were nothing more than two ghosts tethered to a house, they no longer wanted to be in, but in no way tethered to each other anymore.
***
April, 1980
After listening to him fumble with his keys for a solid ten minutes, Y/n watched from the kitchen as Hopper came stumbling into their home. She cleared her throat.
“Where have you been?”
Hopper stumbled back, startled that Y/n was still awake. His breath hitched when he realised the look she had on her face. He knew this was an all-time low for him, but he felt too far-gone to abandon the habits he had developed over the past year, however bad they were.
“There was a holdup at the-“
“Are you drunk again?” Y/n's voice was loud and angry, sobering Hopper up completely for a split second. She kissed her teeth and shook her head. “Dad, come on, you promised me.”
This was not the first time Hopper had been called out on having too much to drink, and at the rate he was going at, Y/n knew it would not be the last. She hated the person he was turning into and hated herself for giving him the benefit of the doubt so many times.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to stand straight and still, but failing miserably to do so. As he continued to sway, struggling to keep his balance, Y/n's brows drew closer together as she remembered the hellish evening she had to endure on her own.
“You know everyone was asking where you were.”
And naturally so, Y/n told herself. It was his wife's and his daughter's memorial and he was nowhere to be seen. Their friends and family came from all across the Midwest, but he couldn’t despite being in the same town.
“I’m sor—“
“Aunt Jenna kept telling me I was always welcome to go to her place in Michigan," Y/n interrupted him, her voice growing louder as she grew angrier just recounting the conversation.
Telling her she was welcome to come over anytime meant they had no faith in her dad’s ability to look after her, which Y/n resented and refused to play into.
"I had to lie to everyone, just to keep them from asking questions ab—“
“Dammit, Y/n, I said I was sorry!”
She gulped, taken aback by his outburst, but willing herself not to flinch or let it go. He had gone too far that night, and she was done giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Hopper's shoulders slumped and he drew in a sharp breath, regret seeping in almost instantly. He hated what his habits did to his temper, but not enough to resist what it did to his grief.
Usually that would be enough. A short apology and a half-hearted promise not to do it again and she would be off to her room and he'd be free to sleep the night off. This time, however, Y/n crossed her arms and clenched her jaw, giving Hopper the impression it wasn't enough. Far from it.
“You know, I wish you’d stop apologising and just be better, dad."
Her voice was as cold and piercing as the stony glare she unmistakably targeted at him. He lost her faith in him bit by bit over the course of the past year. Now, she was sick to death of his empty words.
Hopper winced. It was fair, part of him knew that. However, at the same time, an overwhelming part of him continued to scream that it was unfair. All of it.
He went to speak but found a quiet so escaping his lips.
“I just... I miss them so much.”
“I know, I miss them too," Y/n whispered softly, giving Hopper the impression that she was finally letting it go.
But, instead, her glare grew more piercing.
“That’s why I showed up to their fucking memorial," she hissed before going to her room and slamming the door shut.
Hopper collapsed onto the couch, but he couldn't sleep the night off. Instead, he laid awake, staring at the ceiling as it continued to spin, the sound of Y/n's voice echoing all night in his head. It was all unfair.
***
November, 1982
Y/n’s eyes closed and she was hoping to get even a few minutes of shut-eye but her father was not going to let that happened. It was bad enough she had to endure a lecture from him at the station, in front of her friends from school.
“You’re lucky officer Robinson recognised you and told me, otherwise you’d be spending the night at station with everyone else.”
Hopper gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were beginning to turn pale. He gave his daughter a quick sideways glance before ultimately deciding it was in both of their best interest he kept his eyes on the road.
“Lucky me,” Y/n muttered, not even bothering to open her eyes, her head still rested against her window. She desperately hoped he would just move on already, but from the audible huff he let out, Y/n knew he still had much to say to her.
“What were you even thinking? Anything could have happened to you.”
Hopper's heart sank when he got the dispatch call from Robinson. The entire drive back to the station, all he could think of was all the sorts of trouble his daughter could have been in had she not been taken in.
Y/n was quiet for a moment. Letting out a sigh, she opened her eyes and looked at Hopper momentarily before turning back to the view outside her window. Maybe it wasn't the wisest choice, but underage drinking at a house party definitely beat sitting at home alone on a Saturday night for the millionth time in a row.
“…You’re never home,” she mumbled quietly.
“That’s no excuse, Y/n.”
He was right. It was no excuse. Not for her at least. Him not being home never stopped her from keeping the house in somewhat order, keeping her grades up at school and staying out of trouble. There was no doubt Y/n had it in her to do everything expected of her, but it wasn’t fair that for all she did for her dad, the favour was never paid back.
The fact that he didn't know made Y/n's tears multiply. Usually the lonely Saturday nights didn't bother her quite as much, but it was the anticipating sitting alone at home again the following week that really tore her up.
"It’s my birthday next week."
"Oh."
She wiped her tears and looked down at her fingers, too upset to look at her dad but too prideful to continue to cry in front of him. Things were so different now, and she hated it. More than anything, Y/n wanted things to be how they were before when there were four of them and not just two.
"Mom used to make my favourite for dinner and bake my favourite cake and we’d all eat together. But you’re never home and mom and Sara are…" Y/n couldn't bring herself to say it aloud, knowing if she did the waterworks would return. She sighed, leaning her head back and squeezing her eyes shut. "I’m just so sick of being alone."
Hopper was quiet. His grip on the steering wheel loosened. Suddenly, he felt like the biggest jerk for scolding Y/n instead of realising she was hurting. He hoped it was not too late to make things right.
"Let’s do dinner."
Y/n glance at him for a second and then let out a scoff. She had heard enough empty promises from him to know better than to trust anything that came out of his mouth.
"I’m serious, bug," he added, knowing what that scoff meant. "I’ll get off early and pick you up from work and we’ll have dinner together here. Just like we used to."
Y/n studied him closely, unsure what to make of his proposal.
"You promise?"
"I promise, bug." Hopper didn't miss a beat. "I’ll make it happen."
Y/n felt her worries ease.
"Ok. But I’ll make dinner for us," she insisted, knowing if it was one less thing her dad had to worry about, it was all the more easier for him to follow through. "You just have to pick me up, ok?"
"Ok," Hopper spoke softly, smiling when Y/n closed her eyes and leaned against her window again. It seemed easy enough to do.
***
April 6th, 1986
Joyce’s weird demeanour made Y/n nervous to open the door to her bedroom, but when she did, that feeling vanished instantly. He was half his weight, bald and beard-less, but there was no mistaking it. It was him, and he was standing up from the edge of her bed and smiling at her. Y/n’s eyes watered and she inhaled a shaky breath, her voice a croaky hushed whisper as she spoke in disbelief.
“Dad?”
She closed the door behind her and stepped in cautiously. The last time she saw her dad was through the vision Vecna showed to her. Y/n felt her chest tighten as mind struggled to decipher whether this necessitated her flight or fight response. Before she could make her mind up, Hopper had pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, quickly becoming choked up by it all.
Seeing her again and hugging her again, it made the previous 8 months of hell worth every excruciating second.
Y/n didn’t know whether to scream or burst out crying. It didn’t make sense. For that reason, she couldn’t bring herself to trust it just yet. Pulling away gently, she placed her hands on the side of his face, revelling in the fact that it was him. It was her dad.
“I-I thought you were…” Y/n shook her head, tears rolling down her face. “Is it really you?”
After everything at Starcourt, part of her did humour the idea that maybe her father didn’t die, but she quickly dismissed that trail of thought as a coping mechanism. She knew holding out for a miracle would do her no good.
“I’m right here, bug,” Hopper smiled.
Y/n’s tears were free falling the second he called her bug, something she had accepted no one would ever call her again. She shook her head and hugged her dad tightly, savouring the feeling of his embrace but also revelling in the fact that she didn’t need to. He was not dead.
After they pulled away, the two of them sat on the edge of Y/n’s bed and found themselves crying the laughing then sniffling then doing it all again, all while briefly going over the obvious changes.
Y/n joked about her dad’s hair and he brought up the way she rearranged her room. Y/n asked what happened to him and he muttered something about a prison and Russia and how he would bore her with the finer details later. Y/n’s heart swelled at the reminder that there was a later. That he was no going anywhere. That he was not dead.
“So… you and Steve?”
“Yeah,” Y/n chuckled. That was another reminder that made her heart swell. She had Steve as well as her dad now. They both came back her. “He’s done a lot of growing up, and he’s never left my side.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Hopper smiled.
Whatever reservations he once had about the Harrington kid, none of it mattered to him anymore. Y/n confirmation that he stuck by her, that counted for everything to Hopper.
Y/n studied her father closely, her concern growing tenfold as she noticed remnats of cuts and brusises across his face and along his arms. She hated to think about what it took for him to get out of the Russian prison or what the effects would do to him.
“Dad, are you ok? Are you… are you gonna be ok?”
Hopper reached for hand and squeezed it three times.
“Yeah, bug,” he assured her. “I mean… it was rough, obviously, but… I made it home.”
He hoped that was enough to cast her worries at bay, but by her unchanging expression, he knew there was something else bother her.
“Dad, I’m so sorry for what I said,” Y/n wept. It was the one thing she had spent the past few months desperately wanting to tell him. “I didn’t mean it, I swear.”
At least not in any way that made it ok to say to him, she reconciled.
Hopper squeezed her hand again and shook his head dismissively.
“It doesn’t matter.”
He kissed the top of her head and gave her a reassuring smile which she returned only without the sincerity. Something about his response did not sit right with her. While Y/n couldn't quite put her finger on it, she knew part of it was her hope that in being the first to say sorry, he would finally come around to saying it back.
Before more could be said, the sound of another vehicle pulling into the driveway travelled through Y/n’s open window. Hopper’s eyes lit up.
“I think that’s El and the others.”
He shifted to stand up, but Y/n kept him from doing so.
“Stay here, dad. I’ll get her for you.”
Part of her wanted a break from talking to Hopper, while the other desperately wanted for El to have her own time with their dad. Y/n knew that if seeing her dad alive and well made her heart swell the way it did, El’s reaction would only be bigger.
The van they drove in on was what Y/n recognised as Argyle’s ride. She barely made it off the front porch before being enguled by the all too familiar embrace of her littler sister.
“Y/n!” El was beaming, unable to keep stil as she hugged her big sister firmly. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you so much,” Y/n replied, running her hand over El’s shaven head and the squeezing her tightly. Nothing compared to the real deal.
“I’m so happy you’re ok,” El exclaimed after pulling apart from Y/n.
She hoped her sister had made it out ok, but there was no way of knowing for sure until they made it home. The entire drive to Hawkins, El’s stomach was in knots as she kept remembering the sight of Y/n laying unconscious in Steve’s arms.
“Yeah, I owe you one.” Thought parts of that night were still hazy to Y/n, she remembered El saving her clearly and vividly. “… I owe you a massive one.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” El replied instantly.
It was nothing Y/n wouldn’t have done for her had the roles been reversed. It was a nice change saving her for once when, for the last few years of El’s life, Y/n had been saving her.
“I have so much to tell you.”
“Me too,” Y/n smiled inconspicuously. “But first, you need to go to my room.”
“What?”
Her confusion made Y/n chuckle. Suddenly, Joyce’s demeanour earlier made a lot of sense.
“Just… trust me,” Y/n grinned, gently pushing El up the front porch steps. “We’ll catch up after.”
“Promise?” The younger girl turned around and held her pinky up. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and looped her pinky with El’s, prompting her to turn back around and follow her sister’s instructions.
Watching El walk into the room where Hopper waited with illuminated eyes, a familiar knot began to form in Y/n’s stomach and she hated it fiercely.
***
April 9th, 1986
There was never a conversation about all the changes that would be made to the living arrangements at the cabin. When Steve, the Wheelers and Dustin went home, the Byers stayed and set up camp in the living room.
Y/n didn’t mind, at least not at first. However, the more Hopper, El and the Byers began to settle in, the more she found herself becoming irritated at the little disruptions it made to her usual routine.
She didn’t like having to constantly remind her dad she kept the mugs in a different cabinet now. She didn’t like waking up to a messy kitchen because Will and El raided the fridge at midnight. She didn’t like having to wait for the bathroom to be vacant to have a shower, only to realise her favourite shampoo was already empty because everyone assumed it was free for all.
Y/n hated feeling so annoyed by the people she cared so much for so, as much as the little disruptions irritated her, she tried her very best not to let her feelings surface. She told herself she just needed time to adjust and that, as overwhelming as the change could be, a full house was better than an empty one.
After a few days of much needed rest and settling in, Hopper announced to everyone that it was time to clean and declutter the cabin to make more room. Y/n reluctantly went along with it, even though watching Joyce and her boys move her stuff around the house made her skin crawl.
"Oh, hey Joyce, you cant throw that away," Y/n said hurriedly, recognising the box she was carrying outside to the 'trash' pile. Joyce stopped in her tracks, and sheepishly walked back in.
"Oh, I’m sorry. Hopper said he looked through and it was just old documents."
Y/n winced. Perhaps if her dad had spent less time reorganising her life and more time listening to her, they would be on the same page. Perhaps it wasn't fair of her to feel so irritated by Joyce and the boys when her annoyance should have been aimed at Hopper.
"Yeah, it is," Y/n began, softening her expression, "- but it’s also records of when the cabin came under my name."
It was sure to be important when it became time to sort through the nightmare of legal paperwork her dad's return from the dead caused.
"Oh, ok," Joyce nodded. "You want me to put it in your room for you?"
"Yes please."
The older woman obliged without another word, which Y/n appreciated more than she could say. It was nice to feel heard, especially after feeling like she was on the outside looking in for the past few days.
After a couple hours of decluttering and cleaning the living room with El, Y/n went to her room for a much needed break. By the time she mustered enough will to go back outside, she saw Joyce and El going through her box of all the polaroids and photographs Y/n came across when she cleaned the cabin 8 months ago.
“You guys found the old photos," Y/n beamed, picking up one of the pictures from the pile and grinning. It was of her and Sara.
“I was telling El it might be nice to put some up, make the cabin a little homier," Joyce suggested, smiling nervously. "Would you be ok with that, Y/n?”
She drew in a deep breath and smiled.
“Yeah, that sounds nice."
More than nice, Y/n thought to herself. She wondered if that was what made her so irritated about the Byers moving in: the lingering fear that the more Joyce and her sons settled into the cabin, the less space there would be for any memory of her mom and Sara.
This was a nice way of ensuring that didn't happen.
Joyce's eyes lit up when she pulled out another photograph. From the writing on the back, Y/n knew it was a photo Jonathan took of her, Steve and the kids after high school graduation.
“Oh my god, Hopper look at this one," Joyce beamed.
He stopped what he was doing in the kitchen and come to have a look. Joyce handed him the photo and he drew his brows together, smiling nervously as she glanced between the photo in his hand and the others in the box. Aside from the pictures with Sara and his wife, the rest were new to him.
“How come I’ve never seen these photos?”
Y/n didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or scream.
“You weren’t there," she muttered harshly. "I didn’t see a point in showing them to you.”
Hopper's demeanour turned sheepish almost immediately. Between Y/n's cold expression and Joyce's widened eyes, he found himself flustered and in desperate search for an exit.
“I’ll move them into your room.”
He didn't wait for her to say anything before putting the photos back into the box, then lifting it and taking it away, with it any chance of him letting her and Joyce put the photos up around the house.
Y/n's blood boiled watching him scurry, and then it dawned on her, surely and swiftly. The reason her stomach was in constant knots for the past few days had nothing to do with the Byers and everything to do with her dad, and the fact that just as he was not dead, so too were his old ways.
***
April 10th, 1986
Y/n lifted the glass of water in front of her and held it out, fully extending her arm. Nurse Jackson studied her closely, looking for any sign of discomfort, just as she did every time Y/n came in for her routine check up for her injuries.
“Any pain?” Nurse asked, to which Y/n promptly shook her head. “Good. I’ll get you some extra bandages just in case, but I think you should be in the clear now.”
The nurse wheeled her desk chair to the medical supply shelf behind her and came back with a handful of bandages for Y/n. She turned back to her and sighed. The young girl stared blankly at her shoes and nervously tugged at the hem of her t-shirt, not noticing nurse Jackson inquisitive eye.
“Is there anything else that’s been bothering you?”
The older woman's voice appeared to jolt the younger one back to reality. Her head shot up and without a moment of thought, she shook her head. Nurse Jackson narrowed her eyes.
“Y/n.”
The young woman sighed shakily, turning her attention to restless fingers. After a brief moment of silence, she cleared her throat and spoke quietly.
“I’ve actually been having a lot of trouble sleeping… for a while, but especially this past week," she began. “I wake up either in cold sweats or hyperventilating or both. Sometimes its like... I-I feel like I'm going crazy.”
Y/n half expected a look of concern from Nurse Jackson, but the older inched closer and gripped her hands, grounding her worries if only for a second.
“Honey, our town just had a record-breaking earthquake and your dad is back after being presumed dead for nearly a year…”
Y/n squeezed her eyes shut. She had heard that spiel a million times, to the point where it had lost most of its consolation. Nurse Jackson continued.
“Frankly, I’d be concerned if you were getting a good night’s rest.”
“I know," Y/n answered shortly, her patience growing thin. She shook her frustratedly. "I just… I’m sick of feeling like this. All I want is to move forward from all this. How do I do that?”
She wanted a quick fix. She wanted Nurse Jackson to have all the answers, write her a prescription for something and for that something to make her normal again. To make her feel like she had some semblance of control over her life despite the past year proving otherwise.
“There are a lot of ways of moving forward, and the best route is going to be different for everyone." Nurse Jackson tried to give a comforting answer, but knowing Y/n, she knew it would be met less than kindly. "- But the main thing is that you don’t do it alone.”
“I’m not alone," Y/n quipped defensively.
Nurse Jackson pursed her lips.
“The other main thing is that you let yourself process everything that’s happened."
Y/n let out a defeated huff. The past few weeks felt like a juggling act, with each day seemingly burdening her with one more thing to deal with. Now on top of it all, she had to find the time and the energy to reflect on everything that happened to her.
“I’m processing everything as best I can."
The older woman knew that, for the most part, she was telling the truth. But Nurse Jackson could also spot an avoidant patient from a mile away. This one, in particular, was a patient she had grown incredibly fond of.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Y/n.”
Her words caught the young girl by surprise. She didn't know whether to be apologetic, offended or defensive.
“All I’m saying is…" Nurse Jackson pursed her lips once more and drew in a deep breath as she tried to find the right words. "-As long as you keep burying your feelings and putting on a brave face, you’re never gonna move forward.”
Y/n hung her head, bashful that in the little time they knew each other, Nurse Jackson saw her so clearly, which was more than she could say for many of the people who knew her for much longer.
"You know, I think Ms Kelley is still offering free sessions." Nurse Jackson's voice was quiet and cautious. The last time she brought up the sessions to Y/n, she just about cursed her for suggesting it and stormed out of the room. "If you ever want to take her up on it, you just let me know and I'll sort that out for you."
The young girl didn't give her a definitive answer. She merely nodded her head and left quietly, discreetly wiping her teary eyes once her back was turned. However, Nurse Jackson was confident Y/n would take her up on her offer soon.
***
April 16th, 1986
Y/n's night was the same as it had been for what felt like an eternity. She woke up gasping for air, completely overcome by fear of impending danger despite being safe, sitting among Steve and the kids who were all passed out from movie night. She clung her fist to her chest and tried to steady and quiet her breathing.
Not wanting to wake anyone, she shifted Steve's comforter off her legs and left him sleeping on the ground by himself so she could sneak into the kitchen. She tried to shift her attention away from her frustrations, but as tears began to form in her eyes, it was hard to focus on the pot of coffee she was trying to make. Defeated, she dropped pot down abruptly on the counter and held her head in her hands.
"Still can’t sleep, huh?"
Steve's arms wrapped around her, his hands turning her around until she faced him. Y/n shook her head and dropped her hands, revealing her teary tired eyes to the only person she trusted enough to see them. Steve kissed her temple, just as he did the countless times he stayed awake with her.
He looked past her shoulder and spotted the coffee pot and grounds, and smiled playfully.
"Call me crazy, but I think having coffee in the middle of the night might not be helping."
Y/n rolled her eyes, nudging him gently.
"You don’t have any cocoa."
Steve chuckled, before pulling away and turning back to the pantry which Y/n had searched every inch of, for almost half an hour. He crouched down and moved a stack of canned soup to reveal a tin of cocoa. Y/n smirked weakly, her brow quipped.
“You’re hiding your cocoa now?”
“Just when the kids are here,” he explained sheepishly.
After the boys, under Dustin's leadership, got hot chocolate everywhere and gave themselves a sugar rush, Steve decided cocoa was not something he could leave unattended during movie nights.
Y/n sat at the kitchen table, mindlessly tapping her fingers against the surface as she waited for Steve to finish making their hot chocolates. Once he returned, he placed his hand atop hers to cease the tapping.
“What’s on your mind?”
She sighed. So much, that was the simple answer. There was so much on her mind, too much to unpack over one mug of hot chocolate.
“It’s weird seeing my dad again,” Y/n began. “- Having him around again.”
He nodded silently, sipping taking a sip from his mug.
“Everything is supposed to just be ok now because we all made it out alive, and I want things to be ok, but… it just doesn’t feel right. It doesnt feel fair.”
It should have been enough for her. She wanted it to be enough for her that everyone was ok and everyone was back home, but no amount of pretending made it so.
“It feels like I’m supposed to just forgive him? I’m supposed to just move on?… without even an apology?”
Steve’s brows rose and then knitted together.
“No one’s expecting you to do that, Y/n.”
She knew he was trying to comfort her, but she could name one person that was. She sighed and opted to squeeze Steve’s hand since he was keeping her from tapping.
“He asked me to go back home tomorrow night for dinner,” Y/n mumbled, unsure how she felt about the proposition.
She had been actively avoiding him and though it took him nearly week, it seemed Hopper was finally catching on. At least, that’s what Y/n told herself when he pulled her aside the last time she helped out at the shelter.
Steve squeezed her hand once, offering a small smile.
“That’s a good sign, right? Maybe he’s ready to talk.”
Y/n stared blankly at her mug.
“Maybe,” she huffed, though deep down she still was not sure.
***
April 17th, 1986
Dinner at home was not what Y/n expected. For one, it was only her, her dad and Joyce. While Jonathan was with Nancy, El and Will had plans with the rest of the kids. Walking in to a table set for only three left Y/n feeling uneasy, and yet hopeful that maybe her dad wanted time with her.
However, this hope dwindled as the night went on, because all they talked about over Joyce’s spaghetti was getting the cabin back in order. Y/n could hardly make sense of it, that was until her dad brought up meeting with an attorney before sliding a pen and a document across the table to her.
“What’s this?”
Startled, Y/n turned the document over and skimmed through it. While it was saturated with a lot of legal jargon she was unfamiliar with, she saw the words “title” and “transfer” then put two and two together. A red sticker flagged the place where she was to sign her name. She noticed that her dad had already signed his.
“Oh.”
Her face fell the very instant she pieced it together. A familiar knot began to form in her stomach. Hopper looked at her concernedly. When she met his gaze, she felt almost nothing.
“Bug, are you ok?”
Y/n wanted to laugh.
“You’re… so fucking priceless, dad.”
Hopper drew his brows together, taken aback at his daughter’s change in demeanour.
“What?”
“This is why you asked me to come home?”
She gestured towards the documents. There she was hoping that dinner at home meant finally having a proper conversation with her dad, when all it was was a ploy so he could get what he wanted. Hopper scrambled for a coherent response, words to keep things from escalating, but his mouth ran dry.
“When did you organise all this?” Y/n questioned, her cold glare going back and forth between the document and her dad. He sighed and ran his hand over his mouth.
“A week ago,” Hopper admitted sheepishly. As he suspected that escalated the tension in the room. “I sent the deed to the cabin to an attorney’s office.”
Y/n laughed coldly, remembering all too well the day he came close to throwing that very deed away. She felt a painful sense of clarity wash over her. This had little to do with the cabin and everything to do with controlling everything, Y/n felt certain of it.
“Of course,” she spat. “I should have fucking known.”
Hopper frowned, feeling an all too familiar sense of guilt settle in his stomach. He suspected that she might have some reservations about giving up ownership, but never expected this.
“I can understand if you’re upset.”
“Oh cut the bullshit, dad.”
He slammed his fist against the dinner table, prompting Joyce to come sprinting in from the kitchen.
“You don’t need to talk to me like that,” Hopper fired back.
“No, you know what? I will talk to you this. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You sure about that?”
Y/n did not take notice of the fact that they were both standing, leaning over the table, glaring at each other with the exact same expression. Nor did she take notice of Joyce, who stood at the end of the table, at a loss for how to de-escalate the situation, and if de-escalation was even possible.
“Y/n, maybe-“
Before the woman could finish speaking, Y/n kissed her teeth and shook her head, her tempermant getting the better of her.
“Joyce, this is between me and my dad.”
“Don’t talk to her like that.”
His words came with no delay, no hesitation, Joyce could see the way that upset Y/n.
“It’s ok,” the older woman told Hopper, before turning to his daughter and shaking her head reassuring. “It’s ok.”
Joyce excused herself and went to hers and Hopper’s shared bedroom. It was not until she closed the door shut that the argument resumed.
“What’s gotten into you?” Hopper asked, dumbfounded.
“You!” Y/n shouted, frustrated that she had to spell it out. “It’s bad enough you’re being accommodating to everyone but me, but you’re forcing your way back into everything on your terms and I’m really fucking sick of it.”
“Oh you’re sick of it?”
“Yes, because this is you! This is who you are! This is who you’ve always been and I feel like an idiot for expecting anything to be different with you.”
How could it be, she realised. While she was hoping her dad had changed for the better, he was hoping she remained the same. It was no wonder he was so nonchalant about everything, from moving in the Byers to stripping her of ownership of the cabin.
“Maybe a couple years ago, I would have let it all slide without kicking up a fuss, but I’m not doing that anymore,” Y/n argued.
She needed him to understand that while it was clear he wanted things back to how they were, she was far from the girl she was a year ago, and for a good reason.
“I can’t go back to doing that, dad. And it’s really shitty that you’re expecting me to.”
Hopper sighed, relieved that they were talking as opposed to yelling, but gutted all the same by what he was being accused of. He shook his head.
“I’m not expecting you to do anything, bug.”
“Yeah, you are,” Y/n argued. “You want me to be ok with you changing everything without a heads up. First you rearrange everything, then you move a whole family in, now this… You want me put up with everything, like I always did, but I’m not going to do that.”
She could not do that to herself again. Not after reliving it with Vecna. Y/n desperately wanted better for herself, and she wanted him to understand that and to want the same.
“I had no idea owning the cabin meant this much-“
“Oh my god, this isn’t just about the cabin!” Y/n shouted, frustrated that he was taking everything at surface level when there was much more to it.
Hopper winced, baffled as to how everything he says always ends up being the wrong thing.
“It’s about you and me, dad. All of it is about you and me and the fact that… you just don’t care about anything that’s important to me.”
“That’s not true,” Hopper argued, certain that while there was a lot he did not know about Y/n, especially after a year apart, he still knew the things that mattered most. She, on the other hand, was not so sure.
“You don’t even know what’s important to me.”
Hopper scrunche his brows together, offended that she thought so little of him. He knew her, he told himself. He had to.
“Looking after the people you care about,” he began, “protecting El and the kids… that’s important to you.”
Y/n scoffed and shook her head, leaving her dad to wonder how that was the wrong thing to say.
“Not the obvious stuff, or the stuff that we both care about.”
Those were a given, Y/n deemed. Those required no real effort on his end, which only proved her point further. Frustrated and partly defeated, Hopper tossed his hands up in the air.
“Then what are you getting at, bug?”
She swallowed thickly, but the lump in her throat persisted. It mattered less to Y/n that her dad did not understand her, and moreso that he never seemed to try to.
“Dad you were gone for almost a year. And El was gone and Steve and I weren’t together,” Y/n wept. “This cabin and everything I kept inside here… it was all I had for the last 8 months. It was all I had when you were still shitfaced drunk and were barely home. And you just come back and take it all away like its nothing.”
Hopper huffed, his gaze dropping down to the floorboards, too ashamed to look her in the eye. When he finally did look up, she wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands, sniffling quietly.
“Bug… I had no idea.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she scoffed.
He never asked her. He never really spoke to her. For all she knew, he never even thought of her or what she went through. How could he expect to know anything about how she was feeling?
Y/n caught a glimpse of herself in her reflection in the window, and a sense of fatigue began to linger.
“Look, I get that you’re ok and you’re fine and you’re past it all, but I’m not. I’m still stuck in the middle of it. I’m still hurting.”
“Is that what you think?” Hopper questioned, bewildered. “You think I’m ok? You think I’m past everything?”
“What else am I supposed to think when you’re too busy playing happy family with your girlfriend to consider my feelings in all of this?”
“Y/n, c’mon,” Hopper pleaded. “That’s not fair.”
She shook her head. Who was he to talk to her about unfair?
“If it wasn’t your addiction, it was El Now, if it’s not El, it’s Joyce and every other person in Hawkins. You’re always so preoccupied with everything and everyone else and I’m always just an afterthought. I’m not an idiot, dad, I can read between the lines.”
Hopper knew, now, what she was getting at, and he hated it. He resented the accusation he knew she was about to make.
“Bug-“
“I know when I’m not wanted.”
There it was. Hopper shook his head and went to reach for his daughter’s arm.
“Y/n, stop it.”
“I can’t!” Her voice snapped before she reached the end of her sentence, sending the worst kind of chills down Hopper’s spine. She shook her arm out of his grasp and moved away. “This has literally haunted me for years. It’s haunted me. You’ve haunted me.”
Long before Vecna got the chance to.
Hopper felt his lips tremble. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words could form.
His blank expression only pained Y/n more.
“I mean, honestly… Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me? Any recollection at all?”
She looked at him pleadingly, hoping for something. For any kind of confirmation that he knew all the things he had done. If he knew, she could have hope of him having remorse, of him apologizing and him making amends. But, if he didn’t, Y/n couldn’t see how having any hope would be possible.
Hopper blinked, still at a loss for words. He remembered some arguments, but the rest were a blur, and he knew no memory he could muster up would be one that Y/n was referencing.
She knew, at this point, she was grasping at straws, but Y/n couldn’t help herself. She needed to know.
“Do you remember my 16th birthday?”
Hopper said and did nothing.
A sob escaped Y/n’s lips. Alone, again; that was how she felt. That was a night so painful and so deeply etched into her memory because of him, but he could not recall any part of it. Hopper stumbled forward, terrified of what Y/n’s sobs meant and where their conversation was headed.
“Bug, please, I don’t wanna fight with you. I don’t wanna go back to doing that,” he started, his voice shaky, alongside his hands. “But, believe me, I also don’t want to pretend like things are ok. I want it to actually be ok. I wanna fix things, I wanna make things right with you.”
He should have done that first. He should have said that first, before anything else. Hopper hated himself for taking so long to realise that. He placed his hands on the side of his daughter’s shoulder, only to be met with silence.
Y/n had a blank expression, one which Hopper still studied profusely, hoping for some indication that things would be ok. She felt defeated. She felt fatigued. This was an argument she felt like she had had with her dad a million times before, and they all ended the same. Maybe it was finally time they cut their losses.
“And what if you can’t?”
Hopper flinched.
“Don’t say that.”
She couldn’t possibly think that, Hopper told himself. After everything that kept them apart, he could not accept that an argument would be the thing to sever their relationship. Y/n sighed.
“If the last 8 months couldn’t fix things between us, what are the chances that anything will?” She had no more tears. That was the part that terrified Hopper the most. That, and the fact that she was refusing to look him in the eye. “And… after everything that’s happened, I’m just… I’m so tired, Dad.”
“I know,” Hopper whispered.
Y/n finally looked at him, but nothing in her expression changed.
“No. You don’t.”
She knew that now, better than she ever had before. He could never know what she went through. He could never understand her now. And, for as long as that remained true, they would never truly see eye-to-eye on anything.
Y/n pushed past her dad and approached the dinner table. Hopper turned around and watched, puzzled by what she was doing until he saw her pick up the pen and sign the document.
If that was what he wanted from her, it would be the last thing she would ever give him, Y/n decided. He would have the cabin, but only she would have all the memories made in it. Time would move on, just as he so deperately wants, but she would always remain stuck reliving the pain on her own.
After signing the document, Y/n silently grabbed her jacket and headed towards the front door. Hopper stepped forward.
“Y/n-“
“Don’t,” she warned, turning around and facing him before he could get any closer to her. “I really don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
Y/n slammed the front door behind her as she left. The sound exhoed in Hopper’s head as he struggle to come to grips with everything. He saw so much of himself in her when they argued, but when she walked away from him, he saw so much of her mother. He had done it, he realised. He lost another one of his girls.
***
next part
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Massive fuck you to everyone who is talking about Palestinians as if we’re already all dead and sharing more solidarity with our corpses than us living. “We will never forget the beautiful Palestinian people-“ how about you stop “making peace” with Palestinian extermination. My people are not going to be forgotten because we are going to live. Palestinians have already survived one genocide and have been surviving one ever since.
Do not ever let the idea that all Palestinians are going to die exist in your mind. Mourn the dead, fight like hell for the living.
It has been hard for me to talk about how what is going on with Israel and Palestine is affecting me personally, but I grew up in Gaza and most of my family still lives there. My father did not survive the bombings last week and I have not been able to contact my younger sister in days. I am try to being understanding that most people do not have personal connections to what is happening and therefore are justifying their silence, but is heartbreaking to see this misinformation being spread. What’s happening there is a genocide, not a war. It is not antisemitic to support Palestine, it’s not even antiemetic to criticise Israel. There is no grey area or neutrality regarding this, and it is so easy to find resources that will educate you on the subject. It is my people and my home being destroyed so I will never be silent about this, but I please urge everyone to get informed and start speaking up and finding ways they can help.
decolonizepalestine has tons of information on Palestine’s history/propaganda that has been spread throughout the years
UK citizens can email their MP asking for a ceasefire
US citizens can call/email their local government officials asking for a ceasefire
Jewish Voice for Peace also has many resources for ways for US citizens to get involved, including protests
wait so im stupid and a little confused. are Steve and hopper!reader back together already in the cardigan series? i thought there was just some tension between them again but i could be wrong😭 also would love to see the reunion between hopper and her
yes they are! ☺️ i totally understand the confusion, the story isn't written chronologically, so there's a lot of jumping between different points in the timeline. i've made a quick lil summary to help clear things up hehe
there is tension between them at the end of cardigan, after everything at starcourt and when steve shows up at her doorstep.
this tension continues to linger for the rest of 1985 all the way through to March 1986.
we see this tension come to a head, ultimately ending in them getting back together at the end of change the ending.
also hopper and reader will get reunited soon, dw! 🫶🏽
Summary: While Y/n was used to going unnoticed, she was all Steve could think about.
series masterlist // main masterlist
A/N: Just some indulgent fluff in the form of backstory before we get back to the main story line.
November, 1982
Y/n shoved her books into her locker and let out a huff. It had been a long school day and she had only an hour to commute to her part time job and don the most hideous uniform known to man. A hell of a start to sixteen, but she had had worst birthdays. This one would be different, she was sure of it.
Slamming the door shut, she jolted as she recognised Steve leaning against the lockers adjacent to hers, grinning like he knew something she did not. Y/n tightened her grip on her bag and cocked her brow, mostly amused and the smallest bit flustered. She drew her lips together tightly, trying not to think about how flushed she felt.
“Did you see our grade?”
It was his first A in a while, but that wasn't what had him feeling giddy, it was the excuse he had to go to her locker and strike up a conversation with her. After their time working on their group project came to an end, he had been grasping at straws trying to find reasons to talk to her, to hear her voice again.
“I did. You’re welcome," Y/n smirked. Steve scoffed jokingly.
“I’m pretty sure it was my good looks and charisma that swayed Mrs Madison." He inched closer to her, brows raised teasingly. Y/n narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth perking up.
She could never tell if the type of banter they had was platonic or if it was just a consequence of Steve being the biggest flirt in Hawkins, but she knew it was risky to think anything else of it.
“No, I think it was my research.”
Steve chuckled, standing straight. They were quite the unlikely duo, but he liked to believe
“Well either way, we make a pretty good team.”
“Yeah,” she murmured, smiling affectionately.
When she was first assigned as his partner for the project, she had more than her fair share of reservations. Now, her feelings towards Steve had become far more complicated for all the best reasons.
Steve put his hands in his pockets and glanced down momentarily at his shoes, contemplating what to say next. He met her gaze with a nervous smile and began to back away.
“I guess I’ll see you around.”
Y/n nodded, her expression dimming until she noticed Steve’s feet come to a halt. Suddenly, he was turning back to her, his face lit up.
“Oh, and happy birthday.”
She froze, her brows knitted together, puzzled. No one ever really remembered to wish her a happy birthday except for a handful of her friends and Flo from the station.
“How do you know-“
“You mentioned it last week, remember?”
Steve felt a knot form in his stomach as he realised how potentially weird it was for him to remember a comment she brought up nonchalantly eight days ago. Steve was so sure she would grimace and find a way to politely exit the conversation, but she just smiled.
Y/n barely remembered mentioning it, yet he did.
“Um, you know actually I’m having some friends over at my place tonight, if you wanted to come,” Steve added.
It was nothing special, but if Y/n was going to be there, he knew it would be a good night. Maybe he would even get her a cake, and a nice gift that didn't cross the friend-line too far for comfort.
Y/n gave it a moment's deliberation and frowned, deciding the plans she had already set in stone were too precious to cancel.
“Thanks, Steve, but I... I’m having dinner with my dad tonight.”
Steve smiled defeatedly and nodded huffed, looking around the corridor as more and more students were heading out the door until his eyes landed on one of the posters for the upcoming dance. Steve drew in a sharp breath and wondered if he could muster up the courage to finally ask her. She was preoccupied buttoning up her cardigan, and it seemed like as good a time as any.
“Well, hey, the winter dance is coming up in a couple weeks and I…”
Her eyes shot up as did her hopes, despite her best efforts to steady herself and remember play it cool. It was just another stupid high school dance she would inevitably find herself at, but if somehow she ended up going with Steve, something inside her knew it would be different.
She watched intently anticipating his next words. Steve had been holding his breath, choked up at the way she was gazing at him. Panic began to seep in.
“I know the band that’s playing," he blurted out rapidly. "They’re pretty good, so should be fun night.”
“Oh." There was no hiding her disappointment. Her shoulder slumped but she maintained some semblance of a smile. “That’s cool... I guess.”
Steve swallowed thickly. He could have sworn the light in her expression dimmed, and he hated himself for chickening out, but there was always a voice that questioned if he was just kidding himself. It was hard to hear anything over it.
“Well, have a nice dinner with your dad,” Steve murmured before turning around and walking away. There was still plenty of time before the dance, perhaps by then he will have worked up the courage to ask her.
***
April, 1983
The passenger seat of Steve's car may as well have had her name written on it. It remained in the exact position Y/n had it adjusted to and the clutter she couldn't manage to squeeze into her bag by the time she had to go. Steve would not have had it any other way.
Her uniform was drenched in rainwater from just the distance she had to run from the store to the parking lot. Steve gave her on of his jackets to drape over her shoulders for the car ride, mumbling something about the radiator being broken and not wanting her to catch a cold. Y/n was too distracted by the smell of his cologne to remember his exact words.
He drove slower than normal, taking his time to focus on what he could make out of the road markings in between his windshield wipers going back and forth rapidly.
“Thanks again for giving me a ride home," Y/n said loudly, making sure he heard her clearly. His eyes never leaving the road ahead, Steve smiled easily and shrugged.
“It’s nothing.”
He did not have to think twice about it. When Y/n told him she finished in 5 and he knew the rain would only getting heavier, Steve knew he would wait around to drive her home so she would not have to wait at the bus stop. There was no chance he was going to do anything else.
Y/n glanced at him, feeling overwhelmed by all that she felt towards him. A year ago, she would have been walking in the rain, thinking about how she would scrape together the leftovers in the fridge to make herself some dinner. Now, she had Steve.
“It’s not nothing.”
Her voice was quieter, but Steve caught what she said and held it tightly. There was a sincerity and vulnerability in her voice, something he knew she let very few people have access to. He liked knowing he had become one of those people.
Steve took a split moment to steal a glance at her. She was sitting in his car, his jacket draped over her shoulders, and she was looking back at him with an expression that drove him crazy. He wanted to remember every second of this moment.
Y/n turned back to the road and her face fell.
“Shit.”
Steve slowed down when he saw it too. A massive portion of a tree must have snapped off from the wind and landed right on the road that led to Y/n's place. Officers had already blocked off the road. A familiar one approached Steve's BMW, walking towards the passenger window, as opposed to Steve's.
Y/n wheeled her window down and gave Officer Robinson a brief hello before immediately asking what the hold up was. There was no other way of getting to the cabin, only through that road. She had already thrown a wrench into Steve's afternoon by letting him drive her home, she hated to think what a road blockage meant.
“It’s gonna be at least a few more hours until we can clear it, Y/n.”
She sighed, frustrated, knowing a few hours meant they may as well clear the rest of their day. She looked to Steve, her face riddled with worry, only to be meant with a calm gaze that brought her ease.
“We can come back later,” he said softly, his tone assuring her it was no biggie even though she knew it was more than a minor inconvenience. Y/n turned back to her dad's colleague.
“We’ll come back later, Robinson.”
The officer nodded and backed away so Steve could turn the car around. The first few minutes of the drive back to the main road was filled with Y/n apologising and asking if he was sure he didn't mind killing time with her. Steve assured her it was fine, but he knew she would be difficult to convince, so he suggested they make an adventure of it.
Apparently Hawkins had a hidden gem, a spot that Steve loved that he knew not many knew of, Y/n included. It was a lookout just around the corner from the post shop. Even through the torrential rain, the view was a sight for sore eyes. The two of them sat in silence at first, as Y/n looked around through the windshield. Then, she heard the faint sound of Steve's stomach rumbling. She turned to him and smiled, amused.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?"
“Starving," he answered. He was supposed to pick up something to eat after stopping at Melvald's, but ended up getting sidetracked and forgetting about it completely.
Y/n grinned before picking her bag up and placing it on her lap. She reached in and pulled out a small box, one ominously familiar to Steve.
“Good thing I picked up some donuts on my break," she exclaimed, opening the box up to reveal four of the custard donuts from her favourite bakery, the very donuts Steve teared up trying to stomach just a month ago.
He gulped as she picked two of the four donuts and handed, handing one to him. Thankfully, she looked away just as Steve began to grimace. He stared at the abomination and decided to try his luck at keeping Y/n distracted from realising that he had not and would not eat it.
It was a good thing the lookout oversaw such a nice view. Y/n was scoffing a donut down and going back to looking around.
“How have I not known about this lookout?”
Y/n had grown up in Hawkins just as Steve had. Hell, her dad was the sheriff of the damn town. She was so sure she knew the town back to front when Steve insinuated there was secret spot she did not know about.
“How did you find this place?”
“I have my ways," Steve shrugged. "This is my special spot.”
Y/n scrunched her nose up. Special, she repeated to herself. That was a loaded word.
“Don’t tell me this is where King Steve takes his dates," she grimaced. It was no secret Steve was a player and Y/n often had to remind herself that just because he was good to her, did not necessarily mean his entire persona had changed.
“No,” his answer came quick. Steve turned to her and waited until she was looking back. He needed her to know. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever brought here.”
She drew in a deep breath and as she breath out, her lips curved into a smile. No one had ever come close to making her feel the way Steve did. Y/n never thought of herself as someone who would have people lose to her. She was used to being alone and keeping everyone, even her own dad at an arm's length. It was better that way, safer. Then Steve came along, and all of that changed.
Y/n desperately wanted him to know that, but she could never bring herself to tell him. It was not the kind of thing friends told each other, and that was all she was to him.
He looked back at the view, and Y/n drew her attention back to her donut, taking another bite and anticipating having a second one.
“Ugh, this is just what I needed," she looked at Steve and realised he was still holding in his hand, though in a way that made her suspect he was trying to hide it. “You haven’t even eaten yours.”
Steve's face went red.
“Yeah… I’m pretty full already."
“But, you said you were starving."
Y/n drew her brows together in confusion and narrowed her eyes at him. He pursed his lips together and she could have sworn she heard him curse beneath his breath.
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
She couldn't understand it. Steve was starving and she gave him one of the best donuts in the state of Indiana, but he was refusing to eat it. Finally, it dawned on her.
“Steve. Do you not like the donuts?”
His silence was all the answer she needed. Y/n didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or let out a gasp. Either way, she could not make any sense of it.
“But you said you liked them when you first tried them!”
“I did! I…” Steve knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't dig himself deeper into lie that was only meant to be a little white one. He sighed. “They’re the worst donuts I’ve ever had.”
Y/n laughed curtly in disbelief. If Steve had told her he hated the donuts she loved so dearly, her ego might have been a bit bruised, but she would have been ok overall. She narrowed her eyes, puzzled by what went on beneath that beautiful head of hair.
“Why did you lie?”
Steve thought about it for only a moment. The reason was really quite simple.
“Because it made you happy,” he answered.
Her eyes went wide and everything inside her came to a stand still.
“Oh," was all she could mutter before averting her eyes from his intent gaze. She did not want to sit in silence any longer and let his words continue to simmer in her mind. Y/n knew her heart would not be able to bear it.
For the first time, Steve's car was beginning to suffocate her. Each passing second made her more and more conscious of just how close they were to each other. Y/n desperately needed a change of scenery.
“Hey, where’s that burger place you always talk about?
“It’s next to the post office."
Perfect, she thought. She needed to take a breather and Steve needed something to eat.
“Do you wanna go there and grab a bite?" Y/n quickly glanced at him, her heart still racing. "It’s gonna be a few more hours, anyways."
Steve agreed and started the car up again. It was a short and silent ride to the diner. Steve held the door to his car and the door to the diner open for Y/n, something he had developed a habit of doing, though she never thought much of it. Not until now.
The diner had only a handful of patrons when they got there. Steve muttered something about how he always sat at the counter so he could sneak a peek into the kitchen. The tension between them had begun to settle and by the time their food came, two orders of Steve's usual, things felt normal again.
Y/n took one bite of the burger Steve claimed was the best on the menu and he could hardly contain his anticipation. She chewed slowly, taking in the divine taste, with Steve watching her intently.
“Well, what do you think?”
She shook her head, taking a sip of her milkshake before going back in for more.
“I really wanted to hate it to get back at you for not liking the donuts,” she said honestly. It would have been nice to tease him for it, but there was nothing to tease about. Y/n sighed. “But these burgers are so good!“
After she took another bite, she heard a faint chuckle and realised Steve was smiling at her, clearly amused. Swallowing her bite, Y/n cleared her throat.
“What’s so funny?”
“You… you have a little..."
Before she knew what he was referring to, Steve lifted his hand and swiped his thumb over the left corner of Y/n's lips. Suddenly, she couldn't take her eyes off him. His hand was cool to the touch, but so soft and comforting, she wanted to lean into it. So she did.
After wiping away the mustard remnants, Steve locked eyes with Y/n, but only for a second. He had no time to register it. No time to chicken out and pull away. No time to reason with his anxieties. She leaned in and kissed him. Her hands rose to the sides of his face and he knew he was done for.
A moment passed and Y/n began to pull away, catching her breath as she opened her eyes and came face to face with the most dazed expression she had ever seen, and on Steve Harrington of all people. She could hardly believe that just happened, so much so, she let out a breathless laugh beneath her breath.
“You can’t do that," Steve whispered, pressing his temple against hers, his eyes going back and forth between her eyes and her lips “You can’t just kiss me like that then laugh it was nothing.”
She shook her head.
“It wasn’t nothing.”
Steve drew in a sharp breath and closed his eyes momentarily. The fearful voice in the back of his head was nowhere to be found. He looked at her and sighed.
“I like you, Y/n.”
She leaned back and stared at him, dumbfounded.
“You... You what?”
“I like you," he repeated, his voice a little louder. "I really really like you. I have for a while now.”
Y/n heaved, her eyes wide and stare blank.
“Really?”
Steve smiled softly.
“You haven’t noticed?”
He could have sworn there were multiple times he had been terribly obvious about it. After all, most of his afternoons and his weekends belonged to her, as did the passenger seat of his beloved BMW.
Y/n's heart never knew such a rush. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to kiss him again, but she couldn't bring herself to throw caution to the wind and risk getting hurt by yet another person she cared too much about for her own good.
"Are you being serious?"
Steve put his hand in her and laced their fingers together slowly.
“You... You do this thing with your hands when you're focused and at first I thought it was just a crush but then… Then I kept looking for excuses to talk to you. Just to hear you say my name again."
It was like nothing he had ever felt before.
"And I listened to that ‘60s song you said was your favourite," he added. The Bee Gees were not necessarily his kind of music, but the way she described it and the way her face lit up when she heard that one particular song made him want to listen to it everyday. "I even got it on cassette so I could just casually play it in my car. And I pretended to like those terrible donuts just ‘cause it made you smile, and-“
She did it again. Leaned in and kissed him softly, shutting him up completely, silencing every thought and every voice that echoed in his mind until all he could think about was the feeling of her touch.
Y/n pulled away quickly this time. She really only kissed him to shut him up long enough so she could finally get a word in.
“I like you too," she admitted, betraying the emotionally unavailable persona she once took great pride in maintaining and deciding she liked her odds when it came to Steve.
He stared at her, lifting his hands until the sides of her face were in between his left and right fingertips. He wanted to take it in for a moment. Just a moment. Then, he leaned in and kissed her, soft and fervently.
Even with her eyes closed, Y/n could picture everything around her glowing. Her suspicions were confirmed when they pulled apart and she looked around at a room that appeared tenfold brighter than she remembered. It had been a while since she felt anything close to that.
“Do you think the road’s clear now?” Steve asked, looking outside and realising the previously torrential rain had stopped completely.
“I don’t care," Y/n answered without waiting a beat or even taking a moment to look outside.
All she wanted was right there in that diner with her. Steve looked at her and reached for her hand, grinning like the lovestruck fool he knew he was and would always be for Y/n.
***
March, 1984
They opted for one of the booths that day. Steve said he was pissed off with his basket ball coach and needed to give Y/n a play by play of everything that went wrong. She happily obliged. It was a nice breather from being cooped up at the cabin all day with El.
When they walked in, the server at the counter recognised them and pointed to the day’s special written on a chalkboard displayed on the counter. Y/n took one look at it and realised what day it was.
“Lewinsky of all people, the benchwarmer can’t make a free throw to save his life and coach still put him on.” Steve packed a small handful of fries into his mouth and chewed, before looking up and realising his girlfriend was staring blankly at her food, her eyes glossed over. Slowly, he waved his hand a few inches in front of her face. “Y/n? Are you listening?”
She looked up and sniffled, quickly realising she had been too in her head to pay attention to Steve’s story. She shook her head and frowned apologetically.
“I’m sorry.”
Steve couldn’t even remember what he was annoyed about, not when there was something going wrong with Y/n. He moved his plate to the side and leaned his elbows on the edge of the table. Reaching his arm across the table, Steve took hold of her hand.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“It’s stupid,” she whispered, wiping her eyes, not wanting to dampen the mood any further. Steve knitted his brows together and shook his head.
“No it’s not.”
She was tearing up. Whatever it was, he knew it was a big deal to her, and so he couldn’t ignore it.
Y/n sighed, realising there was no use in trying to pull a brave face. Steve knew her too well to buy it. She drew in a sharp and shaky inhale before meeting his gaze, her eyes watering again from just the anticipation of saying it aloud.
“Today’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” she explained in a hushed tone. Her lip quivered and her expression grew sheepish as she went to continue. “… And I completely forgot until now.”
The day used to carry so much weight to her. Her emotions would usually begin to deplete at the beginning of month and she would spend the entire day wallowing alone at home. Now it completely snuck up on her and she hated herself for it.
Steve shrunk back, at a loss for words. Only one came to mind.
“Shit.”
“I’ll be ok, I just-“ Y/n cleared her throat and wiped her tears away. She could wallow later but it wasn’t fair to Steve to do it now. “Finish your story.”
His expression was unmoved.
“Your mom... What was she like?”
Steve spoke cautiously, knowing it was the most delicate of matters when it cane to Y/n’s life. He had always been curious, but never wanted to pry. If there was ever a day to ask, he figured it would be today. Deep down, he knew Y/n wanted to talk about her too.
“You don’t have to do this, Steve,” she whispered.
“I know," he took hold of her hand again.
Steve didn't have the best relationship with his mom, but from the few times she brought her up in conversation, he knew Y/n had a good one with hers. A great one. He wanted to know more about it.
“How did she- uhm… never mind,” Steve shook his head and dismissed the thought, scared it was too sensitive of a question.
“It’s ok, Steve,” Y/n assured him.
He wasn't the first person to ask her how her mom died, and unlike almost everyone else who did, he didn't annoy the crap out of her.
She used to dread having the dead mom conversation with people that came into her life, but it didn't feel that way with Steve. Y/n didn't feel like a news story or neighbourhood gossip or the town's sob story.
“Was she sick?” Steve asked hesitantly.
It was hard to make any conclusions about Y/n's mom, given how little he knew about her. There were rumours that spread around town when she passed, but Steve couldn't bring himself to buy into any of it. It didn't feel right. Though he and Y/n were barely friends, they had been classmates for as long as he could remember. He still remembered seeing her the day she came back to school some time after the funeral.
He always wondered what happened, and how Y/n managed to get through it at such a young age.
“She got into a car accident," she explained. "A drunk driver hit her, and she died a few days after.”
Y/n remembered the torrential rain that fell that night. She remembered the phone ringing in the middle of the night and the scream her dad let out after he collapsed on the floor. She remembered her mom's sister coming into town the next day, and how she knew that was a bad sign. Everything that came after was a blur to her.
Steve squeezed her hand three times and offered a small smile.
“What was she like?”
Her eyes began to light up. That was the one question that she loved being asked when it came to talking about her mom.
“She was great,” Y/n started, the corners of her lips perking up as she remembered, not the rain or the phone call or aunt Jenna, but her mom. “… She was the best, actually.”
“I bet she was,” Steve smiled.
Y/n grinned, meeting his gaze. If he only knew.
“She was twice as strict as my dad,” Y/n explained. Steve was surprised, just as she expected. “But anytime I was having a bad day she used to sneak into my room with a tub of ice cream and two spoons.”
Her mom wouldn't even have to ask. If Y/n had a certain expression, or slammed her bedroom door a certain way, or said goodnight with a certain tone, her mom would be at her side with their favourite dessert. She had a sixth sense when it came to her daughters, and it wasn't until she passed, and took with her their ice cream nights, that Y/n realised how much missed it.
“Sounds familiar,” Steve chuckled, remembering El mention something about how Y/n had special ice cream in the freezer.
She grinned. Y/n always loved it when others drew similarities between her and her mom. She took pride in it. To her, the more she took after her mom, the less she took after her dad.
“People said I looked just like her too,” Y/n beamed. “Same hair, same eyes… Same laugh.”
“Yeah?”
Y/n nodded, chuckling beneath her breath. It was the one sound she would probably never forget. As strict as her mom was, Y/n grew up hearing her laughter almost all of the time. Hers and her dad's.
“My dad would tell the most stupid jokes all the time," Y/n explained, a bittersweet feeling settling in her chest. "—and she’d laugh at every single one… even when she was angry with him.”
She would give anything to relive a moment like that again. To hear that sound again in reality and not in memory. To eat ice cream and rest her head on her mom's shoulder, letting go of whatever was burdening her.
“I wish I got to meet her,” Steve mumbled, hoping it didn't sound silly to Y/n. In truth, he had met her a few times in passing, but those didn't count to him. He wished he got to meet her as the mother of the girl he loved.
“Me too,” Y/n smiled weakly. She thought about it often as well.
“Do you think she would’ve liked me?”
Steve pursed his lips together forming a sheepish grin. He thought about that a lot. Though it was merely a hypothetical, it was oddly important to him that she would have.
Y/n gave it a moment's deliberation and smiled.
“Yeah,” she laughed. “She would’ve.”
There was no doubt about it. She would have been skeptical about how much pride he took in his hair and in his car, but she would have seen how much he loves and care for Y/n and that would have been enough for her.
The more Y/n thought about it, the more she realised that, wherever she was, her mom would not be holding it against her that she forgot what today was. If anything, she would have been happy. She would have been happy Y/n wasn't wallowing anymore. That she had someone to lean on now, who didn't let her carry her burdens alone. That her sweet Y/n was so busy making good memories with someone she loved, she forget to remember the bad ones that once debilitated her.
***
December, 1984
Steve stood at the gym entrance and scanned the room. Dustin didn't have to be told twice before racing past him to find his friends. Finally, Steve spotted her standing with El by the bleachers in the same dress she wore to their high school winter dance. She had her arms crossed. That was never a good sign.
“If it isn’t the two prettiest girls in Hawkins,” he sang, approaching the Hopper girls with a nervous smile. Y/n was glaring daggers at him.
“I see Mike,” El chirped, eager to leave Steve to deal with the mess he made.
With El gone, Steve inched closer to Y/n, his arms instinctively reaching for her waist only to be swatted away.
“You’re late, Harrington."
He promised her he would be early, and he knew how much Y/n dreaded having to deal with their old teachers herself. And after all, he was the only reason she agreed to chaperone the middle school dance.
Steve froze, his expression equivalent to that of a kicked puppy.
“Woah. Harrington?” Steve held his hand to his chest. He knew she would be mad at him, but calling him by his last name was a low blow. “C’mon, I’m only a few minutes late.”
Y/n rolled her eyes, pushing him away as he leaned in to steal a quick peck.
“First of all, there’s a no kissing rule."
The teacher in charge, Mrs Bernstein was very clear about that rule. That was, after a long-winded story about renovations they made to the science labs and then a lecture about the problem with today's youth.
“Second of all," Y/n added. "You can’t talk me into signing up to be a chaperone with you just to show up late and leave me to face Mrs Bernstein on my own.”
It will be fun, he told her. We'll be doing it together. Y/n wanted to make him pay for every second she had to plaster on a smile and supervise middle schoolers on her own.
Steve grimaced.
“Bernstein still works here?”
“Yes, and I volunteered you to be on snack table duty with her for the first hour.”
Y/n gestured to the opposite end of the gym where the elderly lady was waiting with likely a million stories with a million details and no end. She smirked, pleased with herself.
“Have fun.”
Steven turned to his girlfriend and pouted. She wasn't really going to make him do that, he thought. Y/n patted his back and pushed him forward, proving him wrong.
Bernstein was just as he remembered her, boring as hell. Steve lasted half an hour before he started looking around the gym, searching for an out.
Luckily, he spotted two kids sneaking out of the gym just as Bernstein was wrapping up her spiel about the price of gas. He never thought of himself as a snitch, but if it meant getting to his girl and getting his kiss, he did what was necessary.
With Bernstein gone, all that was left to do was pay Mike five dollars to watch the snack table, and he was making his was to Y/n. She still had her arms crossed, but Steve had a feeling her stance would change. He stood beside her, close enough so that she could hear him over the music.
“Dustin had a hair emergency and asked me to stop by his house on the way here," he explained. "It took a lot longer than I expected."
Steve was expecting a comb and a bit of mousse would fix it, but when he realised what he was working with, he had no choice but to start from scratch.
“Ok... that’s pretty sweet," Y/n sighed, her lips perking at the thought of it, her arms instinctively falling to her sides. Steve started to smile and pulled a small box from his jacket pocket.
“Then, since I was already running late, I decided make another stop so I could pick up this."
He held the box out for Y/n. With narrowed eyes, she opened it slowly, revealing a small corsage. It cost him twice the normal price and a full five minutes of begging, but the florist was able to pull together a boutonniere for Dustin and a corsage for Y/n in a moment's notice.
“Still mad at me?”
“No,” she grinned, holding her wrist out so he could put the corsage on for her. After tying it on, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Y/n held the side of his face, running his fingers along his cheek until her eyes landed on the bruise still evident around his eye.
She frowned. Even a week after his fist fight with Billy, his face was still slow to clear up. She studied the bruising and scarring closely, her brows crinkled together in concern.
“Does your face still hurt?”
“Only a little,” he assured her, gently pulling her hand away before she got herself worked up again.
“He’s such a piece of shit," Y/n muttered.
"I know," he laughed.
They turned their attention back to the kids they were meant to be chaperoning, but his hand never left hers. She couldn't stop thinking about that fight. She brushed her shoulder against his and offered a playful smile.
“I reckon I could have taken him if you hadn’t stood in my way."
Another kick to the groin, and Billy would have been crawling away. That was what she told herself every time she remembered her boyfriend catching a fist that was alarmingly close to colliding with her face.
“Of course you would have," Steve smiled, squeezing her hand three times and playing along with the hypothetical she had clearly been building up in her mind. But deep down, he knew he was never gonna let her find out.
***
i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, translated or reposted onto another site.
Summary: It's time to take down Vecna once and for all and, much to Steve's protests, Y/n puts herself on the frontline.
tw: description of violence and injury
series masterlist // main masterlist
a/n: and we're back to the main storyline :)
this part was not initially planned, but it felt awkward moving forward without addressing what goes down during the big battle with Vecna! hope you enjoy :)
September 21st, 1978
Y/n sat at the kitchen table quietly, stewing in her nervousness as she waited for her mom to explain further. She had called her eldest to sit with her, which wasn't what made Y/n anxious. It was when her mom called her by her full name. That was never a good sign.
From underneath the table they sat at, Y/n's mom held up her daughter's school bag, unzipped it and pulled out a sheet of paper. Y/n hung her head, cursing herself for not just throwing it in the bin like she initially contemplated doing. Seeing her reaction, Y/n's mom softened her gaze.
“Why didn’t you tell me there was a school trip coming up?”
She could not understand it. Y/n was not the type to hide things from her mom, nor was she the type to pass up an overnight school field trip.
Y/n locked eyes with her mom for a short moment before averting them quickly. Her face was burning up from the embarrassment. She never meant for her little white lie to turn into a whole thing.
“I forgot.”
“Y/n, don’t lie to me.”
The young girl hung her head once more.
“There’s a fee. I didn’t know if we could afford to…”
She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. Not after the sharp inhale her mother took almost immediately. Y/n glanced up at her momentarily. She had seen her mother do a heck of a lot of crying over the last few months, but never like that, and never over her.
The older woman rose from her chair and sped around the table, pulling her daughter into her embrace.
“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” she said softly, before finally pulling away. “I know your dad and I have been fighting a lot, and constantly going back and forth about Sara, instead of making sure we were looking after you.”
“I get it, mom,” Y/n whispered.
Her mother felt her stomach drop further. This was the last thing she wanted for Y/n. Her sweet, vibrant Y/n who had gotten far too good at and far too accustomed to pulling a brave face. The older woman lifted her hands to the sides of her daughter’s face and frowned regretfully.
“We’ll do better, I promise,” she said before glancing back down at the sheet of paper on the kitchen table and taking it in her hand once more. “Starting with this field trip, because there’s no way you’re missing out.”
“Mom, you don’t have to-“
Y/n’s eyes widened as her mom held her hand up, stopping her from saying anything further. She pursed her lips tightly, giving the field trip handout a onceover before looking her daughter dead in the eye.
“I’m the mom, you’re the kid, ok?” She snapped, her voice filling the room to the brim, startling Y/n at first and then filling her with relief. She nodded.
The entire time Sara had been sick, nurses and doctors and family friends were commenting on how strong and mature her big sister was, shouldering extra responsibilities to help out her parents and spending all her free time with Sara all while keeping her grades up at school. Y/n never wanted to be strong and mature, but by the way everyone spoke about her, it was obvious that’s what everyone needed her to be.
Y/n’s mother sighed. The fees and the finer details were not to be any of Y/n’s business, she declared to herself. That was hers and Hopper’s. All she wanted from Y/n was a simple answer, and then she would move however many mountains necessary to make it work. The woman gazed intently at her daughter.
“You wanna go on this trip?”
Y/n opened her louth and hesitated for a moment before answering in a hushed tone, “I-I do.”
Her mom nodded once and looked at the handout yet again, her eyes searching for the information on the fee. It would be a stretch, but the woman’s mind was already decided. One of her girls was going to have some semblance of a nice year if it was the last she did.
“I’ll talk to dad. We’ll make it happen.”
Y/n blinked, dumbfounded. It was that simple? She had spent weeks analysing every sentence on the hand out, contemplating if the trip was even worth bringing up to her parents and contemplating ways she could come up with the money herself.
In one conversation, her mom had fixed it all for her.
The young girl was grinning ear to her. With glossy eyes she stepped forward and hugged her mother tightly. It was a small but immensely meaningful win for her, and she needed her mom to know that.
“Thank you.”
The woman felt her breath hitch. After several months of hell, a thank and a hug from a happy daughter was more than she could have asked for. She kissed the top of Y/n’s head and hugged her just as tightly, with no intention of letting go until she did first.
***
November 27th, 1984
Y/n needed a second to breathe. She left Steve with the kids for a few minutes so she could lock the backdoor and the windows, but she found herself standing in the hallway and catching her breath.
When Y/n finally made her way back to the living room, she did so slowly, puzzled by the gruff voice coming from the living room where the kids were. She could only just make out the words being spoken.
“You know what happens when I get angry, Max. I break things."
Her stomach turned as realisation hit and she raced towards the sound of the kids screaming. Billy Hargrove was yet again causing trouble. By the time Y/n reached the living room, he had already broken one of Joyce’s plates and held a petrified little Lucas against the wall by his shirt.
Instantly fuming, Y/n made her way towards him with clenched fists, her thumbs tucked in just as she had been taught by her old man.
“Hey asshole,” she shouted, pulling Billy back by his shoulder as hard as she could. Once he let go of Lucas and turned to Y/n, she swung her right fist with all her might and aimed right for his stupid face.
Billy doubled back, lifting his hand to his nose and kissing his teeth when he saw blood on his fingertips.
“Yeah, kick his ass Y/n!” The kids were cheering from the corner of the room, making Y/n forget about the pain in her hand, but only just for a moment. Billy laughed dryly.
“You know, I’m getting real sick of you butting your nose into my business,” he hissed, starting to get the impression she was more than just an old babysitter to the little boys who kept hanging around Max. “Just ‘cause your dad’s the stupid police chief, doesn’t mean you run this town.”
Y/n furrowed her brows, resenting being referred to nothing but the chief’s daughter, even moreso from a dingus like him. He inched forward, trying to intimidate her, but Y/n straightened her back and planted her feet.
“Just shut up and go pick on someone your own size, Billy,” she spat, still fuming. It was bad enough he had a habit of beating up unsuspecting freshman at school, now he was terrorising her kids.
Billy kept moving closer to her, the crease between his brows remaining steady, and it started to dawn on Y/n that if he had no issue with hitting a kid as sweet as Lucas, there was very little chance he would have an issue with beating her up. Her feet shifted backwards ever so slightly, and Billy took immediate notice of it. He smirked.
“Already did,” he taunted, nodding his head towards the window facing the front yard. “Didn’t you see your little boyfriend on the ground outside?”
Y/n was swinging her fist again before it could even register, but unfortunately Billy caught it before another blow could be made to his face. Just as his lips instinctively curved into what Y/n knew would be another infuriating smirk, Y/n jolted her foot upwards until it came to a sudden and aggressive collision with his groin.
Billy doubled back yet again, wincing momentarily and then donning an expression far more sinister. He recovered his stance in a seconds and was glaring daggers at Y/n, completely fed up.
“Oh, you are so dead,” he growled, moving forward with his hands balled up and winding back ready to swing. If he was holding back before, he clearly did not plan to anymore. Y/n stumbled backwards. Before she could remember to tuck her thumbs, a pair of strong arms pulled her out of the way.
“No you are.”
Steve, bloody nose and all, caught Billy’s fist mid-swing and sucker-punched the left side of his face before he could see it coming. Instinctively, Y/n lunged forward and reached for her boyfriend, startled by the injuries already evident on his face.
“Steve!”
While relieved Billy didn’t get the chance to punch her, Y/n did not have time to feel grateful for Steve’s impeccable timing, nor did she have time to watch him get into fight with Billy Hargrove.
Her fingers barely grazed her boyfriends arm before he was following Billy. Y/n stepped back and signalled for the kids to stay out of the way. She knew Steve had had a bone to pick with him ever since he got to Hawkins, so there was no telling where things would go, but something told Y/n it was gonna get ugly. Billy began laughing maniacally, clapping his hands sarcastically before shoving Steve back.
“So you do have a bit of fire in you,” he chuckled. “You know, I’ve been waiting to see the King Steve everyone’s been talking about.”
“Just leave,” Steve hissed, shoving him back just as hard. Billy’s smirk never faltered, despite losing his footing for a split second. Instead, he stood tall and inched forward again, narrowing his eyes at Steve tauntingly, as if testing to see what would set him off.
“Didn’t realise all I had to do was go after his bitch-“
Y/n inhaled sharply. Before Billy could get another word out, Steve was jabbing his face and his torso repeatedly. He could tolerate Billy poking fun at him, but not at Y/n. Never at her.
The kids were back to cheering again, and Y/n was grasping at straws trying to de-escalate, before one of them ended up seriously hurt. Sure, maybe she thought Billy deserved a few sucker-punches to the face, and maybe she didn’t mind if Steve was the one handing them out, but there was a bigger battle at hand and time was not on their side.
The two of them brought their fight into Joyce’s kitchen, where Billy took a plate and smashed it against Steve’s head, giving him the upper hand. Y/n muffled a shriek behind her hand and decided it was time to step in. Billy showed no evident intention of slowing down anytime soon, even with Steve on the floor and him towering over. Y/n sped forward and tried to pull him back like she had done before.
“Billy, get the hell off him!”
Steve was already losing consciousness, but Billy just kept going. Y/n tried to get a good grasp of his arm to yank him back, but he was moving too quickly. He swung his fist back just as Y/n leaned forward again, hitting her in between her eyes and sending her backwards.
“Uhh-“ she groaned as she tried to regain focus. Her ears were ringing and her vision was beginning to blur. The last she remembered was seeing Max’s faint figure come marching in wielding something. Then she lost consciousness for a few minutes.
When Y/n finally did begin to see and hear things clearly, Max had a strange bat in her hands and Billy was lying on the floor with a needle sticking out of the side of his neck.
***
March 31st, 1986
The days following Vecna’s attack on Y/n came by like a series of punches, not giving anyone a chance to recover. From kissing Steve in his bedroom, helping Eddie evade an angry mob and then helping Steve and the kids lie to the police about why they were all at lover’s lake in the middle of the night. Y/n could not wait to have a good night’s sleep again.
Unfortunately, the end was nowhere in sight. Everyone gathered around Nancy in Eddie’s living room as she explained what she saw— what Vecna showed her before she and Robin could leave the upside down. Almost immediately afterwards, a few of them started to discuss what to do next. Y/n, on the other hand, could only think about El.
She left to call the Byers’ house phone, but after twenty minutes of nothing, Y/n started to fear for the worst. She came back to the living room just as Dustin came up with a bright idea about thinking Vecna and his powers as another version of El’s.
“That all sounds great in theory, but we don’t even know when he’s going to attack next,” Robin argued, “we don’t even know who he’s gonna attack next.”
Y/n's breath hitched. Suddenly it was beginning to make sense why she still did not feel like herself again. Though she was definitely much happier than she was when Vecna was first targeting her, she could not definitively say her symptoms were completely gone.
“Yeah we do,” she said, looking up and seeing everyone's eyes glued on hers. Y/n had become accustomed to their worried expressions since recovering from Vecna. She knew they were going to be on the fence on what she was about to propose, one of them in particular
“I can still feel him," Y/n clarified before clearing her throat. "I think… I think I’m still a target. Still cursed.”
The room was silent. Everyone exchanged looks with each other. Everyone but Steve, whose attention never left Y/n. She couldn't be serious, he thought. But she was. If she wasn't before, she was now that she knew El might be involved.
“So, maybe I ditch the Bee Gees. I draw his focus back to me... and I keep him busy long enough so that you guys can get into that attic," she proposed. “Then you can chop his head off… or stab him- I don't know.”
Y/n shrugged her shoulder and finally looked up, meeting everyone's intense gaze. If she was going to do this, it meant they would have only a small window to do what was needed, to kill the son of a bitch once and for all.
“Just try not to miss.”
Steve furrowed his brows. His frustration grew as he looked around and saw everyone seemingly accept that as the official plan. Like there was nothing alarming about sacrificing his girlfriend to Vecna.
“Woah, hold on, time out," he scoffed, walking towards Y/n and taking hold of her hand, pulling her into the kitchen and out of earshot from the other. Y/n sighed, knowing any lecture he was about to give her would be in vain.
“Steve, don’t try to talk me out of this-“
He narrowed his eyes at her incredulously.
“What, so I should just let you get yourself killed?!”
“I’ve dealt with him before,” Y/n pointed out.
“And you were this close to dying,” he argued, holding his index finger and thumb up to show just how narrowly she escaped the same fate as Chrissy and Fred.
“But I’m not dead! I survived that, I can survive this too.”
She had to tell herself that. She had to force herself to believe it too. If not for her own sake, then for the sake of her loved ones, both in and out of Hawkins. The crease between Steve's brows persisted, and Y/n knew she had to get him on board.
“No one in California is picking up the phone. I’ve rang about 5 times already,” she explained shakily. “I have this… this gut feeling that they’re in trouble. And if Nancy’s right-“
“And what if she’s wrong?” Steve questioned, knowing he would never be able to live with himself if Y/n got hurt or died unnecessarily.
“But what if she’s right, Steve?” Y/n sniffled, her eyes brimming with tears. She was not happy about it either— far from it actually, but what other option was there? She pressed further. “I mean, what if me doing this is our best chance at putting an end to all of this?— An end to Vecna?”
He paused for a moment and realised she was right. If they didn’t go after Vecna with their best foot forward, there was no telling where things would go or how many more people he would hurt.
Even so, he still couldn’t bring himself to be ok with it. Steve wanted to find another, any other course of action that didn’t involve putting Y/n’s life in the palm of Vecna’s hands again. He knew his reasoning was selfish, but to hell with it.
“I just got you back, Y/n.”
Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping and lips pursing to form a frown. A lump formed in the back of her throat as it dawned on her what he meant. She did not just come back from the clutches of Vecna, she came back to Steve and they found their way back to each other. Inching closer to him, Y/n placed her hands against the sides of Steve’s face.
“And I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured reassuringly, before dropping her hands and weaving her fingers with his. “This time is different. We have the upper hand, because I know Vecna’s moves.”
“You do?”
He studied her closely as he traced circles with his thumb against the back of her hand. She shuffled even closer until their hips met and nodded her head.
“I think so,” she answered quietly, thinking back to how she escaped Vecna before, a memory still vivid in her mind. “It’s like he uses my memories— my really bad ones, to make me vulnerable and easier for him to attack.”
It started when she was looking back at the cabin, she remembered. Then she saw her dad and everything got worse. Y/n tried not to reminisce for too long. That wound was still fresh.
“Oh,” Steve muttered beneath his breath before letting out a defeated exhaled. He hated that Y/n went through that, knowing just how bad things were and everything she had been through. He couldn’t stomach the thought of her going through it again just to stall Vecna.
“But when I survived the last time it wasnt just because I heard the song, but because I thought about good memories,” Y/n explained, smiling weakly, knowing that pulling a brave face would be in the best interest. Luckily, she had years of practise doing just that. “Shouldn’t be too hard to do again.”
“What if he does something unexpected?”
“I just think of a really good memory.”
Thankfully, she had a good number of those. Some with her mom and Sara, a lot with El, but most were with Steve. Her eyes locked with his and, without saying it aloud, Y/n knew it was mutually understood.
“But, even if something goes wrong, I’m not worried, because…”
Her eyes never left his. Y/n knew Steve was running out of reasons to be against it, but she also knew that no matter how much of a fight he put up, if she was going to through with being Vecna bait, Steve was going to be right there with her.
“I know you’re not gonna let anything happen to me.”
All she had to worry about was what would happen in her mind nad in Vecna’s territory. She knew Steve would keep her safe in the real world until she was back.
He gave it another moment’s deliberation. In a perfect world, it would not have come down to this, but there was clearly nothing he was going to be able to do to change her mind. Steve sighed.
“Ok.”
Y/n smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He pulled her closer to him and took the time to appreciate it all— the feeling of her waist beneath his fingertips, her head against the crook of his neck and the smell of her perfume.
He knew it before and he knew it then. Whatever trouble she found herself in, he was always going to be at her side.
***
April 2nd, 1986 - 6PM
Y/n tested her flashlight a couple times against the doors to the Creel house and then turned back to the the other three. The plan was for her and Steve to lure Vecna out by going inside what was apparently his childhood home, with Erica and Max keeping an eye from the outside, while the others were headed into the upside down.
She had manage to pull a brave face for the last few days, but standing at the doorstep was beginning to test what little bravery Y/n had left.
“Max, you and Erica will be ok on lookout?”
The young girl nodded, "yup, we got it covered.” She then gestured towards Erica who was already setting up base on the front yard. Y/n watched Max head off and turned back to the front door, her hand reaching out to open it only to be stopped by Steve's.
“Wait, um..." He looked at his shoes, then at the door, then at his shoes again, trying to find the right words without putting a damper on morale. He licked his lips and sighed. "Just be careful, please.”
“I will."
Steve continued to hold her hand firmly, his expression beginning to morph from concern to desperation. He knew once they entered the house, there was no going back.
“If you start to feel like something’s wrong, just-“
“Steve. I will," Y/n assured him, knowing where he was going. Just let me know, she presumed.
Y/n did not need to be reminded that Steve had her back and would be ready to step in if things went south. It was already common knowledge to her. However, that was not what Steve was concerned about.
“You don’t need to put yourself on the line anymore than you already are," he croaked, his tone almost pleading. Y/n drew her brows together.
“What do you mean?”
“I know you, Y/n,” Steve whispered. “Don’t do anything reckless.”
Her breath quickened as she met Steve's gaze. Sometimes it felt like he could read her mind. Like he knew she made peace with the chance of not returning if it meant killing Vecna and any plan he had to destroy home and her loved ones.
“This is bigger than just us," Y/n reasoned. Steve kissed his teeth, frustrated. She gripped his hands tighter. "If Nancy’s right about what she saw, the whole of Hawkins could-“
“To hell with this shithole of a town," he scoffed. If the cost came at Y/n's life, it was never going to be worth it to him. Never. Steve narrowed his eyes. "If it comes down to it, I need you to promise me you’re gonna save yourself.”
Y/n froze. No one had ever asked anything like that of her, at least not that she could remember. All her life she had grown used to giving. Her time, her love, her kindness and her patience. There were times she seriously questioned if her selflessness was her primary source of value.
Steve inhaled sharply, trying to keep his composure, as hard as it was. Too much had happened over the last few weeks, much less the last three years. Even so, he knew exactly where his breaking point was, or rather who it rested with.
“Vecna’s taken enough people. And if he takes you too, I don’t-" He shook his head, not daring to finish his sentence for fear it would speak the worst case scenario into existence. Instead, Steve squeezed “Just, please… promise me.”
Y/n nodded, feeling a new and strange sensation in her gut. For so long she had been hyper-fixated on her death- humouring the thought of it, wishing would come sooner and then fearing it would arrive too quickly. Now, all she wanted to do was come back and live to have another burger date with Steve at the lookout and then some.
***
April 2nd, 1986 - 8PM
Steve and Y/n's first couple of hours in the house were spent wandering around and playing hangman while the Bee Gees played on the cassette they were borrowing from Eddie, until finally they found it.
She signalled for him to turn the music down and, while hesitant, Steve obliged. He gave her space to sit and try and lure Vecna out, but didn't stand too far away. Steve wanted a clear view of his girlfriend so he could begin timing from the moment her eyes turned grey. 15 minutes and the Bee Gees were to be back on and at full volume, not a second delayed.
Y/n sat down, placing her torch in front of her and crossing her legs. She was unsure where to begin. Hey Vecna it's me again, seemed an inappropriate start. She thought back to what he showed her and he said through the image of her dad, the very words that had been weighing heavily on her.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said…."
The dark and horrid words he said and he accusations he made, all of which were too heavy for her to repeat aloud even to Steve. It took her a while to realise why they haunted her so much.
"Because it was true.”
Y/n hated every second of realising it, but there was no denying it anymore. Vecna was just echoing thoughts that already existed in her mind. She took a deep breath in and out. If she needed to make herself vulnerable, she knew just the thing to talk about.
“My dad was a ghost after my mom died," Y/n began, the lump in her throat growing as she continued to remember it.
The police at the doorstep explaining that there had been a car accident, the moment at the hospital, the funeral and the memorial he was too inebriated to show up for.
“He stopped looking after himself. Stopped looking after me. Then, he started drinking all the time, and then... he just became the worst.”
He was a shell of a person who came in and out of the house, most times without saying even a word to his daughter. Even so, Y/n remembered the few nights he came home and lashed out at her for no particular reasons more than she did the nights he said nothing at all. Her anger and resentment grew and grew over time with nowhere to go but inwards.
“It was true, I used to wish I had died when Sara and our mom died," she admitted, her eyes falling down to the floorboards. There was no shame in admitting it anymore. If Vecna infiltrated her mind, he would have already known.
Steve's grip on his torch was beginning to weaken. Y/n had told her bits and pieces of the same story, but never this part. He wondered how she was able to this to herself for as long as she did.
“I felt like- um," Y/n sniffled, briefly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat before continuing. Steve did not like where this was headed. "I felt like maybe, to my dad, I was just a walking reminder of them, and of the fact that they were still gone... Maybe me living was just insult to injury.”
When Hopper did speak to Y/n in the years following his wife and Sara's death, he never called her a walking reminder in plain words. He didn't need to. His actions said more than enough.
“But then my dad sobered up,” Y/n continued, her tone and expression turning bitter. The day she had prayed for for years, and it came in a way that left her even more wounded and angry. “- and he cleared the heavy stuff out from the bathroom cabinet, and I thought things were finally turning around… But he was still awful to me.”
Perhaps not in the same way. Hopper and her talked more often and he did not lash out at her as often as he did before, but he still found a way to neglect her and inadvertently let her know she was both an afterthought and a burden. And it hurt Y/n all the same.
“And so, I guess between that and watching him be a better parent to El, I just… I started to hate him," she confessed. The thought used to terrify her, but Y/n had since come to terms with the fact that there was no other way of putting it. “I hated that he was good to her. I hated how he made me feel like shit, and I hated how everyone praised him for getting clean.”
From the people at the station, at her school and even at the post office. All people saw was a grieving father father turn his life around for his daughters. Y/n resented it and, because of it, she resented her dad even more.
“Then, I started to realise… I hated him so much, I didn’t want him to be around anymore," she squeezed her eyes shut. The thought came to her over time, but when it did it was vivid. “I wanted him gone, so all the pain and anger could go too.”
Y/n wanted that more than anything. The anger and the pain was all she knew for so long, but she didn't want it anymore and didn't know how much longer she could carry it all.
“It got to the point where some nights, I wished my mom and my sister had never died and I wished he had instead. And I told myself that maybe it was ok to think that, because I…”
This was it, she thought to herself. This was what the tipping point.
“I could never imagine my mom doing this to me.”
Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He never knew that- any of it, and it killed him she was only just talking about it now, in the Creel house attic of all places. When he opened his eyes and turned his focus back to Y/n, he realised she was still and silent but her eyes were wide open.
“Y/n?”
He waved his hand in front of her face, hoping for a reaction but there was nothing. Steve let out a huff and began to count in his head, trying not to think too much about whether the entire plan was a massive mistake.
***
April 2nd, 1986 - 9:00PM
The first time Steve took her to the lookout. That was the good memory Y/n held onto and focused in on once she was sure Vecna had come for her. She was inside Steve's BMW when Vecna himself appeared, only to be sent flying backwards into the woods. Y/n got out and scanned the empty parking lot until her eyes landed on a familiar silhouette. She was instantly running towards it.
“Is it really you?”
Her head was shaven and she was dressed in white, but Y/n recognised her El. Her little sister. She placed her hand on the sides of El's face, touching and tugging it, unsure if she really was El or just another illusion.
The younger girl held her big sister's hands and smiled, “it’s me.”
Y/n scrunched her brows together, puzzled. She knew this time would be different, but she never expected to see El.
“How?”
“I piggybacked from a pizza dough freezer.”
The older girl blinked, unsure if it was worth questioning further.
“Are you… are you ok? Are you safe?”
El nodded and Y/n felt instant relief. She glanced back at the woods where Vecna would undoubtedly reappear from anytime soon, then turned back to El. There was a chance they might never see each other again, and Y/n could not get past it or past the one thing she had been dying to say to her- that she know she would regret not saying.
“El, I’m so sorry," Y/n cried, her words spilling out in a panicked hurry. "I’m so sorry for every mean thing I’ve ever done or said to you.”
It was the first few weeks after moved in and the weeks following Hopper's death. Y/n was frustrated, resentful, and angry which resulted in being less than kind to El, who was the least bit deserving of it. She needed her to know she was sorry.
“Y/n stop,” the younger girl pleaded, gripping her sister's arms and shaking her slightly. “Don’t think about it.”
It would only make her more vulnerable to Vecna, which was the last thing El wanted. Besides, she never cared about those moments. El had plenty of moments herself where she was the same to Y/n. The memories El held onto and treasured the most were the times Y/n looked after, cheered her. Those moments outweighed the bad ones by miles.
Y/n shook her head. Maybe it wasn't the best time, but there was a decent likelihood it was her only chance at getting it off her chest.
“I never thought I’d get to have a little sister again," Y/n whispered. "I’m so lucky it was you, El.”
“I’m lucky too," the younger girl responded, not missing a beat.
Before anything more could be said, Y/n was lifted off the ground by dark vine-like tendrils outstretched from the woods where Vecna emerged from and began walking towards El.
“Y/n!”
The young girl screamed and lifted her hands, trying to fight back, but Vecna’s grasp on her sister only tightened. Y/n tried to fight it, but the tendril wrapped around her neck suffocated her windpipes. The last thing she saw was El, fighting with all her might to fend off Vecna. The last thought she had was was of how much she wanted and hoped for El to make it out ok.
Then she lost consciousness.
***
April 3rd, 1986 - 12AM
El was running and searching. Though still haunted by Vecna’s dying words, El could stand to worry about it later. First she needed to find her sister snd make sure was ok. El closed her eyes and focused, then she heard it— the sound of Steve screaming.
She could see where they were. She watched from a distance as Y/n’s levitating body come crashing against the floor beneath her. El started to run, praying Vecna hadn’t done irreparable damage.
There were gashes along her arms and legs and she was unconscious from the fall, but her limbs were still in tact and her eyes were unharmed. El let out a sigh of relief, counting it as a win.
“Y/n, Y/n wake up!”
El watched Steve pull Y/n into his arms and shake her roughly, shout her name and begging her to wake up, but to no avail.
Panicked and desperate, the young girl placed her hand atop Y/n and closed her eyes, chanelling all her focus and power into guiding her big sister back to consciousness, back to her body and back into Steve’s arms.
Y/n’s life flashed before her eyes, only it was the good parts. The best parts. All her best memories with all the people she lived— her sisters, her parents, Steve and everyone in between.
Then she heard the faintest voice whisper to her.
“I’ll see you soon.”
Back in Hawkins, Steve tightened his embrace around his girlfriend’s unconscious figure, tears streaming down his face as he continued to call out Y/n’s name, desperate for her to wake up. The cassette player gave out and there was no telling when the ambulance Max called would arrive at the scene. Steve was willing to try anything, do anything.
“There’s a light,” he croaked, his voice coarse from the screaming and shouting. Even so, he owed to Y/n to keep going. “— a certain kind of light, that never shone on me.”
Y/n fingertips moved first, then her eyes and then lips.
“Steve?”
“Oh my god,” he cried out, tears flooding his eyes as he watched hers slowly blunk open. Relieved, Steve leaned down and kissed her temple fervently. “Oh my god, you’re ok!”
Y/n tried to moved her arms so she could sit up, but with every slight movement came a piercing ache in her bones and a burning sensation against her skin. She sunk back into Steve’s embrace and groaned painfully.
“Max already called for help, an ambulance should be here soon,” he explained.
She took deep breaths and glanced up at Steve, smiling weakly.
“You used to hate singing that song.”
“I think I’ve got a newfound love for it now,” Steve quipped, a faint laugh beneath his breath. That Bee Gees song saved his girlfriend’s life twice now. As far as Steve was concerned, it was the best song in existence.
Y/n’s eyes drifted shut as the energy it took to stay conscious came to be too much. Steve shifted his arms and stroked the side of her face.
“Hey, c’mon… Baby, you need to stay awake.”
She opened her eyes and used all the energy she had to stay alert, but the linger she stayed concious the more time she had to remember what had happened— what Vecna said to El about everything that would happen to Hawkins. Y/n began to pant as tears formed in her eyes.
“It’s not over, Steve,” Y/n whimpered. Vecna may be gone, but they weren’t out of the woods. “It’s not over yet.”
“It’s over for now,” he assured her. Whatever it was was not important. Not to Steve and not in that moment. All that mattered was that she did what she needed to do and she made it back alive.
***
April 6th, 1986
Y/n placed her last box of donations on the table. The older woman smiled gratefully and passed to one of the volunteers for sorting. She turned back to Y/n, her eyes darting towards the bandges along her arms.
“How are you healing?”
Y/n came to the shelter at the school gym for three reasons: to donte, to volunteer and to get bandages for her injuries.
“It doesn’t hurt or bleed as much.”
“That’s good,” the woman smiled, remembering how much Y/n was in when she came to get her bandages changed the first time. “Just be sure to take it easy until everything fully heals, ok? And come see me if anything gets worse.”
“I will,” Y/n nodded, “— and hey I’ll come by tomorrow with a few others to help out for the day.”
With more and more families turning up seeking shelter or supplies, Y/n knew they could use as many volunteers as they could get. The woman nodded gratefully.
“That would be really great, Y/n. Thanks.”
Y/n turned around and fished her keys out from her bag as she weaved through the cots and headed for the exit. She looked up and saw a young girl sitting next to an older man.
“How long are we gonna be here dad?”
Y/n frowned as she listened in. Seeing the kids that came to the shelter always brought a pain to her chest. She watched the old man wrap his arm around his daughter and sigh.
“I don’t know, bug,” he huffed.
Y/n froze for a brief second, then quickly sped off before anyone nlticed her staring. When she started the car and turned the steering wheel, Y/n’s hands were shaking. She listened to the radio the entire drive home and by the time she reached the driveway, Y/n was thinking about something else.
Y/n parked Steve’s car in front of the cabin. As she got out and approached the front porch, she was puzzled by the strange vehicle parked adjacent to the house.
When she walked inside, she saw Steve sitting on the couch and tossed him his car keys. Then, when she turned towards the kitchen, she saw a woman standing with her back towards her. Y/n’s bag fell from her shoukder and she went racing towards the woman.
“Oh my god, Joyce!”
The woman wrapped her arms around Y/n, hugging her tightly and then letting go so she could get a good look at her.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re ok,” Joyce smiled, placing her hand against Y/n’s cheek. She had a million burning questions.
“Wh-where’s El? And Will and Jonathan?”
“I-I don’t know,” Joyce answered honestly. “… I was in Russia.”
Y/n blinked, unsure if she heard her correctly. Of all the explanations for not answering the phone when she called before, Y/n was not expecting that to be it.
“You were what? How did you get here then?”
Joyce started grin and patted Y/n’s shoulder, which left her puzzled. There was something going on, but Y/n had a feeling Joyce was not going to outright tell her what it was, and she had no clue what to make of it.
“I’ll tell you later, honey,” the older woman answered, knowing there was something else far more important for Y/n to do. The girl knitted her brows together.
“Why not now?”
Joyce nodded her head towards the door to one of the bedrooms, her smile never faltering, not even for a moment. The woman’s demeanour left Y/n greatly unsettled but also extremely curious.
“There’s someone waiting for you in the room.”
***
i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, translated or reposted onto another site.
I'm technically on a self-imposed break to focus on studying, but I thought I'd pop on this morning, and holy shit I'm so glad I did. I can't deal with how good this chapter is and just everything. The writing and plot is beyond. I think this might be my favourite part yet :)
"If it comes down to it, I need you to promise me you’re gonna save yourself.”
Y/n froze. No one had ever asked anything like that of her, at least not that she could remember.
That was an absolute sucker punch and I knew when they got back together in change the ending, it was going to be important in general, and maybe I should have realised, but I can't imagine what would have happened if they didn't find their way back to each other. Not only because I've been rooting for them but because while this was probably the best thing he could have said in that moment and in those circumstances, it was something she need to hear in general. Then a few sentences later when she says...
There were times she seriously questioned if her selflessness was her primary source of value.
it's too much. I love her and Steve so much. Steve basically saying, fuck this place, because she's more important is everything.
I'm so so happy that she didn't have the same fate as Max, once I realised where it was going I got super nervous. Thank god. Also, the reunion with Hopper is going to be so beyond interesting. I mean after just saying all of that stuff out loud about him and how he was one of the primary reasons Vecna got to her, I feel like it's going to be a little awkward. Like I think she'll be happy to see him, but I don't know. I'm also excited to see her reunion with El. Their relationship is so sweet, and El not only helping her with Vecna but saving her life, has to be so much for her, they just love each other so much <3
reading this absolutely made my day i just had to reblog!!! 🥹 i know i’ve been taking my sweet damn time updating this series, so i’m so grateful for your consistent support 🫶🏽
its so cool to hear that that line stood out you! i really loved writing that part 🥰 steve & el are def the readers fav people, so i thought it was only right they were the ones at her side— steve in the real world and el in vecna’s world 🤎
no spoilers but ur not wrong thinking hopper and reader’s reunion will be an interesting one 👀
I was the last anon, sorry for sending another message! But I saw the one ask from a while ago about an alternative ending where she doesn’t end up with Steve, and I think it’s because there have been more parts since the ask, but I can’t imagine the reader and Steve ending up with anyone else. I think especially because of how well you brought them back together, and how it wasn’t rushed and took months of trying to repair even just the foundation of their relationship so they could be friends at some point, and how it eventually led to the moment in his room about realizing she still has feelings for him(even though she did tell him, but I do respect that he was worried he’d be taking advantage of her during a super emotional time, he probably just figured emotions were high and she didn’t mean it) and he was lying about going out on dates; but especially when he mentioned that he didn’t feel like he deserved it yet. Which while I absolutely hate cheating I can’t really see them ending up with anyone else. Sorry for the ramble but seeing that ask and having more context from the parts that came out since sparked this and I’m also hoping they don’t end up with anyone else even in an alternate world I feel like they’d find their way back to each other😭
Hi again :) You have no idea how much I appreciate the interest you’ve taken in my dumb lil series!! Really enjoyed reading through your message(s) and seeing how you’ve responded to it 🫶🏽
one thing about me, i loveee sad songs but i really don't like sad endings lmao
so i always knew i wanted to get them back together, but i also knew it had to happen over time and it couldn't be too quickly after everything that went down at Starcourt, otherwise I personally wouldn’t feel confident writing it and putting it out there 🥲
i’m so elated that those details stood out to you, because they were really important to me when i planned and wrote it out! cardigan!reader was going THRU it after everything at Starcourt so the last thing she needed was to rush back into a relationship, and I wanted Steve to have acknowledged that and to really want to win her back the (imo) right way!
i do have an alternate ending planned where the reader doesn’t get back together with Steve but ends up with someone else, just because I do know there are some readers who personally would not take him back and might like to read a version where that happens. but this will probably be the last part i post for the series, so it’ll be a little while, and it’s completely up to you if you wanna read it or just leave things with the actual ending 🫶🏽
thank you so much again for reading and for taking the time to lmk your thoughts, i appreciate it so so much!! have a great day 😊
Hi there! I was just reading cardigan again, and I was curious where Steve met the other girl. Obviously the bra was in the car and it was mentioned that he had too much beer, so I figure maybe he maybe was at a bar🤷♀️ for some reason for a hot minute I thought he met her at scoops. I was just curious and figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask😀 I hope you’re doing well!!
Hi :) thanks so much for reading, I love hearing feedback and thoughts on my fics (esp Cardigan!!)
In my head, they meet at a house party a few months before graduation! Steve went without Y/n following a fight they (ending with them “taking a break”) and he ends up getting asked by Tina to give the girl a ride home where one thing leads to another… 👀
Hope that answers your question— have a great day!! 😊
Summary: It's time to take down Vecna once and for all and, much to Steve's protests, Y/n puts herself on the frontline.
warning description of violence and injury
PREVIOUS PART
series masterlist // main masterlist
a/n: and we're back to the main storyline :)
this part was not initially planned, but it felt awkward moving forward without addressing what goes down during the big battle with Vecna! hope you enjoy :)
September 21st, 1978
Y/n sat at the kitchen table quietly, stewing in her nervousness as she waited for her mom to explain further. She had called her eldest to sit with her, which wasn't what made Y/n anxious. It was when her mom called her by her full name. That was never a good sign.
From underneath the table they sat at, Y/n's mom held up her daughter's school bag, unzipped it and pulled out a sheet of paper. Y/n hung her head, cursing herself for not just throwing it in the bin like she initially contemplated doing. Seeing her reaction, Y/n's mom softened her gaze.
“Why didn’t you tell me there was a school trip coming up?”
She could not understand it. Y/n was not the type to hide things from her mom, nor was she the type to pass up an overnight school field trip.
Y/n locked eyes with her mom for a short moment before averting them quickly. Her face was burning up from the embarrassment. She never meant for her little white lie to turn into a whole thing.
“I forgot.”
“Y/n, don’t lie to me.”
The young girl hung her head once more.
“There’s a fee. I didn’t know if we could afford to…”
She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. Not after the sharp inhale her mother took almost immediately. Y/n glanced up at her momentarily. She had seen her mother do a heck of a lot of crying over the last few months, but never like that, and never over her.
The older woman rose from her chair and sped around the table, pulling her daughter into her embrace.
“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” she said softly, before finally pulling away. “I know your dad and I have been fighting a lot, and constantly going back and forth about Sara, instead of making sure we were looking after you.”
“I get it, mom,” Y/n whispered.
Her mother felt her stomach drop further. This was the last thing she wanted for Y/n. Her sweet, vibrant Y/n who had gotten far too good at and far too accustomed to pulling a brave face. The older woman lifted her hands to the sides of her daughter’s face and frowned regretfully.
“We’ll do better, I promise,” she said before glancing back down at the sheet of paper on the kitchen table and taking it in her hand once more. “Starting with this field trip, because there’s no way you’re missing out.”
“Mom, you don’t have to-“
Y/n’s eyes widened as her mom held her hand up, stopping her from saying anything further. She pursed her lips tightly, giving the field trip handout a onceover before looking her daughter dead in the eye.
“I’m the mom, you’re the kid, ok?” She snapped, her voice filling the room to the brim, startling Y/n at first and then filling her with relief. She nodded.
The entire time Sara had been sick, nurses and doctors and family friends were commenting on how strong and mature her big sister was, shouldering extra responsibilities to help out her parents and spending all her free time with Sara all while keeping her grades up at school. Y/n never wanted to be strong and mature, but by the way everyone spoke about her, it was obvious that’s what everyone needed her to be.
Y/n’s mother sighed. The fees and the finer details were not to be any of Y/n’s business, she declared to herself. That was hers and Hopper’s. All she wanted from Y/n was a simple answer, and then she would move however many mountains necessary to make it work. The woman gazed intently at her daughter.
“You wanna go on this trip?”
Y/n opened her louth and hesitated for a moment before answering in a hushed tone, “I-I do.”
Her mom nodded once and looked at the handout yet again, her eyes searching for the information on the fee. It would be a stretch, but the woman’s mind was already decided. One of her girls was going to have some semblance of a nice year if it was the last she did.
“I’ll talk to dad. We’ll make it happen.”
Y/n blinked, dumbfounded. It was that simple? She had spent weeks analysing every sentence on the hand out, contemplating if the trip was even worth bringing up to her parents and contemplating ways she could come up with the money herself.
In one conversation, her mom had fixed it all for her.
The young girl was grinning ear to her. With glossy eyes she stepped forward and hugged her mother tightly. It was a small but immensely meaningful win for her, and she needed her mom to know that.
“Thank you.”
The woman felt her breath hitch. After several months of hell, a thank and a hug from a happy daughter was more than she could have asked for. She kissed the top of Y/n’s head and hugged her just as tightly, with no intention of letting go until she did first.
***
November 27th, 1984
Y/n needed a second to breathe. She left Steve with the kids for a few minutes so she could lock the backdoor and the windows, but she found herself standing in the hallway and catching her breath.
When Y/n finally made her way back to the living room, she did so slowly, puzzled by the gruff voice coming from the living room where the kids were. She could only just make out the words being spoken.
“You know what happens when I get angry, Max. I break things."
Her stomach turned as realisation hit and she raced towards the sound of the kids screaming. Billy Hargrove was yet again causing trouble. By the time Y/n reached the living room, he had already broken one of Joyce’s plates and held a petrified little Lucas against the wall by his shirt.
Instantly fuming, Y/n made her way towards him with clenched fists, her thumbs tucked in just as she had been taught by her old man.
“Hey asshole,” she shouted, pulling Billy back by his shoulder as hard as she could. Once he let go of Lucas and turned to Y/n, she swung her right fist with all her might and aimed right for his stupid face.
Billy doubled back, lifting his hand to his nose and kissing his teeth when he saw blood on his fingertips.
“Yeah, kick his ass Y/n!” The kids were cheering from the corner of the room, making Y/n forget about the pain in her hand, but only just for a moment. Billy laughed dryly.
“You know, I’m getting real sick of you butting your nose into my business,” he hissed, starting to get the impression she was more than just an old babysitter to the little boys who kept hanging around Max. “Just ‘cause your dad’s the stupid police chief, doesn’t mean you run this town.”
Y/n furrowed her brows, resenting being referred to nothing but the chief’s daughter, even moreso from a dingus like him. He inched forward, trying to intimidate her, but Y/n straightened her back and planted her feet.
“Just shut up and go pick on someone your own size, Billy,” she spat, still fuming. It was bad enough he had a habit of beating up unsuspecting freshman at school, now he was terrorising her kids.
Billy kept moving closer to her, the crease between his brows remaining steady, and it started to dawn on Y/n that if he had no issue with hitting a kid as sweet as Lucas, there was very little chance he would have an issue with beating her up. Her feet shifted backwards ever so slightly, and Billy took immediate notice of it. He smirked.
“Already did,” he taunted, nodding his head towards the window facing the front yard. “Didn’t you see your little boyfriend on the ground outside?”
Y/n was swinging her fist again before it could even register, but unfortunately Billy caught it before another blow could be made to his face. Just as his lips instinctively curved into what Y/n knew would be another infuriating smirk, Y/n jolted her foot upwards until it came to a sudden and aggressive collision with his groin.
Billy doubled back yet again, wincing momentarily and then donning an expression far more sinister. He recovered his stance in a seconds and was glaring daggers at Y/n, completely fed up.
“Oh, you are so dead,” he growled, moving forward with his hands balled up and winding back ready to swing. If he was holding back before, he clearly did not plan to anymore. Y/n stumbled backwards. Before she could remember to tuck her thumbs, a pair of strong arms pulled her out of the way.
“No you are.”
Steve, bloody nose and all, caught Billy’s fist mid-swing and sucker-punched the left side of his face before he could see it coming. Instinctively, Y/n lunged forward and reached for her boyfriend, startled by the injuries already evident on his face.
“Steve!”
While relieved Billy didn’t get the chance to punch her, Y/n did not have time to feel grateful for Steve’s impeccable timing, nor did she have time to watch him get into fight with Billy Hargrove.
Her fingers barely grazed her boyfriends arm before he was following Billy. Y/n stepped back and signalled for the kids to stay out of the way. She knew Steve had had a bone to pick with him ever since he got to Hawkins, so there was no telling where things would go, but something told Y/n it was gonna get ugly. Billy began laughing maniacally, clapping his hands sarcastically before shoving Steve back.
“So you do have a bit of fire in you,” he chuckled. “You know, I’ve been waiting to see the King Steve everyone’s been talking about.”
“Just leave,” Steve hissed, shoving him back just as hard. Billy’s smirk never faltered, despite losing his footing for a split second. Instead, he stood tall and inched forward again, narrowing his eyes at Steve tauntingly, as if testing to see what would set him off.
“Didn’t realise all I had to do was go after his bitch-“
Y/n inhaled sharply. Before Billy could get another word out, Steve was jabbing his face and his torso repeatedly. He could tolerate Billy poking fun at him, but not at Y/n. Never at her.
The kids were back to cheering again, and Y/n was grasping at straws trying to de-escalate, before one of them ended up seriously hurt. Sure, maybe she thought Billy deserved a few sucker-punches to the face, and maybe she didn’t mind if Steve was the one handing them out, but there was a bigger battle at hand and time was not on their side.
The two of them brought their fight into Joyce’s kitchen, where Billy took a plate and smashed it against Steve’s head, giving him the upper hand. Y/n muffled a shriek behind her hand and decided it was time to step in. Billy showed no evident intention of slowing down anytime soon, even with Steve on the floor and him towering over. Y/n sped forward and tried to pull him back like she had done before.
“Billy, get the hell off him!”
Steve was already losing consciousness, but Billy just kept going. Y/n tried to get a good grasp of his arm to yank him back, but he was moving too quickly. He swung his fist back just as Y/n leaned forward again, hitting her in between her eyes and sending her backwards.
“Uhh-“ she groaned as she tried to regain focus. Her ears were ringing and her vision was beginning to blur. The last she remembered was seeing Max’s faint figure come marching in wielding something. Then she lost consciousness for a few minutes.
When Y/n finally did begin to see and hear things clearly, Max had a strange bat in her hands and Billy was lying on the floor with a needle sticking out of the side of his neck.
***
March 31st, 1986
The days following Vecna’s attack on Y/n came by like a series of punches, not giving anyone a chance to recover. From kissing Steve in his bedroom, helping Eddie evade an angry mob and then helping Steve and the kids lie to the police about why they were all at lover’s lake in the middle of the night. Y/n could not wait to have a good night’s sleep again.
Unfortunately, the end was nowhere in sight. Everyone gathered around Nancy in Eddie’s living room as she explained what she saw— what Vecna showed her before she and Robin could leave the upside down. Almost immediately afterwards, a few of them started to discuss what to do next. Y/n, on the other hand, could only think about El.
She left to call the Byers’ house phone, but after twenty minutes of nothing, Y/n started to fear for the worst. She came back to the living room just as Dustin came up with a bright idea about thinking Vecna and his powers as another version of El’s.
“That all sounds great in theory, but we don’t even know when he’s going to attack next,” Robin argued, “we don’t even know who he’s gonna attack next.”
Y/n's breath hitched. Suddenly it was beginning to make sense why she still did not feel like herself again. Though she was definitely much happier than she was when Vecna was first targeting her, she could not definitively say her symptoms were completely gone.
“Yeah we do,” she said, looking up and seeing everyone's eyes glued on hers. Y/n had become accustomed to their worried expressions since recovering from Vecna. She knew they were going to be on the fence on what she was about to propose, one of them in particular
“I can still feel him," Y/n clarified before clearing her throat. "I think… I think I’m still a target. Still cursed.”
The room was silent. Everyone exchanged looks with each other. Everyone but Steve, whose attention never left Y/n. She couldn't be serious, he thought. But she was. If she wasn't before, she was now that she knew El might be involved.
“So, maybe I ditch the Bee Gees. I draw his focus back to me... and I keep him busy long enough so that you guys can get into that attic," she proposed. “Then you can chop his head off… or stab him- I don't know.”
Y/n shrugged her shoulder and finally looked up, meeting everyone's intense gaze. If she was going to do this, it meant they would have only a small window to do what was needed, to kill the son of a bitch once and for all.
“Just try not to miss.”
Steve furrowed his brows. His frustration grew as he looked around and saw everyone seemingly accept that as the official plan. Like there was nothing alarming about sacrificing his girlfriend to Vecna.
“Woah, hold on, time out," he scoffed, walking towards Y/n and taking hold of her hand, pulling her into the kitchen and out of earshot from the other. Y/n sighed, knowing any lecture he was about to give her would be in vain.
“Steve, don’t try to talk me out of this-“
He narrowed his eyes at her incredulously.
“What, so I should just let you get yourself killed?!”
“I’ve dealt with him before,” Y/n pointed out.
“And you were this close to dying,” he argued, holding his index finger and thumb up to show just how narrowly she escaped the same fate as Chrissy and Fred.
“But I’m not dead! I survived that, I can survive this too.”
She had to tell herself that. She had to force herself to believe it too. If not for her own sake, then for the sake of her loved ones, both in and out of Hawkins. The crease between Steve's brows persisted, and Y/n knew she had to get him on board.
“No one in California is picking up the phone. I’ve rang about 5 times already,” she explained shakily. “I have this… this gut feeling that they’re in trouble. And if Nancy’s right-“
“And what if she’s wrong?” Steve questioned, knowing he would never be able to live with himself if Y/n got hurt or died unnecessarily.
“But what if she’s right, Steve?” Y/n sniffled, her eyes brimming with tears. She was not happy about it either— far from it actually, but what other option was there? She pressed further. “I mean, what if me doing this is our best chance at putting an end to all of this?— An end to Vecna?”
He paused for a moment and realised she was right. If they didn’t go after Vecna with their best foot forward, there was no telling where things would go or how many more people he would hurt.
Even so, he still couldn’t bring himself to be ok with it. Steve wanted to find another, any other course of action that didn’t involve putting Y/n’s life in the palm of Vecna’s hands again. He knew his reasoning was selfish, but to hell with it.
“I just got you back, Y/n.”
Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping and lips pursing to form a frown. A lump formed in the back of her throat as it dawned on her what he meant. She did not just come back from the clutches of Vecna, she came back to Steve and they found their way back to each other. Inching closer to him, Y/n placed her hands against the sides of Steve’s face.
“And I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured reassuringly, before dropping her hands and weaving her fingers with his. “This time is different. We have the upper hand, because I know Vecna’s moves.”
“You do?”
He studied her closely as he traced circles with his thumb against the back of her hand. She shuffled even closer until their hips met and nodded her head.
“I think so,” she answered quietly, thinking back to how she escaped Vecna before, a memory still vivid in her mind. “It’s like he uses my memories— my really bad ones, to make me vulnerable and easier for him to attack.”
It started when she was looking back at the cabin, she remembered. Then she saw her dad and everything got worse. Y/n tried not to reminisce for too long. That wound was still fresh.
“Oh,” Steve muttered beneath his breath before letting out a defeated exhaled. He hated that Y/n went through that, knowing just how bad things were and everything she had been through. He couldn’t stomach the thought of her going through it again just to stall Vecna.
“But when I survived the last time it wasnt just because I heard the song, but because I thought about good memories,” Y/n explained, smiling weakly, knowing that pulling a brave face would be in the best interest. Luckily, she had years of practise doing just that. “Shouldn’t be too hard to do again.”
“What if he does something unexpected?”
“I just think of a really good memory.”
Thankfully, she had a good number of those. Some with her mom and Sara, a lot with El, but most were with Steve. Her eyes locked with his and, without saying it aloud, Y/n knew it was mutually understood.
“But, even if something goes wrong, I’m not worried, because…”
Her eyes never left his. Y/n knew Steve was running out of reasons to be against it, but she also knew that no matter how much of a fight he put up, if she was going to through with being Vecna bait, Steve was going to be right there with her.
“I know you’re not gonna let anything happen to me.”
All she had to worry about was what would happen in her mind nad in Vecna’s territory. She knew Steve would keep her safe in the real world until she was back.
He gave it another moment’s deliberation. In a perfect world, it would not have come down to this, but there was clearly nothing he was going to be able to do to change her mind. Steve sighed.
“Ok.”
Y/n smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He pulled her closer to him and took the time to appreciate it all— the feeling of her waist beneath his fingertips, her head against the crook of his neck and the smell of her perfume.
He knew it before and he knew it then. Whatever trouble she found herself in, he was always going to be at her side.
***
April 2nd, 1986 - 6PM
Y/n tested her flashlight a couple times against the doors to the Creel house and then turned back to the the other three. The plan was for her and Steve to lure Vecna out by going inside what was apparently his childhood home, with Erica and Max keeping an eye from the outside, while the others were headed into the upside down.
She had manage to pull a brave face for the last few days, but standing at the doorstep was beginning to test what little bravery Y/n had left.
“Max, you and Erica will be ok on lookout?”
The young girl nodded, "yup, we got it covered.” She then gestured towards Erica who was already setting up base on the front yard. Y/n watched Max head off and turned back to the front door, her hand reaching out to open it only to be stopped by Steve's.
“Wait, um..." He looked at his shoes, then at the door, then at his shoes again, trying to find the right words without putting a damper on morale. He licked his lips and sighed. "Just be careful, please.”
“I will."
Steve continued to hold her hand firmly, his expression beginning to morph from concern to desperation. He knew once they entered the house, there was no going back.
“If you start to feel like something’s wrong, just-“
“Steve. I will," Y/n assured him, knowing where he was going. Just let me know, she presumed.
Y/n did not need to be reminded that Steve had her back and would be ready to step in if things went south. It was already common knowledge to her. However, that was not what Steve was concerned about.
“You don’t need to put yourself on the line anymore than you already are," he croaked, his tone almost pleading. Y/n drew her brows together.
“What do you mean?”
“I know you, Y/n,” Steve whispered. “Don’t do anything reckless.”
Her breath quickened as she met Steve's gaze. Sometimes it felt like he could read her mind. Like he knew she made peace with the chance of not returning if it meant killing Vecna and any plan he had to destroy home and her loved ones.
“This is bigger than just us," Y/n reasoned. Steve kissed his teeth, frustrated. She gripped his hands tighter. "If Nancy’s right about what she saw, the whole of Hawkins could-“
“To hell with this shithole of a town," he scoffed. If the cost came at Y/n's life, it was never going to be worth it to him. Never. Steve narrowed his eyes. "If it comes down to it, I need you to promise me you’re gonna save yourself.”
Y/n froze. No one had ever asked anything like that of her, at least not that she could remember. All her life she had grown used to giving. Her time, her love, her kindness and her patience. There were times she seriously questioned if her selflessness was her primary source of value.
Steve inhaled sharply, trying to keep his composure, as hard as it was. Too much had happened over the last few weeks, much less the last three years. Even so, he knew exactly where his breaking point was, or rather who it rested with.
“Vecna’s taken enough people. And if he takes you too, I don’t-" He shook his head, not daring to finish his sentence for fear it would speak the worst case scenario into existence. Instead, Steve squeezed “Just, please… promise me.”
Y/n nodded, feeling a new and strange sensation in her gut. For so long she had been hyper-fixated on her death- humouring the thought of it, wishing would come sooner and then fearing it would arrive too quickly. Now, all she wanted to do was come back and live to have another burger date with Steve at the lookout and then some.
***
April 2nd, 1986 - 8PM
Steve and Y/n's first couple of hours in the house were spent wandering around and playing hangman while the Bee Gees played on the cassette they were borrowing from Eddie, until finally they found it.
She signalled for him to turn the music down and, while hesitant, Steve obliged. He gave her space to sit and try and lure Vecna out, but didn't stand too far away. Steve wanted a clear view of his girlfriend so he could begin timing from the moment her eyes turned grey. 15 minutes and the Bee Gees were to be back on and at full volume, not a second delayed.
Y/n sat down, placing her torch in front of her and crossing her legs. She was unsure where to begin. Hey Vecna it's me again, seemed an inappropriate start. She thought back to what he showed her and he said through the image of her dad, the very words that had been weighing heavily on her.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said…."
The dark and horrid words he said and he accusations he made, all of which were too heavy for her to repeat aloud even to Steve. It took her a while to realise why they haunted her so much.
"Because it was true.”
Y/n hated every second of realising it, but there was no denying it anymore. Vecna was just echoing thoughts that already existed in her mind. She took a deep breath in and out. If she needed to make herself vulnerable, she knew just the thing to talk about.
“My dad was a ghost after my mom died," Y/n began, the lump in her throat growing as she continued to remember it.
The police at the doorstep explaining that there had been a car accident, the moment at the hospital, the funeral and the memorial he was too inebriated to show up for.
“He stopped looking after himself. Stopped looking after me. Then, he started drinking all the time, and then... he just became the worst.”
He was a shell of a person who came in and out of the house, most times without saying even a word to his daughter. Even so, Y/n remembered the few nights he came home and lashed out at her for no particular reasons more than she did the nights he said nothing at all. Her anger and resentment grew and grew over time with nowhere to go but inwards.
“It was true, I used to wish I had died when Sara and our mom died," she admitted, her eyes falling down to the floorboards. There was no shame in admitting it anymore. If Vecna infiltrated her mind, he would have already known.
Steve's grip on his torch was beginning to weaken. Y/n had told her bits and pieces of the same story, but never this part. He wondered how she was able to this to herself for as long as she did.
“I felt like- um," Y/n sniffled, briefly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat before continuing. Steve did not like where this was headed. "I felt like maybe, to my dad, I was just a walking reminder of them, and of the fact that they were still gone... Maybe me living was just insult to injury.”
When Hopper did speak to Y/n in the years following his wife and Sara's death, he never called her a walking reminder in plain words. He didn't need to. His actions said more than enough.
“But then my dad sobered up,” Y/n continued, her tone and expression turning bitter. The day she had prayed for for years, and it came in a way that left her even more wounded and angry. “- and he cleared the heavy stuff out from the bathroom cabinet, and I thought things were finally turning around… But he was still awful to me.”
Perhaps not in the same way. Hopper and her talked more often and he did not lash out at her as often as he did before, but he still found a way to neglect her and inadvertently let her know she was both an afterthought and a burden. And it hurt Y/n all the same.
“And so, I guess between that and watching him be a better parent to El, I just… I started to hate him," she confessed. The thought used to terrify her, but Y/n had since come to terms with the fact that there was no other way of putting it. “I hated that he was good to her. I hated how he made me feel like shit, and I hated how everyone praised him for getting clean.”
From the people at the station, at her school and even at the post office. All people saw was a grieving father father turn his life around for his daughters. Y/n resented it and, because of it, she resented her dad even more.
“Then, I started to realise… I hated him so much, I didn’t want him to be around anymore," she squeezed her eyes shut. The thought came to her over time, but when it did it was vivid. “I wanted him gone, so all the pain and anger could go too.”
Y/n wanted that more than anything. The anger and the pain was all she knew for so long, but she didn't want it anymore and didn't know how much longer she could carry it all.
“It got to the point where some nights, I wished my mom and my sister had never died and I wished he had instead. And I told myself that maybe it was ok to think that, because I…”
This was it, she thought to herself. This was what the tipping point.
“I could never imagine my mom doing this to me.”
Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He never knew that- any of it, and it killed him she was only just talking about it now, in the Creel house attic of all places. When he opened his eyes and turned his focus back to Y/n, he realised she was still and silent but her eyes were wide open.
“Y/n?”
He waved his hand in front of her face, hoping for a reaction but there was nothing. Steve let out a huff and began to count in his head, trying not to think too much about whether the entire plan was a massive mistake.
***
April 2nd, 1986 - 9:00PM
The first time Steve took her to the lookout. That was the good memory Y/n held onto and focused in on once she was sure Vecna had come for her. She was inside Steve's BMW when Vecna himself appeared, only to be sent flying backwards into the woods. Y/n got out and scanned the empty parking lot until her eyes landed on a familiar silhouette. She was instantly running towards it.
“Is it really you?”
Her head was shaven and she was dressed in white, but Y/n recognised her El. Her little sister. She placed her hand on the sides of El's face, touching and tugging it, unsure if she really was El or just another illusion.
The younger girl held her big sister's hands and smiled, “it’s me.”
Y/n scrunched her brows together, puzzled. She knew this time would be different, but she never expected to see El.
“How?”
“I piggybacked from a pizza dough freezer.”
The older girl blinked, unsure if it was worth questioning further.
“Are you… are you ok? Are you safe?”
El nodded and Y/n felt instant relief. She glanced back at the woods where Vecna would undoubtedly reappear from anytime soon, then turned back to El. There was a chance they might never see each other again, and Y/n could not get past it or past the one thing she had been dying to say to her- that she know she would regret not saying.
“El, I’m so sorry," Y/n cried, her words spilling out in a panicked hurry. "I’m so sorry for every mean thing I’ve ever done or said to you.”
It was the first few weeks after moved in and the weeks following Hopper's death. Y/n was frustrated, resentful, and angry which resulted in being less than kind to El, who was the least bit deserving of it. She needed her to know she was sorry.
“Y/n stop,” the younger girl pleaded, gripping her sister's arms and shaking her slightly. “Don’t think about it.”
It would only make her more vulnerable to Vecna, which was the last thing El wanted. Besides, she never cared about those moments. El had plenty of moments herself where she was the same to Y/n. The memories El held onto and treasured the most were the times Y/n looked after, cheered her. Those moments outweighed the bad ones by miles.
Y/n shook her head. Maybe it wasn't the best time, but there was a decent likelihood it was her only chance at getting it off her chest.
“I never thought I’d get to have a little sister again," Y/n whispered. "I’m so lucky it was you, El.”
“I’m lucky too," the younger girl responded, not missing a beat.
Before anything more could be said, Y/n was lifted off the ground by dark vine-like tendrils outstretched from the woods where Vecna emerged from and began walking towards El.
“Y/n!”
The young girl screamed and lifted her hands, trying to fight back, but Vecna’s grasp on her sister only tightened. Y/n tried to fight it, but the tendril wrapped around her neck suffocated her windpipes. The last thing she saw was El, fighting with all her might to fend off Vecna. The last thought she had was was of how much she wanted and hoped for El to make it out ok.
Then she lost consciousness.
***
April 3rd, 1986 - 12AM
El was running and searching. Though still haunted by Vecna’s dying words, El could stand to worry about it later. First she needed to find her sister snd make sure was ok. El closed her eyes and focused, then she heard it— the sound of Steve screaming.
She could see where they were. She watched from a distance as Y/n’s levitating body come crashing against the floor beneath her. El started to run, praying Vecna hadn’t done irreparable damage.
There were gashes along her arms and legs and she was unconscious from the fall, but her limbs were still in tact and her eyes were unharmed. El let out a sigh of relief, counting it as a win.
“Y/n, Y/n wake up!”
El watched Steve pull Y/n into his arms and shake her roughly, shout her name and begging her to wake up, but to no avail.
Panicked and desperate, the young girl placed her hand atop Y/n and closed her eyes, chanelling all her focus and power into guiding her big sister back to consciousness, back to her body and back into Steve’s arms.
Y/n’s life flashed before her eyes, only it was the good parts. The best parts. All her best memories with all the people she lived— her sisters, her parents, Steve and everyone in between.
Then she heard the faintest voice whisper to her.
“I’ll see you soon.”
Back in Hawkins, Steve tightened his embrace around his girlfriend’s unconscious figure, tears streaming down his face as he continued to call out Y/n’s name, desperate for her to wake up. The cassette player gave out and there was no telling when the ambulance Max called would arrive at the scene. Steve was willing to try anything, do anything.
“There’s a light,” he croaked, his voice coarse from the screaming and shouting. Even so, he owed to Y/n to keep going. “— a certain kind of light, that never shone on me.”
Y/n fingertips moved first, then her eyes and then lips.
“Steve?”
“Oh my god,” he cried out, tears flooding his eyes as he watched hers slowly blunk open. Relieved, Steve leaned down and kissed her temple fervently. “Oh my god, you’re ok!”
Y/n tried to moved her arms so she could sit up, but with every slight movement came a piercing ache in her bones and a burning sensation against her skin. She sunk back into Steve’s embrace and groaned painfully.
“Max already called for help, an ambulance should be here soon,” he explained.
She took deep breaths and glanced up at Steve, smiling weakly.
“You used to hate singing that song.”
“I think I’ve got a newfound love for it now,” Steve quipped, a faint laugh beneath his breath. That Bee Gees song saved his girlfriend’s life twice now. As far as Steve was concerned, it was the best song in existence.
Y/n’s eyes drifted shut as the energy it took to stay conscious came to be too much. Steve shifted his arms and stroked the side of her face.
“Hey, c’mon… Baby, you need to stay awake.”
She opened her eyes and used all the energy she had to stay alert, but the linger she stayed concious the more time she had to remember what had happened— what Vecna said to El about everything that would happen to Hawkins. Y/n began to pant as tears formed in her eyes.
“It’s not over, Steve,” Y/n whimpered. Vecna may be gone, but they weren’t out of the woods. “It’s not over yet.”
“It’s over for now,” he assured her. Whatever it was was not important. Not to Steve and not in that moment. All that mattered was that she did what she needed to do and she made it back alive.
***
April 6th, 1986
Y/n placed her last box of donations on the table. The older woman smiled gratefully and passed to one of the volunteers for sorting. She turned back to Y/n, her eyes darting towards the bandges along her arms.
“How are you healing?”
Y/n came to the shelter at the school gym for three reasons: to donte, to volunteer and to get bandages for her injuries.
“It doesn’t hurt or bleed as much.”
“That’s good,” the woman smiled, remembering how much Y/n was in when she came to get her bandages changed the first time. “Just be sure to take it easy until everything fully heals, ok? And come see me if anything gets worse.”
“I will,” Y/n nodded, “— and hey I’ll come by tomorrow with a few others to help out for the day.”
With more and more families turning up seeking shelter or supplies, Y/n knew they could use as many volunteers as they could get. The woman nodded gratefully.
“That would be really great, Y/n. Thanks.”
Y/n turned around and fished her keys out from her bag as she weaved through the cots and headed for the exit. She looked up and saw a young girl sitting next to an older man.
“How long are we gonna be here dad?”
Y/n frowned as she listened in. Seeing the kids that came to the shelter always brought a pain to her chest. She watched the old man wrap his arm around his daughter and sigh.
“I don’t know, bug,” he huffed.
Y/n froze for a brief second, then quickly sped off before anyone nlticed her staring. When she started the car and turned the steering wheel, Y/n’s hands were shaking. She listened to the radio the entire drive home and by the time she reached the driveway, Y/n was thinking about something else.
Y/n parked Steve’s car in front of the cabin. As she got out and approached the front porch, she was puzzled by the strange vehicle parked adjacent to the house.
When she walked inside, she saw Steve sitting on the couch and tossed him his car keys. Then, when she turned towards the kitchen, she saw a woman standing with her back towards her. Y/n’s bag fell from her shoukder and she went racing towards the woman.
“Oh my god, Joyce!”
The woman wrapped her arms around Y/n, hugging her tightly and then letting go so she could get a good look at her.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re ok,” Joyce smiled, placing her hand against Y/n’s cheek. She had a million burning questions.
“Wh-where’s El? And Will and Jonathan?”
“I-I don’t know,” Joyce answered honestly. “… I was in Russia.”
Y/n blinked, unsure if she heard her correctly. Of all the explanations for not answering the phone when she called before, Y/n was not expecting that to be it.
“You were what? How did you get here then?”
Joyce started grin and patted Y/n’s shoulder, which left her puzzled. There was something going on, but Y/n had a feeling Joyce was not going to outright tell her what it was, and she had no clue what to make of it.
“I’ll tell you later, honey,” the older woman answered, knowing there was something else far more important for Y/n to do. The girl knitted her brows together.
“Why not now?”
Joyce nodded her head towards the door to one of the bedrooms, her smile never faltering, not even for a moment. The woman’s demeanour left Y/n greatly unsettled but also extremely curious.
“There’s someone waiting for you in the room.”
NEXT PART
***
i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, translated or reposted onto another site.
Summary: Tensions in the Hopper household come to a peak when El runs away under Y/n's supervision.
series masterlist // main masterlist
A/N: this is a side-story (though technically a back-story) to my Steve series, Cardigan. i recommend reading the first two parts of the main storyline, if you haven't already, for better context.
September 18th, 1978
Sara let out a tired yawn as her older sister read the last sentence of her favourite storybook. The hospital bed was the least bit comforting, nothing at all like her bed at home. Sara frowned as her sister closed the book shut.
"The end," Y/n sighed, relieved one of the longest days of her life was finally coming to an end.
Between school, her neglected chores and the daily trips to the hospital, she had barely any time to sleep. Even when she did catch a break, she never could go to sleep. Not when her baby sister was sitting in a cold gloomy hospital room, their parents both a mere shell of the lively people they once were.
Some nights, Y/n would dream the four of them were all dancing in the living again. Her stepping on her dad’s toes as her mum lifted Sara up in the air. On those nights, she could not help but wish she could sleep and dream that forever.
Y/n turned to place the book down on the chair beside the bed, but Sara grasped her arm and stopper her. She huffed, knowing where this was going.
"Again," the little girl spoke softly.
Her big sister's voice was a significant upgrade from the hospital ambiance and the annoying beeps from the heart monitor. The older girl sighed. Those days, it felt like everyone wanted more from her than what little she had left to give.
"No, Sara, I'm really tired."
The young girl pouted, sticking out her bottom lip and staring up at her sister until her eyes watered. She had gone from almost always having her way to not having any say at all. It wasn't fair, they both thought.
"Pleeease, Y/n," she pleaded, weakly grasping onto her sister’s forearm.
Y/n frowned, her heart sinking. Sara huffed defeatedly as her sister leaned in and kissed her temple apologetically.
"It's getting late, Sara bear,” Y/n whispered with a weak smile. Time was no one’s friend in the hospital. “- We should really get some sleep.”
As Y/n shift the hospital bedsheets to sit up, the faint sound of her father's voice could be heard. Her eyes shot up to the silhouette of her parents through window, as their conversation in the corridor escalated just as it always did.
"I'm doing everything I can!”
Hopper threw his hands up in frustration which only infuriated his wife more. Livid, she inched closer with a deathly glare and a horrified expression.
"What, and I'm not?!"
Y/n winced and instantly looked down to Sara. Their parents fighting had become routine now, but she knew that didn’t stop the youngest Hopper from trembling in fear every time.
Y/n shifted back into her original spot and wrapped her arms around her baby sister. What was one more late night, she told her. Sara already had her fair share of things to worry about.
"Let's read it one more time, ok?”
Sara sniffled and looked up to her big sister, nodding her head as she tried to bring herself to smile. Y/n frowned before leaning in and kissing her temple softly. She opened the book to the first page again and made a point of raising her voice and doing extra goofy character voices to drown out the sound of her parents.
***
December 20th, 1983
Y/n gulped down a mouthful of soda as she studied her father from across the room. He said goodnight Eleven and carefully closed shut to the door that Y/n guessed would now be her bedroom.
Once he turned to approach the kitchen table, Hopper met his daughter's hard gaze with glazed over eyes riddled with guilt. He was grateful she waited until he sat down opposite her before ripping him a new one. El needed a decent night's sleep, among so many other things.
His daughter huffed, surrendering the death grip she had on her soda can. How was he so calm and casual about something that impacted their day-to-day lives massively? Y/n leaned in and glared at him with knitted brows.
“What the hell, dad?”
She spoke in hushed tone, yet her voice still projected with a piercing sharpness. Hopper sighed. He knew his daughter well enough to suspect she would not take the news of El moving well. Even so, he couldn't help but hope it bode over a hell of a lot more smoothly.
“Listen, bug, I know-“
Y/n scoffed, cutting whatever explanation he had short.
“Look, I get that she’s alone and needs a safe place to stay," she reasoned. "- but you can’t just take in a child we only met a few weeks ago and just expect me to be on board.”
Hopper pursed his lips as his posture slumped. That was a fair point, one he had always been aware of but chose to overlook. It was easy to do when El looked up at him the way she did.
“I know it’s a big change-"
"It's a massive change," Y/n corrected.
This was a much bigger deal than bringing in a stray cat. Eleven was an entire person who needed and deserved more than what Y/n had been just barely getting by with that last few years.
Hopper leaned back against his chair and ran his hand over his mouth. After a moment's deliberation, he turned to his daughter once more. Y/n felt uneasy as he looked to her with pleading eyes. She knew then he was not going to give up easy, and that only made her feel worse.
"I just thought that maybe after all she's done and all she's been through…” Hopper shook his head, unable to even fathom just how much that little girl had endured.
He looked to his daughter and sighed once more. They could go back and forth all night about what it was that led him to making such a rash decision. However, ultimately, Hopper's reasoning was simple.
“She needs me, bug.”
Y/n winced. Finally, she was able to put her finger on what it was that made her so uneasy. In one chance encounter in the woods, Hopper dropped everything to bring El home. In one encounter, he made the call to step into her life and be a parent with seemingly little hesitation.
Where had this version of him been for the last few years?
Hopper reached out and placed his hand atop Y/n's, causing her to jump. He waited until she finally looked back before pressing further.
“She needs us.”
Y/n stared blankly at him. She blinked a few times then moved her hand away. This was not a movie, or some storybook tale. There were very real factors to account for and very real considerations to make. He needed a cold hard reality check, Y/n told herself.
"You work first thing in the morning and show up drunk in the middle of the night almost every night, dad,.” Y/n’s voice was calm and level, which sent chills down her father’s spine.
He didn’t feel like the parent in their conversation. He felt like a kid sitting in the principal’s office. Y/n sat back and narrowed her eyes, only heightening that very feeling.
"Do you really think your guardianship is what she needs right now?"
Hopper scoffed defensively.
"Hey, now that's not fair.”
He wasn’t new to the parenting scene. Sure, it had been just him and Y/n for a while and sure, he had been asleep at the wheel for a while too. But he was still a parent.
Y/n eyes only narrowed further.
"It isn’t?"
She licked her lips and swallowed thickly. She knew she was in the right, but that did not stop the guilt from creeping in. Maybe there was a nicer way of going about it. Maybe she was being a bit harsh.
Y/n dismissed that train of thought immediately. If not for Eleven’s sake, then it would be for hers. She already had her hands full trying to keep the lights running with just herself and Hopper. Adding another kid into the mix would only complicate things further and Y/n knew if things went south she would be the one to have to step up.
Lord knows he father knew nothing about doing that.
"Look, I don't want El to be out on the streets, but... and I'm not trying to be cruel,” she had to make sure he knew. “I just… I don't see how she's gonna be better off here."
Hopper’s stomach sank as he struggled to think of a decent retort. There was none. Their kitchen was a mess of dirty dishes, half-empty pizza boxes and a plethora of empty and almost-empty beer bottles. Their living room was no improvement. Old boxes Hopper had moved out of the spare room to make space for El, piles of policework and cigarette burns all over their sofa.
Y/n pressed further, though she suspected he was already getting the hint.
“I mean… how do you plan to look after her when you've barely been able to look after yourself the past few years?"
Much less her, the person he was already responsible for.
Y/n had to look away and excuse herself from the table. If she stayed and kept looking at him, she knew she was either going to scream or cry hysterically. Waiting for him to come to his senses was pointless, but she always struggled to resist doing it.
She was still his daughter, after all.
Hopper heard Y/n’s bedroom door close and leaned forqard again, this time putting his head in his hands and lettig out a quiet groan. What had he done? What had he gotten himself into.
Y/n words echoed through his head as he tried to figure out the best way around it. He took a deep breath and resisted the urge to reach for the whiskey he kept in the kitchen cabinet. She was right, he realised.
He hated that she was right.
Balling his hands into a fist, Hopper glanced over once more to the pile of dirty dishes among the mess that was the kitchen. That was one way to start. He let out a huff and then got up from his chair and approached the mess, turning the faucet on and making a start on what he knew would be a long journey and an ongoing process.
If for nothing else, then it was to make sure Y/n thought of him as more than a drunken deadbeat.
***
October 31st, 1984
El looked up to Y/n with glossy eyes and pouted, her shoulders slumping defeatedly. She knew it was a long shot, but Y/n always came to the rescue when El had disagreements with Hopper. She did not thing she was asking for much.
Y/n sighed and glaced past her little sister. She could just make out Steve’s car pulling up to front of the cabin. As much as she hated disappointing El, Y/n did not want to get caught in the crossfire.
"That's Steve. I have to go now.”
She sped past the pouty young girl and reached for her bag from the kitchen table. Before she could make it to the door, El raced to block her path, this time with her hands clutched together pleadingly. That was new.
"Y/n, please,” El cried.
One night. All she wanted was one night out of the cabin doing somethings kids her age were doing. Something Mike was probably doing, though she would never know for sure because of Hopper’s stupid rules. Y/n frowned.
"I'm sorry, El, Hopper already said no."
Usually, Y/n could not care less what Hopper had to say, but when it came to El he was an otherworldly kind of strict. If Hopper banned Steve from coming over for a week after she missed her curfew twice in a row, Y/n dreaded imagining what he would do if she took her little sister out.
"I never leave," El complained, her brows knitting together as her frustration reached an all-time high. If Y/n was not going to take her side, what were the chances that anything was going to be different?
"C'mon, you know I don't agree with him, but I can't just-"
"Please, Y/n.”
Y/n froze for a moment. El sounded different. She didn’t sound like a kid throwing a tantrum because her dad wasn’t letting her go and play.
She sound like a kid who desparately wanted a break. She sounded like someone who needed their big sister. She sounded like Sara. That was enough for Y/n to give in.
"Go put on your costume."
El didn’t need to be told twice before bolting to her room and coming back out with the white bed sheet she had cut out holes into. Y/n could not help but smile as she opened the door for her and followed her out to where the BMW parked.
Steve had been waiting outside, leaning back against the hood of his car. As El came racing out towards him, he instantly stood straight and embraced her as she hugged him excitedly. Y/n smiled nervously as he looked to her in confusion.
"What's going on?"
Y/n shoved her house keys back into her bag and crossed her arms anxiously. It was too late to go back now.
"El wants to go trick or treating,” she explained nervously. Steve toyed with the car keys in his hands as he only felt more puzzled.
"I thought your dad said-"
"It's too dangerous," Y/n nodded. Glancing between her little sister and her boyfriend, she scratched the back of her head. "So- I don't know- I was thinking we could just drive around and El could stay in the backseat and watch? That way no one sees her."
Steve couldn't help but feel bummed their movie plans were being given a rain-check, but one look at El and her adorable costume and he knew he could not say no.
"Yeah, sure.”
He went to open the door for Y/n when he took notice of the way El lowered her head and left out a huff. Even with her expression concealed behind the white sheet, Steve could tell she was disappointed.
He reached his hand out for Y/n's, halting her from getting into the passenger's seat. She turned to him, puzzled.
“Or maybe..." Steve gave El a small smile before turning to her older sister. It would be worth a shot. He gave his wristwatch a once-over. "I mean it’s only 5 o’clock. Muncie's just a little over an hour away, and we don't know anyone there."
Y/n furrowed her brows, unsure whether she felt more startled or touched by what Steve was implicating.
"You wanna drive to Muncie?"
Steve shrugged, as if it was no big deal. To Y/n, it was. He stood behind El and placed his hands on her shoulder, feeling assured he was doing a good thing by the way the young girl was already jumping with excitement.
Maybe it wasn't trick-or-treating with Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will, but it was a hell of a lot better than sitting in the backseat on the outside looking in.
"I want El to have the full Halloween experience."
"I do too, but it's risky," Y/n argued, folding her arms and taking a step towards the two of them. "What if someone sees her?"
"C'mon, she has the best costume to disguise her," Steve nudged El's shoulder gently, prompting her to lift her hands up.
"Boo!"
"See? Terrifying."
Y/n laughed beneath her breath then pulled Steve closer to her as El stood behind with a hopeful gaze. As much as she wanted to indulge, she could not ignore how risky it would be.
"Steve," she whispered. "If my dad finds out, he's gonna be pissed."
"I’ll get you both home before he gets off work, I promise," Steve assured, snaking his arms around her waist and closing the gap between them almost entirely.
Y/n pursed her lips, still unsure. Steve, not wanting to let El down after already getting her hopes up, pressed a soft kiss against his girlfriend's temple and then leaned his against hers until she met his eyes.
"Please, baby?"
Her knees weakened. Something about the way he called her baby always seemed to have that effect on Y/n. As if she was not already convinced, a small hand tugged on the bottom of her t-shirt.
"Yeah, please, Y/n?"
With two pair of eyes glued onto her, Y/n felt completely cornered. How was she to say no to the two people she loved most? Letting out a sigh, she playfully rolled her eyes and uncrossed her arms.
"Ok, fine."
El hugged her briefly before speeding to the BMW, where Steve stood holding both right-side doors open. Y/n was glad he brought up the idea of going to Muncie. El deserved a normal kid-experience. Maybe they could even make a habit of it.
Steve upheld his promise and got both Hopper girls home safe well before Hopper was due back. While Y/n turned in early, El stayed awake. Between the bucket of candy she had to hide in her closet and the numerous exchanges she had with kids and other families, she was awestruck. El didn't know when or how.
All she knew was that she wanted to go again, and soon.
***
November 10th, 1984
Hopper's truck was already parked outside the cabin when Steve pulled up with Y/n in the passenger seat. She mumbled a curse beneath her breath, dreading having to leave the car. She leaned back against the headrest and squeezed her eyes shut.
“My dad’s gonna kill me.”
This was beyond missing curfew or letting El outside in broad daylight. After their massive argument and broken television, Hopper stressed that his eldest keep an extra close eye on his youngest. And now she was nowhere to be found. There was no telling how Hopper was going to react.
She tried not to think about the worst case scenario. Just the situation in itself made her a nervous wreck. Feeling helpless, Steve reached for her hand and held onto it firmly.
“We can keep looking, baby," he spoke softly. If she wanted him to drive her halfway across the country, he would. There was very little he hated more than seeing her so upset.
“It’s no use,” Y/n huffed defeatedly. “We’ve looked everywhere.”
There was no other place in Hawkins she could think of that they had not already been to. Even if there was a place they had missed, it had been hours now. There was a greater chance El was out of Hawkins entirely, maybe even Indiana.
Y/n unbuckled her seatbelt and sat up straight. The longer she stayed in Steve's car, the more time she would have to psych herself out.
It was time to face the music.
“Do you want me to come inside with you?”
Steve's offer caught her by surprise. She smiled weakly and shook her head. Showing up with Steve would only agitate Hopper more given how much he already had against him.
“It’s ok."
Y/n waited until Steve was out of the driveway before going inside. The cabin was eerily silent, so much so Y/n was beginning to think Hopper was in his room. The she turned to the kitchen.
“Where is she?”
Hopper ascended from the shadows of their dimly lit kitchen until he and Y/n stood facing each other from opposite ends of the kitchen table. He crossed his arms and waited for a response, though he already knew the answer.
“Dad, I can explain,” Y/n whimpered quietly.
However, before she could even start, Hopper was muttering something about a report a woman made to the station with a description that matched El to a tee.
“What the hell happened?”
His voice was chillingly level, in a way that made Y/n's chest hurt.
“I came home from school with Steve, and El was still really upset and she asked me for some eggos, but we had none left. So I told her I would be super quick, and I was!”
Hopper furrowed his brows.
“You left her?”
“For five minutes, dad,” Y/n reasoned, her voice breaking. Suddenly, she felt like a little kid again. “Steve and I drove to the nearest store, got some eggos and came back but she was already gone.”
If it weren't for Steve suggesting different solutions, Y/n would have probably been on her knees crying and hyperventilating for hours. She looked to her dad and hoped he would at least acknowledge how distressing that must have been, but his expression was unchanged.
He was still looking at her like she was a sorry excuse of a person. Like she should have been the one missing, not El.
“And you didn’t call me?”
Y/n winced. Steve suggested doing that, but the prospect of it terrified her.
“I thought maybe she wouldn’t have gotten that far yet," Y/n defended, though it was a mere half-truth. "- so Steve and I drove around looking for her.”
“How could you be so irresponsible?"
She clenched her jaw. He did not have the right to say that to her. Not with his track record. Even so, Y/n bit her tongue. Escalating the situation was the last thing she needed, but he was sure testing her.
“If you had kept an eye on her, she would have never left," Hopper added, inching closer and narrowing his eyes at his daughter.
He could not believe it. The one person he thought he could always count on let him down massively. Adding insult to injury, she scoffed at him. Hopper's blood was boiling.
“Well, maybe if you had given her a bit of freedom she wouldn’t feel the need to retaliate by running away," Y/n hissed. Had he already forgotten the very reason he and El fought just a mere day ago?
“Don’t turn this around on me," Hopper growled, pointing his index finger at her. She was toeing the line of going too far, something she once never did but seemed to make a habit of in recent years. "I'm not the one who lost her.”
“No, of course not," Y/n laughed dryly, her tone saturated in a sarcasm that only angered her father more. "You can never do any wrong, all your rules are completely reasonable and not at all controlling.”
“El never disobeyed my rules until you started encouraging her to," Hopper argued pointedly.
"You mean until I listened to her and encouraged her to exercise her freedom of choice?”
“Since when does lashing out at and keeping secrets from their dad fall under freedom of choice?”
Y/n rolled her eyes. Did he not know anything about teenaged girls? Maybe if he was sober when she was 13 he would have even a semblance of a clue as to what El was going through.
“Oh my god, fine!" Y/n yelled. "- sue me for thinking a 13 year old girl should have a bit privacy and be allowed to say how she feels.”
“Don’t do that," Hopper shook his head, doubling back. "You don’t have a monopoly over knowing what’s best for El, I know a thing or two about raising a teenager.”
He was still the parent, Hopper told himself. That had to count for something.
Y/n stared at him, bewildered. He really believed that, didn't he? She knew then any attempt she could make at convincing him otherwise would be in vain. She shook her head.
“But you have no idea what its like being a teenage girl," she pointed out. "- especially one that has to live with you, because let me tell you…”
She stopped herself. While she found great satisfaction in ripping her father a new one, now was not the time. Not with El missing and her father still oblivious as to what could have compelled her to leave.
Hopper narrowed his eyes.
“Go on," he retorted.
Y/n sighed. This was about El.
“She had questions, dad." Y/n voice and expression softened. “- Questions about where she came from and what she can do and how long she has to stay cooped up in here, and all you do is give her vague answers or no answers at all, and it just…”
She tried to find the right words. She tried to think of a way of getting the message across without provoking him further, or making him defensive.
“You know, living with you and… and being your daughter, it’s…” Y/n shook her head. Maybe there wasn't a nice way of going about it. She looked to him and let out a huff. “You make it really hard sometimes.”
Hopper's brows rose, taken aback. He nodded his head, and for a second Y/n let herself be convinced that he got it. That he finally got it. But then he clenched his jaw and suddenly his gaze became a cold glare.
“Yeah well, being your dad hasn’t been all that great either either.”
Regret seeped in the very instant the words left his lips. Hopper inhaled sharply, watching his daughter intently, terrified of another screaming match. It would be two nights in a row.
However, Y/n did not scream at him. She didn’t even flinch. Hopper didn't think it was possible but, somehow, that left him feeling a hundred times worse. Y/n shrugged her shoulders with a deflated frown. She had only one response.
“You stopped being my dad years ago.”
There was no other emotion in her voice, only exhaustion. She could never understand how he had it in him to say such horrid things to her. Perhaps there was time where she would have become livid by him saying what he did, but Y/n had little to nothing left in her.
They could go back and fourth as long as they wanted, but what use would it be? It would always end the same way; with Y/n walking away even more hurt and traumatised than she already was.
***
February 20th, 1986
“You got kids, American?"
Hopper's train of thought was swiftly intercepted as the Russian man seated next to him waited expectedly. He nodded once.
"Two girls," Hopper stated shortly.
He leaned back against the stone wall behind him and closed his eyes. If he tried, he could picture the two of them in his head and it would feel real enough to give him some comfort. It was the way he kept himself grounded and determined to stay alive.
"My youngest, she’s great," he explained, smiling to himself as he remembered El.
He recalled the way she kept him on his toes and brought so much light into his life. He could not remember how long it had been since their last movie night. He wondered how long her hair was now. God, did he miss her. Both of them.
"And my oldest? My god..." Hopper opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. His Y/n was really something. What he would give to see her again. "- She’s the spitting image of her mom, but she’s got my stubbornness."
No description could do her justice, but in simple words that was Y/n in a nutshell. All the best part of her mother and all the rough edges of her dad. Hopper knew that was part of the reason they butted heads so often.
He also knew he shouldered the rest of the blame for that.
“I was supposed to be the parent, but…” Hopper sighed, his shame getting the best of him as he remembered all he did wrong and how she always put up with it. “- Every step of the way she’s been the one looking out for me, keeping things in line and… calling me out on my bullshit.”
It was never fair, he knew that. He knew he should have never put her in a position where she had to be the one keeping the lights running and keeping him in check. Yet, even so, she did it.
She was resilient and patient and forgiving when she had every reason to be vengeful and leave him in the dumps.
“And she’s become one hell of a kid… in spite of me. Not because."
Maybe he would tell her that, if he ever made it home to her and El. Hopper tried not to think about it too much. In order to get home, he needed to get out of whatever hellhole he was in. In order to do that, he needed to stay alive long enough to figure out how.
***
i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, translated or reposted onto another site.
Summary: Y/n brings her boyfriend, Steve, home to meet her dad for the first time.
series masterlist // main masterlist
A/N: this is a side-story (though technically a back-story) to my Steve series, Cardigan.
i definitely recommend reading at least the first two parts of the main storyline for context before reading this, if you haven't already!
January, 1983
Y/n had sobered up just barely enough to walk straight, and knew it was time to call it a night. Her heels were killing her feet, her winter-ball dress now had an assortment of stains and all she could think about was her morning shift the following day.
She marched toward’s the deck of Carol’s home and tapped her date’s shoulder.
“Danny, can you take me home now?” Y/n crossed her arms and waited for her date to finally shift his attention away from the keg stand competition happening.
“Huh? Yeah, sure,” Danny mumbled after giving Y/n all but a moment's once over. He put his red solo cup down on the outdoor table and stumbled forward as his hand slipped into the pocket of his jeans. He barely noticed Y/n's change of expression.
“Are you drunk?”
Y/n kissed her teeth and took a step back. She didn't need a yes or no response from him to know the answer. Danny smirked and reached for her hand.
“Wh- don’t worry, I’m a great driver," he defended, his speech slurred and eyes practically closed. Tommy's overconfidence had clearly rubbed off on the Hawkins High basketball team's center.
“Just forget it,” Y/n scoffed, turning around to head back inside. Danny stepped forward and reached for her waist. She whipped around and swatted his hand away in annoyance.
“Wh- C’mon, don’t be mad," Danny mumbled. Y/n narrowed her eyes at the inebriated sophomore and poked his shoulder roughly.
“I specifically asked you not to get shitfaced,” she hissed. If it weren't for the agreement they made, she would have never agreed to be his stupid date and needed him to know that. Y/n was not his girlfriend, much less a close enough friend to judge his drunken judgement.
“I’m not shitfaced!”
“You can’t even keep your eyes open, Danny!” Y/n watched him blink and stumble over yet again. She huffed, realising reprimanding him was a lost cause. He probably wouldn't even remember she was his date by the time he woke up the next morning. “You know what? Just go back to doing your stupid keg stand.”
He didn't need to be told twice. Y/n hated how disappointed she was that he didn't at least apologise. She scoffed and headed back inside, determined to sink herself into Carol's parent's sofa once more.
“Do you need a ride home?”
Y/n stopped in her tracks. Steve had come out of nowhere. He had the key to his car ready at his hand and seemed to be in far better shape than Danny. Even so, Y/n narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, unsure.
“Are you drunk?”
Steve shook his head sheepishly, knowing he was probably the only guy at the after party not wasted.
“I stopped after Tommy barfed on the porch."
He could not bring himself to reveal the whole truth. That after watching her dance with some other guy the whole night, he had given up on trying to drink his sorrows away. There was no getting over it anytime soon. Steve spun his keys around his finger and smiled crookedly at a still skeptical Y/n.
“I was gonna leave anyways,” he added.
Y/n cocked her brows in surprise.
“King Steve’s calling an early night?”
He inhaled sharply. After the night he had, he was feeling far from the overconfident keg stand record-breaker he had become known for at parties. Even so, Steve straightened his spine and smiled nonchalantly.
“He has a fair maiden to escort home.”
Y/n cringed.
“Now I’m about to barf.”
He faked a scoff before chuckling quietly. Y/n smiled at the carpeted floor before meeting his gaze, the knots in her stomach finally easing. Why did he have that effect on her?
“Thank you," she murmured, before following him out.
Y/n had ridden in the infamous BMW a handful of times prior, but still sat stiffly in the passenger seat with her hands on her lap, just as awkwardly as the first time. Steve was not oblivious to it. As they rode in silence he kept thinking of ways to break the ice, but found himself tongue-tied every time he glanced over at her.
He sighed defeatedly and focused on the road ahead. They passed through the suburbs and the blocks of stores and headed towards the trees. Steve’s attention was divided solely between the road and the portion of her dress he could see in his peripheral. Not on the glowing empty signal.
The engine sputtered loudly as they passed the last few houses before the road to the woods, prompting Steve to slow down.
"Oh, shit," he cursed, pulling over to the side of the road. Y/n blinked in confusion.
"What just happened?"
Steve turned the engine off and took his key out of the ignition. Running a hand through his hair he looked down sheepishly.
"I... forgot the gas was running low."
Y/n crinkled her brows in concern, watching intently as Steve instinctively rolled his window up and grab his denim jacket and wallet from the backseat.
"So, what now?"
"I think we passed a gas station, so I'll have to walk there," he explained, opening his door and stepping out. Just as he did, Y/n unbuckled her seatbelt and did the same. She took but two steps forward before noticing Steve staring at her.
"I'd rather go with you than sit alone and wait," she reasoned.
Only it wasn't confusion that led to his staring, it was infatuation. Even under a dimly lit streetlight, she looked breathtaking in her winter ball dress. Steve finally broke his gaze and nodded, meeting her at the front of his car before they both continued down the side of the road.
The first block they walked consisted of nothing but the familiar quiet and the sound of Y/n's high heels clicking against the stones on the ground. Steve cleared his throat.
"So... you and Danny?"
He waited nervously for her reaction, mentally kicking himself for being such a wimp. If he hadn't panicked the first opportunity he had to ask her to be his date, Danny would have never had the chance to beat him to it.
Y/n furrowed her brows immediately and shook her head profusely, completely oblivious to the sigh of relief Steve let out.
"Oh my god, no," Y/n shuddered.
"I just thought-"
"He told me if I was his date, he'd stay sober enough to drive me home so I could go to Carol's party," she explained, feeling an impending urge to make clear that Danny was a one-time date. Y/n looked at Steve and smiled crookedly before turning back to the footpath. "I think he just didn't wanna be the only guy on the basketball team to show up without a date to the dance."
Steve winced.
"Ouch."
"Sorry, I didn't-" Y/n turned to Steve and frowned. "If it's any consolation, I think I we'd have been better off just going alone."
"Yeah?"
"Oh yeah," she groaned.
All night, Danny raved on and on about himself, to the point where Y/n could barely get a word in. The rare times she was able to share something about herself, his attentionnwas elsewhere- often with the rest of his teammates and whatever it was they were doing or talking about.
Her words echoed in Steve’s mind, tempting a question he had toyed with all night but hadn’t dared to ask aloud. He placed his shaky hands in the pockets of his jacket and coughed quietly.
"What... was there someone else you wanted to go with instead?"
Her breath hitched and she an impending warm sensation grow on the apples of her cheeks. She glanced at him then quickly looked away when their eyes met.
"I… I don't know," Y/n whispered, despite knowing exactly who she would have preferred.
She couldn't bring herself to admit it yet. Not until she was sure the feelings were mutual. That she wouldn't be left out in the cold. Y/n had had enough of that.
"Was there someone you wanted to go with?" She stared intently at Steve, who was seemingly avoiding her gaze.
His feet came to a halt and, for a moment, it felt like his heartbeat did the same. He looked to her in quiet fear, as if he had been caught. Y/n’s gaze softened as she inched closer to him.
Steve looked over her shoulder and hardened his expression, before raising his hand to point to their destination.
"There's the gas station."
Before Y/n could register his words, he walked past her. She frowned and felt her shoulders slump as she turned around and watched him walk away. She didn’t see his flushed expression or heard the quiet curses he whispered to himself for wimping out yet again. All she saw was his back. All she felt was the searing pain of inexplicit rejection.
***
March, 1983
It was not her scene, hanging out with Tina, Carol, Oscar and Tommy on a random Saturday afternoon. On any other occasion, Y/n would have never even humoured the idea of accepting their invitation, but they weren't the ones who asked her if she wanted to come. Steve was.
The six of them walked out of the diner and gathered on the edge of the footpath. Carol was telling Y/n about the top she bought from the new store that opened up next to Melvald's, when Oscar elbowed Tommy and pointed to something across the street.
“Um… Y/n, is that your dad?”
Her eyes widened when she spotted her dad's truck parked outside the local bar, and him passed out in the driver's seat. She heard Tommy chuckle obnoxiously, before looking to Oscar and Steve to match his amusement.
“Ha! I want whatever Chief’s having."
Oscar laughed with him, but Steve was silent. He couldn't take his eyes off Y/n. Her eyes glossed over and her entire posture seemingly shrunk. Steve hated seeing her like that. Annoyed, he shook his head and shot Tommy a glare.
“C’mon dude, just shut the fuck up.”
Tommy cussed a defensive, ‘what the fuck, Steve?’, at him, but he had already turned away. He couldn’t care less about any offense Tommy took. Not when Y/n was on the verge of tears glancing back and forth between their friend group and her dad’s truck.
“You guys go ahead without me,” she whispered shortly, not wanting to turn the situation into a whole thing. She waved goodbye and walked in the opposite direction, feeling the smallest semblance of relief that she was alone, and a small semblance of sadness for the same reason.
She tried not to wonder the kinds of normal teenage Saturdays she might be able to have if her father weren't such a mess.
After passing a few stores, she glanced back briefly only to see Steve running after her, the rest of their group already long gone. Y/n knitted her brows together.
“Steve, what are you doing?”
He huffed when he finally reached her side and looked at her incredulously.
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Steve spoke softly.
“It’s fine, I’ll be ok,” Y/n shook her head and continued to walk. Much to her surprise, Steve continued to follow her. Something told her he was not going away easily.
“Y/n, you don’t have your license yet and your dad can’t drive, so how exactly are you gonna get home?”
“I’ll take the bus,” Y/n argued.
“No, let me take you,” he pleaded.
“Steve, I appreciate you wanting to stay with me, but I don’t need your charity,” she shouted.
He double backed. Y/n clenched her jaw instinctively as she maintained her ground and her stern expression. The sounds of the cars passing and nearby groups talking softened the silence, but not the tension. Steve’s gaze softened and he shook his head defetedly. Didn’t she realise?
“That's not what this is, Y/n."
What it was was something Steve had taken a great deal of time coming to terms with. That the girl he’d known for the better half of his life, who he’d only really started to talk to half a year ago, had quickly become the one person he couldn’t get out of his head.
Finally, Y/n let go of the breath she had held onto, feeling the tension in her shoulders release with it. Y/n had never been one to take risks, or to trust the word of another, but the way Steve gazed at her made her forget. As she continued to look back it, her narrow eyes studying his expression for even a trace of insincerity, Y/n had no rebuttal.
“... Ok,” she whispered, before turning to face the crossing.
Steve shuffled his feet until their shoulders just barely grazed one another, and, to his surprise, she let him. Once the road was clear, Y/n sped across to the other side of the street and paced up to the front of her dad's truck. When Steve caught up to her, she felt his gaze switch between her unconscious dad and her reaction to the sight of him. She huffed.
“He’s out cold.”
Steve's brows furrowed. There was a peculiar lack of urgency in Y/n tone. He studied her expression closely, left curious by the way she sprung into action. Like clockwork, Y/n approached the driver's door, carefully opening it and swiftly reaching towards the ignition.
Alarmed, Steve followed after her and spoke in a hush whisper, terrified of waking up the police chief.
“Y/n, what are you doing?”
“I’m getting the keys in case he wakes up and tries to drive himself home,” she explained curtly, quickly remembering why she made a point of being detached and stand-offish.
Explaining any aspect of her relationship with her dad to another person was always an uncomfortable conversation that left Y/n an anxious mess. It was the very reason she stopped going to her appointments with the school counsellor and why her friendships never went past the shallow end. At least, until Steve.
He tried to conceal how startled he was by Y/n's nonchalance, but couldn't keep himself from running his hand through his hair nervously and trying to wrap his head around it all.
“Wh- so, what are we gonna do with them?”
Y/n closed the door and paused for moment, contemplating whether she would tell him the truth or lash out at him.
“Take ‘em to the station and have Officer Robinson come and drive him home."
It wasn't pity or discomfort, but moreso concern.
“Y/n… does this happen often?”
A hot sensation bubbled in Steve's chest the more he pieced things together. He knew Y/n had a lot more going on in her life than she let on, but he was swiftly realising it went a lot further than merely having to work part time to help her dad cover the bills.
Y/n could see his expression harden and felt defensive.
“March is a rough month for him,” she mumbled quietly, feeling pathetic for once again making excuses for her dad.
Before Steve could question her further, she started heading towards the police station that was, thankfully, but a block away. He held the front door open for her once they got there, and Y/n donned a smile as she approached the woman sitting at the front desk.
She leaned against the counter until the lady stopped writing and looked up from her paperwork. Steve stood nervously behind Y/n, at. first puzzled by how at-home she was at the station before reminding himself who her dad was.
“Y/n! Honey, what can I do you for?”
She placed the keys down and the woman offered an apologetic smile. Flo had become much too familiar with the routine.
“Can you please tell Robinson he’s outside the bar again?" Y/n requested.
“Ok, sweetie," Flo nodded before taking the keys from the counter and standing up.
Before she turned around to go find officer Robinson, Y/n's eyes lit up at the half-empty box of donuts on the other end of the counter.
"Ooh, are those extras?"
Flo did a double take before looking back to the donuts she had forgotten about and chuckling quietly.
"Yeah, you kids help yourselves."
Y/n opened the box and reached straight for her favourite one and splitting it in two. Steve stifled his amused grin from watching the infamous Y/n Hopper rip into a box of baked goods with the excitement of a little kid. She held out one of the halves for him and he gulped.
"Here, Steve, you have to try the custard-filled one."
He cautiously took it from her with quipped brows. He hated custard but really really liked her, and didn't know how to say no.
"It's that good?"
"The best in the state, trust me," Y/n proclaimed, as she took a bite into it. She closed her eyes and shook her head in a way that left Steve even more smitten than he was before. "Mmm... forget that, the best in the country."
He didn't realise he was staring until she went to take another bite but stopped and smiled expectedly at him and his uneaten half. Steve braced himself and took a bite of the worst donut he had ever eaten, trying not to cough from the dry dough and the lumpy custard.
Steve looked to Y/n and her unfaltering smile, and quickly found the motivation to stomach the abomination. He forced a smile and nodded.
"So good," he raved.
"Right?"
She grinned and took another bite, inching closer to him until their shoulders touched. When she looked back to Flo returning to her seat, Steve took it as the opportunity to grimace as he scuffed the rest of the donut.
Instinctively, his hand rose to the counter and he began drumming his fingers against the surface noisily as he tried his best not to gag. Flo glanced up the two and squeezed her eyes shut momentarily.
“Y/n, honey, please tell your boyfriend not to tap on the counter, you know how that gives me a migraine.”
Steve's eyes darted to Y/n just as she almost choked on her donut. She laughed nervously before clearing her throat and dusting off the powdered sugar from her fingertips.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Y/n whispered sheepishly.
Flo smirked and looked up at the teenagers once more, unfazed by Y/n's clenched jaw and mortified expression. She was not kidding, Flo thought. That Steve character had a remarkable head of hair. The woman glanced back to Y/n and narrowed her eyes playfully.
“Not yet."
Y/n's eyes grew twice in size as her entire face rose in temperature. Steve looked down at his feet and grinned. Before the woman could embarrass Y/n any further, she turned around and grabbed Steve's arm before pulling him towards the exit.
“Goodbye, Flo," she deadpanned.
Y/n swore that was the last time she would ever humoured Flo when she makes inquiries about her love life.
***
November, 1983
Steve stopped outside his camaro before turning back to face Y/n. He hated how disappointed she looked and, even moreso, the fact that there was little he could do to change it.
“I’m sorry about him,” Y/n whispered, kicking herself for ever expecting her dad to be anything but the difficult and brooding grump he had been for the last 5 years.
“It’s alright,” Steve murmured. He reached for her waist and gently pulled her closer until there was little to no space between them. “Hey, look at me. I’m ok.... We’re ok. This was just one dinner.”
She smiled weakly, but Steve knew his words made no difference. It was more than just one dinner, it was Hopper's first impression of him as his daughter's boyfriend. Steve shrugged, wanting nothing more than to lighten the mood and put a smile on his girl's face.
“I’ll win him over eventually,” he said, like a promise.
Steve leaned in and kissed Y/n softly. Before pulling away, he pressed their temples against one another and smiled goofily at her until she smiled back. Y/n waved goodbye and waited until he left the driveway before going back into her home.
She closed the door behind her and glared at the back of her dad's head. He had already began washing up the dishes. He was even whistling as he did so, as if he hadn't just finished spewing a plethora of insults at his daughter's boyfriend. Y/n crossed her arms.
"What was that?"
Hopper stopped and turned the faucet off, before sighing as he shook his hands dry and turned around to face his daughter. He shrugged nonchalantly.
"What was what?"
Y/n scoffed and looked away momentarily. It was moments like these that her father made it so unbearable to be around. She shook her head, refusing to back down. Hurting her was one thing, hurting him was another.
“Steve’s a great guy," she defended. "- and he didn’t deserve to have to sit through two hours of you interrogating him and painting him out to be an idiot.”
Hopper walked past the kitchen counter and turned to his bedroom door, resorting to his infamous tactic when it came to disagreements with his daughter.
“I wasn’t painting him out to be anything,” he denied as he stalked towards his room. Y/n sped after him and stood in his way, not letting him avoid their conversation as easily as he had become accustomed to.
“What don’t you like about him?”
Y/n narrowed her eyes and waited. If he was going to into her boyfriend, he should at least have the decency to tell her why. Y/n suspected it was a stupid reason, but she wanted him to tell it to her straight.
Hopper sighed and shook his head, unable to answer her. His daughter scoffed laughed incredulously. Of course, she told herself.
“You know, this is exactly why I didn’t wanna bring him home to meet you, because I knew you were gonna be like this,” Y/n shouted angrily. Was it really so hard to be a decent person to a boy who meant a great deal to her? She swore he got a kick out of making her life harder every step of the way.
Hopper furrowed his brows.
“Then why did you bring him here?”
“Because it was Steve’s idea!" Y/n yelled, oblivious to the way Hopper's expression faltered for the briefest moment.
She stepped back and shook her head, regretting ever letting Steve talk her into bringing him home for dinner. Y/n turned back to her dad, frustrated by the way he continued to stand there silently.
"You know, he's the one who wanted to do this stupid dinner. I would’ve been happy to keep you two separated for the rest of my life.”
Hopper raised his brows questioningly.
“You really think he’ll stick around that long?”
Y/n's face fell. She double-backed and scoffed, looking away momentarily to blink away the tears that began forming. Hopper realised too late he had gone too far.
“What the hell is does that mean? You think he’s gonna get sick of me at some point and leave?”
She tried to maintain her glare, but the growing lump in her throat made it impossible to steady her trembling voice. Her father had never insinuated anything so cruel.
“That’s not what I said, Y/n,” Hopper defended quietly.
“But that’s what you meant, isn’t it?”
Y/n turned her back to him and headed towards her bedroom door, not knowing how much more of the conversation she could bear. Hopper trailed after, struggling to find the words to explain why
“Look, guys like Steve? They don’t know a good thing when they have it. Sooner or later he’s just gonna end up hurting you.”
Y/n whipped her head around and narrowed her eyes. Did he even hear the irony in his accusation? It was far too late for him to try and offer her any kind of fatherly advice, she was not going to have any of it.
“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see then," she hissed, before slamming her door shut.
***
June, 1985
Y/n peeked through the five inch gap and cursed beneath her breath when she saw her father sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. She hoped she would be able to avoid his interrogation, but it appeared she had no other other option.
Gripping onto her duffle bag, Y/n walked out of her bedroom and made it halfway past the living room sofa when Hopper looked up. A brief honk from the vehicle outside sounded through the cabin.
"You're going to Steve's house?"
"No, I'm going to Nancy's. I already told you this," Y/n sighed, heading towards the kitchen counter to grab her wallet and her covergirl lip gloss.
Hopper put his newspaper down and rose from his chair. Y/n turned and huffed, realising he had finally had enough of her beating around the bush.
"Steve hasn't been around in a while," he stated cautiously, knowing outright asking her would only escalate things.
"Great observation, dad."
Hopper sighed defeatedly. He knew she had more than enough reason not to want to tell him things, but they could not keep doing this. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stepped forward. Her back was still turned to him, but he was not going to wait any longer.
"Did something happen between you two?"
Y/n turned around and the typical angry glare Hopper had braced himself for was nowhere in sight. Instead he was met with a pair of
“Oh my god," she cried, her bottom lip trembling. "Will you just fucking drop it, please?”
“What’s going on, bug?”
“We broke up.” Y/n sniffled. Hopper had expected as much, but couldn't say he wasn't disappointed that was what happened. “He cheated on me and so we broke up. That’s why he’s stopped coming around and why I hang up on him when he calls.”
She could just imagine the look on his face, to the point where she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. After all, Hopper was the one who warned her something like this would happen and Y/n was the one convinced it would never.
“If you’re gonna say I told you so, can you make it quick because I really don’t-“
Before she could force herself to look up, her dad had closed the gap between them and braced his arms around her. Y/n had barely enough time to register what was happening before Hopper pulled away, leaving his hands on her shoulders.
“I won’t bring it up again,” he promised, which was exactly what Y/n wanted. “Are you… Are you gonna be ok?”
“Yeah, I’ll be ok," Y/n replied quietly, startled by how well he was reacting. "Nancy’s been helping me through it, that’s why I’m going over to her house tonight.”
“Ok, well, um… here."
Hopper reached for his jacket he left sprawled on the couch and rummaged through the pockets. He pulled out his wallet and took out a crinkled $10 bill before holding it out to Y/n. She stared at him, puzzled.
“What are you doing, dad?”
“Get yourself that ice cream you like, on me," he smiled.
Y/n sighed and accepted it. She had played out this conversation in her head countless times, but never imagined this. Hopper watched as she shoved the bill into her bag and went to say something.
Y/n stopped and cleared her throat. No, she told herself. She was not going to thank him. She gave him a small smile and shot a quick glance towards the door. Nancy was still waiting for her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, dad," she murmured, before leaving.
Once she closed the door behind her, Hopper let out a sigh of relief. Finally, he thought to himself. Finally he did something right.
***
April, 1986
Y/n had taken Steve's BMW to deliver the last of their donations, while he stayed back to finish getting the cabin in order. The aftermath of the battle against Vecna meant that the cabin would become home-base for any planning and meetings to be held on what they were going to do next.
He was in Y/n's room when he heard a vehicle pull up outside and heard the footsteps of everyone else in the cabin race for the door. Thinking little of it, Steve took his time coming outside. When he walked out onto the front porch, a figure emerged from the behind the door.
“Steve Harrington.”
He turned and felt his jaw drop when he realised who it was.
“Hopper, oh my god-“
Before he could finish, the older man engulfed him in a hug, patting his back roughly. Steve stood frozen, too shocked to even move his arms.
“Thank you," Hopper whispered, choking up as he pulled away.
“F-For what?”
Steve furrowed his brows, confused. First he was coming back from the dead, now he was thanking him when he had no idea what he had done. Hopper chuckled and shook his head before tensing his brows and sniffling.
Joyce had filled him in of the first 6 months he had missed and and overexcited Dustin filled him in on the last 2. Hopper had nothing but gratitude for the Harrington kid. He cleared his throat and then explained his reasoning, one that was plain and simple.
“For keeping her safe.”
***
i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, translated, or reposted onto another site.
Summary: Y/n spends her first Christmas without Hopper in California with El and the Byers.
series masterlist // main masterlist
A/N: this is a side-story to my Steve series, Cardigan. i recommend reading at least the first two parts of the main storyline (if you haven't already) for context before reading this!
i wanted to write more about the reader's relationship with joyce, bc i love her and love the whole dynamic between the byers and the hoppers.
November, 1983
Hopper inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as he focused on the road. Gripping the steering wheel of his truck, he tried to settle his anger. His eldest shifted uncomfortably and glance over to him briefly. She knew it was probably best not dig herself even deeper into trouble, but she couldn't shake how he reacted.
“You were pretty rude to her,” Y/n mumbled.
Hopper scoffed and looked at her momentarily before shaking his head. Maybe he had been a bit harsh to Joyce, but what were they expecting?
“You broke into my office and stole confidential police files,” he seethed, beginning to genuinely wonder if his daughter understood the magnitude of what she had done.
“I was gonna put them back after,” she reasoned nonchalantly.
“That’s not the point, Y/n.”
She turned her head and rolled her eyes, Hopper had to count to ten in his head before saying anything further. Y/n had never caused trouble like this before. He knew her her whole life but he could hardly recognise the person she had become.
“And since when did you start hanging around the Byers?”
She hated when he did this. When he acted like he had a right to knowing every little detail about her. It might've been a month or so since he last passed out on their front porch, but nothing had changed. Not to Y/n, at least. She furrowed her brows in annoyance.
“Dad, are you serious?”
Y/n worked with Joyce at Melvald's for almost a year. Since then, she spent more time with her and her kids than she did with Hopper, though that was not saying much. In fact, it was easy considering she only ever spoke to him a couple times a week.
Hopper sighed. When it came conversations with her, he always found himself saying the wrong thing. Usually, he would go silent, but he could not bring himself to leave things as they were. If he was going to turn a blind eye to his daughter breaking and entering a police department, he had to at least understand why.
“That still doesn’t explain things,” he said sternly.
“I didn’t realize I was being interrogated."
She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes once more. Why was he choosing now to take an interest in her feelings? Why did it take breaking into his office? Hopper's frustration grew.
“Why are sticking your nose into this?”
His voice grew louder, but it didn't appear to faze her. She leaned her head back against her chair and groaned quietly. She didn’t wanna talk about it, least of all with him.
“You’re overreacting, dad.”
“Stop avoiding the question,” Hopper snapped.
“Well, stop talking to me like I’m a criminal," she hissed.
“Just tell me why, Y/n.”
“Because it’s awful!” She yelled, clenching her jaw as she finally faced him again. His expression softened. “... A-And it’s fucked up that a kid just goes missing out of nowhere, is then found dead and the little bit of family he has are treated like shit by the entire town.”
If they weren't outright ridiculing Jonathan and Joyce, they were speculating what they did or didn't do that led to Will's disappearance. While Y/n's relationship with the Byers never really went beyond her shifts at Melvald's and the handful of times she went over to their house, she knew them well enough to know they were the least bit deserving of any of it.
“You know I used to babysit Will. Sometimes even his friends too," Y/n explained.
It started off with Joyce needing an extra hand and Y/n needing some extra cash. Then, soon enough the other moms called for Y/n’s babysitting services here and there and somewhere along the lines she ended up being decently acquainted four of the sweetest, dorkiest boys in Indiana.
"They’re good kids, dad,” she sighed.
When the news of Will's disappearance broke out, Y/n couldn't keep still. Even when her dad tried to assure her he had his best people on the case, she couldn't leave it to chance.
Y/n shuddered, unable to forget the body bag they wheeled him in on. She should have done something sooner. Everyone in Hawkins should have.
"All I know is something’s not adding up,” she added. Hopper’s expression suggested maybe he had been thinking the same thing. “And Joyce isn’t the only who has a really bad feeling about all this.”
“Ok,” he sighed. “I’ll talk to Joyce tomorrow and… go over Will’s case again. But you have to promise you’re gonna keep your nose out of it from here on out.”
"I think we both know I'm not gonna do that."
"I'm not asking you, Y/n. I''m telling you."
Hopper stopped the truck outside the cabin and turned to his daughter. Maybe defying his rules was her favourite pasttime, but he could not let it slide this time.
"Fine," she muttered. "I'll keep my nose out of it."
Gritting her teeth she left the truck and trampled towards the house, with absolutely no intention of keeping to her word.
***
December, 1985
Y/n opened the locket and saw a photo of her parents holding her when she was just a few years old. She couldn’t recall ever seeing that photo before, just the negatives in one of the boxes in the cabin.
She looked up to see Joyce and El’s warm and expecting smiles. Suddenly, a lump came to Y/n’s throat.
“Well? What do you think?”
“I-I um….” Y/n cleared her throat. She didn’t know why she was feeling this way. All she knew was that she was far too overwhelmed to bear another second in that room. “I’m sorry, can I be excused?”
Before Joyce could ask her what was wrong, Y/n stood up from the couch and sped outside. She liked that it was warm in California. It meant that she could sit on the Byers’ front doorstep without the risk of frostbite.
Y/n held her head in her hands, kicking herself for making such a fuss over nothing. She wish she was better at accepting gifts and accepting love, but after the shitshow of a year she had just had, it was hard to remember how.
“Y/n?” Joyce approached the distraught ypung girl cautiously and sat down beside her. Y/n lifted her head and faced her. The older woman frowned. “Honey, I’m so sorry… if I overstepped getting you that gift.”
“No, Joyce,” Y/n shook her head. “You did nothing wrong. It’s just…”
She licked her lips and sighed. She hated the plethora of pity parties she had been throwing for herself recently, but there was no avoiding it. Sheepishly, she met Joyce’s gaze with glossy eyes.
“I haven’t had a family Christmas like this in a really long time, and it’s been a while since I actually got a gift from someone who… who wasn’t Steve.”
Saying his name still made her wince. That scar would be excrutiatingly slow to heal, just like everything else.
“And I…” Y/n huffed defeatedly. “I guess I just didn’t know how to feel or react.”
“Oh,” Joyce frowned. Her gaze softened as she placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder.
While she was relieved she hadn’t upset her, it pained Joyce to even begin to imagine how hard things were for Y/n, especially when she was on her own. The young girl was damn good at pulling a brave face.
“I really like the locket though. I love it, actually,” Y/n assured her. She bit her lip nervously and sat with Joyce in the silence momentarily. “Thank you for having me over for the holidays.”
“Thank you for coming,” Joyce smiled. “It’s been a rough year and it’s been nice having a familiar face around. And I know El’s been missing her big sister since the move.”
“Really?”
Tension had been lingering between Y/n and El ever since she moved with the Byers. The entire plane ride frpm Indiana to California, Y/n´s stomach was in knots thinking of how different things with El would be.
“Absolutely,” Joyce assured her.
She saw the excitement on El’s face everytime a letter from Y/n arrived, as well as the deflated expression she took when the only person she wanted to vent to was on the other side of the country.
Joyce shifted to face Y/n. Between all the shifts she worked during the holiday rush, this was the first time she truly got to sit down with Y/n alone.
“Have you been holding up ok, Y/n?”
“Yeah, I-“ Y/n started to nod her head until she saw the way Joyce was looking at her. There was no point in lying. She sighed, her shoulder slumping. “…No. I haven’t.”
She groaned and wiped her teary eyes. Joyce rubbed her shoulder gently and stayed silent. Y/n wasn’t the only who avoided talking about him.
“I just… I miss him and I wish he were here, but I also…” Y/n inhaled sharply and looked up. “I feel really really angry. I’m angry at him for being so awful and I’m... I’m angry at myself because…”
She sighed and, much to Joyce’s surprise, let out a quiet sob. Y/n then furrowed her brows and shook her head regretfully.
“I can’t believe the last thing I said to him was that I wish he had died instead of my mom and sister,” Y/n whispered.
Maybe she had a right to be angry. Maybe the years of mistreatment and the Russian truth serum were partly to blame as well. Even so, she found it easier point the blame solely towards herself.
“And now…” Y/n let out a cry and looked down at her hands, unable to face Joyce. “Now he’s gone, and they’re still gone and all of you are in a different state and I can’t even talk to Steve anymore and I’m all alone and I…”
“Y/n,” Joyce’s voice was soft and steady, but her hand was shaking as she placed it atop Y/n’s. Finally, the young girl looked up. “Honey, nothing that happened that night was your fault.”
Her entire face froze. She didn’t realise how badly she needed to hear those words. Joyce pulled her into her arms and hugged her tightly. Maybe she couldn’t fix everything that happened to Y/n, but a nice meal and good Christmas was a good place to start.
“Let’s go inside and have some food, yeah?”
Y/n nodded and followed Joyce back inside to where Will, El and Jonathan had already set up the table. She felt her worries ease as she remembered Joyce’s words, and tried not to think about how much time she had before it wore off and she was back to wallowing.
***
January, 1985
It was New Years Eve, but the Byers house was quiet. Jonathan was out with Argyle, while Will and Joyce were fast asleep in their rooms. Y/n took the tub of ice cream she had bought earlier out from the freezer and grabbed two spoons from the kitchen drawer.
She reached El’s bedroom door and noticed the three inch gap. Her heart sank. She shouldn’t have waited so long to do this. Y/n knocked once on the door and then peeked her head in.
“Hey,” she said softly, smiling when she saw El turn around from her desk. Y/n knew she was still up. She held out the tub and the two spoons with a playful smile. “You wanna share?”
Instantly, El grinned and sat down on the bed with Y/n. The two of them at began eating the ice cream in silence. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were back in Y/n’s room. Like they were back together in Hawkins.
El nervously glanced up at her sister.
“Y/n,” she said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” the older girl replied.
Y/n watched curiously as El bit ler lip and looked away momentarily. When she finally looked bacj at her older sister, she couldn’t stop the tears that formed in the corner of her eyes.
“Are you mad at me?” She asked. “Because I didn’t stay in Hawkins with you?”
The older girl almost choked on her ice cream.
“Wh- No! Of course I’m not-“
El tilted her head raised her brows, making an expression Y/n was famous for making countless times in the past. The older girl sighed.
“Ok, I guess I was a little bit in the beginning. But, now I get why you chose to come here,” Y/n admitted. “I think I wasn’t really angry, but just really sad that we were gonna be separated. It was like I was losing you too.”
The two of them frowned. El hadn’t considered Y/n would feel that way.
“But… there’s no way I could have looked after you the way Joyce has,” Y/n stated honestly.
El needed the normalcy and stability of going to school in California with Will and having family dinners and breakfast. Y/n would have never been able to give her that, no matter how badly she wanted her to stay.
“Even though it sucks being away from you, it’s nice knowing you’re not alone.”
At first the polaroids El sent with letters of them together left Y/n with a bitter after taste. But quickly enough, she learned to get over her ego and relish in the fact that El was surrounded by a family that loved her as their own.
“Is that how you feel?” El asked worriedly. “…Alone?”
“I don’t know, maybe a little,” Y/n mumbled. She noticed the concern in El’s expression and immediately shook her head and smiled weakly. “But, look… don’t worry about me. I’ll figure things out.”
The room went quiet. El scooped one last spoonful of ice cream before letting out a sigh.
“…I miss him.”
They reached the bottom of the ice cream tub, which only added to their sadness. El opted to lie down on the bed and Y/n followed suit. They stared at the ceiling and frowned.
“It’s hard to talk about him when you’re not here,” El explained. “Joyce is nice, but… it’s not the same.”
Y/n knew the funny things Hoppers did when it was just the three of them. Y/n was there when El slammed the door in his face for the first time because he refused to let her leave the cabin. Y/n was the one person she could vent to about anything and everything.
To Y/n, El could say nothing at all and still feel understood. There was no one like her.
“I know,” Y/n sighed. “I used to talk about him sometimes with Steve and Nancy, but… no one at home really understands how I feel.”
That wasn’t necessarily the worst part. The worst part was how hard they often tried to understand. With El, Y/n could vent to her heart’content and El would simply do the only thing Y/n wanted: she’d listen quietly and eat ice cream with her.
“No one here understands me at all,” El whispered.
Y/n frowned. She hated being apart from El, especially since it meant not being able to do anything to fix or change things. She reached out for her little hand and, instead, decided to take a page out of her book. Maybe they lived in different states now, but her flight home wasn’t for another week.
Y/n turned her head to El.
“I’m here.”
El let out a breath and smiled. She had so much to tell her.
***
March, 1986
Y/n handed Mike the envelope and the round tin container of baked goods.
“Ok, so the letter is for El but the oatmeal cookies are for Joyce,” she explained.
“Ok, got it,” Mike nodded.
Y/n noticed how his hands trembled. She placed her hand on his shoulder gently and smiled.
“Are you nervous?”
Mike shot his head up and felt his cheeks flush. He had been looking forward to spring break in California for so long, but now that his flight was only a few hours away, he felt anxiously restless.
“A little, yeah,” he aswered sheepishly.
“Why?” Y/n asked softly. “She’s been dying to see you, I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”
“Has she… said anything about me to you? You know, in her letters or when you went to see her.”
Y/n took her hand of his shoulder and walked around the counter. El told her a lot of things about Mike, but her lips were sealed.
“You know I can’t tell you, Mike.”
“Oh c’mon, why not?”
“Because,” Y/n began, donning a serious tone. “I’m bound to confidentiality by the most sacred of all oaths.”
Mike narrowed his eyes at her. She couldn’t be serious.
“Sisters don’t tell secrets is not a sacred oath, Y/n.”
“Oh, like you would know,” Y/n retorted.
Mike huffed when Y/n stood in front of him. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to ignore her pounding headache for just a few more seconds.
“Have a safe flight and say hi to her for me, ok?” Y/n asked softly as she pulled him in for a brief hug. “… Her and Joyce!”
Mike put the letter in his backpack before turning around and heading for the door. Maybe he would have to find out for himself what was going on with his girlfriend.
“I will,” he responded as he waved goodbye and left the video store. As the front door slammed shut, Y/n felt the pounding in her head return, only this time it was ten times worse.
***
i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, translated, or reposted onto another site.
hey maria! i was so excited to see that you posted another part of the cardigan series which i'm in love with btw. i was wondering if i could be added to the taglist for the said series? also glad to have you back! have a great day <33333
ALSO OMG UR PFP?! I ABSOLUTELY LOVE AMY SHE'S ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS EVER. SHE'S SO 💘💘💘💘
hi love, thank you so much 🫶🏽
just added you to the taglist- sorry for not getting back to you sooner! xx
ALSO OMGG SO HAPPY TO COME ACROSS A FELLOW AMY STAN HAHA!! 😆💗💗
hope you have an amazing day! xox
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