Kat (She/Her), 26 y/o, Nurse. I'm really lame but I like to write. I mostly write for Marvel but I am a huge nerd so if you have a request send it my way! REQUESTS: CLOSED Masterlist Kofi
Hey there honey, are you okay ? Please we have been worrying about you so much, I hope everything is okay :( š
Hiya! First of all, thank you all so much for checking in on me! I've seen all your messages and I love all of you guys for being so sweet!ā¤ļø Just a little life update: I moved across the United States recently so I have definitely been busy settling into my new place/job. I am still working on writing and hope to get back into the swing of things soon. Thank you all again for checking in on me! I love you guys!!
"undoing this character's death would take away his sacrifice and character arc" girl I don't give a shit. I'm bringing him back through the power of ao3 fix-it fics and there's nothing you can do to stop me x
Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 28, Part 29 (Coming Soon)...
AN: lol I'm back on my bullshit.
Word Count: 3,874
Warnings: allusions to abuse
Itās a short ride. Neither of you speak, allowing the music to fill the space between you. Itās comfortable. You listen to each song as the cassette plays through the specific mix curated by its maker. Max had shown you a few of these āmixtapes' Billy had made the day you waited with her. You donāt fully understand how heās able to get each song to seamlessly blend into the next despite the variation in artists and rhythms.Ā
Then a song comes on that grabs your attention. Itās the same loud tune, a guitar continuously strumming along with the beat of drums and bass. The thing that stands out to you are the lyrics.Ā
āPeople think Iām insane,Ā
because Iām frowning all the timeā¦Ā
I need someone to show me the things in life that I canāt find
I canāt see the things that make true happiness,Ā
I must be blind.ā
āWho sings this?ā You ask, glancing sidelong at Billy.Ā
āBlack Sabbath.ā He tells you, keeping his eyes ahead. āItās one of their older songs but it still holds up.ā He explains pulling to a stop in front of his house. When he moves to cut the engine your hand reflexively grabs his wrist, stopping him.Ā
āWait. I want to hear the rest.ā You tell him, using your other hand to turn up the volume. Ā Billy doesnāt fight you, watching you in silence as you listen to the rest of the song.Ā
āMake a joke and I will sigh
And you will laugh and I will cry
Happiness I cannot feel
And love to me is so unrealā¦
I tell you to enjoy life
I wish I could, but itās too lateā
Your heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze for a beat as the song ends. There is a tense moment before the next song begins where you notice Billy's pulse under your fingertips. You donāt know why you're squeezing Billyās wrist so tightly. You slowly uncurl your fingers, sitting back in your seat. The lyrics bounce around in your mind as you sit there. Billy finally cuts the engine, ending the music as well.Ā
āYou okay?ā Billy finally asks, lifting a brow. You nod.
āYea, itās just weird. How something can sound so loud and angry but under it all itās actually really sad.ā You explain. āLike a cry for help.ā Billyās lips quirk up slightly.
āMaybe thatās what they were going for?ā He says. āMusic is just another way to tell a story. Iām surprised youāre not more into it.ā He tells you, moving to exit the car. āIf you thought that was good Iāll have to show you some Bon Jovi.ā He goes on as you follow him out of the car and up the steps towards the house. āIām assuming you have no idea who that is.ā Billy says with a smirk.Ā
āYea yea, save it. Max already thinks Iāve been living under a rock for the past 17 years.ā You reply with an eye roll. Billy huffs a laugh.Ā
āThat little shit wouldnāt know dick about music if it werenāt for me.ā He says, pulling out his keys. His words are harsh but there is no heat to them.Ā
āWell this is a first.ā You quip as he unlocks and opens the front door, stepping to the side to let you enter first. āA whole different experience than coming in though the window.ā You joke, stepping into the house.Ā
āWe can always go around back if youād feel more comfortable.ā He jokes back, following you in. You take a moment to really look around as Billy closes and bolts the door behind you. Youāve never been in this part of the house, only glimpsing at it through windows. Itās not a large space and itās clear that 4 people occupy the small domicile. Bits and pieces of everyones lives are scattered around.Ā
āI think Iām good.ā You reply. You notice that there is a clear clash in interior design through the house. The free weights contrast with the decorative rug under them. Beer cans stacked next to decorative shell decor on the mantle. Someone had tried to make this house a home, but there was something off. It felt like two personalities were struggling to mesh into a comfortable middle, it was unstable, chaotic.Ā
Billy moves around you to lead you deeper into the house but before you can move any further Maxās voice calls from her room.Ā
āBilly, I need to go to the arcade! Where did you-oh.ā She stops short seeing you in the living room. For some reason it feels like youāve been caught doing something you shouldnāt, a pit of anxiety taking root in your stomach.Ā
āHey Max.ā You greet, giving her a half wave. She just watches you skeptically. Her narrowed eyes dart between you and Billy.Ā
āWhatās your malfunction?ā Billy snaps after the silence lasts a moment longer than is comfortable.Ā
āAre you two dating?ā Max asks bluntly.Ā
āWhat?!ā Both you and Billy ask in unison. You share a confused glance before turning back to Max. Your face heats exponentially.Ā
āMind your own business you little shit.ā Billy bites at the same time you try to explain.Ā
āHeās tutoring me in history.ā A smirk, eerily similar to Billyās, spreads across Maxās face.Ā
āIs that what they call it these days?ā She asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, a taunting lift in her brow.Ā
āIf you want a ride, I would shut the hell up.ā Billy says sternly, narrowing his eyes at the redhead.Ā
āJeez, learn how to take a joke.ā Max huffs with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She ducks back into her room, leaving you and Billy in the living room. Billy just shakes his head, clenching his jaw as he heads for his room.Ā
āI swear if her attitude gets any worse Neil is going to lose his shit.ā He mumbles, pushing his hair back from his forehead. āBe ready in 20 minutes!ā He yells after her. The only confirmation that she heard him comes in the form of a dramatic groan.Ā
āThatās how all kids are at that age. I was so argumentative my mom and I didnāt have a pleasant interaction for weeks at a time, and donāt get me started on Hopper. Iām pretty sure I took years off his life with my attitude.ā You chuckle fondly at the memory of your painful growing years.Ā
āSometimes being a kid isnāt a good enough excuse.ā Billy replies calmly. Your stomach twists uncomfortably remembering how Neil had looked at his own son that night not so long ago.Ā
āNeil and Susan are in Indianapolis Christmas shopping, so Iām playing chauffeur for the day.ā Billy explains, entering his room and heading straight for the bed, flopping down on it.Ā
āI donāt mind helping watch her.ā You offer without much thought. You hover in the doorway, suddenly nervous about being in his room alone with him. Itās not like you had never been in his room alone before, you spent many nights sitting across from him on the bed pouring over history lessons, keeping your voices low to not wake anyone else in the house. But something about being here in the daylight, not sneaking around, it makes your stomach swirl. You glance around, his room looks the same as it always does. Bed half made, cigarette butts stamped out in the ashtray next to the cassettes on the nightstand. You do notice that there is now a small dent in the wall next to the mirror, but you canāt be sure that it wasnāt always there.
āNeil would kick my ass if he knew I pawned my responsibility off on you.ā Billy explains, propping himself up on his elbow to see you. You absentmindedly skim your fingers over the outside of the doorframe.
āItās not āpawningā them off on me. We would do it together.ā You reason with him. Your fingers catch on something cold and metal on the outside of the doorframe. Leaning back to glance at what youāre touching you see the latch of a lock. Glancing at the outer side of the door you see the other half of the latch. Something cold prickles down your spine.
This isnāt just a teenager wanting privacy, the way this latch is set up, it would function to lock the door from the outside. Why would anyone need that? Your mind struggles to make sense of it.Ā
āHe wouldnāt see it that way.ā He tells you flatly.Ā
āThen donāt tell him.ā You say simply, stepping fully into the room. āIāll help you out today and Iāll be gone by the time they get home. ā you explain, sitting gently on the edge of the bed next to his legs. āJust like when we painted the porch.ā You remind him. You watch something dance behind his eyes at the memory from this summer that feels like a hundred years ago. āConsider it part of my tutoring payment. I know the food isnāt a fair trade.ā You insist. When he finally nods, giving in, you have to smile.Ā
āFine. But only because the idea of dealing with a prepubescent she-devil by myself makes me want to stick needles in my brainā¦ and leaving her alone is not an option.ā He tells you, sitting up next to you. His thigh presses against yours, and the proximity sends sparks over your nerves.Ā
Remembering the promise you made yourself before leaving home you try to scoot away to put some distance between your bodies. Billy notices the movement immediately.Ā
āOh sorry, am I making you nervous?ā He asks, leaning in even closer, one of his arms going behind your back. Heās not touching you, but heās close enough that you can feel him if you lean back even slightly. You struggle to hold his gaze.
āNo.ā You say simply, not trusting your voice to say more without shaking.Ā
āYou sure?ā He asks, lifting a brow. You feel him lean in even closer, you swear you can feel the heat coming off of him. You force yourself to hold his gaze and remain still, fighting the urge to pull away. Like a game of personal space chicken.
āIām fine.ā You practically whisper, your voice sounding too loud with how close he is. When he chuckles you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. His eyes shift between yours. You can see the flecks of green in his sky blue iris. Your breath mingles with his and you smell his last cigarette mixed with spearmint gum. You swallow thickly, gritting your teeth together in defiance.Ā
āYou can tell me if youāre not.ā Billy insists, his voice just as soft. Heās flirting but you can hear the seriousness laced in his tone. Heās making sure you know heāll stop, if you ask. Something about that knowledge eases the panic in you. Shifting slightly you tilt your chin up, watching him the way he always looks at you.
āIām okay.ā You say more confidently. You see his adams apple bob as he swallows, his eyes seeming to darken. His gaze flickers to your parted lips so quickly you think you imagined it. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, your stomach flipping at the memory of what his lips felt like against you-
āRight, thatās what ānot datingā looks like.ā Maxās voice calls loudly from the doorway. You feel like a bucket of ice water has just been poured over your head as you pull away from Billy. Embarrassment floods through you as Billy leaps from the bed lunging towards the door.Ā
āFuck off!ā He yells, slamming the door closed.Ā
āI still need a ride!ā Max yells from outside the door, pounding on it for emphasis. Billyās shoulders are tense as he stands with his back to you, his arms braced against the door. You see him take a deep breath, then another, bowing his head as he lowers his arms, slightly adjusting the waistband of his jeans.Ā
āYou sure you want in on this shit show?ā He asks, turning to lean back against the door. Max pounds on the door again, shaking its frame. You manage a dry laugh, trying to shove all the mortifying shame you feel into the back of your mind.Ā
āOh this is nothing. Try telling Mike Wheeler a campaign needs to end early. Kid turns into a gremlin.ā You tell him, pushing yourself off the bed. Billy lifts a brow.Ā
āIām more surprised that you know what a gremlin is.ā He admits teasingly. You roll your eyes.Ā
āI do have a life outside of this room you know.ā You tell him. You wonāt admit that the only reason you know the plot of gremlins is because Steve insisted on catching you up on all the big hits you had missed while you were in the hospital, not that you had actually seen it in theaters.Ā
Billy watches you approach with a healthy dose of skepticism.Ā
āCome on Hargrove, put on a brave face. I hear they can smell fear.ā You joke, clapping a hand on his shoulder.Ā
āIām going to be late!ā Max yells, pounding harder.Ā
āBe my guest Loca, I always knew you had a death wish.ā Billy says with a smirk. Your heart pounds at the memory of your first meeting. It feels like a million years ago, like you were an entirely different person, and looking at Billyās confident smirk, the teasing glint in his eyes, you wonder if heās a different person now too.Ā
Without another word, Billy whips open the door to reveal a very agitated Max.
āFinally!ā She exclaims, turning on her heel striding towards the front door, her bag already slung over her shoulder. Billy shoots you a look over his shoulder before following after her.Ā
āHey, Max?ā You call, slipping in front of Billy to catch up to her. She only glances at you, still heading for the door. āDo you mind if I tag along to the arcade?ā You ask. Your words cause her to halt, turning to face you with the full force of her scrutinizing glare. You feel Billy come to a stop behind you, her eyes dart to him before returning to you.Ā
āDid he ask you to babysit me?ā She asks indignantly.Ā
āNo!ā You say, throwing your hands up. āI just thought you could teach me some stuff. Iām not very good and I hear you kick the boys' butts on a regular basis.ā You explain, hoping it comes off as genuine. She studies you for another beat, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of allowing you to come with her. Finally, she shrugs.Ā
āFine. But donāt try to talk to me while Iām playing. It throws me off.ā She instructs, turning for the door. When her back is turned you quickly give Billy an enthusiastic thumbs up, earning another eye roll.Ā
The three of you climb into the car, Billy turning the volume up to his usual bone shaking level as he whips out of his spot, speeding down the road. Itās a short ride into town, especially with how Billy drives. When he comes to a stop outside the arcade you climb out, pulling the seat forward to allow Max out.Ā
āIāll meet you in there.ā you tell her. Needing no explanation, Max jogs to the doors slipping into the dimly lit building. You can see the boys' bikes already lined up outside. āYou coming?ā you ask Billy, leaning back into the car.Ā
āHell no. I can babysit just fine from here. You couldnāt pay me to go into that dork pit.ā He scoffs. You roll your eyes at his stubbornness.Ā
āOh come on, tough guy. Where is your sense of adventure and whimsy.ā you ask, only receiving an unimpressed look in return.Ā
āWhimsy?ā He asks, his lip curling at the word.Ā
āIāll buy you a coke.ā you offer, hoping that bribery will soften his resolve. Billyās lips press into a firm line, you can see his jaw tick as he grinds his teeth.Ā
āFine.ā he says after a moment. āBut I have to run an errand real quick.ā He tells you. Thinking this is some kind of trick to get out of coming in, you narrow your eyes.Ā
āYou promise to come in when you get back?ā you ask, extending your pinky to him. He lifts a brow, a dry laugh escaping him.
āWhat are you 12?ā He asks. When you donāt show any signs of joking he heaves a sigh, linking his pinky with yours. āFine, yes. I promise Iāll come back and watch you be terrible at dig dug, dork.ā He promises with a teasing smirk.Ā
āGood.ā you smile, letting his pinky go and stepping back. āAnd Iām not that bad.ā you clarify, closing the door and allowing him to pull away from the curb.Ā
It turns out that you ARE that bad.Ā
Max allows you to take the first turn, even offering you pointers, but by the end of your third turn she takes over explaining that she canāt stand watching you throw away quarters like that. Youāre a sorry excuse for a gamer, your brain having trouble communicating quickly enough with your hands on the controls. Itās alright though, you have more fun watching Max and the boys take turns trying to beat each other's scores.Ā
The longer you observe the group of adolescents the more you note the change in dynamic among them. Max and Lucus are openly interested in each other but donāt seem to know how to navigate this new realm of relationship. Mike appears distracted, constantly glancing at his watch. You assume heās anxious to see El. You know that Hopper has started allowing the two to hang out at the cabin and though youāve pushed for El to have more social time, Hopper's old habits die hard. His paranoia is persistent. You canāt say that you donāt understand where heās coming from.Ā
Dustin and Will seem more irritated than anything with the new shift in priorities within the group.Ā
After roughly 30 minutes of watching Max wipe the floor with the boys scores, you venture to the opposite side of the arcade. You want to give the group space but also stay close enough to keep an eye on them. You scan the games, searching for one that you can play without too much instruction. Ms. Pac-Man seems to be simple enough, and itās located in a spot that allows you to watch your group bounce from game to game.Ā
Inserting your first quarter you begin the game. Youāre able to keep up at first, but when the ghosts start to speed up you can't seem to evade them quick enough. After your 4th quarter your pride is stinging.Ā
āFuckā¦ā you curse to yourself as once again you are cornered by the little red ghost. Before you can insert another quarter, you feel someone approaching from your left, coming too close to just be passing by, tensing your hand itches to lash out but you stop yourself when you realize who it is.
āHey.ā Keithsā monotone voice greets you. You know him from school, and to your knowledge the two of you had never actually spoken to each other.Ā
āHi Keith.ā you reply politely. You arenāt sure why heās approaching you. You know that he works here so possibly you were doing something wrong. āWhatās up?ā you ask. Kieth seems to swallow past something in his struggle to speak.Ā
āI see you around sometimes.ā he tells you, unable to meet your eyes. You donāt know what to say to that.
āYea, I babysit so I come in to keep an eye on my kids sometimes.ā you tell him.Ā
āThatās cool.ā he mumbles āYou know I could help you with some of the games if you want. Are you alone today?ā He asks. You know he doesn't mean for it to sound as creepy as it does but you canāt help your slight cringe.Ā
āNo, Iām actually with-ā you move to gesture towards Max but are cut off when Billy appears next to you, casually draping an arm over your shoulders.Ā
āMe.ā He finishes for you, keeping his eyes on Keith who looks like a deer caught in headlights.Ā
āO-oh, cool.ā Keith manages to mumble, taking a step back. āNevermind thenā he manages to get out, obviously resisting the urge to turn and run. Understandable with the way Billy is glaring daggers at him.
āIāll see you around.ā you offer Keith a kind smile. He only nods sheepishly before retreating further into the arcade. Sighing, you swat at Billyās side, causing him to drop his arm from your shoulder with a chuckle.
āWhat was that for?ā he asks, doing his best to look genuinely confused. You see right through it to the self satisfaction he's really feeling.Ā
āDid you have to mad dog him? He was just saying āHiā.ā you tell him. Billy scoffs, moving to lean against the game.Ā
āYea, right.ā He says, sarcasm dripping from every word. āYou didnāt see how heās been eyeing you, trying to work up the courage to come āsay hiā.ā he tells you, throwing air quotes around your words.Ā
āAnd how long were you watching that?ā You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Billy shakes his head, his curls falling across his forehead.
āYouāre missing the point.ā He tells you, deflecting the question.Ā
āWhat point is that?ā You ask, shaking your head as you dig a quarter out of your pocket and lean over to place it into the game. When you straighten up Billy has taken a step into your space. You could take a step back to give yourself some room, but you don't. You stand your ground, tilting your head up to meet his stare head on.Ā
āThe point is that youāre playing a game you donāt know the rules of and guys like that-ā he jerks his chin in the direction Keith had run off. āWill take advantage of that.ā he tells you, his voice low. You know heās too close. That you should take a step back. That the way heās looking down at you is too personal. That either one of you could close the distance between you with a breath.Ā
āIām not really good at games.ā you admit, feeling the heat rushing to your face. Still you canāt seem to look away. Billyās sharp gaze seems to soften slightly at your admission.Ā
āI knowā¦ā He says softly, his eyes shifting between yours. āI just watched you die 4 times and not even make it past the first level of Pac-man.ā He says, his teasing smirk overtaking all the gentleness that had once been in his eyes. Finally, you pull back shocked.
āYou stalker!ā you accuse, Billy just chuckles turning to face the game. āAnd I was multitasking.ā you try to defend your abysmal performance, gesturing to the group now huddled around galaga.Ā
āSure, sure. Let me show you how itās done.ā he says confidently, starting the queued up game.Ā
āHey! That was my quarter!ā You protest. Billy only chuckles again.
āIāll get the next one, crazy.ā he tells you, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen.
Hey ā¤ļø I've been binge reading Stranger than Fiction and I absolutely love it ! I haven't finished reading it though, but I really really love it so far, I'm so excited to get to the next parts but also kinda hesistant 'cause that means I'll have nothing to obssess over for a while afterwards š Also, quick question : this is probably gonna sound stupid but the reader is female right ? I mean there are words like "bra" and "her" and the fanart depicts a girl and I think there was this line that said that it's hard for y/n to hide the scars on her back inside the girls locker room (or maybe i'm getting this part mixed up with another fic ??), and "loca" refers to a female in spanish but maybe it's gender neutral reader because the tags precisely say "x you" ? I'm asking this just to be sure because I plan on sending the link of your amazing series to a friend and they identify as nb so I just need to make sure. š
Thank you so much for reading!! I have the next part written and plan on trying to type it up this weekend. I love hearing what you guys think!
The story was initially started with a female presenting reader in mind but I transitioned to a more gender neutral description of the reader going forward to try and make the story more inclusive. So in the earlier parts you can see where I was writing the reader as female, with the examples you used. But at around part 12 someone left a comment that made me want to make the story more inclusive. So from that point on Iāve tried to leave the readers appearance and presentation up for interpretation.
I love messages like this because it shows me just what a wide fanbase this story has. When I finish it I plan on going back and editing a few things so that the entire story is told in a gender neutral lens. Thank you!! ā¤ļø
Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 27, Part 28 (Coming Soon)...
AN: Sorry about the wait
Word Count: 3,816
Warnings: none
The rest of your night is spent tossing and turning in bed. The prickling along the skin of your hand and wrist are your only reminder of what happened in the car, not to mention the memories that flood your mind every time you close your eyes. Billyās coy smile, how his eyes devoured your every move, the hungry glint in them at the sounds you made. Your stomach writhes, flipping and swirling the more your mind lingers on the interaction.Ā
It irritates you, the effect he has on you. Every smirk, or touch sends your heart into overdrive. It doesn't help that your experience with relationships up to this point have never gone further than hand holding. But, this electricity that exists between you and Billy seems to be short circuiting all your logic and reason.
Youāve never spent a lot of time thinking about things like this, youāre not a child, Nancy has told you plenty about her relationship with Steve. You just never took any interest in it. Until now it seems. You're plagued by thoughts of Billy pressed against you, his calloused hands holding you tightly, his lips against your skin, the feel of his hot breath mixing with yours. Fuck.Ā
You turn your head, releasing a pent up scream into your pillow until you're out of breath.
When exhaustion finally wins out, youāre cast into another restless sleep.Ā
āāā-
Youāve been here before. Itās dark and cold, familiar. Home. Itās quiet right now, for now. Youāre not needed, yet. Fear twists through every tendril of your being, as much a part of you as the darkness. You can feel the shadow in your mind, waiting. Ready to bend, break if needed. Youāre tired. But, there is no rest here. No peace. No hope. Forever.Ā
āāā
This is different. Not cold, warmth washes over you. The sound of crashing waves is rhythmic, almost like breathing. It soothes the initial panic of being in a new place, so bright and peaceful. Itās so different from the other place. You are able to glance around, there is no one else here. An empty beach. Itās nice.Ā
āāā
The sound of your mom trying to sneak out of your room wakes you the next morning.Ā
āMom?ā You ask, propping yourself up on an elbow, wiping sleep from your eyes. She stops, her hand on the door. Sheās still in her scrubs, the only illumination in the room is the light coming in from the hallway.Ā
āHey sweetie.ā She greets you softly, turning to face you, an apologetic smile already on her lips. āI was just checking on you, go back to sleep.ā She tries to reassure you. Your gut twists, you can barely see it in the dim light but itās definitely there. The ever present worry you inspire in her. You were having some kind of nightmare, you can feel it in the tense in your muscles and the ache in your bones. Feeling the exhaustion that plagues you from the tension your dreams bring into reality.Ā
āIām sorry mom.ā You sigh, running a hand through your hair feeling the dampness of sweat. Her smile falters, pulling tighter at your apology.
āDonāt be sorry love. It just takesā¦ time.ā She reminds you. You know itās what she needs to believe. That with enough time your mind will heal, that the nightmares will eventually fade.Ā
āItās getting better.ā The lie tastes bitter. Her shoulders sag slightly, like she can feel the lie physically. She wonāt press though, both of you are happy to let it sit between you. Itās easier than facing reality.Ā
She pads over to your bed, gently stooping to press a kiss on your brow.Ā
āI love you.ā She says softly. You canāt help the small smile that pulls from you.Ā
āI love you too.ā You reply reflexively. You always say it back, just in case. Itās an easy truth, for the both of you. She pulls away, her smile a bit more relaxed than it was. āGo back to sleep.ā She says again, patting your head as she steps back towards the door. She gives you a pointed look you know she normally only reserves for unruly patients, leaving no room for argument.Ā
āAlright. No need to pull out the nurse mom voice.ā You joke, lying back down. She laughs lightly at your joke, slipping out the door.Ā
āGoodnight kiddo.ā She says softly. You roll onto your other side, your back towards the door. You watch the light narrow into a sliver of the wall opposite you as she closes the door, leaving it open only a crack. Then laying still, you focus on slowing your breathing, listening to the sounds of your mom moving around the house getting ready for bed. Sheās awake for another half hour, eating leftovers, looking through the mail, showering, and finally you hear the springs of her mattress creak as she gets into bed.Ā
You listen to the silence for a little bit. You like the quiet. Your life has been chaos for so long, from the moment you woke up in the hospital and every day since it feels like the world has erupted into too many sounds. Everyone talking, a constant low level buzz of activity. Itās sometimes enough to drive you crazy.Ā
When you're certain your mom is asleep, you quietly slip out of bed and get dressed. Glancing at the clock on your bedside table, you note that itās only 6AM, still early enough for your morning walk to be peaceful. The house is still dark, but you move through it easily navigating in the dim light of morning. You gather your journal, and fill your water bottle placing both into your bag. When you go to put on your shoes, the dangling remainder of your sole catches your attention. You inspect the dilapidated sneaker for a moment, trying to think of the best way to cobble it back together. You eventually settle on duct taping the pieces back together, wrapping the tape around the shoe a couple of times to make sure it's secured.Ā
Itās not pretty, but technically itās a whole shoe again. Satisfied that your solution is functional, you lace up your shoes and grab Stevesā jacket from the coat rack. Slinging your bag over your shoulder you head out the door. The dawn is cold, the sky a dim shade of gray, everything still cast in shadow the morning fog slowly creeping over the earth.Ā
You pick up a steady pace, heading for your favorite sunrise spot. There is a hill about a mile east that looks out over the currently barren fields and will be the first spot in Hawkins to see the sun. It also happens to have a very comfortable rock that is perfect for sitting and writing.Ā
By the time you reach it, the sun has just started to peak over the horizon, bathing the top of the hill in golden sunlight. You can feel its warmth on your exposed skin, the cold morning air still clinging to the shadows. You take out your water bottle and notebook, setting the empty bag down on the cold rock. You sit down, positioning yourself to face the sunrise, taking a moment to watch the earth in front of you slowly brighten, the light washing away the remaining shadows. Itās quiet here, as quiet as it can be in nature. There are still the chirps of the birds and the rustling of dead leaves as small animals pass by, but peaceful.Ā
You know that you canāt stay out too long. You may not notice the cold but your body still has a physical response to it and it's still the middle of December. So you open your notebook and begin.
The story youāve been working on is not peaceful. It is a terrible story about a young boy raised to fight monsters. Heās known no other life, he was born with the burden of being the only one who can see these monsters, and he can never stop. But the older he gets, and the harder he fights to protect the world from evil, he realizes that a bit of that evil has taken root in him. It starts small, a black spot behind his ear, but it grows. It digs its roots in deep, twisting its way into his soul.Ā
In the beginning the young man starts off as the hero, but eventually the evil will consume him and he will become what he fought so hard against. You know the ending, but itās not written yet. There is still hope in the middle of the story.Ā
When you notice the red tinge in your fingertips brought on by the chilly December air you stop and pack up your things. Taking one last glance around at the now illuminated field, you turn and head back home.Ā
You arrive at the same time Steve pulls into your driveway. You can see him through the window as you approach and he looks a bit worse for wear. His hair is damp, hanging loosely around his pale face. His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses but are no doubt blood shot with circles under them. He cuts the engine as you approach the driversā side, opening the door to haul himself out with a grunt of effort.Ā
āAlright grandpa, howās that hangover treating you?ā You ask, unable to stop your teasing smirk even for his sake. He sighs heavily, closing the door just to lean back against it, crossing his arms over his chest.
āWhat kind of friend are you?ā He asks, lifting a brow. āHow could you let me drink that much?ā You come to a stop in front of him, crossing your arms to mirror him.Ā
āBecause according to you, youāre āa grown ass manā who āknows how to handle his alcoholā, and because I ānever let you have any funā.ā You say, throwing air quotes around some of the excuses he gave you when you tried to get him to slow down the night before. A bit of pink brightens his cheeks at the reminder, but he laughs good naturedly at your teasing.Ā
āStop holding me accountable for my own actions.ā He groans. āI donāt feel good, so Iām just going to blame you to make myself feel better.ā He goes on, pressing his finger tips against his temples. His small smile brings a bit of life back to his ashen face.
āOh of course. Whatever makes your life easier Steve.ā You concede, your own smile pulling at your lips. He huffs a laugh, lifting his sunglasses onto his head. There is a beat of silence before he clears his throat, his cheeks flushing a bit more.
āAnd- uh- thanks. For, you know, babysitting me last night.ā He says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his beck. Your stomach drops at the reminder, you didnāt think Steve was sober enough to remember much but apparently he remembered enough. You wonder if he remembers how he had held you against him, crying quietly in the kitchen while you whipped his tears. How he had gently lowered his forehead to yours and held your palm against his beating heart. You donāt want to press the subject, especially if he doesnāt remember everything.Ā
āDonāt mention it, Iāll bill your parents later.ā You joke, forcing yourself to chuckle. Steve laughs lightly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looks you up and down, nodding his head towards his jacket youāre still wearing.
āThe jacket looks good on you.ā He says. You look down at the old bomber jacket, moving to unzip it.
āYea sorry I just borrowed it to walk home last night. I, uh, couldnāt sleep.ā You tell him, the unspoken truth behind your words not lost on him. Heās familiar with your anxious habits that donāt always make sense. That you have a tendency to walk away when your brain wonāt settle down. His hand stops yours on the zipper, pulling it away.
āItās okay, you can keep it.ā He tells you. āI donāt wear it anymore anyways.ā He explains, looking down at his hand encircling your wrist.Ā
āThanks Steve.ā You beam up at him. He smiles back , his thumb running over the underside of your wrist. Your heart leaps. In that moment you wonder if heās somehow feeling where Billyās lips had been the night before. But thatās ridiculous.Ā
āIt will be a nice reminder of me while Iām gone. Along with this.ā He says, pulling something from his pocket. Your eyes widen at the sight of a delicate gold chain, glinting in the sun, a small pendant hanging perfectly in the center.Ā
āWhat is that?ā You ask in confusion. Stevesā smile only grows as he drapes the shining metal over your wrist, easily clasping it in place.
āItās your Christmas present. Iām giving it to you early cause I wonāt be back until after new years.ā He tells you, one hand still gently cupping your wrist. āThe lady told me itās real so it wonāt leave a ring or anything.ā He tells you as if itās the most casual thing in the world.Ā
Heat flushes your cheeks as you inspect the bracelet. You take in the intricate beauty of the simple chain, small links twisting and interlocking into a light strand of glittering gold. A simple pendant hangs from the middle. A brilliant shining sun, catching and reflecting the light, casting off its own rays as it hangs from your wrist. Itās beautiful. More elegant than anything youāve ever owned. Something twists low in your gut.
āSteve, I canāt take this.ā You tell him, moving to unclasp the chain. He instantly pushes your hand away.Ā
āOf course you can.ā He insists. Suddenly his eyes fill with worry. āDo you not like it?ā He asks, his smile falling. Your stomach sinks.
āNo, I- I like it, itās really beautiful. Itās just too nice.ā You try to explain. Steve sighs with relief, his smile returning in an instant.Ā
āDonāt worry about it. Itās just a bracelet, itās not like I bought you a car or something.ā He laughs at his own joke. You struggle to maintain your smile. You know that money isnāt really an issue with Steveās allowance but it doesnāt make you feel any better. He should be saving his money for school, not spending it on pretty things for you. Steveās eyes catch on to your discomfort almost instantly. āPlease accept it.ā He pleads sincerely. āI saw it and immediately thought of you.ā He explains, one of his fingers flicking over the sun pendant.Ā
Your heart swells at the sentiment. Itās unbearably cheesy, and very Steve. When your eyes glance up to meet his youāre once again met with the big brown puppy eyes, the hangover makes them look especially sad. You have to suppress a groan.Ā
āOkay.ā You finally give in, earning an ear to ear grin from Steve that pulls a smile out of you as well.Ā āThank you, Steve.āĀ
āMerry Christmas, Babysitter.ā He says, pulling you into a crushing hug.Ā
āMerry Christmas.ā You reply, wrapping your arms around him. He holds you tightly, pulling you up and into him. āI didnāt get you anything.ā You admit, shamefully burying your face in his shoulder. His responding laugh shakes both of you.
āCan I request an official document declaring that Iām your best friend?ā He asks. Your cheeks burn at the memory of you and Steve admitting that you are each other's best friends the night before. You laugh, trying to swat at him but he keeps his arms locked around you. āCan I get it notarized as well?ā He adds, still laughing.
āOh shut up.ā You groan, earning another laugh. When he finally lets you go, you take a half step back. Youāre hyper aware of the bracelet, holding your arm slightly away from your body to keep it from catching on any of your clothes and potentially scuffing it.Ā
āAren't you flying out today? When are you supposed to head to the airport? ā You ask, glancing at your watch.Ā
āI was supposed to leave 10 minutes ago.ā He tells you flatly. You gap at him.Ā
āYou what? What are you doing here? Youāre going to miss your flight you dork!ā You practically yell at him, giving his arm a shot towards his car.Ā
āI had to come say goodbye.ā He says, laughing as he opens the door and allows you to shove him into the driver's seat.Ā
āYou could have just called!ā You say, slamming the door closed as soon as his legs are in. You see him laugh again through the window. The engine roars to life as Steve cracks the window, still smiling.Ā
āNo I couldnāt.ā He says, like itās a fact. That gets an eye roll from you.
āGet out of here before Iām stuck with you all winter break.ā You tell him, unable to stop the small smile that he always manages to drag out of you.Ā
āIāll call you from the resort!ā He tells you, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the drive. āDonāt miss me too much!ā He calls from the end of the driveway.
āIāll try!ā You call back, waving goodbye as Steve gives you one last smile before pulling into the street. You watch the car speed down your street and disappear around the corner before heading towards the house.Ā
An uneasy feeling settles over you as you make your way to your door. You and Steve had quickly become inseparable since the night the gate closed, it was a seamless partnership. It made you feel like there was someone there who had your back. You know that Nancy and Jonathan are still close but the knowledge that Steve will be alone for the next two weeks fills your mind with a low level of anxiety.Ā
A chill snakes down your spine and your hurry into the house. You feel unsettled from the thoughts of Steve being so far away and practically unprotected, your palms itch with the need to do something. Instinctively you begin checking the safety of your own home. Moving quickly and efficiently you check locks on all the doors and windows, then lay hands on all the hidden weapons in the house. When youāve checked all of them, you settle at the table with your fathers Barretta, pulling out the cleaning kit. It's monotonous work, but cleaning the pistol always seems to ease the itch in your hands when your anxiety picks up.Ā
Rolling up the sleeves on the jacket your attention catches on the glint of gold around your wrist. You examine it for a moment, looking at how the delicate chain contrasts against your sun damaged skin. How it stands in opposition to your calloused hands, your fingernails chewed down to the quick, cuticles picked to an angry red. Your stomach twists.Ā
It really is a beautiful piece of jewelry, delicate and perfectly balanced. Traits you canāt see in yourself. It really is too nice for someone like you.Ā
What if you broke it or scratched it? What if you lost it on a walk? What if you fucked it up?
Itās too good for you. You wish it wasnāt, but it is.Ā
You carefully unclasp the chain, lying it gently on the table before you start cleaning. You lay out the cleaning supplies, setting the pistol down on a rag in front of you. Then you settle into the process of disassembling and cleaning all the small pieces of the weapon. You remember when Hopper had taught you how to properly clean a gun. He told you that he and your dad would sit in silence for hours just sipping on drinks and cleaning the small harmless parts of the deadly machines. He always stressed that it was vitally important for you to understand the inner workings of a gun before ever picking one up. How all the pieces fit together, and if even one small part was missing or broke it would alter the functionality with devastating results.Ā
Your fingers slowly darken with the combination of CLP cleaning oil and burnt carbon. You work diligently, rubbing at any blemishes remaining. When youāre satisfied that the gun is clean, and the anxiety in your mind has lessened slightly, you reassemble your gun and pack up your cleaning kit.Ā
You move to grab the pistol, intending to put it back where it was hidden in your nightstand but pause your eyes catching on how dirty your hands are. You go to the sink and scrub at your hands until they are rubbed raw. When youāre sure that no remnants of carbon or oil cling to your hands, you pick up the gun in one hand and the gold bracelet in the other. You walk to your room, securing the pistol to the underside of your nightstand and placing the glimmering chain on the surface.Ā
You canāt risk accidentally damaging it. Better to keep it here, safe. Your fingers ghost along the edges of the sun pendant, still managing to catch some of the light, glimmering up at you.Ā
The sound of a revving engine causes you to jump.Ā
Billy.
Your eyes dart to the time. 1156. You had lost track of time and nearly forgotten that Billy told you he would pick you up at 12. Not knowing what to expect, you just grab your bag, still packed from your walk, and head out the door before Billy can make enough noise to wake your mom.Ā
Before you step out the door, you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you have killed monsters before and faced shady government agencies, you should not let Billy fluster you the way he does. You are going to be so calm, heās going to get bored and stop teasing you. Thatās the plan.Ā
His eyes are on you from the moment you step out of the house, his gaze follows you all the way to the car. Climbing into the passenger seat you notice heās playing a cassette, itās the first time youāve actually recognized the song. You canāt remember the name, but itās one of the songs Max showed you that day after school.Ā
āYou didnāt have to drive me.ā You tell him, buckling your seatbelt. Billy immediately rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh.Ā
āYea, tell that to the duct tape holding your shoes together right now, loca.ā He shoots back.Ā
āItās only one of them.ā You grumble, settling into your seat. Billy just chuckles.
āItās just a ride crazy, donāt make a big deal about it.ā He tells you, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of your driveway.
...He looks you over from head to toe, searching for any sign of injury. You prop your foot up on your knee, allowing the light to shine down on your busted sneaker.Ā
āLooks like they just finally gave up.ā You comment, flicking the dangling piece of rubber. Billyās expression relaxes slightly, seeing that itās just your shoe falling apart, not you.
fanart of @multi-fandomfuckboy s series Stranger Than Fiction pt 26 and THAT SCENE thats been in my head since ive read it
...He looks you over from head to toe, searching for any sign of injury. You prop your foot up on your knee, allowing the light to shine down on your busted sneaker.Ā
āLooks like they just finally gave up.ā You comment, flicking the dangling piece of rubber. Billyās expression relaxes slightly, seeing that itās just your shoe falling apart, not you.
fanart of @multi-fandomfuckboy s series Stranger Than Fiction pt 26 and THAT SCENE thats been in my head since ive read it
Iām literally begging for more Stranger than Fiction it makes me feral I.e. hereās some examples of me being feral for it
Please please please please please I will consume any amount you give me please and thank you
Itās so fucking good bro
Dude I am loving the energy!
I'm working on Part 27 right now and it's going to be an emotional piece, Reader is going to get a little insight into Billy's home life and we are going to get a little information on where Readers mental state is with her anxiety and survivors guilt. So get ready for that š
Just wanted to say your series, Stranger Than Fiction, is literally one of the best pieces of writing I've ever read and I'm so excited for the next update!! šš
Thank you so much for reading! I love getting comments like this! I'm currently working on the next part. I'm back on 12 hour shift work so it gives me more time off to work on writing.
I saw that your blog had an update from a few days back and I go to check how you have been doing just to find that Stranger Than Fiction has not one, but two new chapters. I was so happy! Both chapters were fenomenal too!
I love your writing and this story so much ā¤ļø
Thank you so much for reading!! I took a little bit of a break there while I was adjusting to a change in my work environment/schedule. But I feel like Iām getting back into the swing of things now š
Iām currently sick and working on getting better but I hope to have the next part out sooner rather than later š
