Vivi, Vis, Sev, Rin, Sevrin, or my irl name (only my irl friends know) 🤍
Im a MINOR, 15 turning 16 this year
Music is lifee !! 🎧
K-pop, Indie, Hyperpop, Ballroom and EDM
I am a K-pop multi-Stan that HATES toxicity 😵💫
and my top 5 groups are… 🫣
1️⃣. XG 👽
2️⃣. ILLIT ✨
3️⃣. Katseye 🐱 (if they count ??)
4️⃣. LE SSERAPHIM 🕊
5️⃣. NMIXX 🎲
Im a major tv show 📺 fan, like, gets-way-more-attached-than-I-should-be kinda fan
🌀 he/him 🌀
⚜️ INFP ⚜️
♏️ Scorpio ♏️
💎 15 yrs old 💎
🤍 Major multi-fandom stan. 🤍
Looking into writing !!
Due to one of my personal hobbies being writing, I tend to use proper grammar. So, if i sound a bit too formal i promise its just a habit !! 😞
The first ever K-Pop song I ever listened to was ‘Kill this love’ by blackpink, which was recommended to me by youtube 😘
I particularly enjoy girl groups, though I’ve been doing my best to look into more boy groups ☺️
More of my interest include:
Stranger things👾
Marvel 🦸♂️
RAP/HIP-HOP/RNB 🎧
DANCE 🕺
musicals ✨
singing 🎤
FNAF🎩🐻
HORROR
Im basically a weirdo
but a cool one, dw
CHUU MY GOAT, Doechii, Tyler the creator, David guetta, Laufey, beabadoobee, Sabrina carpenter, BILLIE EILLISH, Charlie XCX and MORE. Like WAAAAYYYY MORE
ALL IS WELCOME: whether straight, gay, bi, trans, furry, therian, demi-genders, or even straight ANYTHING I’ll support you !!❤️
If you need to unfollow:
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Whats not natural is a 15 year old teenager, sitting in his room, begging for forgiveness, crying because he thinks that the way he loves will get him sent to the deepest parts of hell where he'll burn for all eternity.
You can hear the silence growing on the floor
But you just already know Now you start to sway
You feel it slipping out of control
But it’s everything you know Now you understand
Let me see now, who I really am
Chasing freedom from this weight again
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Ive always been the 'strong' one, taking hits, insults, and the 'jokes' Even during my 'bad' days i have always found strength. Recently though I Haven't been great. It's getting harder every single day. And I don't know what to do. I always bring myself to the edge, but I get to scared to Push myself off. I've always wanted to Be normal. But I don't know how to And Every time I look at myself in the mirror, I see a. A fake. A Mask. And little by little, I'm breaking down But I don't want to. I don't wanna breakdown. I don't want to reveal all my pain. No. Cuz then people will worry,its not like they'll care anyway,my parents didn't even care when they found out I wanted to kill myself so whats the point of even trying. All my life I've tried, and tried, and tried but its getting worse
Warnings & Tags: Character death, explicit language, grief, trauma, graphic violence mentions, a lot of arguments, beginning of season 5, a lot of plot inconsistencies oops, dustin is going through it and so is reader, mental health struggles, nightmares, traces of suicidal ideation, angst angst ANGST, reader was also present for Eddie’s death
Summary: In the aftermath of Eddie’s death, you and Dustin both deal a whole lot of grief.
Notes: Hiiiii lovelies! Unfortunately Dustin and reader are going through it (it’s my fault). I hope this is okay! Mwah!
Masterlist
The night air in Hawkins hangs too still as you jolt awake, choking on a sob, sweat slicking your skin like a second layer of guilt.
Eddie’s scream claws through your mind. Raw, guttural, the sound of Demobats tearing into him while you half-carried Dustin over your shoulder, his injured ankle dragging uselessly as you both stumbled desperately toward one of your best friends. Dustin’s weight sagged against you, his ankle twisted and swelling from the earlier fall, sharp gasps of pain punctuating his frantic whispers; ‘We have to get to him, faster, please’, as Demobats swarmed Eddie in a frenzy. You pushed harder, muscles screaming, heart exploding with terror, only to drop beside him too late: his Hellfire shirt torn to crimson ribbons, blood bubbling thick from gashes across his chest, wild eyes dimming as he rasped ‘I didn’t run away this time, right?’, followed by him telling you both that he loved you. Helplessness crushed you; Dustin’s promises to him shattering the air, your hands slick with Eddie’s blood, that metallic stench mixing with ash as his eyes lost all light.
It’s not the first nightmare of this week. Your chest heaves, unable to wash away the feeling of dust-choked air and the ground pulsing like a heartbeat from the Upside Down. You squint your eyes at the clock on your nightstand, glowing 4:07 a.m. Logic screams to stay buried under the covers, but it doesn’t stand a chance against the ache. You know sleep’s gone for good. Yanking a hoodie over your pajamas, you slide into sneakers and slip out the window, cool night air hitting like a slap to the face.
Dustin’s house isn’t far. You walk numbly, heart tangled in hope and dread. Maybe he’s awake too. Maybe he’ll let you in this time. A faint desk lamp glows through his bedroom window, the one-story house making it easy to spot his insomnia. You tap softly on the cracked-open window, then harder when no response comes.
“Dustin? It’s me.”
Curtains rustle. They part just enough for you to see him: curls flattened against his skull, deep bags under bloodshot eyes from too many nights like this. He leans on the sill, voice rough with exhaustion. “Jesus, do you have any idea what time it is? It’s, like, four-thirty in the goddamn morning.”
“Yeah, I know,” you manage, throat tightening like a noose. Your breath fogs the glass. “I couldn’t sleep. The nightmares… I just needed to talk. To you. Please.”
His jaw clenches hard. “About what? Just… spit it out.”
“Eddie.” The name lands heavy. “They’re getting worse every night, Dustin… I thought maybe you were up too. Thought that we could-“
He cuts you off with a laugh that’s bitter and hollow. “What, you thought talking would fix it? That’s cute. Real cute.” His voice wavers at the edges, betraying the crack beneath the sarcasm.
“Dustin, come on.”
“What? Want me to cry about it? News flash! He’s gone. Talking won’t change that.”
You flinch like he’s slapped you, the words landing raw in the quiet dark. “I didn’t say it would. I’m not asking for a miracle. I’m just… I’m drowning in it too.”
“Then why drag yourself here in the middle of the night? Why me?” His hands tremble on the windowsill, knuckles white.
Your pulse thunders in your ears . “Because you’re shutting everyone out. Even Steve! Acting like nothing happened, like burying yourself in projects and bullshit science will make it vanish. It’s eating you alive, Dustin! I can see it. Those bags under your eyes aren’t from late-night campaigns.”
“Maybe I want it to eat me,” he snaps back, voice fracturing mid-sentence. He turns half-away, shoulders hunching like he’s back in that night.
“I was there,” you whisper fiercely, teeth gritting, voice quivering as tears prick hot. “Dragging your ass with that busted ankle, knowing both of us were too late. Feeling his blood hit my skin while you screamed his name. You’re not the only one replaying it every time they close their eyes. You’re not the only one who lost him.”
The silence stretches brutal, louder than any scream, thick with unsaid I knows and it hurts. He drags a shaking hand over his face, smearing exhaustion from his forehead to his chin. “If I remember even a second… I won’t stop.”
“Then let me in,” you plead softly, leaning closer to the window, close enough to see tears glinting unshed in his eyes. “We could sit with it. Just for tonight. Please.”
His bottom lip trembles, eyes glassy and vulnerable for one shattering heartbeat. But the wall slams back up. “No. Go home. Please. Just… go.”
“Dustin…”
“Go!” It cracks wide open, raw, exhausted, more of a plea than a command, his voice breaking on the edge of sobs.
Tears burn tracks down your cheeks as you nod, stepping back. “You’re not the only one who misses him every fucking second.”
The curtains snap shut like a door slammed in your face. You turn sharply on your heel, wind kicking up through the trees like Hawkins itself sighing out grief. Neither of you sleeps again that night.
──────────────────────────
Sunlight stabs through your curtains in the morning. You wipe tears you didn’t realize fell as your alarm clock blared, your chest hallow. The thought of school turns your stomach, but skipping feels like surrender to the grief chewing through you. You trudge up your street toward Hawkins High, backpack heavy as lead.
Dustin bikes past on Cherry Lane, curls whipping in the wind, the only thing taming them is the radio headset over his ears. He doesn’t glance back or slow down, just pedals harder, like he can outrun years of friendship.
By third period, the cafeteria hums with forced normalcy. You spot the party clustered at your usual table and head over, sitting in between Will and Lucas. Dustin slams his tray down across from them, apple rolling free.
“Watch it, man,” Lucas mutters, grabbing the fruit before it hits the floor.
Dustin snorts, sarcastic. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Lucas blinks. “Dude, chill.”
“Yeah, *chill*,” Dustin mocks, ripping open a milk carton, white splashing the tray. “That’s what you all keep saying. Like burying your heads will just make it all go away.”
Mike looks up, frowning. “We’re not burying anything. We’re just trying to-“
“Trying to what? Pretend Eddie didn’t get fucking eaten alive while you sat on your ass in California?” Dustin’s voice rises, drawing stares from nearby tables. His eyes are wild, bags deeper than last night, hands trembling as he stabs a spork into his eggs like they’ve personally offended him.
You freeze halfway to the table, stomach dropping. Max shoots you a look, half-warning, half-exhaustion.
“Dustin, lower your voice,” she says flatly, no room for argument. “You’re not the only one who remembers.”
He wheels on her, laugh brittle as cracked ice. “Oh, great, Mad Max weighs in her two cents worth. I always enjoy getting comments from the peanut gallery!”
Max flinches, but her jaw sets. “Fuck off, Henderson. At least I’m not acting like a pissed-off toddler every time someone breathes.”
Lucas stands halfway, palms out. “Hey, enough. We get it, you’re hurting. We all-“
“You don’t!” Dustin slams his tray edge, sending jello wobbling. “None of you dragged his dying ass with a busted ankle or heard him scream while bats ate him alive. You didn’t watch his eyes go empty. So spare me the ‘we all’ bullshit.”
The table goes dead silent. You narrow your eyes, leaning forward as grief and frustration boil over. “And who dragged your ass to him, Henderson? Why do you keep forgetting that? I was right there. Don’t you dare act like I sat it out.”
Dustin’s gaze flicks to you, raw and haunted, flickering with a flash of guilt that twists into fresh anger. His mouth opens and then closes before he shoves back his chair with a screech. “Whatever. I’m out.” He storms off, tray abandoned, shoulders rigid as he barrels through the doors.
Lucas exhales slow. “He’s... getting worse.”
“No shit,” Max mutters, sinking into a seat. “He’s acting like we’re the enemy.”
The bell rings, shrill as a warning. Outside, Dustin’s bike is already gone. You look at the rest of the group in defeat.
──────────────────────────
Days have blurred since that cafeteria ordeal, each one grinding deeper into the raw wound of your grief. You've kept your distance from Dustin after his storm-off, but the nightmares haven't let up and they twist sharper now. Eddie's blood hot on your hands, him saying ‘it should’ve been you’, it only gotten worse. You've thrown yourself into routine of sketching maps alone at night, your pencil trembling over the cursed connection line of gates. Yet the ache festers, Dustin's hollowed eyes haunting you as much as Eddie's final grin. It felt like you were losing your best friend all over again.
It's night four without a wink of real sleep. Rain lashes your window, lightning illuminating the sky. Anger surges hot over the grief this time: at Dustin for pushing you away at 4 a.m., at yourself for letting his walls win, at Hawkins for refusing to let you breathe. You can't spiral alone anymore, not with the earth faintly trembling under your bed like it's alive and hungry. Dustin's the only one who gets it, even if he's armored in denial. You grab your bike from the backyard, hoodie zipped against the downpour, and pedal into the gale of wind, tires hydroplaning on slick streets.
──────────────────────────
Dustin’s garage light glows defiant through the downpour as you glance at the door of the garage. It’s a sure sign he’s buried in there, hunched over blueprints with that fix-everything grimace, pretending science can solder shut the holes grief ripped open. You knock hard, fist pounding wet wood over the thunder.
The door creaks open slow. He stands there, hair tousled, oil smudges on his cheek, eyes wary as they rake over your drenched form, water dripping from your hair, clothes plastered cold to your skin. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Trying again,” you snap, breathless and defiant, rain streaming down your face like furious tears. “I’m not letting you push everyone away until nothing’s left. I’m done watching you self-destruct.”
His mouth works silently, eyes flashing with anger, grief pooling deep, guilt flickering like a shorted wire. “You don’t get it,” he says finally, voice breaking raw. “Every time I think of him all I can see is him dying. It’s always there.”
Rain drips heavy between you, pooling at your feet. You feel like you’re back to where you started a week ago. “Then stop drowning in it alone like a coward!” Your voice rises sharp over the storm, anger exploding after days of swallowing it. “Let it hurt! Do you think you’re the only one breaking? Acting like none of us lost him? Honestly fuck you for making it all about your pain!”
He flinches hard, color draining, but you barrel on, chest heaving. “who dragged you to Eddie with your ankle busted? Me! And you keep storming off like I’m the enemy too. If you wanna rot in this garage with your blueprints pretending you can fix grief, fine, go right ahead! But don’t pretend we don’t see you falling apart. I miss you, Dustin! I need you. We all do.”
He shakes his head, stepping back into the shadows, jaw trembling. “Just… go home.”
“You don’t have to do this alone, but you’re choosing to. Your call.”
“Maybe I do.” His voice comes soft, nearly lost to the rain.
──────────────────────────
It’s well past midnight on a Friday when the first pebble pings against your bedroom window, a sharp tick that yanks you from a restless half-sleep. Your heart slams into your ribs like it’s trying to escape, every nerve firing with the instinctive terror of Hawkins’ nights. You bolt upright, sheets tangling around your legs, and creep to the window on silent feet, peeling back the blinds just enough to peer into the backyard.
Dustin stands there in the faint glow of the porch light, his faded Hellfire Club shirt clinging damply to his shoulders from the misty night air. His face is ghostly pale, etched with exhaustion and something deeper, like unspoken fear, that makes your stomach twist. He doesn’t wave or call out; he just tilts his head back, curls disheveled and wild, his eyes locking onto yours with a silent, desperate plea that says more than words ever could. For a long moment, you hesitate, fingers clenched on the windowsill, with the urge to drop the blinds and pretend you never saw him just to prevent yourself from getting shut out again.
But your body decides before your mind can catch up. You slip into sneakers without lacing them properly, tug on a hoodie over your pajamas, and ease your bedroom door open, tiptoeing down the creaky stairs past your parents’ room, holding your breath as the floorboard under the third step groans faintly. The back door clicks unlocked with agonizing slowness, and you step out into the heavy night air, thick with the hum of cicadas and a subtle, unsettling tremor vibrating up through the grass from somewhere deep underground, like the earth itself is restless.
Up close, Dustin looks even worse than from the window, his hands trembling faintly as he shoves them deeper into his pockets. He shifts his weight awkwardly, avoiding your gaze at first, like he’s rehearsing what to say.
“What’s going on?” you ask, your voice guarded and low, arms crossing tightly over your chest as a barrier. “You’ve been pushing me away for weeks and now you show up at one in the morning?”
He winces visibly, the expression carving fresh lines into his already strained face. “I know. God, I know. That’s exactly why I’m here.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been a total asshole, an absolute jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. Every time I saw you, it was like… like staring straight at him. At Eddie. The memories hit too hard, and if I let myself feel even a fraction of it, I knew I’d break wide open. So I pushed. Hard. At Steve, at everyone, but especially at you, because you were the one who kept trying to reach me.”
Your throat tightens like a vice, the old hurt surging back fresh and raw. “You think you’re the only one who sees him dying every time they close their eyes? We were there together, Dustin, I felt his blood soaking through my shirt. And then you made me feel like I was weak, like I was some- some burden, for needing to say it out loud, for needing you.”
“I never thought you were weak,” he says quickly, voice cracking with urgency, his eyes finally meeting yours and shimmering with unshed tears. “Not for a second. I was terrified! Terrified of losing him all over again in my head, and even more terrified of losing you next. If I let you in, if I admitted how much it was destroying me… what if that made it real? What if something happened to you too, because of me, because I dragged you deeper into this nightmare?”
You can see it now, clear as the moonlight slicing through the trees, the way he’s weaponized his fear into biting anger, burying his grief under layers of sarcasm, and that rigid hunch in his shoulders that screams he’s been carrying the world alone. It doesn’t excuse him, but it explains the sharp edges, the distance.
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you say, your voice shaking despite your effort to keep it steady, the words spilling out like they’ve been bottled too long. “You don’t get to push me away just because you’re scared I might get hurt. I’m scared too! Terrified, every damn day. But shutting me out like that? Telling me to go home on multiple occasions? That hurt worse than any nightmare, worse than the Upside Down itself.”
“I know,” he whispers, and the dam finally breaks. Tears spill freely down his cheeks. “I know, and I hate myself for it. Every single day. I kept telling myself if I just kept moving, if I buried myself in trying to fix everything, building better sensors, mapping the gates, maybe I could numb it out, make it stop hurting so much. But it doesn’t. It’s so much worse. I hear him constantly: his laugh echoing in empty rooms, him bragging it was ‘his year’ with that stupid grin. And then the screams. Him telling us he loved us. His last breath. I can’t make it stop, no matter how hard I try.”
Seeing Dustin like this—the boy who stares down monsters without flinching—completely unraveling before you breaks something open inside your own chest. Your anger doesn’t vanish entirely, but it softens, melting into the shared ache that’s been gnawing at you both since that trailer park night.
“Then stop trying to fight it alone,” you say softly, taking a tentative step closer across the dewy grass.
He stares at you for a heartbeat, eyes wide and vulnerable, like he’s been waiting for permission. Then the sobs rip free. They’re deep, wrenching sounds that echo into the night. “What if I can’t fix this? What if I’m not enough, not smart enough, not strong enough to make it right?”
“You don’t have to fix it,” you reply, closing the gap fully now, your hand finding his arm in a firm grip that grounds you both. “You don’t have to be anything more than here, right now, with me. We’ll face the rifts together, the Upside Down, whatever comes next. But not like this. Not by yourself, not by shutting everyone out.”
That’s all it takes. Dustin surges forward, crashing into you with desperate force, his arms wrapping around your waist in a crushing hold as his face buries into your shoulder. The sobs come messy and unrestrained, snotty and gasping, shaking his whole body against yours; your own tears fall hot and silent, soaking into the collar of his Hellfire shirt as you hold him just as tightly. One hand threads into his damp curls, cradling the back of his head, while the other rubs slow, steady circles across his back, feeling the tension unravel knot by knot under your touch.
“I should’ve let you in,” he mumbles eventually, his voice hoarse and muffled against your hoodie, breath hitching between words. “I wanted to pull you inside so badly. I just couldn’t let myself.”
“I know,” you whisper back, your lips brushing his hair. “But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes puffy and red-rimmed but sparking with that familiar Dustin light flickering back to life amid the wreckage. “I don’t deserve you sticking around after how awful I’ve been towards you, and everyone.”
“Probably not,” you say, managing a watery smile through your own tears. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
Relief floods his face as you both make your way to the porch steps, sinking down onto the cold wood, shoulders pressed firmly side by side, your breaths gradually syncing in the quiet, his ragged inhales evening out to match your steadier ones.
“I still miss him every single second,” Dustin rasps after a long silence, his voice raw as gravel. “I don’t think that ever goes away.”
“Me too,” you murmur, leaning your head against his shoulder, the warmth of him seeping through your hoodie. “Every breath. But he’d kick our asses if we let it destroy us.”
A broken laugh bubbles out of him, shaky but genuine, cutting through the grief like a small light. His fingers find yours then, lacing together tightly, a quiet anchor in the dark.
“Next time you even think about shutting me out,” you murmur, squeezing his fingers, “I’m chaining myself to your bike and making you drag me everywhere.”
“Noted,” he replies with a shaky laugh, turning his head to rest his temple against yours. “And… thanks. For not quitting on me. For seeing through all the bullshit.”
To anyone who ships henderhop and thinks that Hopper would love Dustin you're so wrong. First of all I think Hopper would just hate anyone who dated El regardless but second you think Dustin Henderson is gonna follow any one of Hopper's rules??? The same Dustin who has done nothing but backtalk and defy authority from day one is gonna keep that door open 3 inches? Yeah you're so funny
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What are y'all thoughts about young!adult daryl dixon x milf/dilf!reader?? Like- daryl having a puppy-like crush on reader... Might post two separate drafts about both genders
FYM I HAVE TO WRITE A SONG FOR MY ASSIGNMENT AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
not that I don’t like the idea but I’m so SACAREDDDD
I love and enjoy music but writing my own?? I’ll prolly only make up two verses and the chorus AS IN THE LYRICS, THE INSTRUMENTAL IS A WHOLE DIFFERENT STORY. I’m boutta start crying ARGHHHHHHHHH
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You had gone missing a month ago. An entire week where your mother and your brother and the entire town searched endlessly for you. But you didn’t remember any of it. One moment you were riding your bike home from a party and the next you were lying in a hospital bed. You thought that you had crashed, that you had gotten into an accident, but when the Chief of Police explained that an entire week had passed you didn’t know what to think. Apparently, someone had found you in the woods and had called the police. But you didn’t remember a single moment of it. There was nothing, not even the flicker of a memory. Not even a dream. You moved on with your life, blocking out the weird stares and snide comments. The only thing you cared about was your little brother. He was your entire world and you would do anything to protect him, you had done everything to protect him. But Dustin didn’t know that. Dustin didn’t know anything. Not about your disappearance and not about your late father (curse his soul). And you were not about to let him know any of it. You were not gonna taint the perfect family image he had in his head. You were going to move forward, a happy smile on your face. Even if it was fake. But there was something preventing you from pretending. Something that kept cracking your perfectly crafted mask. Something that had made you forget, and something that you wanted to forget.
(An episode by episode fic, possibly with extra chapters. Hopefully I make it through them all.)
so VERY excited for the new fic i just read the last chapter of sev and saw that chap 1 of the henderson fic and i can feel it in my bones, this will be amazing !! Can’t wait for the next chapter !!