Introduction / Authorâs Note /Â Chapter 1: The Journey to the Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters / Chapter 3: Ronâs Return / Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations / Chapter 5: A Morning Surprise / Chapter 6: The Quidditch Match / Chapter 7: Girl Talk / Chapter 8: Aphroditeâs Push / Chapter 9: Mistakes and Love Potions / Chapter 10: You Would Be Fine / Chapter 11: Spell It Out / Chapter 12: Long Overdue / Chapter 13: Always Want You
Chapter 14: A Magical End and a New Beginning
When you woke up the next morning, Ronâs arms were wrapped tightly around you and his snores were loud enough to wake the entire Burrow. Giggling at him, you turned around to kiss him on the cheek. At this, he started stirring in his sleep.
âWake up, Won-Won,â you teased.
Ron groaned sleepily and nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck.
âNever, call me that,â he said, his speech thick from sleep. His morning voice instantly made you feel hot and light headed.
âWhat would you rather me call you?â you asked, a playful smirk appearing on your lips. âSweetheart? Lover of mine? Honeykins? Sex Wizard Supreme?â
âMy boyfriend will do for now,â he responded, kissing your lips. After a moment he pulled away, pursed his lips and said, âOn second thought, I kind of like Sex Wizard Supreme.â
Imagine you found out that you have a sister, Sookie Stackhouse, unwillingly you fall into her world of supernatural creatures. Being a more advanced mindreader than Sookie, all supernatural eyes are on you. Youâre a weapon, but will you make it out alive?
Part one All your life
Part two
Word count: 1496
Summary: You go to find your long lost sister at this bar called Merlotteâs. While youâre there you run into some other interesting people.
summary steve finds out that falling in love can be really, really easy. you find out what itâs like when somebody wants to take care of you [10.5k]
warnings fem!reader, fluff, mutual pining, getting together, girl next door trope? dustins neighbour! reader, steve being a softie and also hot, the gang goes rollerblading, movie date, sun stroke, sick fic, hurt/comfort, reader is implied to weigh more/ be bigger than than nancy wheeler but nothing exact, steve learns youâre upset one time and goes overboard, borrowed walkmans, small s4 spoilers no major plot details, post s3 pre s4, feat. the lunch club, small bit of karaoke, summary is bad thatâs not my fault thatâs divine intervention
A vast green jungle, so damp the forest floor bathes your ankles in rainwater runoff. The air is thick with humidity and smells green. Earthy, the sweet scent of petrichor tickles your nose, and-Â
A shadow distends over the yellow pages of your paperback, dark, eating up the image of the amazon and replacing it with reality â a normal summer's day in Hawkins.Â
Steve Harrington stands in front of you, his body blocking the sun and its warm glow. The light throws a halo around his head and turns the ends of his brown hair golden.Â
"Watcha reading?" he asks in lieu of âhelloâ.
"Ever read Journey to the Center of the Earth?" you ask him, leaning towards him invitingly.Â
You love to mess with him like this, watch his cheeks slowly pink as you bend towards your knees with a demure smile playing on your lips.Â
"Yeah, I did. In middle school," he says, trying his best to play it cool, hands pushing deep into the pockets of his pants.Â
"Well, it's nothing like that."Â
The grin he gets when he realises you're messing with him is adorable. He chuckles warmly and pulls a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground and then up at you again with a bashful pinch to his thick eyebrows.
"You're looking for Dustin?" you ask. You haven't seen your young neighbour since this morning. "He ran off earlier with his huge radio thing."Â
Steve rolls his eyes. "Typical. I paid him fifteen dollars," he says, his frustration clear, "fifteen dollars, Y/N, to fix my Walkman like three weeks ago. Every time I come by he's out. Little shit probably hasn't even looked at it."Â
You like Steve. He's a great looking guy who's more than nice when he sees you even though you're always pushing his buttons, and his poorly hidden fondness for Dustin is something you find heart-squeezingly attractive. You don't think twice about your next move.Â
You stand up from your lounger and have to shield your eyes from the sun, tucking your book under your naked arm. "If you want⊠I have a cassette player I'm not using. I got a Walkman for my birthday." You don't give him an opportunity to say no as you start for the front door.Â
"Are you sure?" Steve asks. You hold the door open for him, standing at the threshold with a grin.Â
"Positive. It's collecting dust, at this point."Â
"I mean, sure, if that's cool. Just until Dustin gets his act together," he says, pushing past you. His hand brushes your hip.Â
"That's cool," you confirm, walking behind him through your open kitchen and living room. "It's on the left."Â
Steve pushes into your bedroom. The window's open, breezing around the smell of fresh linens and the hydrangeas in the planter on your sill, shifting the gauzy white curtains.Â
The suncatcher hanging from the window sprays rainbow kisses over your walls and posters, your laundry basket full of summer dresses and discarded night shirts. The carpet is freshly vacuumed and plush underfoot as you beeline for your desk. Steve hovers by the door before leaning his weight against your bookshelf, eyes taking it in curiously.Â
"Cyndi Lauper," Steve says, eyes on a big poster of said singer with her iconic orange hair and hat. You raise your eyebrows at him, pleased, and he shrugs. "She's famous."Â
"You like her?"Â
"Nah," he says. "But I'll listen to anything. Except Depeche Mode; sharing a player with Robin all summer has sailed that boat."Â
"Yeah?" you ask, kneeling down in front of your desk to dig through the cabinet underneath. You frown, up to your elbow in bric a brac and forgotten trinkets. "It's in here somewhere."Â
"Yeah. I mean, maybe not anything. I don't think I have the palate for some of those rock and roll bands. Dustin made me listen to Black Scabbard in the car last week andâŠ"
"Black Sabbath," you correct lightly, pulling out of your cupboard with a relieved huff.Â
"Right," he says.Â
You look over your shoulder to find him perusing your bookshelf, his hand running lightly over the shiny glass paper weight you use as a book end. He teases the spine of a hardback book curiously but must feel your gaze, turning to you with a sheepish smile.Â
"Do you like to read?" you ask.Â
Steve wrings his hands held at his hip. "Sure, I don't mind it. Bigger fan of movies."Â
"Right, Family Video must get pretty distracting," you say, walking towards him on light footing to offer the dinged-up cassette player. "She's well loved but she works, I swear."Â
He takes it from you, fingers brushing the backs of yours. "Thank you."Â
You shift from one foot to the other â because oh my god there's a boy in my room â before smiling with teeth. You stop. "You're welcome. Want a drink?"Â
"UhâŠ"Â
"I've got pink lemonade."Â
"Oh, then definitely."Â
You lead him into the kitchen and install him at the kitchen table with two empty glasses. The carafe of lemonade is beautifully cold from the refrigerator with slices of lemon and strawberry bouncing around the top as you pour it. The condensation wets your fingers.Â
Steve looks handsome and maybe slightly silly behind your homely oak table, all clean cut and well dressed. You feel bare beside him in your tank top and flowy midi skirt, too much skin.Â
"Are you hungry? I make a mean BLT," you say, bringing your feet up onto the chair, knees digging into the table.Â
"I'm good, thanks," he says.Â
"Are you having a good time of it at FV? They denied my application, but that's 'cos Keith has a vendetta against me for wiping out his score on the Palace's Tempest."Â
"You're a Tempest girl?"Â
"Everybody plays Tempest," you say.Â
Steve gives you a look. "Nerds play Tempest."Â
"Fine, every nerd plays Tempest," you allow, rolling your eyes. "Lemme guess, you're a Centipede guy. No, worse! You play Pac-Man. I can tell."
His silence is enough to make you giggle in triumph, elated to have sussed him out so quickly. Â
"How did you know that?" he asks finally.Â
"You called Black Sabbath 'Black Scabbard'. You're not a nerd."Â
"I could be."Â
"But you're not."Â
You share a steady look over the table. His eyes are bright with mirth, a sleek brown like fresh brewed coffee. You love the shape of them, deepest with the round under eye blanketed in straight black lashes. A red polo stretches across his chest. You find your eyes drawn down the length of his arm to his hand where he's drawing circles around the rim of his glass. He takes it into his hand and you watch his wrist bend, his arm flex as he brings the cup to his lips and a drop of condensation drips onto the table mat.Â
"I don't look the type?" he asks after a rough swallow. He sounds almost incensed.Â
"No, of course you don't. King Steve," you croon.Â
He crosses his arms across his chest and leans back, looking you up and down showfully. "Neither do you."Â
He's all charming smiles as he raises his chin and shakes his head, lips stretched up in an open-mouthed smile.Â
"Tempest," he mutters in bemusement.
You burst into laughter, quick to defend yourself when there's a pounding knock at the door. You're still laughing as you stand, calling to Steve as you walk to the door, "Tempest isn't even that nerdy! It's the Dragon's Lair dorks you need to watch out for. Oh, hi baby. What's wrong?"Â
"You haven't seen Steve, have you? His cars outside," Dustin announces, standing under the porch with his wild curls stuffed under a hat, his pulley cart ditched halfway between your yard and his.
"He's in the kitchen. You want some lemonade? You look frazzled," you offer, brushing your hand over his sunburned shoulder lightly as he scoots right past you.
"Thanks, Y/N." Dustin strides into the kitchen with purpose, glaring at Steve pretty heavily as he takes your seat at the table. "Why are you here?"Â
"Fucking charming. I came to see you, Henderson, but you're never home. Too busy finding secluded knolls to radio your girlfriend and play karaoke."Â
"Dick," Dustin says, though he defrosts as you fill a glass for him.Â
"What do you want?" Steve asks him.Â
"Why do you assume I want something?"Â
"Donât be coy, you're not Madonna. It's tacky."Â
"Dick," Dustin says again, glaring.Â
"Dustin, do you want something to eat? You shouldn't go out in the sun all day by yourself, you know? What if you get heat stroke?" you ask.Â
Steve gives you a strange look like he's puzzled with you. You smile back at him, hand coming down on the back of Dustin's chair easily.Â
"Steve, I need a ride to Mike's," Dustin says, completely ignoring you.
Steve kicks him under the table. "Manners."Â
"Can I please have a ride-"Â
"To her, dipshit. Jeez, what's wrong with you? She asked if you're hungry."Â
Dustin beams at you innocently, soft cheeks rounding. "No thank you Y/N you're a godsend and I appreciate you very much," he says all in a rush, turning back to Steve, the act entirely dropped. "Now can we go?"Â
"Christ, fine. I'm gonna get you one of those rewards cards for being a shithead. This incident would be a double stamp, by the way."Â
"Uh-huh," Dustin says.Â
The younger teen chugs his glass of lemonade and spins off, calling a thank you over his shoulder. Steve gets up to follow him, your old cassette player held carefully in his hands.Â
"I'm sorry about him."Â
"Don't be. I've known him his entire life. He's in a phase," you inform him with a small grin, shrugging as if to say, what you gonna do?Â
"Long phase. Thank you. For the player and the lemonade."Â
"You're welcome," you say warmly, walking him to the door.Â
Dustin's already in the passenger seat, having taken his pulley cart back inside. He makes a hurry up motion from behind his window and Steve mutters expletives to himself, giving you one last smile before he trudges off.Â
The two boys wave at you through the windshield. You wave back.
When Steve's car has winked from view you take your lemonade and paperback outside again to lie under what's left of the sun. You try your best to fall back into the jungle and conjure its sights and sounds, only you keep finding your thoughts wrapped up around a certain boy's laugh and the face he makes as he does, that startled grin, a fist half raised to his mouth.Â
-
"Y/N!" A familiar teen voice accompanied by battering knocking at your front door.Â
You pull it open, still in your pajamas, hair a mess. His knocking had woken you up. You'd had about ten seconds to check you hadn't drooled too violently in your sleep before he was calling your name, and so you hadn't bothered getting dressed.Â
You wish you had. Dustin stood at the door with Steve Harrington behind him, a happy smile on both their faces.Â
You try not to flinch as you throw an arm across your chest subconsciously. "Hi?" you ask. "Is everything okay?"Â
Dustin's dressed for the beautiful weather in shorts and a shirt with sleeves so short it may as well be a tank top, a hat perched familiarly over his cute curls. Steve is dressed in a tormenting pair of jeans paired with a denim jacket. Double denim. He looks hot, physically and figuratively.Â
"Do you wanna come skating?" Dustin asks urgently.Â
You blink at him, pulling the edges of your strappy vest down to cover your navel, plaid bottoms low on your hips â you're a mess. Â
"Skating? I don't have one."Â
"A skateboard?" Dustin asks, shrugging. "Bring your rollerblades."Â
You err at the door, leaning your weight against it as you think. "When?"Â
"Now!" he says.
"I don't want to hold you up," you say, aimed more towards Steve than Dustin.Â
Steve smiles, hooking cheeks pink with the heat, and is about to talk when Dustin says, "He made me come ask you, he's fine to wait."Â
You bite back a smirk at Steve's deer-in-the-headlights expression and nod happily. "Alright. Twenty minutes and I'll be ready. If that's okay?"Â
"Totally," Steve says.Â
You close the door most of the way and catch a look over his shoulder, finding his pretty friend Robin in one seat and a gaggle of Dustin's friends in the back.
You hear a sharp thwarping sound as you spin away followed by a "What the fuck, dude?" from Dustin and hope that he hasn't tripped over one of your flower pots. You get ready and spend at least ten minutes worrying after your appearance in the mirror before grabbing the skates and jetting into the kitchen. You gather as many impromptu snacks you can find and shove them into a grocery bag, struggling to lock the door behind you in want of a free hand.Â
Steve jumps out of the driver's side to open the side door for you. You smile gratefully and dump the snacks and your skates in the footwell before climbing in, an empty seat between you and Dustinâs redheaded friend.
You're saved from the awkwardness of seeing people you've met but don't quite know by their ongoing debate, something about which Bruce Springsteen song is best.Â
âItâs obviously Dancing in the Dark. I donât really know why weâre still talking about this,â Robin says from the passenger seat.
âYouâre just saying that because itâs his most popular,â the girl next to you says.
âThings are popular for a reason.â Robin shrugs.Â
âYeah, Max. Plus, popular or not, itâs his best.â
Max scrunches up her entire face. âBetter than Iâm on Fire?â
Thereâs a long pause where each child deliberates. Dustin and Mike dissolve into fierce looks.Â
âNobodies talking about Born in the USA,â Steve says into the quiet, eyes on the road but head tilted back.
âShut up, Steve,â Mike says, looking as exhausted as he usually does when youâve seen him coming in and out of Dustinâs. Though it's been a while, he hasn't changed. Perpetually done with people's shit.Â
âDisrespectful,â Steve murmurs. His eyes flash to the rear view, catching you red-handed as you stare at him. âWhat do you think?âÂ
âAbout what?â
âAbout Springsteen."
You consider him, his smile, his gaggle of cruel children. âI like Born in the USA,â you say nonchalantly.
âThatâs two points,â Steve says triumphantly.
The skatepark is pretty busy because of the good weather. You and Steve end up unpacking your snacks onto a blanket Robin lays out whilst the boys go look for their friend Lucas, who's supposedly already here.Â
Max doesn't seem pleased with this revelation, sitting down heavily by Steve's picnic basket. Steve offers her a PB&J from the basket and a cold caprisun and she perks up, but not a lot. You want to spend time with Steve, you're not disillusioned into thinking you're anything but a flower under his attention, blooming and wanting, but Max's sad eyes get the better of you.Â
Too late for introductions, you dive straight in. âWhatâs in the Walkman?â you ask, nodding at the player sticking out of her jacket pocket, the foam padded headphones around her neck.Â
âWild Things Run Fast, Joni Mitchell.â It sounds like a question.Â
Youâve struck gold immediately. âI love Joni Mitchell! Have you heard her new stuff?â
Max seems alarmed and happy at once, red messy braids swaying as she lifts her chin. âI mean, only what theyâve played on the radio.â
âHer album came out this October, Dog Eat Dog? I have the cassette if you wanna borrow it. Itâs amazing.â
âReally?â she asks. Sheâs peeling the crusts off of her sandwich, one side at a time, dropping them into the small pile of discarded Saran Wrap.Â
âFor sure. Youâve heard Shiny Toys?â Max nods. âItâs all as good as that one. Seriously.â
âAwesome,â she says, taking a huge bite of her sandwhich.Â
You realise you mightâve come on a little strong and try to backtrack into cool territory again, hand brushing Steveâs ankles as you lean away from the poor girl, smiling sheepishly.Â
âMy mom loves Joni Mitchell,â Robin says.
âRobin," Steve chides lightly.
âWhat?âÂ
You and Steve share a look thatâs so familiar it gives you pins and needles in your hands, something small between the two of you clicking into place. Or at least thatâs how you feel.
Max has almost finished her sandwich by the time Mike returns. âAre you ready?â he asks her.
She clambers onto her feet and grabs her skateboard from behind Steve. The two walk away, a distance from Dustin and Lucas, who both seem to have acquired a pair of skates each. Dustin in knee pads and a helmet, Lucas without.Â
âWhy would you say Max listens to mom music?â Steve asks incredulously once theyâre out of hearing distance.Â
Robin shakes her head, similarly incensed. âI didnât say that.â
âThere were so many other things you couldâve said, Robs.â He sounds less mad and more pitying.Â
"I didn't say that! I said my mom listens to her. She does!"Â
"Don't take offense. Robin got dropped as a baby," Steve says to you offhandedly.Â
You know the best course of action here and you take it â in what world would you make an enemy of a boy you might like's best friend who is a girl? Not this one. Plus, Robin seems super nice.Â
"I'm not offended. My mom loves Joni too," you say cheerily, smiling at Robin, unabashed.
You're slightly disappointed when she looks away towards her lap, until she says, "Projections a bad look on you, Harrington. He has, like, a flat head," she tells you.
Steve starts yammering loudly. "Shut up! My head's perfect, you're being ridiculous. Perfectly round and ordinary, thank you."Â
"Yeah, I'd definitely say your head's perfectly round," you agree through giggles, reaching for your skates.
You have a funny feeling that a silent conversation is happening as you slide off your shoes and into the skates, lacing up tight, but when you look up Robin's sifting through the accumulated snack pile and Steve's looking the opposite way, towards the kids.Â
You clear your throat. "Are you guys gonna skate too?"
"Steve is."Â
"I didn't bring-"Â
"He's borrowing mine. It's too hot, I can't skate. And I don't have the coordination, anyway."
Steve looks at Robin, at you, Robin again. "I'm not good," he says. You take it for yes.Â
Steve gets on his skates and straps out of his denim jacket, exposing the distracting lengths of his arms. He's better than he gives himself credit for, steady on his feet. He knows how to stop and start, and you smile to yourself when the two of you skate off towards Dustin and Lucas, following their journey around the skate park, careful to stay clear of the bowls and rails.Â
"You're good! You said you weren't good!" you say to him.Â
"I'm not good."Â
"You're doing great!"Â
He smiles gratefully, the expression at home over his warm features. He's not really a very smiley guy, you've realised, his lips often pulled up into a grimace or a cruel approximation of a smile, sarcastic. It suits him. You go to say as much, eyes eating up every little detail of him.Â
"Hey Steve? You should-" and your foot pops over a rock.Â
You shriek and throw your arm out towards him. Steve catches you with impressive strength and speed as your leg buckles. You've quickly righted yourself and he brings you to a slow but not quite stop. Stopping on skates is easier said than done, especially old skates with the front guards already worn down.Â
"Are you okay?" he asks.Â
You've taken his hand without thinking, the two of you widening apart and then coming together like the eclipse of a blinking eye.Â
You pull your hand away apologetically, the warmth of his palm lingering.Â
"I'm sorry!" you say.Â
"Donât be. Last thing I wanna do is have you crack your head open on my watch. Iâm glad you didnât wipe out."Â
"Thanks to you."Â
You slow and stop. Steve does the same, the two of you clumsy for different reasons. He watches as you calm your racing heart.Â
"Shit, I really thought I was gonna fall. You're a lifesaver." You stare straight into his eyes, their sunlight honey brown, smiling with complete genuineness. He's more than pretty. "Thank you."Â
Steve swallows and his smile is warmer, somehow, impossibly warmer. Maybe it's the beautiful weather, maybe it's the beautiful boy. You suddenly feel very, very hot.Â
"I think I might need to sit down."Â
"Oh, shit," he says, reaching for your arm. You're about to correct his touching â you're not dizzy, just a little nauseous. Only, his hand. His fingers clasped around your elbow, his face fiercely protective.Â
You let him guide you back to the picnic blanket. One hand around your elbow, the other behind your sun-warmed back, and somehow his hand is the hottest spot.Â
"Are you okay?" Robin asks, shielding her eyes from the sun. The book in her lap slips shut as she straightens.Â
"She's okay," Steve says. âToo hot. Budge up."Â
Robin moves over on the blanket and throws the basket open. Steve reaches in for a capri sun and passes it to you. It's lukewarm, though the day is so hot it's a relief to drink it.Â
"Steve's really good," you tell her after a noisy suck, the orange plastic straw stabbing your lip. You frown down at it.
"I saw you guys whizzing around. Public menaces, both of you," Robin says, though she smiles as she does. You know she's joking. You don't want to think it in case it's not true, but you feel like maybe she wants to be friends.Â
"We prefer speed demons," Steve says easily, still kneeling at your side.Â
"They should lock you up."Â
You snort and almost squirt juice from your nose, spluttering and coughing as you bend at the waist. Steve pats your back less than gently and then more so as you move your hand towards him.Â
"I'm okay," you cough, embarrassed at how you must look hacking your lungs out.Â
Steve's hand, again on your back, rubs a stern line. "Chill out, Y/N. You can't die before dinner."Â
"We're getting McDonald's," Robin supplies.Â
"Don't tell the kids," he says, smirking.Â
He's still rubbing your back. You suspect you might agree to anything while he's this close.Â
"You sound like such a dad when you say shit like that."Â
Steve scowls at Robin's words and pulls his hands away, crossing them over his chest. "Don't say that. Babysitter is more than enough, don't you think? Y/N?"Â
"An older brother?" you suggest to Robin's extreme delight.Â
She laughs. Steve scrubs at his face with both hands until his eyes are red.Â
-
Robin's sick and Steve's going crazy by himself, manning the desk at FV with almost no energy and even less enthusiasm. A week since he'd held your hand and he can't seem to stop thinking about it.Â
He catches himself staring at his own empty palm and clenches his fist, bringing his eyes back to the door in case someone walks in and he has to pull off the headphones of your borrowed cassette player.Â
Steve had discovered a forgotten cassette inside, listening to it out of curiosity the night you'd given him the player and then every night since then. He felt guilty about keeping it without saying anything but he was only borrowing it, he reasoned. He'd give it back when Dustin fixed his skipping Walkman. Â
The tape was Van Halen II. And Steve's not stupid, he knows who Van Halen are, but he's never sat and listened through any of their full albums. Now he can't stop, constantly rewinding back to the same song, over and over.Â
He does so now, fingers clumsy and too big over small buttons until the first line kicks in, powerful and high energy like a burst of fresh air.Â
Have you seen her?
So fine and pretty.
He grins as it plays, thinking of you instantly. Your smile and your legs, the wind whipping at your skirt and exposing stretches of skin he can't stop remembering. You on your rollerblades, the second time after an emergency PB&J, skating in front of him without looking behind you.Â
"Don't let me crash into someone, okay?" you'd asked, swaying from one side to the other as you shifted your weight.Â
"It'll be too late to stop you if I see someone! Turn around!" he'd demanded, though his fondness had peeked through.Â
You'd thrown your hands out. "You'll have to steer me!"Â
And so he'd grabbed your hands and you'd laughed like a fool as you skated together, squealing through close calls and bumpy ground.Â
He thinks of your hands in his, their weight and size, the magnetic pulse he'd felt between them, how happy you'd seemed to be with him.Â
He was harbouring a crush on you. Too old to deny what it feels like to want a pretty girl, Steve wonders if this is entirely a good idea â letting himself like you when the possibility of rejection feels high. You are, as Dustin had promised him, out of Steve's league. "Don't try your luck, dude."Â
Steve thought for a second that his thinking about you had summoned your image, your easy walk and the elegant way about your hands and how you held them, in a blue dress with matching strappy mary-jane's, white socks with the ruffle tops. He blinks. No way he could think up anything as pretty.Â
You push open the door and grin from across the room, a large tupperware of some type in your hands. His eyes move up from your fingers where they clutch plastic, your wrist, your arms. The puff sleeves of your dress are short and cuffed, similar to the matching ruched neckline that shows enough to make him swallow. A necklace lays in the valley of your chest, a silver chain with a blue flower at the end, small but thick. Five round petals, a cutout missing that shows a circle of your chest beneath.Â
"Steve," you say, like you'd been in mid conversation. "Please tell me you have a sweet tooth."
He pulls the headphones from his head and leaves them around his neck, fixing his hair as casually as he can when he says, "Sure, I like candy."Â
You set your container down on the counter and crack it open, the rich, buttery smells of its contents quickly filling the room.
"I made penuche for Dustin's mom's birthday, but I made so-" you drag the word out, lips a gloss-sticky 'o', "much of it. I can't eat it all. And she said I wasn't allowed to give it to Dustin 'cos he keeps using the f-word."Â
His laugh is startled but genuine. "Not the f-word."Â
The fudge is a light brown, almost pink in the neon tinted lighting. It smells divine, and he's saved from an internal debate about what's cool when you push the tub towards him. "Do you like fudge?" you ask him.
He takes one and you take one, and he tries not to look at you as you eat, or when you scratch gloss and a crumb from the corner of your mouth.Â
"Youâre a modern Martha Stewart," Steve says happily.
"Only on special occasions. Where's Robin?" you ask, elbows braced on the counter and leaning in.Â
"Sick. Apparently."Â
"Apparently," you repeat, grinning. "What, she didn't look sick?"Â
"She talked to me on the phone. She sounded sick," he concedes. "Good things it's Thursday."Â
You look around the completely empty store. "This is what it usually looks like on a Thursday?"Â
"It's Hawkins. Half the people here get their VHS from the library, the others drive out to Blockbuster. We get about as much foot traffic as an ice cream stand in September."Â
"It's 'cos you take too long to get the new ones,'' you say. "No offense."Â
"The tone of someone personally victimised by a Family Video wait list."Â
"You got me. I've been trying to get the Breakfast Club for two months!" you complain, scratching your chest lazily.Â
Steve crosses his arms over his chest until his hands are hidden, rolling his eyes. "Oh, so this is bribery penuche."Â
You blink at him and then your lips part in horror, pretty eyes widening. "No!"Â
"It totally is. You're trying to butter me up," he says, suave tone disrupted by the need to giggle at his own pun. "Y/N, how could you? Here I thought we were starting to be friends and you're using me for my video store?"Â
His mock horror puts you eat ease when you realise he's joking. "I really wanna see that movie," you say dejectedly. You reach for another piece of fudge and bite it in half, your chewing morose. "It feels like everybody saw it at the movies but me."Â
"Of course they did. Why didn't you?"Â
You glare at him. "I was busy!"Â
"For the month it was in theatres?"Â
"Yes!" you defend yourself from his teasing. "I have things to do!"Â
"Like what?"Â
"Like school!"Â
"Everybody has school."Â
"You're picking on me after I brought you candy. This is so cruel." You don't sound like you've suffered any cruelty. Steve might say you're really enjoying yourself.Â
"Sorry, sweetheart."
You glare at his insincere pet name. "Whatever. Oh, hey, how's she treating you?" you ask, eyes on the cassette player. "Steve, you have my Van Halen tape! Thank god, I thought I lost it."
"Right. Sorry, I meant to give it back," he lies.Â
You shrug your shoulders. "Keep it however long you want to. It's good, right? Which one's your favourite?"
He pulls the headphones out and rewinds back before setting the player in front of you. You raise your eyebrows at him but click play, and the audio starts abruptly, loud and mid quality.Â
Yes, it's love in the third degree.Â
You grin, head bobbing, eyes flitting to his with approval written all over your face. You don't seem to hesitate before you sing along under your breath, high pitched but quiet.
"Ooh, baby baby. Won't-cha turn your head my way?"Â
He feels a little enchanted by you, that same magnetism he'd felt between his hands, can't believe how pretty you are and how sweetly you move. You laugh at yourself as you sing the next line, an intense, almost theatrical look upon your face. Like you're swooning.
"Ooh, baby baby. Ah come on! Take a chance, you're old enough to-" You flare your eyes at him and nod, mouth open encouragingly.Â
He won't join in, no matter how electric he finds you. You roll your eyes and your shoulders roll in a half-dance as you hum along to the chorus.Â
Dance the night away.Â
"You're no fun, Steve," you complain, giggling.Â
"You're enough for the two of us."Â
You peer over the counter, still moving with the music as you ask, "What were you doing? Before I came in?"Â
"Looking through the computer at what's late being returned. Riveting, extremely hard work."Â
"Do you get, like, secret intel on what new movies are coming in?"Â
"Sure we do. Wanna see?" he asks.Â
You creep around the counter and stand by his side. He scrolls through the system and translates acronyms for you. "This is the coming in," he says, drawing a line down a list of movie names. "These are what's being moved back to the headquarters."
"Headquarters," you repeat, leaning in to see the screen more clearly. You browse the new titles idly, slipping closer and closer to the computer.Â
"You'll burn your retinas."Â
"Invaders from Mars, Youngblood, Black Moon Rising," you list thoughtfully. You turn on your heel. "I don't know any of those. You got a chic-flicks section?"Â
You're really close. Steve looks at you, this close, this pretty, his hands itching to touch you. He leans in and your arms fall to your sides, the space between you growing ever smaller.Â
"We do," he says slowly, eye to eye, almost daring you to look at his mouth instead. He wants you to. He wants to look at yours.Â
You're steadfast, not impassive but certainly unreadable as you say, "Show me?"Â
Steve reaches for the mouse behind you like he was always intending to, hiding any smugness he feels when you exhale noticeably. You turn back around, his arm brushing over yours as he sorts through the tag system to show you "ROM-COM INCO".Â
"These are all the ones we have coming in. You know any of those?"Â
"Hannah and Her Sisters. I saw that one."Â
"Finally had some free time?" he asks wryly.Â
"Shut up, Steve."Â
"You know⊠I can keep the Breakfast Club for you. Next time it comes in."Â
The smile you give him is blinding. "Thanks, Steve."Â
"Yeah, no problem." He hopes the sudden increase in temperature is mutual.Â
-
Your backyard is a field of flowers. Maybe dramatic, but Steve's never seen so many, a heavy green spotted in chartreuse, vermillion, bright oranges and pink-white. You lay on a towel in the grass surrounded by them, the sun lighting you up, your skin glowing and perfect.Â
You're in black, spandex type shorts and a bikini top. Steve feels like a perv for looking, so he clears his throat. You don't budge.Â
He creeps closer. You're in headphones listening to your Walkman. He can hear the music from where he stands at your backdoor, so it must be loud. He stands over you and hopes his shadow will wake you up. When it still doesn't he gets concerned, kneeling down carefully with his knees digging into your towel.Â
"Y/N. Hey," he says.Â
Still nothing.Â
He pulls your headphones off gently, looking over your face in worry. You must be sleeping.Â
"Y/N, you shouldn't sleep out here. You'll get sun stroke," he says. He strokes your arm though he shouldn't. He can't help himself, his fingers pressing into the crook of your elbow.
You blink awake and then slam your eyes closed. Steve adjusts himself to block the sun from your face and you manage to pry your eyes open, confused.
"Hello."Â
"Hey," he says. He can't help the fondness that plays over his smile.
"Shit." Your eyes go wide and you cover your chest with your arm. "I'm naked."Â
"You're not naked," he says.Â
"I'm naked. Stop looking at me."Â
Steve turns away obligingly.Â
"Stop laughing at me, Harrington."Â
"Is there anything I'm allowed to do?" he asks, though he does stop laughing.
"I'm so embarrassed. I was sunbathing and I must've fallen asleep."Â
Steve lets his eyes stray to your naked thigh. He stares at your skin, follows a stretch mark upwards and then swiftly peels his gaze away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a total perv. I can go wait in my car."Â
"You're not a perv. I'm being a priss. Sorry. I know I'm not, like, a model and I wasn't expecting to have this much skin on show. I don't look like Nancy Wheeler."
You sound more nervous than Steve has ever heard you. Worse, you sound dejected, though you've tried for nonchalance. Steve stares at you until you raise your chin, your fingers pinching meanly at your thighs.Â
"You're messing with me," he says.
"What?" you ask, incredulous. "I'm not messing with you."Â
"You gotta know you're beautiful. That's, like, a stone cold fact. A hard truth. You're beautiful. Who cares if you don't look like Nance?"Â
You sigh, though it's not very believable when you're smiling so much. "She's really pretty."Â
"So are you."Â
"You know what I mean, Steve. She's⊠small."Â
"She's a small woman," he agrees. "That doesn't make her prettier than you."Â
"You're sure?" you ask quietly.Â
Steve means it a hundred percent when he says, "I'm sure."Â
The two of you sit there for a few seconds. He can hear your breathing and he's wondering if you can hear his.Â
"What are you doing here?" you ask.Â
Your hand is still held across your stomach but you're thankfully looking more relaxed. Steve meant what he said, you're beautiful, he couldn't care less that you're taller or that you weigh more than his ex. You're fucking pretty, and seeing you all laid out and sun kissed has made him kind of crazy.Â
"Steve?" you ask.Â
"Oh. I brought you The Breakfast Club. Just got it back in this morning," he rushes to say, grabbing the VHS tape from where he'd left it on the ground. The Family Video spine is glaringly ugly compared to you and your flowers.Â
"Woah, thank you!"Â
"You're welcome. It's under my name though, so don't keep it late. Can't disprespect the FV name. I'm going for employee of the month."Â
You giggle. "You are? Are you the top contender?"Â
"Nope."Â
You laugh some more, the sound delicate and sweet as spun sugar, in Steve's humble opinion.Â
"Not that my fellow employees try any harder, but Keith just picks himself every month for the free credits."Â
You rub your fingers across the front of the box. "I won't be late. I mean, I'll watch it today, I've been so excited to see it."Â
Steve stands up. "Sorry to disturb your idyllic sunbathing."Â
"Idyllic," you murmur, smiling. "You're good, Steve. Thank you for the movie."Â
"You're welcome. I'll see you later?" he asks, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, slowly backing away.Â
"No," you say. He raises his eyebrows and you look sheepish but not shy when you continue, "Do you wanna stay? Watch the movie with me? I have stovetop popcorn and soda and everything."Â
"What about the great weather? You don't wanna waste it."Â
You force your hands between your thighs and hunch forward slightly. "I do wanna waste it. I mean, I've had enough for today, don't you think? I'm a half hour from heat stroke."Â
"You're looking pretty warm," he says. Anything to take you up on your offer without sounding too interested.Â
-
You're trying not to give Steve the side eye. Trying, but he's very attractive and very close, and he keeps making funny jokes. It's annoying how hot he is.Â
Steve has slouched back and his jeans have slowly edged down, exposing the flesh of his hip. Not that you've noticed, or anything.Â
You cram a big handful of popcorn into your mouth and flick your eyes back to the screen. You'd really wanted to see this movie but Steve keeps capturing your attention, again and again, over and over. You can't believe you'd asked him to stay and he had, can't believe he brought the VHS for you in the first place.Â
That's a dedicated employee right there.Â
You shuffle closer to him under the guise of sharing your popcorn. Your shoulders touch.Â
"Thanks," he says. His thigh hits your thigh as he takes a handful.Â
"Steve," you say softly.Â
"What?"Â
"I don't feel well. I think the sun killed me."Â
He throws his arm around the back of the couch and twists, careful not to upend the popcorn bowl as he looks over you searchingly. You've seen Steve play caretaker before, but being under his watch is different. He's almost a different person as he checks you over.Â
"You feel sick?" he asks. He holds his hand out between you, his knuckles at your eye level. "Can I?"Â
You tilt your head back and close your eyes. Steve presses the back of his hand to your forehead and pets down softly, feeling for your temperature.Â
"You're still really warm. Let's get you cooled down."Â
Steve springs up and knocks the bowl. You blink, slightly disoriented as he disappears into the kitchen, picking up spilled popcorn off of the couch and eating it with slow chews. Now you think of it, your arms hurt, too.
Steve returns and sits on the edge of the sofa, a bag of peas in his hand. "I raided your freezer. Lean your head back."Â
"I'm fine," you say, but tilt your head back anyways, gasping when the cold hits you. Â
"You might actually get heatstroke. Do you know how dangerous heat stroke is? You need to cool down. Where's the A/C?"Â
"It's on."Â
Steve feels along your cheek gingerly. "I can't believe you fell asleep outside. What's that about?" He pauses. "Are you sleeping okay?"Â
"I'm sleeping fine."Â
"Are you sure?"Â
His wrist turns and you feel the pad of his fingers rather than the back, the palm of his hand as he cups your face.Â
You peek through your lashes at him. His eyebrows are pinched and his bottom lip juts out in a concerned pout.Â
"You can tell me."Â
The way he says it â well, you imagine you could tell him anything. He sounds warm and worried. This close you can smell his cologne, something heavy with sage, a little bit of lilac hidden under unmistakable bergamot. It's all so comforting and the sun has loosened your tongue.Â
"Maybe not so much. It's⊠it's hot. You know? AndâŠ"Â
"What?" he murmurs. Your heart skips as his thumb rubs over your cheek.Â
You close your eyes like your confession might take form. "I'm kind of lonely, lately," it sounds like a question, "and it's- it keeps me up sometimes. I don't know, it sounds stupid when I say it out loud."Â
"It doesn't sound stupid."Â
"No?"Â
"No, I get it." He pulls away but doesn't move too far, his hand still holding the freezing peas to your forehead, the other brushing against your arm as he drops it in his lap. "These days Dustin doesn't leave me alone. I don't want him to, either. The same with Robs."Â
You let your head loll to the side. Steve doesn't look shy or scared to tell you, talking almost matter of fact. "But my parents were never home when I was in high school. They still aren't. I felt it more back then."Â
"Yeah. I don't know. I never see anybody. Besides Dustin," you say. "We have him in common."Â
"You see me."Â
"When I'm annoying you at work."Â
"You don't annoy me." He's stern though he abruptly turns into a conspirator whispering secrets. "Robin's fuse gets shorter with me everyday."Â
"How come?" you ask, co-conspirator.Â
"I can't stop watching the door."Â
You lift your head. Steve takes back his bag of peas and feels along your forehead, now cold enough to ache.Â
"Here, hold these to your chest. I'd do it for you, butâŠ"Â
You take the peas and hide a terrible smile, heart racing between your ears. Your nausea has flipped completely into butterflies and they're rabid, knocking at your abdomen insistently.Â
You're trying to think of a way to make him say nice things again when there's a knock at the door.Â
"Dustin," you both say.Â
"Jinx, buy me a soda," Steve says.Â
You glare at him and he laughs all the way to the door.Â
"Why are you always here? Where's Y/N?"Â
"She's got heat stroke."Â
"I don't!" you call hoarsely.Â
"You sound like you do," Dustin says. "Can one of you give me a ride?"Â
"She has heat stroke."Â
You climb onto the back of the sofa to look down the hallway. Dustin stands at the front door with a huge piece of engineering in his arms that you don't understand, wires and ciricuits and things.Â
"Remeber when you used to bike everywhere? What happened to that?" Steve asks, sounding majorly pissed. You can't work out why he's so frustrated but it makes you laugh again.Â
The two boys turn to you with twin looks of confusion.Â
"I can't bike there, genius. This won't fit in the basket."Â
You laugh again, twice as loud.Â
"What's wrong with her?" Dustin asks, shaking his head.Â
"What don't you understand about heat stroke?
"Potential heat stroke," you interject. Â
"She fell asleep in the sun. I don't know how long she was out there her brain might be totally jellified, dude."Â
"You should take her to the hospital."
You clamber onto aching limbs and walk until your behind Steve, reaching for his elbow automatically. "I'm fine, babe. What's your doohickey?"Â
Dustin smirks and pulls the weight closer to his chest. "Prototype."Â
"For what?"Â
"Top secret."Â
You giggle some more, wobbling with the force of it. Steve sighs and wraps his arm around your back, his hand under your arm to grip you at the ribs.Â
Dustin gets wide eyes like a looney tunes character. "What's going on here?"Â
"Nothing," Steve hisses. "Look, let me set Y/N up with the works and I'll drive you where you want to go, you brat."Â
Dustin drops his suspicion, having got what he wants. "I'll wait in the car. Feel better!"Â
"That's three stamps on the shithead card, shithead!" Steve calls after him. The two of you watch his retreating figure and then Steve is manhandling you (not too roughly) down the hallway and back onto the sofa.Â
"I'm not dying, Steve."Â
Steve puts your popcorn bowl in your lap and the frozen peas back on your chest. He fills your glass either the warming carafe on the coffee table and then bends down to talk to you, entirely too intense.Â
"Are you good?" he asks.Â
"Perfect. I don't even feel hot anymore."Â
He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Listen, I'm gonna go drop Dustin off, and then I'm gonna call you to make sure you're not dead."Â
"You don't have to do that, Steve," you say, moving down into the couch, a cushion falling over as you do. He straightens it out, cups your face in his hand so fast you think you've imagined it and then squints at you.Â
"Don't die of heat stroke."Â
He starts to walk away and you're startled. Unfairly, you don't want him to go, and you call, "Steve?"Â
"Yeah?"Â
"What about The Breakfast Club?"Â
He grins at you, a lazy, King Steve kind of smile. "I was always gonna leave that here. So you can come 'annoy' me at work when you return it." He pulls a hand through his hair and gives you a once over and then spins on his heel. "Make sure you answer when I call!"Â
You lose sight of him as he leaves, the couch backing too tall. He shuts the door kindly and you can just about hear the crunch of gravel as his car pulls away.Â
"He was definitely flirting with me," you say to yourself, pouring a sweet handful of popcorn into your mouth. You're smiling so wide it's hard to chew.Â
-
Dustin bursts into Family Video with his small entourage, Mike and Lucas, and an urgent look on his face. Steve quickly stops his facade of being busy when he clocks them.
"What? Need to borrow ten dollars?" he asks, rolling his eyes.Â
"Actually, it's about Y/N," Dustin says.Â
Steve stretches across the desk on his elbows.Â
"What about her?" he asks, suspecting a waste of time.
"She was crying her eyes out in her backyard last night."Â
Steve blinks, feeling a pit open up in his chest. "What? Why?"Â
"WellâŠ" Dustin says. "I didn't ask."Â
Steve pictures your pretty face crinkled with tears, sitting on the paving stones outside your house. He wonders what would make you cry, sob, whatever it was. You'd confessed to being lonely though he sort of hopes that the feeling has ebbed now that he's calling you every day. At first, under the guise of checking up on you, but, I don't think I'm at risk of heat stroke anymore Steve. It's been a week and a half.Â
Better safe than sorry.Â
"Nancy said she saw her outside outside Bradley's Big Buy last night looking miserable," Mike adds, in one of his worst outfits, a mismatch of colours and long socks, a visor that Steve once tried to bribe Dustin to destroy on a hot day with his magnifying glass. The small burned spot perseveres at the caps edge.Â
Steve feels weirdly proud at their concern and better, their detective skills. The three of them look like they could solve crimes, a mystery gang. Lucas is the only one dressed well in Steve's opinion, though that might be because he's in similar fashion, a nice polo and blue jeans.Â
"You don't know what's wrong with her?" Lucas asks.
His pride wanes. "Oh, you guys are here for gossip?" he asks scathingly.Â
"No!"Â
"You're her boyfriend, right?"Â
"Not-" Steve swallows, "exactly."Â
Robin, who had been listening from her stool a few feet back, strides over and falls into place by his side, braced by her elbows.Â
"If Steve were her boyfriend, we'd know why she was crying," she says, earning a round of boyish chuckles.Â
Steve nods and then understands her meaning, feeling stupid for assuming Robin would say something that wasn't mean while at work. "Fuck off, I'm a good boyfriend."Â
Four sets of eyebrows raise.Â
"I am! I'm romantic."Â
"You smashed our trellis and dislodged a drain pipe," Mike says.Â
Steve pins the dark haired boy with a smarted look.Â
"Sorry, is that not romantic? Sneaking out to see a girl?"Â
"Sneaking in to a young woman's bedroom," Robin says dryly.Â
"Pervert style," Dustin agrees sagely.
"Jesus Christ." Steve turns away from his band of adopted heathens and takes the phone into his hand. "I'm gonna call her."Â
"And what? Tell her we were spying?" Dustin says.Â
Steve holds the cold plastic to his neck. "Were you?"Â
"Girls lie about their feelings, anyway. You're never gonna get a straight answer," Lucas says morosely. "Trust me."Â
He slams the phone down. "What am I supposed to do?"Â
They stand in a heavy silence. Steve can feel a headache clipping his heels, approaching fast, stress and a sharp worry for you. He really doesn't see why he can't call you and check in.Â
"Something nice?" Robin suggests, picking at her nails.Â
"Like what?" he asks. Though, as soon as he says it, he already has the beginnings of an idea. Whether its a good one or not is anyones guess.Â
-
Somebody knocks the door and all you can think is, oh god why me?Â
You're in a bad approximation of pajamas - your comfiest and yet your sloppiest, old and worn and unattractive. Fresh out of a stress-cry shower, you've only just managed to catch your breath.Â
It's like you told Steve, everything lately feels so lonely. You'd gone grocery shopping by yourself and had known without a doubt that you were moving unseen through the world. Something about deciding between TV dinners. Nobody knew where you were, what you were doing, or where you were going. The only people seeing you were the storegoers of Bradley's Big Buy and your disgruntled cashier. You doubt you'd made a good impression.Â
It was maybe a silly thing to feel overwhelmed by, but you felt it anyways. Sick with loneliness and then panic. A thousand what ifs had filled your head; you couldn't stop thinking, what if it's like this forever?Â
What if I feel this lonely forever?Â
You'd finished grocery shopping with a peculiar numbness weighing you down and then you'd gone home to cry in the garden, comforted and horrified by your flowers. They were pretty and you'd planted them and it didn't matter, you were still alone. A ladybug had crawled over the nearest planter and you'd watched it until you calmed down, knees crossed and elbows digging into your thighs, pins and needles in your hands.Â
Another insistent knock. You consider ignoring it and curling up into a ball. Something hooks you out of it. What if it's Steve?Â
If it's Steve, you're gonna feel very embarrassed about your appearance. You check your reflection in the sheen of a photo frame and sigh, rubbing your face with one hand as you open the door.Â
Steve stands a few feet away, leaning against the side of his car with a pair of shades slipping down his nose. He takes them off.
You're so happy to see him you forget your rumpled outfit.Â
"Hi," you say, half-shouting to cover the distance.Â
"Hey beautiful!" Steve shouts, properly, loud and unabashed.
The door digs into your tummy. You don't know what to say. His compliment flusters you from the get go.Â
"Hi," you say again, laughing under your breath.Â
"Hey."Â
"What are you doing here?"Â
"Somebody told me you weren't feeling well!"Â
You frown, thoughts racing, and suddenly summon the image of your nosey young neighbour. You take a step back instinctively and Steve must see it because his face goes stony.Â
"I'm sorry, I know you probably didn't want me to know. But- when I found out you were upset, I couldn't ignore that. You'll have to forgive me."Â
You try pushing the smile off your face with your hand and stand there scratching your top lip. "No. No, it's okay."Â
He raises his eyebrows and takes a few big steps towards your house. You step out onto the porch and he closes the space between you, holding his hands out. You take them and he envelopes you, warm hands pulling you along and up the path.Â
He walks backwards. "Don't let me crash into someone, okay?"Â
A memory. The two of you hand in hand, ground flashing under your skates.Â
"Okay," you say weakly.Â
He squeezes your hands and drops them, a foot from the car. "Stay," and he doesn't finish, turning away from you. He opens the passenger door, the door behind and then the trunk.Â
The smell is beautiful. A floral wave.Â
The sight is something else. A carpet of bunches, bell-shaped freesias and carnations, roses in darkest red, chrysanthemums, dahlias, tiny orchids and irises; gorgeous purple irises with white centred petals buffeted by frilly sweetpeas.Â
"They didn't want to give me the buckets but I told them I had a really pretty girl waiting for me, and if they suffocated in the heat then I was gonna drive right back and complain loudly." He stands by your side and nudges you. "Break out in tears."Â
"That's a lot of flowers," you mumble.Â
"Half the store. The other half's on standby."Â
"Standby?"Â
"I worried you might not have the space."Â
"I won't."Â
Your gaze flits over soft petals and light green stems, thorns and leaves and greenery, baby breath tucked in by plastic wrapping.Â
"Why did you do this?"Â
"YouâŠ" he laughs at himself. "Okay, so. The day you had heat stroke-"Â
"I didn't have heat stroke. I had heat exhaustion."Â
"Semantics. You were lying in the backyard. Just⊠sleeping. I was waiting for you to look up and see me, and I couldn't- I still can't get the image out of my head. You looked unreal."Â
You feel hot all over as he searches for words. He's smiling wide as he talks, like he can't believe how happy he is. It's infectious.Â
He shakes his head. "Anyway, I know you like flowers. Obviously. So."Â
"So you got me a florists?"
"Half."Â
You hug your torso. The idea that somebody would do this for you, that Steve would do this for you, is so alien you can't comprehend it.Â
"They're for me?" you whisper.Â
"For you. All of them."Â
You look at him, the flowers, him again, and start to laugh. You throw your hands up to your cheeks and giggle like a little kid.Â
"Why are you laughing?" he asks, an undeniable affection in his curiosity.Â
"Why would you do this for me?" you ask in a similar tone.Â
He purses his lips and shrugs. "You could've called me. I want you to know that."Â
You scrub your hot cheeks and shift from foot to foot. "I was being silly."Â
"It's not silly. It's not stupid. And even if it was, I still want you to call me. These are 'call me' flowers. Call me first."Â
You wrap your hand around the top of the door and lean in for a look at the sea of flowers. Pollen sticks sweet in your nose.Â
"Do you like them?"Â
The smallest hint of insecurity. You can't stop laughing, joy warping every word. "Yeah, I love them," you say over your shoulder, feeling as though you've become nothing but a vestibule of breathless wonder.Â
"I didn't know which one was your favourite."Â
All of them, you think. Not sure you could pick one, your eyes bump from bouquet to bouquet.Â
You try to blink them away but tears form quickly, lashes heavy with them as you stand up straight and wipe under your eyes with the back of your index finger.Â
"Thank you, Steve."Â
"You're welcome." Steve comes up behind you and takes your shoulder into his hand, thumb rubbing roughly over your shirt. "C'mon, don't cry. I got you all those flowers because I don't want you to cry, not to make it worse."Â
"They're really pretty," you say, strained, pushing the bottoms of your palms into your eyes to stop from sobbing. That would be dramatic, you argue with yourself, so dramatic, but this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.Â
"Shit," he mutters.Â
You tense up as his hand moves across your back to grip your other shoulder and he hugs you to his chest, left hand stroking the length of your upper arm, encouraging your hands from your face.Â
"You're okay, baby," he says.Â
You sniffle as his right hand climbs your shoulder to cup your neck. He pulls your face to his mouth and presses a kiss into your temple, warm and tingling, firecrackers under the skin. You turn your face to look at him and he pulls back, his chin jutting down.Â
The shape of his lips lingers on your forehead, a burn. White hot.
Steve wipes the tear tracks from your face with the side of his hand.
"I know what'll cheer you up," he says.Â
You miss his touch as soon as he's gone. He leans over the passenger seat, the chair and its footwell both bursting with flowers, and turns on the radio. You watch him click to the cassette player. He turns the volume up high and then pulls out.Â
Slowly, the song builds into a zinging guitar.Â
"Oh my god."Â
"Have you seen her? So fine and so pretty," Steve sings with no hesitation. You're startled by his confidence.
"Fooled me with her style and ease," he continues, holding out his hand.Â
You take it, listening to him fight his way to the right pitch, his voice cracking.
"And I feel her from across the room-" He takes your second hand, gaze electric. "Yes, it's love in the third degree."Â
He tugs at your hand, nodding until you join in.
"Ooh, baby, baby," you sing weakly, searching for footing.Â
"Won't-cha turn your head my way?" he begs.Â
"Ooh, baby, baby," you both sing, Steve with more passion, pulling your arm one way and another in an awkward dance.Â
"Come on, take a chance, you're old enough to," and here's where you both go weak and high and enthused all at once, glad the stereo's up so high you can't really hear it when you both shout, "dance the night away!"Â
It's not quite night yet. You've a lot of dancing to do if you're gonna listen to Van Halen's instructions, the sun a half-disk of gold on the horizon, the sky raspberry pink bleeding up into darkening indigo.Â
Steve grins at your growing enthusiasm and twirls you around. You only allow him this, too afraid to step on his toes as you come to a stop.Â
He hums along and you clutch his hand. You covet the other where it's held to his chest, pushing your fingers through his. They fit together perfectly.Â
"Am I ever gonna get that tape back?" you ask.Â
"No," he says, laughing loudly. "No way. I love this song."Â
"I love this song too. That's why I bought the album."Â
"You said however long I wanted!"Â
"I didn't think you'd stick around this long," you confess.Â
"I did," he says. He leans down, stops. "Can I kiss you?"
You nod and beat him to it, hand at his collar as you step on your toes and press your mouth to his. You're both smiling, your eyes closed tight and your lips tight together until he pulls back, pulling his hand from your brushing grip to stroke the side of your face, rough in his rush.Â
When you come back together it's slower, your lips parted mid-giggle as he moves in. You sigh, a high-pitched and embarrassing sound from the back of your throat that's quickly swallowed by his ardency.Â
"Stop laughing at me," he admonishes playfully.Â
"I'm not! I'm not, I'm really happy," you defend yourself, setting back on your heels.Â
You've forgotten all about your pajamas and the icky feeling in your chest. With Steve's palms to your cheeks like this â like you're something worth being cradled in careful hands â you can't feel anything but happy.Â
"I don't have enough vases for your flowers," you apologise as he chases you down, dropping kisses over the corner of your mouth and the apple of your cheek.Â
"Good thing I begged for all those buckets," he says, brown eyes squinting with the force of his cherubic smile. His pert nose flares with a silent laugh.Â
"Good thing," you agree.Â
He holds you by the shoulders. "Good thing," he says again.Â
You descend into another round of laughter that leaves you panting for air, your head dropping into his chest. "A really good thing."Â
"I didn't go overboard, did I?" he asks, petting the nape of your neck.
"You did."Â
"Sorry, I-"Â
You wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him as hard as you can. He groans lightly as he encircles your shoulders, the tip of his nose a butterfly's wing against your forehead, impossibly light and skipping, back and forth and back again.Â
"I'm gonna make you flower shortbread," you say eventually, soaking in his warmth, his closeness.Â
"Yeah?"Â
"I swear. And more penuche. What's your favourite? I'll make you whatever you want. What do you have a sweet tooth for?"Â
"Could I get another kiss?" he asks quietly.
You tilt your head back and wait. Steve isn't quite smiling though his eyes boast an emotion you're afraid to name, unbearably fond.Â
"Are you gonna kiss me again?" you ask into the gap.Â
"In a sec, just⊠let me look at you," he says, hand cupping your cheek.Â
You blink back a stinging wave of tears and smile, tracing over his features greedily.
"You're beautiful," he says.Â
Itâs funny. You were thinking the same thing about him.
don't you (forget about me) | steve harrington x reader
âOh, great, sheâs here,â Steve says, stepping away from the door.Â
"First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking hereââ
Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whateverâ"
"You did not just roll your eyes at meââ
Dustin sighs. "Here they go."
(or:
You've always thought Steve Harrington was a weirdo. When you find out you might be in terrible danger, he might be just what you need.)
pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader (she/her pronouns used), lots of henderson siblings bonding <3
words: 13.9k
a/n: gif by @dailysteveharrington. thank you all for being patient and i hope you all like it<3 i loved this season and i love steve so i hope you enjoy this lil enemies to lovers fic. this fic is a one shot, but let me know if you'd like a sequel once vol 2 is out bc its a bit of an open, ambiguous ending ;) also some fun facts before this fic starts: dustin's dad appears at will's funeral in s1 and there are several theories about him-- officially, he and dustin's mother are divorced in canon. i'll explore that in this fic. ST4 SPOILERS. this is set in season 4 ep 3 "the monster and the superhero" and follows vol 1 canon also sorry if this doesnt follow canon pretty well i mostly did it from memory cause the wiki still isnt fully updated đ
disclaimer: this fic discusses the topic of an absent parent, please proceed with caution if this is hurtful to you. also warning for canon typical violence and cursing. english is not my first language so please let me know if there are any mistakes.
đŒ NOW PLAYING: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Mind
Your mother had always been slightly overbearing and fearful, but the murder of Chrissy Cunnigham you think might actually kill her. Or at least will force her to lock you in your bedroom and flush the key down the toilet.
âYou canât go anywhere without telling me,â your mother tells you over breakfast, worriedly overcooking her bacon. âYou hear me? I donât want you running around town without me knowing. Or better yet, donât go anywhere at all!â
You glare at Dustinâs chair, where your brother is munching on toast and eggs, hoping your mother takes the hint. She does, and so she shakes her head and says, âDustinâs different.â
âYouâre kidding me, right?â
âMaybe this killer has a thing for pretty girls,â your mother shakes her head, shivering. âChrissy Cunningham was such a nice and pretty girl, right your age.â
âYou donât know what that killer was thinking!â You groan. âWhy can Dustin leave but I canât?!â
âDustinâs not an eighteen year old girl with an easily breakable neck.â
âHeâs easier to man-handle!â
Dustin frowns, finally looking up from his breakfast. âIâm not!â
âBesides, do you even know where he was last night?â You ignore your brotherâs protests, choosing to point at him as he scoffs in offense. âI bet you donât, because heâs always sneaking out!â
âIâm not always sneaking out!â
âI try my best with you, Dusty,â she sighs, finally sitting down. âBut your sister is right, youâre difficult to keep track of. Youâre always running around, like those little legs have minds of their own.â She points the spoon she was using for her coffee at your face. âDonât you throw that in my face, (Y/N).â
âMom, youâre right,â you nod, sipping your orange juice, trying to appeal to her soft spot. âHe is difficult to keep track off, and thereâs a dangerous killer on the loose. How about I keep track of him? Make sure heâs not getting into any trouble, hm? Iâll make sure weâre always safe, together.â
Of course, you were planning on bolting as soon as you were out of your momâs sight. You momâs cat Tews meows somewhere across the room, as if he knows not to trust you. That damned furball.
âWhat the fuck? No!â
âDusty! Language.â
âMom,â Dustin says, exasperated. âI donât need a babysitter. Much less a babysitter thatâs also my annoying older sister.â
âNo, you have Steve Harrington for that,â you mutter under your breath, and Dustin manages to kick you under the table. You glare at your little brother, then turn to address your mom once again. âI promise weâll stay together. I knowâ no, I understand that itâs scary out there right now, but I can take care of myself. And Dustin. You have to trust me.â
âI trust you. Itâs the murderer I donât trust.â
âMomââ
âLet me finish,â she stares pointedly at you, and you promptly shut up. âI donât want you two sneaking out. But, itâll make me feel better if the both of you are together.â
Dustin covers his face with his hands. âShit.â
âYes!â You squeal. You stick out your tongue at him, and he rolls his eyes. âGuess youâre stuck with me, Dusty.â
âScrew you.â
âDusty, itâll be fun. (Y/N), donât taunt your little brother,â your mom scolds both of you into silence. âItâll be like old times, wonât it? Aw, you two used to be thick as thieves back then.â
Dustin sighs, picking at his toast absent-mindedly. âWas there a murderer on the loose back then too?â
đŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒ
After breakfast, you give Dustin a ride until you arrive in a neighborhood that is most definitely not Lucas Sinclairâs like he told you it would be. You turn to stare at your brother before you unlock the carâs door, confused.
âWhere are we?â
Dustin looks at your shoes. âI told you. Lucasâs.â
âOkay, you might lie to me whenever you want, just not to my actual face, Dustin.â You roll your eyes, and he mirrors you. âSeriously, why did you make me come all the way down here?â
âWhy do you care?â
âI know weâre doing this to get mom off our backs, but there is actually a killer on the loose,â you say. âSo, excuse me if Iâm also a little wary about dropping you off at unknown locations, or whatever.â
âFine,â Dustin sighs. âIâm here to see Max and Steve.â
âSteve?â
âHarrington.â
You blink at him. âFucking Steve Harrington?â
âSee?â Dustin rolls his eyes again. âThis is why I didnât tell you! You are extremely uncool about Steve, you know.â
âIâm not!â You try not to dwell about how defensive you sound even to yourself. âIâm extremely cool about him. Iâm extremely cool about the fact you hang out with that douchebag with stupid hair.â
âHeâs not a douchebag! I donât get why you hate him so much.â
Because you remember him and his friends making fun of you all throughout High School, his sneering and stupid stares. Like your brother, youâd never fit inâ you never liked going to parties or drinking and you never made an effort to be liked by him and his group of popular dorks, instead you spent most of your days in the library, reading, hiding from Steve and his friends. Whatever honorable things Dustin saw in Steve Harrington you think he might have imagined them.
Now, in your last year of High School and with Steve becoming a social pariah, you donât have to hide the fact that you still dislike Steve as much as you did back when he was still King Steve. Steve, for however much Dustin insists that heâs changed, upon first meeting you had tried to sweet talk you as if he didnât know who you were. And you had barely kept it together enough to tell him to fuck off. Ever since then, you and Steve Harrington had hated each otherâs guts. Your mutual dislike of each other is not lost on Dustin, who continues to mostly ignore it and tiptoe around it as best as he can.
âHeâs not not a douchebag,â You murmur. âWhy is he hanging out with two fourteen year olds during spring break? Isnât the barf bag, like, supposed to be in college, going to frat parties, having a life of his own?â
Dustin doesnât appreciate the way you talk about him, clearly, but he still replies, albeit unhappily. âHeâs helping me with something.â
âWith what?â
Before Dustin can respond, someone knocks on Dustinâs window. You jump, surprised, but itâs just Steve and Dustinâs friend redhead Max, looking bored and impatient. You groan and reach over Dustinâs seat to roll the window down.
âDo you mind?â You say to Steve. âWeâre talking.â
âOh, great, sheâs here,â Steve says, stepping away from the door.Â
"First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. You ignore Dustinâs groan. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking hereââ
Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whateverâ"
"You did not just roll your eyes at meââ
Dustin sighs. "Here they go."
âI did not roll my eyesââ
âYou absolutely did!â
âThere was something in my eyes.â
âThat something was lies!â
âJesus fuck,â Steve finally throws his arms up in exasperation and turns to your brother, ignoring your insults. âYou done talking to your lovely sister there, Henderson? We got a counselor to see.â
âWhat?â You frown at Dustin, irritation immediately melting into concern. âWhatâs he talking about?â
âSteve, shut your mouth,â Dustin glares at Steve, who shrugs and finally steps away from the car. âNothing, (Y/N), seriously. See you later?â
âNo.â You shake your head. âWhat does he mean a counselor? Are you seeing Ms Kelly?â
âNothingâs wrong, I promise. Itâsââ he looks like heâs scrambling to think of an excuse, then his eyes land on Max. Something flashes across her face and she speaks next.
âItâs for me.â she says, âChrissy died in my neighborhood.â
âSheâs kind of freaking out,â Dustin says, and when you finally turn to look at Max you realize how tense she is, her shoulders square, with her lips forming a straight line.
âOh. That sucks. Hey, Max.â
âHey,â she greets, awkwardly. Itâs part of her charm, you think.
âSee?â Dustin asks. âCan I go now?â
You nod, a little shaken up for some reason. Maybe Chrissyâs murder still made you feel slightly ill, and the mention of it made you feel even worse. You couldnât imagine what Max might be going through. It didnât help that they had found another body this morning, either.Â
âYeâ yeah. Sorry. I hope everythingâs alright, Max.â
âYeah,â she nods.
Dustin nods to the door. âCan you unlock the car, then?â
You wordlessly comply, and as your little brother steps out of your momâs blue Ford Cortina, you talk to Max once again. âMs Kelly is great help. Iâm sure sheâll make you feel better. She really helped me this year, you know, sheâs a great listener.â
âYeah, I know,â Max says. âIâve been thinking about seeing her for a while, aâactually. Iâve heard sheâs well⊠you know⊠fine, or whatever.â
âHey, thereâs no shame in that,â you shrug. âLots of people go to see Ms Kelly⊠Actually, now that you mention it, Fred Benson, the guy they found this morning, was seeing Ms Kelly too. And Chrissy Cunningham.â
Dustin pauses before closing the car door. âWhat do you mean?â
You blink, slightly confused as to why youâd even bring it up. âIâve seen them in Ms Kellyâs office before. Iâm not sure why Iâm even mentioning it, sorry.â
âNo, no, (Y/N), thatâsâŠâ Dustin says, then doesnât finish. âYouâve been seeing Ms Kelly too?â
âYeah,â you nod, a little ashamed. You think about telling Dustin about everything thatâs been going on, the nightmares, the guiltâ but then you glance at his friends looking expectantly at him and cower. So you donât continue.
Itâs Steve who breaks the silence. âHenderson, chop chop, letâs go.â
âIâll see you at home?â Dustin says, a little softer.
âYeah, yeah. I was gonna go to Dinahâs near Ave Park, but do you think youâll need a ride later?â
âSteveâs got his car,â he says. âDonât wait up, okay?â
You nod, watching him leave.
đŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒ
Itâs around eight PM, and Dinah is painting her toenails as you skim through one of her books, the soft hum of the TV in the background, entering through the open bedroom door. Her parents are watching the news, the news anchors are urging people to stay home and to lock their doors to be safe of this new serial killer.
Dinahâs house is your usual hangout spot beside your own. You donât have many other friends, and thereâs only so many times you can force Dustin to watch The Breakfast Club before heâs fighting you for the remote.
âIt was all Matty could talk about,â Dinah continues to rant. âI canât stand this murder talk any longer! I can only hear about Chrissy Cunninghamâs missing eyeballs so many times, (Y/N), itâs way too fucking gruesome, but itâs all everyone in this town seems to care about.â
âItâs a pretty pressing issue,â when Dinah glares, you shrug. âIâm just saying! You know I agree with you. I donât want to hear about it anymore.â
âChrissy was always so nice, wasnât she?â Dinah shakes her head, putting her nail polish back in her nightstand, then wraps her arms around her legs, hugging herself. âAnd Fred had a future in front of him. Itâs so unfair. They had a family that loved them.â
âDinah, I really donât wanna talk about it,â you say, feeling yourself shiver. You donât want to think about poor Fred or Chrissy, or the families mourning them. You try to focus on the book in your hands, but the words start blurring together, becoming harder and harder to read.Â
You blink, confused, then realize Dinah is still talking.
âItâs the truth, isnât it? I think about their dads too. Chrissyâs dad was crying so much at her wake. Do you think your dad would ever cry for you like that?â
You finally snap to look back at your friend. Sheâs staring at you like youâre small, like an insect she could stomp on. Youâve never seen her black eyes seem so soulless, so empty.
âMaybe theyâll be tears of joy, donât you think? After all, werenât you the one who made him walk away?â She tilts her head to the side, a sneer forming in her lips. âThey could be a family without you.â
Thereâs something wrong in Dinahâs eyes. Thereâs something wrong about all of this, but you canât point to what, where are you, when, whyâŠwhatâŠ?
When you blink, Dinahâs eyes look normal again.Â
â(Y/N),â She asks, frowning. âAre you there?â
You shake your head. What the fuck was all that?Â
âWhat?â
âYou were staring at me like you werenât all here,â she explains, grimacing. âWhere did you go just now?â
âSorryâŠâ When you speak you feel a dull ache around your temple, and you lift a hand to rest against it, trying to soothe the pain aimlessly. âI think I need some painkillers or something, my headâs killing me.â
âAgain?âÂ
âYeah,â even before spring break you had confided in your friend about the headaches and the nightmaresâ you never told her why, but she at least knew you were seeing Ms Kelly.Â
Dinah stands up, careful not to stain the carpet with her fresh black nail polish. âIâll ask my dad for some Tylenol. Stay here, Iâll be back in a sec.â
Before Dinah is out the door sheâs interrupted by the doorbell, which rings once, twice, three times and more. Dinah frowns, as her dad yells Iâm coming, Jesus!
âSomeoneâs impatientâŠâ you murmur, hand still resting on your temple.
âHey,â Dinah, who has always had great hearing, says. âI think itâs your brother.â
You frown, and when Dinahâs father confirms itâs your brother by yelling out that Itâs little Henderson!, you and Dinah head downstairs to find a heavy breathing Dustin, Max, Lucas and even Steve Harrington, looking as if they just ran a marathon.
Dustinâs eyes land on you. â(Y/N)!â
âDustin?â you say, âWhat are you doing here? You need a ride hoâ?â
Dustin runs to hug you by the waist, almost knocking the air out of you.
âAre you okay? Do you have a headache? Is your nose bleeding? Do you feelâ?â
âWoah, Dustin,â you donât know what to do with your handsâ you and Dustin hadnât hugged since he turned twelve and he and you both deemed it lame. âWhatâs going on? Did something happen?â
Dustin finally lets go of your waist to grab you by the face and inspect it properly. He roughly pulls your face down and tries to pull up your nose to look at your nostrils. âNo nosebleed yet?â
Steve tries to stop him. âDustin, buddyââ
Lucas adds a sustancial, âDude.â
âDustin!â you push his hands off your face, feeling your cheeks heat up when you notice everyone looking at you. âWhat the hell are you doing?â
Your brother opens his mouth to speak, but then seems to notice Dinah behind you and seems to think better of it. âWe need to talk,â he says instead, âLike, right now.â
âRight now?â You ask. âI already told Dinahâs mom Iâm staying for dinner. Dustin, what the hell is going on with you?â
Dinah clears her throat. âIâm⊠just gonna go get that Tylenol.â
âTylenol?â Dustin asks when she walks away. âWhat for?â
âI have a headache.â
âShit,â Max says, still by the door frame with Lucas and Steve.
âFuck, fuck, fuck,â Dustin curses, deep in thought. âItâs already started.â
âWhat?â You ask as Dustin starts pacing back and forth.
âWe need to find out how to stop this right fucking now,â Dustin starts pacing back and forth. âThink, everyone.â
âMaybe Robin and Nancy found something in the library,â Steve offers.
âYeah,â Lucas nods. âCâmon, man. Letâs go find them.â
âOkay, yeah. Okay, okay.â Dustin calms himself down, manages to stop his pacing. âLetâs go wait for them at the Wheelerâs. (Y/N), letâs go.â
You throw your hands up in disbelief. âCan someone tell me what the hell is going on?â
â(Y/N),â Dustin says, his voice unfaltering. Dustin is never serious about much, and this renders you speechless. âI need you to listen to me for once in your goddamn life, okay? We need to go. Now.â
âOkay, Jesus,â you say finally. âDinahâs mom is making Lasagna so this better be worth it, Dustin.â
đŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒ
On the way to Nancy Wheelerâs house, you learn two things: One, Dustin knows where a serial killer might be hiding, and two, your brother thinks youâre cursed and are going to die in, give or take, twenty four hours.
You glare at Steve Harrington in the rearview mirror. âWhat the fuck have you been giving him?â
âIâm sorry,â you say, because he looks genuinely frustrated, but a second dimension and a supervillain? Does your brother think youâre stupid? Just how many movies has he been watching? âI just think D&D might actually be getting to your head, Dustin. Thereâs no way what you just told me is real.â
âLucas and Max know itâs real too!â
Both of them nod furiously.
âAre the other two fourteen year olds your only source?â
âSteve too!â
Steve winks at you through the rearview mirror.
âEven worse,â you say.
âListen,â Lucas tries to reason when Dustin groans in frustration, cursing under his breath at you. âI know this sounds absolutely crazy, I wouldnât believe it either. But I promise you itâs all true, and if we donât do something soon about it youâll end up like Chrissy and Fred.â
An involuntary chill runs down your spine every time you think about them.Â
âGuys,â you say, slowly, âI know things are scary right now, but Iâm sure thereâs a logical explanation for the murders besides a demon supervillain.â
âI didnât believe it at first either,â Max shakes her head. âNot until I saw it with my own eyes.â
âDidnât Ms Kellyâs file say the others who were cursed were also having hallucinations?â Steve asks the kids, looking for a place to park. âSo, have you gotten any weird visions lately?â
Hallucinations? You think back, but canât seem to pinpoint anything similar to that. Except tonight at Dinahâs place, before Dustin and the rest had rung the doorbell. Suddenly you grow a little paler, uncomfortable at the memory being brought back. That had been weird, but you were exhausted and knowing a serial killer, Eddie Munson, who apparently your brother knew, was out there still was making you restless.
âI wouldnât really call them visions,â you murmur.
âShit,â Dustin breathes, looking at you with wide eyes. âItâs spreading faster.â
âListen, Dustin, I may be going through some shit lately, but I promise you Iâm okay. I just need some painkillers for my head, seriously.â
â(Y/N)!â Your brother takes you by the shoulders and shakes you. âYour life is in imminent danger! You donât need painkillers!â
âI do if you keep shaking me like a ragdoll!â
âListen,â Lucas says, grabbing Dustin and prying him off you despite his protests. âJust stay with us tonight, okay? Weâll sleep at the Wheelerâs and itâll make Dustin feel better, right? Weâre all tired.â
âDudeââ
Lucas cuts Dustin off and whispers, âWeâll wait for what Nancy and Robin have to say and then figure out how to convince her later, yeah?â
Dustin sighs. âThis was so much easier when El had her powers.â
âSo yeah? Youâll stay the night?â Lucas asks, hopeful.
You see all three of the kids staring at you and cave in. âYeah, yeah. Okay.â You say, at the same time Steve parks right in front of the Wheeler residence. Before you can even step out of the car another car pulls over by the garage and Nancy Wheeler and another girl you donât know step out of it.
âNance, Robin!â Steve exclaims as he stops the car and steps out. âHad fun at the library? I sure didnât.â
âIt went well, I thinkââ
âWe have a situation,â Dustin is quick to interrupt, reaching over your space and popping his head out from the open window. âItâs my sister. We think Vecna cursed her.â
âWhatever that means,â you mumble, getting out of the car, Dustin trailing behind you and slamming the door shut.
âShe doesnât believe us,â Max explains.
âWell, I personally would be more weirded out if she did,â The girl you donât know shrugs a little. You recognize her nowâ she worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last summer before the fire at Starcourt, and now works at Family Video. Youâve spoken a bit with her before.
âSheâs been having visions, headaches, nosebleeds,â Dustin continues, âlike Fred and Chrissy were, according to Ms Kellyâs files. I think Vecna is preying on vulnerable people, people dealing with...â he looks at you for a second, then back at the girls, settling on saying: âSome shit.â
âWe found some articles about Victor Creel at the library,â Nancy says, then motions at the house with her chin. âLetâs talk inside.â
đŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒ
Nancy and Robin turn out to be as crazy as the rest of themâ they tell the story of Victor Creel, infamous in Hawkins for murdering his entire family, and about how he was supposedly possesed by the devil according to some conspiracy newspaper. They want to talk to Victor, but the problem is that heâs now a patient at Pennhurst Mental Hospital and completely unreachable to the public. They plan to go first thing in the morning and the rest of the group seems to agree.Â
âWeâll need a disguise,â is Nancyâs big plan.
You never quite get that Tylenol, because the strongest thing Ms Wheeler has is green tea. You think everyoneâs lost their goddamned minds.
âSo what do you want me to do while all of you plan?â You ask, sitting on the couch. Nancy and Robin leave to Nancyâs room. Max and Lucas are by the desk in the corner speaking softly, Dustin is pacing around the room impatiently as he usually does when heâs this restless, while Steve is sitting on the couch beside you, playing with Dustinâs (or is it Mikeâs?) walkie-talkie. âAm I allowed to eat something? Because Iâm starving.â
Dustin snatches the walkie-talkie from Steveâs hand. âYouâre gonna break that.â
Dustinâs, then.
âWe donât know yet,â Lucas says, walking over to where you are, holding Maxâs hand gently. âWeâre hoping the girls find out something from Victor. In the meantimeâŠâ
âYou can eat,â Steve concludes. â... Right?â
âRight,â Max nods.
âWe have to do something soon,â Dustinâs the most anxious youâve ever seen him, even before you took him to see The Empire Strikes Back. âWe donât know how much time you even have once the visions and all the hallucinations start. We said twenty four hours but we canât be sure.â
âIf it helps, they started today. At Dinahâs.â
âYou snapped out of it, right?â When you nod, Steve shrugs. âHenderson, I think we have time to order some pizza, at least.â
âAnd a movie?â You ask, finally relaxing into the couch. You toss away your shoes and hug them to your chest. âDoes Mike have The Breakfast Club somewhere around here?â
âNot that movie again,â Dustin groans.
You throw a pillow at your brother, who manages to dodge it easily. âItâs a great movie!â
âIt lost its charm after the thirteen time you forced me to watch it with you.â
âThe Breakfast Club?â Steve asks aloud. â(Y/N) Henderson is obsessed with The Breakfast Club? Is that why Dustin is always renting it at Family Video?â
Dustin huffs, offended. âWhy else would I want to rent that stupid movie?â
âMolly Ringwald,â Steve answers, at the same time you yell out, âItâs not stupid!â
When Nancy comes downstairs she informs you that sadly no, she doesnât have The Breakfast Club, but that she should. She does have the soundtrack, however, and you think about asking to borrow it tomorrow before she goes back upstairs to order a pizza.
A while later itâs almost midnight, everyone around you is tired, except maybe for Dustin, but the majority wins and you all decide getting some sleep is the best option. You agree, but know that youâre probably not getting any sleep tonight, either; youâve been having nightmares every night for the past few days and you donât believe today is going to be any different.
When the lights go off and everyone is already starting to doze off, Dustin is quick to turn his flashlight on.
âDude! Turn that off!â Steve moans, launching a pillow straight into his face. Dustin doesnât dodge this one this time, much to Robin and Steveâs satisfaction, who chuckle lightly.
âCâmon, Dustin, what the hell?â Lucas groans.
âShut up! Iâm trying to see if I can find something else in Ms Kellyâs files!â
âDude,â Max sighs, âyouâve read them each four times already.âÂ
âYou wonât be able to find anything if youâre exhausted,â Nancy tries more softly. âJust try to sleep for a bit, okay?â
âDustin, câmon,â you reach for his handâ itâs a bit uncomfortable from your position on the couch and his on the floor, but you do it anyway. That seems to soothe him slightly, to see you still offering comfort, like youâre still yourself. He manages a weak nod, and he squeezes your hand slightly before turning the flashlight off.
After a few minutes, Dustin starts snoring loudly. Steve, who youâre unfortunately stuck sharing the couch with, chuckles.
âHeâs a good kid,â he says.
âYeah,â you canât help but agree. You wouldnât trade your dork brother for anything. âHeâs great. When he was little, he used to wet his bed all time after watching scary movies with me, and heâd wake me up to change his sheets so my dad wouldnât yell at him for ruining them.â
âSteve raises a silent eyebrow at you, sounding amused. âAnd you actually did that?â
âI forced him to watch them. I felt bad,â you smile at the memory. âHe would offer to wash the dishes for me, though.â
âYour moral compass is stronger than mine,â he hums.
âYou know, heâŠâ you start, unsure if Dustin would be upset if you shared this, then decide itâs not as embarrassing as telling him he used to wet his bed, and continue, âhe really admires you. God knows why, Harrington, but he worships the ground you walk on.â
âHenderson?â He asks, a little in disbelief. âI donât knowââ
âIâm serious, Harrington. He loves you,â You hoped you didnât sound jealous. There had been a time where you thought Steve was almost a replacement for you as an older sibling, but as time went on you realized how important Steve was to him.Â
âWell. Iâm pretty loveable.â
You roll your eyes. âSure.â
âHeâs pretty loveable, too,â Steve says after a few beats of silence, more softly now. âI donât have any siblings, did you know that? So itâs⊠uhm, really cool to have him around. Even if heâs kind of a little shit sometimes.â
âSuch a little shit,â you agree.
The rest of the group seems to be asleep already, or maybe they donât care about the conversation enough to join you. Steve starts telling you about the time Dustin burrowed his hair gel and almost set fire to his bathroom, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle your giggles.
Itâs not long before you start to feel abnormally cold, and canât keep your body from trembling. Steveâs gentle voice is gone. The room is dark around you, and realizing that you mustâve fallen asleep while talking with Steve at some point, you hug yourself trying to seek some warmth. You try to grab a blanket from somewhere. Jesus, itâs spring for fuckâs sake, it shouldnât be this cold. But you realize that despite the darkness you can see, and when you look up at the ceiling, you find a grandfather clock that most definitely doesnât belong in the Wheelerâs basement.
â(Y/N).â
The voice calling your name is unfamiliar and it makes you feel ill almost immediately, like your stomach has turned into nothing but knots. You try to speak, to ask who it is, but nothing comes out, you can barely even breathe.
âDo you think you could ever keep living with this guilt?â The voice asks, somehow you feel as if the voice is right behind you, whispering into your ear. Itâs like nails scraping against chalkboard in your eardrums. âKnowing what you did to your family?â
You want to turn around and find the voice, but you canât, you canât, you canât. The clock is ticking, haunting you, calling for you. You want nothing but to run away from it, but you canât moveâ youâre glued in place somehow, maybe in fear, you canât tell. Everything is uncertain, except for the clock. The clock, you know, itâs real.Â
Itâs counting down. You know what itâs trying to tell you. Itâs coming for you and you canât escape it. Itâs only a matter of time now.
âSoon, (Y/N)...â It whispers. âSoon, Iâll come for you, and no one will be able to help you, (Y/N)... (Y/N). (Y/N)!â
You open your eyes with a gasp to find Steveâs arms around your shoulders, shaking you slightly. His eyes are wide, a little frightened. When you look around you find Lucas and Max draped all over a chair, their chests rising slowly, asleep. Dustin is in a sleeping bag on the floor, near Robin and Nancy, hugging each other tightly in their sleep. Steve is the only one awake.
âShit,â you say, placing your hand in your heart. âDid I wake you?â
âWe were talking and then you just went somewhere,â he says. âYou donât remember?â
You suddenly feel very cold. âI thought I was sleeping. I sawâŠâ You think about telling Steve, but it seems pointless now, almost. What would you tell him? You saw a clock? âI think it was one of those hallucinations you guys keep talking about. Youâre really freaking me the hell out, you know.â
âFuck, I think Dustinâs right,â he says.
âAbout me being cursed by a being from another dimension? Are you kidding?â
Steve does manage to look apologetic. âI know it sounds bonkers, but thatâs because it is. Iâve seen it.â
âWhat? This other dimension?â You were starting to think Dustin and his nanny were just trying to play an extremely elaborate joke on you.
âThe Upside Down, but no,â he shakes his head, and then his eyes land somewhere around the room, focusing on one of Mikeâs many posters. âThe monsters.â
âVecna?âÂ
âOthers,â he says, then murmurs, âHavenât had the pleasure just yet.â
âThe demogerâŠ? What was it?â
âDemogorgon, yeah,â he grumbles. âThe Mind flayer too. Itâs all real. I wish Will and Eleven were here to actually explain this stuff; they are the ones who actually know their stuff about this.â
You have never seen Steve actually sound so⊠serious, before. Itâs all actually starting to freak you out, you decide, and you arenât sure if you actually want to find out if itâs all actually real or not. You stay silent for a few moments, sleep escaping you. You figure Steveâs fallen asleep until his voice startles you again.
âYou okay there, Henderson?â
No, you want to say. You canât shake the feeling that the voice is watching you, waiting to catch you by surprise. âYeah,â you mumble, sleepless, scared.
Steve doesnât seem to buy your answer however, because you feel his body shifting near your side of the couch, sitting right beside you. When you give him a look (heâs so close he can actually make it out) he clicks his tongue.
âSee, I donât really believe you, Henderson. So, Iâm gonna stay near you, just in case you get another vision. Or if you want to hold my hand.â
âScrew you, Steve,â You glare, turning to the other side so that your view is Harrington-less. If you do feel better with him beside you, thatâs between you and maybe Vecna, if heâs actually inside your head.
In the morning, when you wake up and Nancy and Robin are both gone (probably visiting a murderer in a mental hospital) and Steve is tangled up beside you, you decide youâve had enough.Â
âSo weâre just gonna wait around to see what happens?â Dustin argues, as Lucas and Max try to reason with him.
âWhat else can we do?â Lucas asks, frustrated.
âLiterally anything else, dude! My sister might die!â
âOkay, Dustin, you need to stop and we need to go home, now,â you tell him, looking around the basement for your jacket.
âNo!â he points at you. âYouâre not going anywhere until we know what to do.â
âDustin. Iâm four years older than you,â you glare, placing your hands on your hips. âIâm the older sibling. Iâve entertained this enough already, but I left momâs car at Dinahâs and we need to go get it and then get our asses home before mom loses her shit.â
â(Y/N)! Listen to me!â
âNo, Dustin!â You finally snap, taking Dustinâs walkie-talkie from his hand and shoving it into your bag despite his protests. âIâve had enough about monsters and other dimensions and whatever other nonsense Eddie Munson has been feeding you! Weâre going home, now!â
âI canât believe Iâm actually trying to help you!â Dustin screams, âYou suck!â
âWell, youâre stuck with me!â
âI wish I wasnât,â he says, his eyes cold. âI wish you werenât my sister.â
The chills return like a slap across your face, making you stumble backwards slightly. The room around you turns dark immediately, the only person left is Dustin in front of you. But itâs not him, it canât be, his eyes have never looked this lifeless.
âYou took his chance away, didnât you?â The unfamiliar, bone chilling voice returns. âHis chance of having a real family, or at least a father figure. Heâs right in wishing you werenât his sister. He deserves someone better.â
Again you want to scream, but itâs like your mouth is taped shut. Around you Mike Wheelerâs basement seems to fade away into blue, and suddenly youâre standing on your front porch, watching your dad walk away. Youâre saying the hardness around your eyes, your lips drawn into a tight line. You donât look like yourself; you look older, and tired, and disappointed, more like a woman than the girl you were when this happened, the girl you mustâve been.
âDonât come back again,â you tell your fatherâs retreating form. But your voice is distorted, so far away.Â
âHow many times has Dustin needed his father?â The voice asks. When you blink youâre somewhere else; not Mikeâs basement, not your home. Thereâs splinters of wood scattered by your feet, like a house just destroyed. Everywhere around you is red, like blood, like the blood in those horror movies you forced Dustin to watch because he made them less scary when he squealed. âAre you proud you broke up your family?â
âI was a kid,â you manage to say, and only now you realize youâve been crying all along, the salty tears wetting your dry lips. âI didnât want Dustin to know what he did. I would take it back if I knew he wouldnât actually come back.â
âBut you did it anyway. You did.â
I did, I did, I did, you think, over and over. You close your eyes, hard, ignoring how it almost hurts.
âYou miss him too, donât you? Despite everything. Youâre sadder about the fact that he left you, too. He left his daughter behind.â
âWho are you?â You hiss out, through your anguish.
âIâm part of you, (Y/N). Whether you want to or not.â
Youâre not alone. When you open your eyes you see him â a monster, vicious even in looks, like someone slowly peeled away his skin, and all that was left of him was muscle and meat, not even blood. Vecna. Around you there are two different bloody columns, and youâre quick to notice theyâre holding Chrissy and Fredâs bodies, like morbid museum displays, tokens. He was right, Dustin was telling the truth about everything, and now you were going to die because you didnât listen to him.
âNo,â you want to say, you want to scream. But youâre not strong enough, you canâtâ
Hey, hey, hey, hey
You blink through your tears. You manage to recognize that melody in this unfamiliar place. You want to run towards it, but youâre not sure your legs can even respond to your commands right now.
Vecna seems to think somethingâs wrong, too, because as the song progresses he grows more impatient. âYou think you can escape like this?â
Tell me your troubles and doubts
Giving everything inside and out and
Love's strange, so real in the dark
Think of the tender things that we were working on
His handsâ his claws are stroking your cheeks, an aborted tender gesture, like heâs trying to soothe his prey before going for the kill. Itâs over, you think, thereâs nothing but this certain death. But then; you think of the hundreds of times you forced Dustin to watch this movie with you; of you both playing with Tews until he scratches one of you in annoyance; driving Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will to the movies; getting ice cream at Scoops Ahoy and guggling when Steve gets rejected once again; putting Dustinâs hair in braids and practicong makeup on him when he was younger; asking Will Byers what he was sketching at the park; Dustin and you laughing during dinner because of some stupid joke. You think about last night, sleeping beside Steve, and the way he made you laugh.
Don't you, forget about me
Don't, don't, don't, don't
Don't you, forget about me
You canât give up. You canât leave Dustin.
Somehow you manage to pull Vecna off you with a shove, and you run. You run, you run as fast as your legs let you, as your jeans stain with what looks like blood, as Vecna screams at you. You run like you've never run before.
And then you gasp and youâre falling.
âShit, fuck, shit!â Someoneâs arms are around you, and it takes you a second to calm down to realize itâs Steve, and that youâre in Mike Wheelerâs basement and youâre alive, somehow.
âHoly fucking shit,â Max is saying, but you can barely hear her over the rapid beating of your own heartâ erratic, but unquestionably alive.Â
âGod, god, (Y/N),â Dustinâs voice stands out from the others, and when you look at him there are tears streaming down his eyes, and you can barely process anything before youâre trying to reach for him despite feeling like youâre not even in your own body.
âIâm okay,â you tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, Steve letting go of yours. âIâm okay, Iâm okay.â
âI thought you were gonna die,â he whimpers.
âIâm here,â you breathe out. âOh my God, Iâm here thanks to you.â
You realize that the song is still playing, only to notice the headphones in your ears. You see your scattered bag around the room, and the walkie-talkie that Dustin mustâve been looking for already on the floor. Donât You (Forget About Me) slowly fades to an end before the next song on the soundtrack starts.
âIâm sorry,â Dustin says into your shirt. âIâm sorry I didnât notice you were going through something, I shouldâve noticed. Iâm sorry.â
âItâs not your fault.â You shake your head, holding your little brother even closer. âIâm sorry I didnât tell you. And Iâm sorry I didnât believe you. Fuck, Dustin, Iâm so sorry.â
You stay like that for a moment, hugging Dustin on the carpet, Max and Lucas hovering near, and Steveâs hand on your shoulder, grounding you.
đŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒ
When you explain to Nancy what happened and what you saw once she comes back from Pennhurst sheâs quick to pinpoint the house you saw when you met Vecna as Victor Creelâs house. All of you grab your things and head to that location. You try to not feel so dreadful, and Dustin forcing you to listen to Donât You the entire car ride and holding onto your jacket sleeve helps soothe your nerves, at least a little bit.
But Victor Creelâs house is something out of a horror story, dark and abandoned as it is, and the only light source in the house seems to be the hole Robin made when she smashed the window.
âLetâs split up,â Nancy offers, and everyone seems to comply much to your dismay.
Lucas and Max leave to investigate with Dustin (reluctantly parting from your side) trailing off behind them, Nancy and Robin head upstairs and you and Steve are stuck together and instructed to stay downstairs by Nancy, the only thing illuminating your way being your flashlights.
You wander through hallways, staring at ruined wallpaper and dusty portraits. Victor and his family seemed so happy in their pictures, and you wonder why nobody, family or not, ever came to look for their things. The house seemed frozen in time, like one day the family had decided to get up and leave everything behind, the house nothing more than ghosts.
âI hate this place,â you comment, trying to hug yourself tightly to keep the cold at bay. âThinking that people died here isâŠâ
âHorrible,â Steve finishes for you. âYeah⊠Fuck this place, man.â
When you turn to a corner, you freeze in place.
âSteve.â
âYeah?â
âYouâre seeing this, right?â You point at a clock with your flashlight, unmoving. Itâs the same clock from your visions, the one you saw before meeting Vecna.
âYeah,â Steve frowns. âReal old. Why?â
âI saw it,â you try to explain through the rapid beating of your own heart. âIn my visions, I mean. This clock was in themâ well, the second one, mostly. In the Wheelerâs basement last night.â
âShitâŠâ Eloquent as ever, Steve Harrington. âHas to mean something, right?â
âIf anything it proves Nancy and Robin were right. It all started here.â You finally force yourself to look away and continue forward, ignoring the way you feel your skin crawling. You hold up your cassette before re-starting the song. âWhat would happen if I suddenly got tired of this song? Will it no longer work? Does this mean Vecna will⊠come back for me?â
âListen, Iâ Iâm not a genius at this like your brother, or like Nancy, or even Robin,â Steve admits, very honestly. âBut I promise weâll find a way, even if that happens. Besides, Dustin told us how much you love this song. Seems kinda impossible youâll ever get tired of it if you listen to it every day. And listen, I gotta ask. Breakfast club?â
âWhat?â You feel heat rise up to your cheeks, embarrassed. You start walking away from the clock, trying to get rid of the chills that had gotten ahold of you just a few moments before. âItâs a great movie.â
âYeah, absolutely,â Steve says, and even though you canât really see him in the dark, you can hear his smirk, picture his smile. Heâs teasing, and youâre kind of glad for it. It helps. âI just didnât think it would be your thing, is all.â
You raise an eyebrow. âOh? Whatâs my thing then?â
âI donât know. You seem like a Dune fan, maybe.â He wonders out loud, your flashlight lighting the way.Â
âI do like the book.â
âSee?â Steve points at his temple. âI knew it.â
âI think working at Family Video is finally getting to you.â
âIâm good at reading people,â he says, and you raise another silent eyebrow at him. He continues, âIâd always thought of you as a little brainiac, and that youâd liked movies that were kinda difficult. You were always reading in school. I didnât think youâd like teen flicks and Hughes.â
âDune is not difficult. And maybe you donât really know me enough to know what my thing is,â you shrug. â... Or maybe every girl is a little bit in love with Judd Nelson.â
âYeah,â Steve actually laughs. âCanât beat that hair.â
And you canât help yourself, you smirk. You think you might actually be dreaming, or maybe this curse made Steve seem more tolerable than usual. âYou give him a good run for his money.â
âWeâre still talking about hair here, right?â
Now you point your flashlight at Steve and elbow him.
âIâm just asking!â
âIt was a stupid question. And just so you know, thereâs nothing wrong about liking teen flicks,â you say, continuing to walk and not waiting to see if Steve follows. âPretty in Pink is my new favorite movie and my GPA is still 3.5.â
âOh wow. Pretty in Pink?â He whistles. âYou have a soft spot for Molly Ringwald.â
âWho doesnât?â
He hums in response.
You stay like that for a moment, walking through dusty hallways and trying to avoid spider webs. Even with the flashlights the place looks abandoned and lonely, and thereâs a coldness running down your spine that you canât shake off no matter how much you try. You focus on trying to catch the sound of Steveâs breathing to somehow ground yourself to reality. It feels like ever since meeting Vecna your grip on reality slowly fades away, like someone is unraveling the carpet from underneath you, trying to catch you by surprise. Like youâre falling into an abyss of darkness and you canât hold onto anythingâ because nothing around you is truly real. And so you bite your lip to keep yourself from reaching out to Steve and holding on. You canât think of a moment youâve felt as uncertain as you do now; but Steveâs teasing and your bickering back and forth is normal, makes you feel like youâre not actually in immediate danger. You figure if thereâs a different dimension called the Upside Down, then you can most definitely forgive Steve Harrington for being a jerk in High School. He has more than proven himself to you.Â
Because the truth is that maybe Vecna will win. Maybe you will never beat this curse. And youâll end up like Chrissy Cunningham, like Fred Benson, like Patrick McKinney; just dead bodies along the trail.
âHey, Steve,â you call, slowing down to walk beside him. He turns to look at you, but you canât bring yourself to look at him. âUhm. If something⊠like, happened to meââ
âWoah, woah, wait,â Steve shakes his head. âNothing will. We beat the curse, remember? With the song?â
âYeah, but we didnât actually beat it, did we?â Now you do turn to look at him, and his big eyes almost render you speechless. You donât know what to call the look on his eyes, but it makes you want to look away from him; makes you want to run. âListen, Steve, I justâ Iâm sorry.â
âDonât apologize,â he says, quickly. You think heâs noticed how embarrassed you feel, and you look away, embarrassed. âYouâre just scared shitless like the rest of us.â
âItâs not that,â you shake your head. âIâm sorry for being such a jerk around you and picking fights with you. Youâveâ youâve been there for Dustin when I wasnât, and I guess youâre not actually a bad guy. So⊠Iâm sorry I judged you. And thank you, I guess. For being there for Dustin. And⊠me.â
Steve doesnât say anything for a second. Youâre still looking anywhere but him, now focusing your eyes on a spider in one of the many spider webs in front of you. You feel embarrassed and stupid, but a little bit better. You know youâre doing the right thing by apologizingâ you know Steve now, better than youâve ever thought you would. You finally dare to take one look at him and his eyes are still on you, and when your eyes lock, he smiles softly.
âYouâre apologizing for that?â Steve asks, and when you nod matter of factly, he tilts his head to the side. âHuh. Never thought Iâd see the day Hendersonâs sister apologized to me.â
âDonât let it get to your head, Harrington,â you roll your eyes, but canât help the small smile forming on your lips. âIâm only doing this because I might die.â
Steve chuckles, nodding. âFair enough,â he says. âFor what itâs worth, Iâm sorry too, Henderson. To be honest, I think I kind of deserved it. I was an asshole in High School, so⊠yeah. I, uh, Iâm sorry it took me getting kicked off the clique to realize youâre not half bad.â
âWell,â Now itâs your turn to laugh. âIt took me almost dying to realize youâre not half bad either. I think weâre even.â
Steve stops in his tracks, making you stop, too, a little confused. You turn to look at him, and you donât think youâve ever seen him look quite so⊠earnest, maybe. You canât name the look on his face, but you canât look away, canât seem to be able to keep walking. Youâre frozen in place.
âYouâre not gonna die, Henderson,â he says, determined. âI wonât let you.â
Your mouth goes dry. All you can do in response is nod. You want to say something, but the words escape you, and so you stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of you saying anything. You wonder if Steve can hear the rapid beating of your heart, if he can make out the way your eyes drop to his lips for a slow second despite the darkness around you both.
Then you hear Dustin yell out, âGuys!â and the moment fades away.
đŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒ
Finding Eddie at Skull Rock seems to be harder than it should be, and once you find him youâre made to follow Dustinâs apparently broken compass. You feel like youâre wandering through the desert, with no clear path in mind. Dustin is at the front, with Lucas and Max following closely behind, Eddie (who you now have a hard time believing would ever be able to kill anyone), Robin and Nancy in front of you and Steve.
You find yourself time and time again choosing to spend more time with Steve, that he seems to be the one able to actually make you feel grounded, like youâre not gonna die in the next three seconds. You feel like yourself around him; but different. Steve is different. This whole experience is making you rethink everything youâve ever known.
You canât help but wonder in the silence about Dustin and the others, guiding the rest of you through the night time in the forest. Despite all of them being younger than you, they donât seem to need your help, especially Dustin, who you think is completely in his element leading the way.
After a while of walking in silence, Dustin announces that the compass seems to be going even crazier. At this, Robin pries it off his hands to confirm that itâs true. Eddie and Dustin argue for a second about following the compass and make another Lord of the Rings reference that has you smiling.
âHeâs not half bad,â you comment. âEddie, I mean.â
âI still donât know what the hell Modor is,â Steve mumbles under his breath.
You donât try to explain Lord of The Rings to himâ you donât think thereâs even enough time. But, maybe one day, when Hawkins isnât in imminent danger and Steve still wants to hang out with your uncool self for whatever reason.
âWhat do you think weâll find wherever this stupid compass is taking us?â You ask him, trying to avoid accidentally stepping on some poison ivy. Just your luck to get cursed and also poisoned on the same week. âYou know more about this than me.â
âIâm actually more like, the, uhm, action guy of the group.â
âSo youâre telling me you donât know where weâre going,â You conclude.
Steve nods. âNo damn clue, Henderson.â
âGreat,â you chuckle lightly.Â
âAll I know is that itâs probably a portal Vecna opened after killing someone.â
âA portal. To the upside down?â When Steve nods in confirmation, you sigh. âI still canât get used to how crazy this is.â
âThe third time you do this you kind of just start going with the flow of things,â Steve admits. âRussian spies, MK-Ultra, different dimensions, monstersâ it all just kind of starts to sound like background noise.â
âDustin and the kids seem to really know about all of this.â
âThey do,â Steve nods. âDustin is like, their leader. Our leader, I guess.â
âMy little brother⊠fighting communists and monsters.â You shake your head. âYeah, I donât think Iâll ever get used to that. How did Nancy? With you and Mike?â
Steve stops for a second to frown at you. âWith me?â
âYou know, with Nancy and you dating.â
âMe and Nancy?â he asks, then shakes his head. âNo, me and Nance just⊠we go way back, but sheâs with Jonathan. That ship sailed a long time ago. Weâre friends now. Besides, sheâs the one killing more monsters than me.â
âOh.â
Thereâs no way to ignore the way your heart skips a beat at this, or the hopeful glint in Steveâs eyes. The rest of the woods disappear and itâs only you and Steve and your rapidly beating heart. The others are lost to you, in their own little world, searching in the dark with their flashlights like fireflies.
âYeah,â Steve scratches the back of his neck. âAnd, just in case, me and Robin are not a thing, either. Just friends.â
âPlatonic with a capital P!â You hear Robin yell out in front of you.
You canât help the laugh that bubbles out of you at Steveâs blush. âYeah, yeah, think she got it, Buckley, thanks.â
âYouâre welcome!â
âThatâs⊠good to know,â you comment.
Steve raises his eyebrows at you, then scratches his chin. âIs it? Good to know?â
You nod slowly, avoiding his gaze. âMaybe.â
âMaybe. Okay. Maybe isââ he breathes out. âMaybe is cool.â
âMaybe is really cool,â you allow yourself a small smile.
âReally?â Steve inquires, and when he notices his smile he gifts you one of his own. âOkay. Thatâs great. Maybe is really cool. Cool. Cool beans.â
âYeah?â You bite your lip, finally daring to look at him.
Steve follows your movement with his eyes. âYeah,â he says, breathless.
âHey guys,â Dustinâs voice rings out, the moment gone. âI think we found the portal!â
You both follow Dustinâs voice until you reach a lake, where Eddie explains Vecna killed Patrick when he was running away from Jason and the rest of the basketball team.Â
âSo the portal is⊠what?â Robin asks, âUnderwater?â
Dustin shrugs. âWorth a shot.â
He starts climbing up the boat, and youâre quick to grab him by the sleeves of his shirt to stop him.
âJust what do you think youâre doing?â You ask him.
âLooking for the portal,â Dustin says, matter-of-factly.
âYou told me this portal is supposed to teleport you to another dimension, one Will Byers got stuck in,â you reply, pulling him away from the boat. âYouâre not going anywhere near that portal. None of you kids are.â
âWho died and made you the boss?â
âThree people died,â you note.
âI made her the boss,â Robin quips. âWell, Nancy might technically be the boss, actually. Nance?â
Nancy blinks at Robinâs words. âUh, yeah. Sure.â
âNance says yes.â
Eddie frowns. âYes to being the boss or yes toââ
âLetâs just go,â Nancy urges, gesturing at Steve to help her drag the boat offshore. Steve complies, and helps Nancy climb into the boat, followed by Robin and then Eddie.
âBut what about the curse?â Dustin wonders, looking at you.
âI have this, remember?â You hold up the cassette player, and wink at your brother. âDonât worry about me, okay? Look after Lucas and Max. Nancy might be the boss, but youâre their leader.â
âOkay, yeah,â he nods, sounding more like heâs talking to reassure himself than anything.Â
âCompass, please,â you tell him, and Dustin complies unhappily. You canât help yourself from grabbing him by the cheeks and kissing his forehead like you did when he was younger. Despite being a good leader, a fighter, heâll always be little Dusty, who steals your waffles and makes really bad coffee. âSee you soon.â
Steve offers his hand to help you climb the boat and you take it with a tiny smile.
The trip on the boat is short and dark. Even with Steve using his flashlight to try and light the way, itâs barely enough to keep you from being engulfed in the darkness of the night. When was the last time the moon shone down in Hawkins? There are almost no stars above, the view chillingly dark. You fear what you might find. Nancy stares at Dustinâs compass, trying to give any semblance of direction when the compass starts going crazy.
Steve starts pulling off his socks.Â
âSteve,â Nancy says slowly, âwhat are you doing?â
âSomebodyâs gotta go down there and check this thing out. Was one of you four Hawkinâs Highâs swimming co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years?â He figures, already working on his other shoe. âItâs gotta be me, no complaints, alright?â
Eddie chuckles nervously. âHey⊠Iâm not complaining. I do not wanna go down there.â
You watch as Eddie takes something off his pocket and throws it on the boatâs floor. You want to stop Steve somehow, irrationally, because as far as you know Nancy, Robin and Eddie canât dive, and you can barely float â but the words die on your throat when you look up and Steve is peeling off his shirt.
âHere,â Eddie says, and you realize now he had wrapped a plastic bag around a flashlight and is now handing it back to Steve. âGood luck.â
âThanks,â Steve says, taking it from his hands.
âSteve,â Robin rasps out before he dives, and Steve stops to look at her. âDonât⊠die?â
âGee,â he scoffs. âThanks for the encouraging speech, Robs.â
âYouâre welcome.â
âDonât die, seriously,â you manage to tell him, wanting to reach for his hand but stopping yourself. âOr Iâll kill you.â
Steve nods. He looks like he wants to say something else, but keeps his mouth shut before diving underwater.
The silence on the boat almost kills you, as it rocks quietly, everyone holds their breath waiting for Steve to come up once again. Your heart is in your throat, Donât You still playing softly in your eardrums, the cassette player still on, a constant to remind you youâre still here. Miraculously.
âHeâsâŠâ Eddie whistles. âHeâs got balls, King Steve.â
âYeah,â you nod, looking at the water like youâre hypnotized, waiting for his soaked head to pop up.
âNot what youâd expect,â he adds, a little quietly.
âNo,â Robin says, and the way she says itâ so fond, so genuine. You couldnât agree more. Steve is so much more than what youâd expected him to be. âNot at all.â
You stay silent for a few more seconds, all of you waiting for Steve to come back. When he does he emerges with a gasp for air, startling the rest of you. Eddie screams so loud you hear it perfectly well over the music.
âFound it,â Steve claims, holding onto the edge of the boat.
âYou found it?â Nancy repeats.
âIt was pretty wild,â Steve explains that he seemed to have stumbled into the portal, like an open gate illuminating the bottom of the lake and tinting it red. âIt was pretty damn bigââ
Before he can continue, Steve is pulled into the water once again, and you jump up instinctively, trying to reach for his hand, but he escapes your grasp quickly. He emerges again and you breathe a sigh of reliefâ but itâs short lived, because Steve is dragged under once again and heâs not coming up.
âSteve!â you yell. âSteve!â
âWhat the hell was that, man?!â
Between all the screaming going on, the only thing you can think about is Steve, Steve, Steveâ
And so you stand up.
âWait, (Y/N),â Nancy starts, âWhat are youââ
âYouâre not going in there!â Eddie screams, trying to grab you by the arm.
âIââ You start, but canât seem to decide on what to say. You donât know what youâre trying to do, but you know youâll do it anyway. You have no plan, that much is certain, youâve never fought a day in your life. âI canât just stay here!â
âAre you insane?!â
Robin pales. âNo, (Y/N), waitââ
With one last look at the rest of the guys, you dive into the water and swim. Youâve never been a good swimmer, but you find yourself swimming like youâve never had, quickly finding the red portal Steve had mentioned before being dragged down here. What you find on the other side reminds you of when you met Vecnaâ when he showed you your memories, cold, distorted and dark. You briefly wonder if Vecna had managed to drag you all the way here then, but you have no time to dwell on it too much.
Steve is laying on his back, as some creatures bite at his abdomen incessantly, like leeches. They are choking him, curling their tails around his neck. You stand up and run towards him, only to notice the others have followed behind you, their wet footsteps a reassurance.
â(Y/N)!â Nancy yells, making you turn. She throws one of the boatâs paddles at you, keeping one for herself.Â
You manage to catch it, God knows how. Steve is still struggling when you get to him, and the first thing you do is smack one of the things across the face, forcing it on its back and stopping it from further gnawing Steveâs abdomen. You see as Robin starts stomping on the one who has its tail curled around Steveâs neck, and Nancy takes on the other one.
âShit,â Eddie murmurs when he looks up the sky and sees even more of them approaching.
One of them starts going after Nancy, Eddie trying to come to her rescue by grabbing Steveâs still working flashlight and smacking it as hard as he can manage. You help Robin by hitting the one sheâs stomping on with the paddle, until Steve manages to bite its tail, forcing it to curl itself from his neck.Â
With more coming, you are distracted enough to barely notice when Steve manages to behead it, his lips stained with pitch black blood.
âJesus christ,â Eddie mumbles. âJesus H Christ!â
The adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heartbeat going fasterâ everything seems to go for so long, when in reality it mustâve been just a few minutes.
âSteve,â you manage to rasp out, walking towards him, only looking at his wounds, unsure of what you can do to help him. âShit, Steve, are you okay?â
âThey only took about a pound of flesh,â he says, making you sigh. âBut other than that⊠Yeah, never better.â
He stares at you when he says it, and you canât help the way your breath catches.
âYouâll need bandages,â Nancy notes.
âDo you guys know if these bats have like, rabbies?â Robin wonders aloud. Aware that everyoneâs eyes are on her, Robin starts rambling about rabies symptoms and death. You and Steve glance at each other.
Steveâs chest is still rising erratically, exhausted, when he asks, âWhat the hell are you talking about, Robin?â
Before Robin can go on any longer though, the sky is tinted red again, and the screeching of even more approaching creatures gets you on edge.Â
âWe need to get the fuck out of here,â you say, and the rest of the group seem to agree.
The five of you break into a run into the forest, as far as you can before Steveâs wounds start to appear more serious, and when Nancy deems it safe enough, you stop near a tree where Steve can lean against, still breathing rapidly. You remember that Nancy said heâd need bandages, and so you take the hem of your pants and start ripping them open.
âWhat are youââ Steve starts.
âBandages,â you say. âI saw this in Indiana Jones.â
âIndiana Jones?â Steve asks with a chuckle, looking up at the sky, smiling. âYour movie choices keep surprising me, Henderson.â
You tie the cloth around his wounds as tightly as you can, hopeful that itâs a good enough job to keep him from bleeding out until you guys get out of here. The wounds donât look too bad, but you have no idea how long you'll stay here for. Nancy, looking over your shoulders, seems to approve of your bandage work.
âThanks,â Steve rasps out.
âJust donât die on me,â you nod, staring at his eyes.
âIâll try not to.â
He holds your gaze, your mouth going even more dry than it already is. âIâll hold you to that, Harrington.â
Youâre interrupted when Steve catches something behind you. Itâs Eddieâs jean vest. When you turn, Eddie scrunches up his nose.
âFor modesty, man.â
âWe escaped now, but thereâs more of those monsters than what we saw,â Nancy interrupts, walking around, trying to think. âTheyâll come looking for us. We need to get out of here.â
âSo,â Eddie starts, running a hand through his mouth. âWhat the hell do we do now? How do we get out of here, exactly?â
âWe need to find another portal, right?â Robin replies. âThatâs the only way to get out of here. But we canât go back to Watergate, itâs probably full of those bats now. Those bats full of rabies!â
 âRight now, the most important thing is to defend ourselves,â Nancy says. âWe donât know what kind of monsters are down here. Maybe theyâre even worse than that.â
âHell,â Eddie breathes. âYou think Vecna is here?â
âI donât know⊠Maybe.â
A chill runs down your spine at the mention of Vecnaâs name. Your hand flies to your ear, and only then you realize youâve jumped in the water with your headphones on, and when you reach the player secured inside your front pocket itâs wet and broken. Through the adrenaline of the fight, you hadnât even noticed that the song was no longer playing.Â
âShit,â Nancy breathes out, looking at your ruined headphones. âThe player.â
âItâs ruined,â you lament, seeing the way itâs soaked. You toss the cassette player to the ground, near Steveâs feet, who pales even more, if itâs even possible.
âFuck,â he says, breathless, the slight reassuring smile heâd been wearing disappears in an instant. He stands up straight despite his body clearly protesting against it. âWe need to find another one before itâs too late.â
âWould it even work here?â Robin wonders. âIf itâs one from the Upside Down, I mean. Things seem to be⊠kind of broken here, donât they?â
âThen we need to get her out of here right now,â Steve urges, and when he starts trying to walk away itâs Eddie who stops him.
âDude, do you want your intestines to hang out of your abdomen like some shitty Nightmare on Elm Street scene?â he asks, âStay still! Those bats could be anywhere!â
âWe need to move!â
âSteve, wait a second,â you urge after him.
âWe could go to my house,â Nancy offers. âI have guns. We could use them to fend off the demo⊠bats, or whatever. And we need a player. We can use Mikeâs, he has one he didnât take to California.â
Eddie blinks. âYou, Nancy Wheeler⊠have guns.â
Robin grins. âFull of surprises, isnât she?â
Steve is already on his way despite his groans of pain, and even though the wounds had seemed pretty superficial to you when you wrapped them up, it doesnât mean that they donât hurt like a bitch.
âSteve, youâre just hurting yourself even more now,â Now Robin is sighing, exasperated. You briefly wonder how many times sheâs had to deal with Steve like this.
âLetâs go,â he says, ignoring her.
âSteve...â you try to stop him, but he turns around quickly.
âLetâs go!âÂ
Robin scoffs, crossing his arms. âWhere are we even going, oh great leader?â
âNancyâs!â
You all turn to look at each other, unsure if following Steve is the best idea, but with nothing else to do and no other ideas, thereâs only one thing to do.
And so you all start walking.
đŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒđŒ
Itâs a while before you arrive at the Wheelerâs, the five of you mostly exhausted from the fight, with Steve clutching his wounds but still leading the way, right next to Nancy. Youâre all on edge the entire way back, but despite the lack of music you donât feel different yet, and you donât encounter any more demobats, as Nancy had called them.
Nancyâs house seems haunted in this place, just as much as the rest of Hawkins seems to be. Despite housing monsters, the Upside Down looks more like a ghost town than anything. You couldnât help but wonder how tiny Will Byers had ever survived something like this so young⊠Nobody ever gives that kid enough credit.Â
Nancy wastes no time climbing up the stairs; she almost seems unaffected looking at her house like this, so⊠dead. She hovers near a door and turns to look at you.
âThis is Mikeâs room,â she nods at it. âHis cassette player should be in there. Me, Eddie and Robin will get the guns and look for the cassette in my room.â
You agree to it, and she disappears down the hallway along with Eddie and Robin. You and Steve enter Mikeâs room, start rummaging through cabinets. You work in silence. Youâve never seen Steve this quiet, this focused. You wonder if heâs mad at youâ he had to be. Now besides demobats and trying to escape, he had to help you too because youâd went and done something stupid and completely irrational.
Steve clears his throat, holding up something in his hand. âFound it,â he calls. âThink itâll work?â He wonders aloud, as you close the closet door before walking up to him.
âHere,â You say, then pull your ruined flashlight from your back pocket. You hit the back of it against the palm of your hand and the batteries come off. Youâre not sure if this might work since the flashlight got wet and stopped working once you jumped into the water, but once you plug them into the cassette player it seems to come to life. Steve sighs, relieved. âThank God that worked. Letâs get that stupid cassette and get out of here.â
âSounds good to me,â he quips. He wets his lips, looking around. âYou donât feel any different, though, right?â When you shake your head, he seems to be able to relax a bit. âWhen we were on our way here, Eddie told me you didnât waste a second to help me.â
You wait for Steve to continue, but he doesnât.
âIâve never been much of an adventurer when we were kids,â you say. âDustin wanted to climb trees and go camping, and I wanted to stay home and read books. We used to fight all the time because I never wanted to play outside with him, because I was scared of bugs and dirt and I just wanted to stay inside.â
Steve doesnât say anything to that, but heâs near you, hoving near your hand, like he knows you need the comfort, unsure if itâd be wanted from him.Â
âIf I donât make it out of this stupid curse, Steve,â you breathe out, legs feeling so shaky you want to throw up, âI need you to promise me youâll take care of Dustin.â
âHeâll kill me before I let you die,â Steve says, trying t sound lighthearted but failing.
âSteve,â you rag out. âPromise me. Please.â
Steve nods, his voice soft in the way it does when heâs trying to be gentle. âYâyeah. Of course. You know little Hendersonâs like my own little brother.â
âI know,â you acknowledge. âYouâve been a way better sibling than me. Iâve been such a shitty sister and Iâm⊠Iâm really glad Dustin has you.â
âThatâs not true,â he argues, reaching for your arm in the darkness of the roomâ you want to flinch away. âHe loves you, (Y/N). Seriously, you should hear the way he talks about you when youâre not around.â
You ignore the sting in your eyes and berate yourself for tearing up.
âItâs my fault,â you whisper.
âWhat?â
âItâs my fault my dad walked away,â you shake your head, tearing your arm away from Steveâs touch, feeling cold as soon as youâre away from him. But you deserve it, you deserve the cold. âI told him I hated him after I learned he cheated on mom and that he had another family, and he never came back. I told him I never wanted to see him again. Iâm the reason Dustin doesnât have a dad now. Butâ but I was just fifteen, I didnâtâ I didnât know what I was askingââ
âStop, stop,â Steve interrupts, and suddenly heâs pulling you close to your chest and holding you close.
And suddenly thatâs all you need to break down, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You feel embarrased, stupid for crying about something like this when the world might be about to end, horrifyingly guilty for everythingâ but for the first time you feel like something has been finally lifted off your chest and you can breathe, here, with Steve holding you. Youâre glad Steve stayed behind with you. In truth, you think you might just be glad for Steve.
If someone had told you a week ago youâd be crying in Steve Harringtonâs arms you wouldâve smacked them. Life can change really fast, huh?
âNobody is going to die,â his voice is so soft. Youâd never thought youâd think of Steveâs voice as anything other than grating, but now you hold onto it like a lifeline. âI wonât let that happen.â
You breathe into his chest. You finally manage to let go of him, thanking God the others werenât near. You miss the warmth almost immediately, as much as you donât want to admit it. âShit, sorry, your bandages.â
âYou need to stop doing that,â he quips.
âWhat?â
âApologizing so much,â he reaches for your arm again before walking, and you thank him silently. You have to bite your tongue not to apologize again. âLetâs go get that cassette.â
When you both step into Nancyâs room, the silence is almost deafening.Â
âWhat happened?âÂ
âThe guns,â Nancy explains, her eyes focused on her nightstand, not looking up at either of you. âThey arenât here. But so many things that shouldnât be are. Likeâ like my curtains, and theseâ these toys I gifted my cousin Joanna. They havenât been here since 1983.â
âWeâre stuck in time, dude,â Eddie finishes for her.
âThree years, to be exact.â
âWhat?â Steve asks, confused. âThree years into the past?â
â... From when Will disappeared, you mean?â You question.
Nancy nods. âYeah, I⊠think so. But, (Y/N), If weâre three years in the past, it means The Breakfast Club isnât out yet,â Nancy swallows, hard, then finally looks up to stare into your eyes.Â
âWhat do you mean?â Steve asks, his chest rising erratically.Â
You bite your lip. âShe means the song doesnât exist, either.â
Nancy closes her eyes.
âIâm sorry, (Y/N).âÂ
âFuck!â Steve yells, âfuck!â
He kicks one of Nancyâs nightstands with so much force he manages to force it into the ground, Nancyâs belongings following suit, scattering around the carpet, making Nancy flinch.Â
âSteve,â you whisper, trying to reach for him. âStop.â
Steve sits on Nancyâs bed, hand covering his mouth. He lets you rest your hand on his arm, and he breathes out another curse. He almost looks frozen in place like this, and it reminds you that everything in here feels like it isâ ghosts, so many ghosts. You feel like youâre stuck in hell.Â
âMaybe any song will work,â Robin offers a little desperately, going through Nancyâs drawers, pulling out different cassettes and soundtracks, Duran Duran, Madonna, Elton John. âCâmon guys, one has to work.â
Eddie scratches his neck. âDoesnât it have to be her favorite song? Isnât that what Henderon said?â
âScrew it,â Nancy shakes her head, taking in a shaky breath. âWe have to try whatever we can. This is our only option.â
âOkay,â you nod, shakily, prying your hand off of Steveâs arm, reaching to cruch own next to Robin and look through the rest of Nancyâs cassettes. âOkay, letâsâ letâs try it.â
Robin holds up Total Eclipse of the Heart. âYou like Bonnie Tyler?âÂ
âSeems as good as anything,â you nod, taking it from her hands. As the first notes of Total Eclipse start playing, you gulp nervously, praying this might work, that you have at least enough time to get out of here alive.
Steve still looks miserable, but seems a little calmer now. âWe need to get out of here right now.â
âHow?â Robin sighs. âHow did Will ever manage to get out of this place?â
âThere has to be a way,â Nancy figures, then something seems to dawn on her. âWill. Will used to talk to Joyce with the Christmas lights while he was stuck in the Upside Down.â
âThe Christmas lights?â Eddie asks, incredulously. âWhat are you talking about?â
As she explains, you canât help but think that Nancy Wheeler is absolutely brilliant. You canât blame Steve for falling in love with her before. Sheâs interrupted by Robin rather quickly though, when she claims she can hear Dustinâs voiceâ soon enough, all of you start to hear him, distorted and distant, but it's there no less. Quickly Dustin communicates that he thinks there might be another portal in Eddieâs trailer and that seems to be your best shot at an escape.
Robin and Nancy leave to get some supplies for the tripâ whatever they can find to use as a weapon, while Eddie wanders off behind them, with the excuse of rummaging through little Wheelerâs action figures. Steve stays with you, as you stare at Hollyâs Lite Brite, unsure on what to do.Â
You trust Dustin and his plan, of course you do. Dustinâs done nothing but prove himself to you these past few days. Still, the thought that everything might go incredibly wrong is almost unshakable at this point. What was it Max said to you? Something about how Vecnaâs curse made people feel hopeless and lonely.
âYou okay, right?â Steve wonders aloud, searching your face. âYou havenât had any visions yet?â
You havenât felt Vecnaâs pull yet, but you donât want to be overly optimistic just yet. âIâm okay, I think. Are you?â
You glance down at his bandages, but he only nods. âYeah, they donât hurt anymore. Iâm more worried about you.â
Warmth spreads all over your cheeks and inside your chest, but nowâs really not the time for all of these feelings, and so you try to squeeze them out, to focus on something else.Â
âI just hope the plan works,â you mumble. âI want to get out of here.â
âYouââ Steve shakes his head, looks at you with a look you canât name. But he sounds frustrated, exhausted. âYou just jumped in after me? You didnât even thinkâŠâ he trails off. âEddie said you just jumped. Fucking jumped. Youâre unbelievable, you know that, donât you, Henderson? Absolutely fucking unbelievable.âÂ
You look down at your hands.
âIt was stupid, I know, Iââ
âThank you,â Steve murmurs, honesty bleeding into every word he speaks. You look up at him, surprised. âYou saved my ass back there.â
The truth is you hadnât doubted one secondâ you hadnât even stopped to think about what might happen to you. Helping Steve was more important to you than anything in that moment, and you didnât regret it, how could you regret that?Â
âYou saved my ass first, back at the Wheelerâs,â you smile at him. âEven later, in the woods, and at Creelâs house. I donât know if I could have kept going without you⊠so thank you.â
Steve stays silent for a few seconds, unsure of how to continue. You can practically feel him grow nervous now, when he clears his throat and begins speaking. âListen, I know we are on the brink of life and death and maybe world threatening danger, but I kinda need some motivation to get out of here.â
âYeah?â
âSo, now that you know me and Nancy arenât really a thing, and that me and Robin are platonic with a capital PâŠâ
âKeep going.â
âAnd since you know, maybe is really cool,â you nod, trying to fight off a smile. âWe should, maybe, go on a date together.â
âHmâŠâ you place a hand on your chin. âI donât know. Iâm not sure I can go out with someone who doesnât like Pretty in Pink.â
âIâve never said I didnât,â he shrugs. âI just havenât even seen it.â
âYou havenât seen Pretty in Pink, you monster?!â
âYou know, Iâm actively bleeding out here,â Steve gestures at your last minute bandages, his smile almost as handsome as him, even more so after tearing off a bat monsterâs head off. Even more so now that it seems you finally have a plan to get out of this goddamn place. âYouâre gonna make a dying man wait?â
âYouâre not dying, Harrington.â You smack him gently across the shoulders. âI wonât let you.â
Steve chuckles, his hand finding its way to yours, almost nervous, scared of rejection.Â
âSo? What do you say?â
âI say that if we get out of here alive, and it seems like kind of a longshot right nowâŠâ you acknowledge, holding onto his hand and squeezing. âI would really, really like that.â
âYeah?â
Youâre smiling. âYeah.â
You both might be the people with the worst timing in the entire worldâ youâre cursed by a demon villain from another dimension, and Steve is bleeding out while youâre both trapped inside the Upside Down, with no clue if youâll be able to actually escape. Not to mention this is all happening in his ex's house. And yet you canât help but laugh when Steve tries to reach for the back of your neck and fails miserably.
âI really want to kiss you,â he says, âbut my abdomen still really hurts.â
âI have to do everything,â you tease, before closing the distance between you, your lips pressing against his with a sigh.Â
Steveâs lips are chapped, bloody, raw, and yours must be equally as bad, salty, open and bleeding raw. But despite everything the kiss is perfect, as imperfect and uncoordinated as it is; the way your lips fit together, the way Steve cradles your cheek, and how you hold the back of his neck while Bonnie Tyler plays in the background of it all. Now, more than anything, you feel hope.
When you break off the kiss, Steve is smiling.Â
âLetâs get out of here,â he says. And you just might.
Request: can you write something about geralt x princess!reader where he gets invited to her birthday banquet because there's suspicion that there's a monster in the castle and they start falling for each other after he saves the princess -
+ can you write something where Geralt saves the princess from a monster at her brithday banquet and they start falling for each other
Words: 3.4k
Warning: violence - fight scenes
A/N: since I'm in quarantine because I've got covid, I had quite some time to write this. My last story of the year! - I really hope you'll like it, don't hesitate to give me any feedback! Happy new year lovelies, and as always, stay happy & healthy!
The mission should have been easy for Geralt. Get in, kill the monster, get out. Yes, it could have been if he were to protect anyone else than Princess Y/N, the tigress of Zaidor. She had earned quite the reputation over the years, turning into a warrior on the battlefield, leading her people with heart and determination.
Her parents were traveling to Cintra when the Queen had been brutally killed. The kingdom had sunk into turmoil and Princess Y/N was too heartbroken to understand what was really at stake.
While she mourned, her father led an investigation to found out who was behind the assassination. Fearing whomever ordered that horror would come after his daughter, he chose to teach her how to fight. He kept her away for years, forcing her to learn about any and every subject, to practice for hours on end, to make her not only strong but also smart, thus becoming the tigress of Zaidor.
She was kept in the dark about her mother passing and never found out what really happened. Ithar, her father's most trusted advisor, became her protector, following her everywhere and ensuring her safety the best he could. He was a mage that had been assigned to the Kingdom of Zaidor long before she was born. Beside her father, he was the only person she trusted inside the walls of the castle. He suspected someone was coming after the Princess, and what better occasion than the banquet of her anniversary.
Despite the threat, the King had wanted the party to be spectacular and the amount of people present opposed a real challenge for the mage to keep the Princess safe. That was how he had decided to call on an old favor to the Butcher of Blaviken.
âLetâs practice this one more time, princessâ The mage spoke to the woman.
She rolled her eyes and smoothen her gown. âNo need to say it again, Ithar. No fight, no bad words, if any danger - run and hide.â
He gently smiled at her. âIâm only trying to protect youâ
âI know, but youâd do well to remember Iâm not as defenseless as my father and you make me out to beâ
âHumor meâ He pleaded.
She huffed. âFine. Iâll do my bestâ
âThatâs all I askâ
They were standing outside the grant Hall that would hold the celebration. Music could already be heard behind the golden doors and Princess Y/N was about to order to announce her arrival when the mage laid a hand on her shoulder to grab her attention.
âOne more thing, Princessâ
Judging by the lack of emotions on his face, she knew already she would not like what would follow.
âWell ?â She rushed him when she noticed his uneasiness.
She saw the silhouette of a man walking toward them and tilted her head to the side to study the appearance of the sudden stranger. He was taller than her father, and much more muscular. He exuded power and strength, looking everything like a wild wolf. His long white hair had been pulled to the back of his head and what instantly captured her attention was his gaze. Whomever that man was, she could see his tales of war through his eyes.
âPrincess, let me introduce you to Geralt of Riviaâ Ithar turned to the stranger, acknowledging his presence. âTheâŠâ
âWitcherâ Y/N finished for him, never taking her eyes off of him. She said it with interest but also curiosity.
She thought she saw the outline of a smirk on his face for a second, but he only offered a courtesy nod.
âPrincessâ He greeted her, bowing his head in reverence. She raised an eyebrow, surprised by his low tenor. He had an alluring voice, powerful and authoritative yet warm enough to bewitch her. She was mesmerized by the intriguing comfort of his ethereal tone.
She couldnât remember words, only nodded. Her restlessness was perceivable and he answered with a knowing smile. She felt sudden heat spread through her body and slightly blushed.
âHmâ Ithar cleared his throat, breaking whatever spell was at work between Geralt and his protegee. âHe will keep you company for the nightâ
âWhat ?â She replied, startled. âWhy ?â
âBecause somebody is threatening your lifeâ He reminded her.
âSo you keep sayingâ She crossed her arms in annoyance. âThis house is full of guards, and youâre a mage. Surely nobody would dare to attack meâ
âWe are not discussing this. He will stay with you, whether you like it or notâ
She hated when he spoke to her that way. It made her feel like a child, incapable of defending herself. She pursed her lips but kept her mouth shut. Geralt didnât usher a single word but studied her closely. Somehow, something about her was strangely fascinating to him.
âRight this way, thenâ She raised her hand in the air, leading him toward the doors.
She avoided looking at him but hooked her arm to his as the guards called her name, drawing the attention of her guests. She plastered a smile on her face and waved her hand in salute. She could hear the whispers, see the judgmental stares and accusing eyes as people realized she was walking beside the Witcher.
âIâm sorryâ She turned her head to whisper so only he would hear.
He gently smiled down at her. âDonât be, Iâm used to far worseâ
âYou shouldn't beâ
She kept staring at him, trying to hide the sadness brought by his statement as he led her to the main table of the ballroom. Torches were lit all around the place and decorated with her favorite flowers. As she sat down, she let her gaze trail around with a smile, admiring the work that was put into making everything look so perfect. Some people were already dancing, others were eating or chatting around. It was filled with so much life.
âMy mother wouldâve loved thisâ She whispered with a voice filled with emotion.
âIâm sorry for your loss, Princessâ Her companion stated.
âY/N, pleaseâ She asked him. âCall me Y/Nâ
He smiled and extended her hand for her to shake. She laughed at the gesture but did it anyway. âGeraltâ
âTell me, Geraltâ She emphasized his name. âWhat did you do to deserve to play governess tonight ?â
âIâm not your governessâ He growled, raising an eyebrow and pouring himself a glass of wine.
âWhat, then ? Guardian ? Keeper ? Caretaker ?â She joked. âWhich one exactly fits your role ?â
She smirked and leaned on her elbows to look at him.
âYou are taking all thisâŠrather lightly, considering someone is trying to end your lifeâ
âHmâŠâ She pondered for a moment. âI think my father is taking unnecessary measures to protect meâ
âWhat makes you so sure of that ?â He frowned, staring at the crowd with intensity.
âNo one in their right mind would dare attack meâ She told him. âAnd if they did manage to get close enough, they wouldnât live long enough to tell that taleâ
He raised an eyebrow. âAre you assuming Iâd kill them?â
âNow you wound me, Geraltâ She teased him, turning her head to the side and spoke back to him in a tantalizing quiet voice. âDo you really think I need anyone yielding my own sword for me ?â
She was relishing on the sweet satisfaction of the surprise showing on his face. She wished she could keep his expression forever in her memory.
He draped an arm around her chair and leaned toward her, eliciting shivers over her skin. âI should warn you, Princess, killing a monster is no easy taskâ He grunted.
She laughed loudly and picked a knife off the table, rolling it swiftly between her skilled fingers. His eyes followed her movements, almost in a trance.
âSo Iâve heardâ She sensually whispered in his ear, planting the weapon into the wood, right next to his thumb. âBut Iâll take my chancesâ
He straightened on his chair and cleared his throat, glaring at the blade so close to his hand before taking it out and putting it back on the table. She bit her lip while smiling, definitely enjoying the effect she had on him.
âAt last I meet the infamous tigress of Zaidorâ He grinned, drinking from his cup without breaking their contact.
She rolled her eyes and ate a piece of her birthday cake. âI hate that titleâ
âMay I ask why ?â
âWhat is a reputation if not the simple flicking power of a couple of words? Theyâre worth nothingâ She toyed with her glass, evidently annoyed. âJust a boring tale to elicit terrorâ
She leaned back, observing people having fun around her. Ithar was sitting by one of the windows, his plate left untouched. She knew he was assessing possible threats.
âYouâve never answered my questionâ She stated to her new friend. âI donât think Iâve ever saw you at court, yet I know youâve slayed a couple monsters in this Kingdomâ
âI find royalty best taken in⊠small dosesâ He simply explained.
She sniggered. âYou and me bothâ
âYou are a princessâ He said matter of factly.
âNot by choice. Why did Ithar go to all the trouble of bringing you here tonight ?â
âYouâre not gonna let this go, are you ?â
âIâve got a title to honorâ She smirked, casting an alluring side glance at him.
He pursed his lips, internally debating on whether or not to tell her everything he knew. She didnât move from her position and kept looking at him, silently pressuring him to talk.
âThey think something is after youâ He revealed.
âSomething ?â She repeated.
âDo you know what a Theriantrope is ?â
âA human infected by a magical diseaseâ
He raised his eyebrows in astonishment, amazed about her knowledge. âExactly. It changes them into hybrids. Much faster, stronger, impetuousâ
âWhy me ?â
He shifted in his seat, uneasy. âYou are the offspring of the Queen of Zaidorâ
Her eyes widened in horror. âThey killed my mother ?â
âThe King thinks so, he found a trail to the northâ He elucidated for her.
âIs that why heâs not here tonight ?â
âYes. He put your protection into my hands and left to investigateâ
She shook her head, trying to process the amount of information she had just been given. âIs that all you know ?â
âIt might get ugly, Y/Nâ If he was trying to scare her, it wasnât working. âYour guards wonât be able to keep them outside and they wonât be aloneâ
âFine. Let them come, thenâ Her expression hardened, her whole body tensing at the prospect of a battle.
âYou donât understandâŠâ
âGeraltâ She cut him with authority. Her voice was firm, imbued with power âDo not underestimate me. Iâm tired of everyone thinking Iâm afraid, because Iâm notâ
âGoodâ He wickedly smirked. âYour sword is attached to the back of your chair. Iâm counting on you to use itâ
He didnât miss the way some of the guests strangely exchanged glances, moving fast across the room and shoving people out of their way. His eyes landed on Ithar and he darkly bowed his head, using the silent signal to alert him.
âLooks like the show came earlyâ He told her, his gaze never leaving the outsiders he was following. They were getting closer.
âWhat ?â
âYou said it yourself, a name alone isnât worth anything. So let your actions live up to their wordsâ He barked before turning to look at her dead in the eyes, pervaded with an emotion she could not decipher. Violence mixed with blind faith. âShow me the tigress of Zaidorâ
His attention on her never broke when he drew his sword out to deflect a knife coming directly at her. His movement was quick and meticulously calculated. She was left speechless as her eyes widened in realization. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
The Princess reached behind her chair, grabbed her weapon and rose to her feet. Every single soul in the room had stopped moving and in front of her stood a large man, part human, part beast, leading a group of soldiers. He had a sickening rictus on his face, fists clenched and looking every bit menacing. The tension was palpable, the fear visible among the innocent visitors around them.
The woman exchanged a side glance with Geralt before barking an order to her guards. âKill them all !â
As soon as the first sword was drawn out, all hell broke loose. Before her eyes, she saw men launching at each others while the beast easily bypassed them to reach her. He marched with determination and so much violence it made her shudder.
âFuckâ She heard Geralt growled as he easily moved the furniture out of his way and sliced the chest of the only mercenary that had dared to come close to her.
She didnât move as his dead body fell at her feet but kept her gaze on the half-human as he stopped in his tracks. It was then she noticed his crimson glowing eyes.
âIâm leaving you one chance to back offâ She spited with resentment. âThis will be my only warningâ
Even his laugh was sickening.
âYou have no idea how long Iâve waited to tear apart every single shred of happiness your father possessesâ He barked.
âGood luck tryingâ She muttered as she rolled her blade around her wrist, instinctively taking a step back in a fighting stance.
âAny last words, Princess ?â
Once again, she looked at the Witcher, waiting for his instructions.
âTell me what to doâ She whispered, now was the time to form a new kind of alliance.
âKeep him from changing. Heâs weaker in his human formâ Geralt advised her.
âHow do we kill him ?â
This time he turned to stare at her. She could see the tension on his shoulders, the tight grip around his sword and his jaw flexing with anger, but despite their situation, she smirked when their eyes met. They barely knew each other yet she felt this strange pull toward him, like sheâd known him all her life. She saw that same trust on his face, mixed with respect and faith. In that moment, they shared a bond through an unspoken vow. They were a team.
âAim for the headâ He gritted between his teeth.
He struck first, going for the manâs shoulder. The half beast deflected the attack but Y/N didnât give him enough time to push Geralt back. They parried quickly, reflexively; one of them from the side, the other finishing the movement. They were working in harmony, moving back and forth in perfect unison, until the intruder used inhuman strength to throw Geralt across the room.
The Princess tried to assess a powerful blow to his chest, but he grabbed the blade mid-air, forcing her to let go of the weapon. He tossed it triumphantly as his fingers suddenly wrapped around her throat. She was caught off-guard by the unnatural speed. Ithar was already fighting an army of men and Geralt was nowhere in sight. She was on her own.
She gripped his wrists as he tightened his hold and looked him dead in the eye. She knew she could trust her Witcher. Now all she had to do was distract him.
She used her legs to rattle him but was too slow because of her dress. The half-beast cynically laughed, thinking he was seconds away from killing her. From the corner of her eyes, she felt relieved to see Geralt slowly walking behind the stranger, stalking him as if he was hunting a prey. This was the perfect opportunity for her.
Her hand clenched in a fist and with as much force as she could, she hit his elbow, forcing him to lean closer. Once she was sure he was within reach, she used the momentum to land a powerful blow with her head. The half-beast staggered backwards, this time giving her enough time to grab the aim of her gown. Spinning on herself, the back of her heel struck his chest. She was reacting on pure instinct, remembering everything her father taught her, fighting back until Geralt had an opening.
The half-human shouted in pure rage, breathing sharply. He clenched his jaw, trying to force his body to turn into the monster he was.
âY/N!â The Witcher called across the room. He grabbed her sword and threw it at her.
She easily caught the weapon and with the next cut, slashed the monsterâs face, drawing blood. Geralt took advantage of his surprise and used his powers to pin the intruder to the ground before he could attack her.
He scrambled back, away from the Witcherâs sword. âAny last words?â Geralt repeated what the half-beast had said to the Princess earlier with fury.
âYouâre a dead womanâ He promised to the tigress as she stood next to her newfound protector.
The Witcher hummed in annoyance and raised his blade, this time aiming for his face. He swiftly wounded him, cleaving his head from the top of his left ear to the right corner of his jaw. The top of his skull slid off as his body crumpled to the ground.
âAre you alright ?â He turned to Y/N and quickly examined her body for any kind of injury.
âIâll live. Only a couple of bruisesâ
Behind them, the fight had stopped. Where a bunch of men fought now stood Ithar, hands still raised to use magic.
âGeralt, youâre bleeding!â She proclaimed loudly, letting her sword drop in a loud thud as she closed the distance to check his bloodied shoulder.
âItâs nothing,â He shrugged.
âSit!â She ordered, making him laugh.
The situation was quite risible. Here she was, her dress almost torn, in a room with several dead bodies, including a decapitated head, taking care of a scratch.
She grabbed a bottle of alcohol nearby and poured it on his shoulder, making him hiss in pain. âNothing, huh ?â
âIâve been through much worseâ
âIâm sure you haveâ She glanced at the beheaded beast and grimaced.
âYouâre quite the fighterâ He complimented her.
âDonât sound so surprisedâ She rolled her eyes.
A smirk drew upon his lips and she felt that warm feeling yet again, building up in her chest and bursting into tiny butterflies in her stomach.
âNot surprisedâ He corrected her. âImpressedâ
She didnât answer back but put a wet cloth on his injury to stop the bledding.
âHe knew how to come into the castleâ She sadly told him.
âDo you think he had help ?â He looked up at her, grabbing her wrist to make her stand still.
âHonestly, that wouldn't be a shockâ
âWhat did he want ?â
âIâm afraid I donât know much more than you do, Geraltâ
âThatâs a lieâ He grumbled.
She pursed her lips.
âItâs justâŠâ She gulped. âA suspicionâ
âWhat is ?â
âThat my father might not be as innocent as he pretends to beâ She whispered, almost afraid to say it out loud.
He raised an eyebrow and suddenly stood up, startling her.
âThatâs it, youâre coming with me!â He took her hand, dragging her outside of the ballroom.
âGeralt, what are you doing ?!â She tried to stop him but the man was a mountain of muscles.
âIâm making a very stupid decisionâ He shook his head.
He let go of her and she waited for him to elaborate.
âUntil this is settled, Iâm taking you with meâ He explained firmly, not leaving any room for discussion.
âWhat ? No! You canât!â
âYouâre not safe here, Y/N!â
âAnd your job is done, Geralt! This party is over, you no longer have any debt to Ithar!â
She visibly saw him clenched his jaw, hesitating to say what he was thinking out loud.
âIâm not doing this for Itharâ He whispered in a low voice. âIâm doing it for youâ
Her eyes widened in surprise and her body instantly tensed as he closed the distance between them. He gently cupped her cheek to raise her head so she would look right back at him.
âWeâre going to figure out what your father is hiding, but until then youâre staying with me, within reach. So Iâm sure nothing happens to youâ
âI can defend myselfâ She poorly offered.
âI know you can, Princess" He smirked. "I've seen it firsthandâ
His fingers trailed down the now visible bruises over her neck and he softly brushed her skin, making her quiver.
âBut it wonât stop me from doing my best to keep protecting youâ
Do we want full headcanons- wha- WHY DO U EVEN NEED TO ASK?!?! OF COURSE WE DO! I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCHđâ€
favourite little secret | bucky barnes
word count; not a clue đ¶ but itâs over 200 bullet points.
summary; youâre dating bucky secretly. hereâs how that goes.
notes; none, really?
warnings; smut, ot at least reference to? not sure what to call it. also, reference to injury, and stuff.
so, yeah, it starts of as just kind of a friends with benefits sorta thing
youâre both a little worked up after an assignment
itâs just you two left in the compound, everyone else went out
you had a few beers, and the a few more
and you were joking with the former soldier
at some point, the movie had become nothing but background noise to laughter and stories about steve in the forties and what he still did now
and then you were sliding a little closer
because he leaned forwards to get his drink from your side of the coffee tableÂ
you could smell his cologne
and he could smell your perfume
he leans a little closerÂ
âyou smell good, doll.â
you really shouldnât be allowed to drink around people this attractive
especially not when the tip of his nose is brushing your neck
and the metal hand is holding your thigh, and itâs cold
you have goosebumps
and it really went downhill after that
because youâre not sure who moved first but then youâre kissing him
and christ on a cracker can bucky kiss
his tongue is in your mouth and your head is fucking spinning
you feel like your heart is beating right out of your chest
seriously, like it might actually give you internal bruises
thereâs definitely going to be external bruises on your hips and thighs fro the way heâs gripping you
especially once you slide into his lap
his jeans are tight and theyâre really strained over those sinfully thick thighs
he lets that mouth that he definitely knows how to use go right down your neck
he doesnât stop himself from leaving marks
but you donât really stop him either
you pull his hair and he fucking moans
and you donât really remember what happened after that
you just know that itâs never felt that good before
and when you wake up in the morning, heâs still lying right there next to you
âhowâd you sleep? look like you slept pretty good. dâya happen to have a good night?â
âfive stars, would recommend to a friend.â
ânice.â
and then a fucking fistbump
âyâknow, I normally leave after, I never stay over... with a guy.â
âyeah, well, you live in my building. we work together. might as well have stayed. I certainly slept great in your company.â
and itâs weirdly nice
and youâre not really all that aware youâre naked
not at first, anyway
you just chat, for like, two hours in bed
wrapped up in the sheets
and then he kisses you again
itâs really random, and a lot softer
and you giggle against his lips when he does
because he hasnât shaved, and itâs scratchy, and you comment on it
so he makes sure it scratches elsewhere
and when youâre not drunk, you can commit the way his mouth really works to your mind
literally crying his name as you come
several times
and then some slow morning sex
his flesh hand sliding up so his fingers weave with yours
itâs kinda nice fucking a friend
because thereâs no worries, and no stress, and no insecurities
and afterwards, itâs still comfortable
so, in the weeks that follow, you keep hooking up
in secret, of course
because itâs fun, and it feels great, and bucky has a lot of stuff he wants to try
plus, itâs kinda hard to find someone to be with when you keep international secrets that only a handful of other people know
but then youâre having a meeting
and bucky has been doodling on the back of your hand for five minutes
while steve stands outside on the phone, and everyone is waiting
natasha has been watching you both carefully
you donât really care if she has
because bucky is right up against you and itâs so sweet
you like it
especially when he whispers comments and jokes under his breath
not just in meetings, at the worst of times too
on missions, and in briefings
and he likes to tease you, with things he knows gets you going
brushing past you a little too close in the kitchens or common rooms
playing with his beard when he starts growing it out
licking his lips
wearing the tight pair of jeans that you spilled the beans about
and spreading his legs far apart when he sits down, with a hand rubbing his thigh ânonchalantlyâ
âokay, new update, no dating within the team.â
and your heart sinks a little bit
bucky sits up a lot straighter
and he inches his chair away slightly
the room kicks off a little bit
itâs not like anyone was dating, but it was a pretty outrageous thing to say
but according to another team, than none of you even knew, it was now something nick and the rest of management no longer allowed
and itâs later that night, after a good round of mindblowing orgasms that you actually broach the subject
you still feel kinda hazy about it
and bucky has a stupid grin on his face because you did the thing that makes his eyes roll to the back of his head
âI mean, we can stop any time we want. itâs just sex.â
âbut, itâs not just sex, right?â
âno... shit. itâs not just sex. but now, I mean, it canât be anything more than just sex.â
âit could be, if we just didnât tell steve. or, yâknow, anyone.â
propping your head up on your elbow to look at him
âyouâre not gonnaâ tell your best friend youâre dating someone?â
ânot if it means I wouldnât be allowed to. I wannaâ see where this goes.â
so, you start dating in secret
and itâs so fucking fun
sneaking out for dinners and seeing how you can push the limits
a lot of fake arguments just to be able to âtake quality bonding timeâ
getting caught in some slightly compromising positions
I donât mean sexually
well maybe a few
but mostly just intimate things
like having your feet in his lap on a movie night
or brushing your fingers through his hair in early in the morning before being completely awake yet
so, maybe sam starts thinking thereâs chemistry
and maybe nat does too
and maybe they conspire sometimes to try and set you up
but do you stop them? absolutely not
because they send you on free dates that you can pretend you didnât know about afterwards
âoh, really, you both suddenly canât make it to the movies? well, alright, I guess me and bucky could still go, but youâll make it next time, right?â
free movie, free date, and you get to make out in the back the whole time
âit was such a great movie, what else would it be?â
or
âoh, you got the restaurant dates wrong? oh, but me and bucky just ordered some appetisers... okay, weâll bring you something back.â
boom. dinner date.
and this goes on for two years
because it gets fun sneaking around
and you get really good at it
you also end up with incredible chemistry on assignments
which ends up being a lot of undercover work
youâre in seattle at a gala together
and you get the fancy hotel to match the cover identities
and one room never gets used for the whole duration
on the last night, once youâd finished the case, you get some down time
which means drinking store-bought booze and playing strip poker
before letting bucky fuck you against almost every piece of furniture in the the suite
and youâre tangled up in the bedsheets at the wrong end of the bed by the end
âwhen does this end?â
âwhat?â
âoh, fuck, doll, no. I meant, the secrecy, not us. never us. thatâs the point. never us. I mean, we canât keep it a secret forever, what if we want to get married, or something?â
âwe could get married in secret.â
âyeah, youâd marry me in secret?â
âiâd marry you right now in this hotel room if you asked.â
âmaybe I am askinâ.â
finding a courthouse the following morning
and getting married at 7:48 AM, when youâre supposed to be flying home at 8
so, thats how it goes on
a secret marriage
which, is pretty exciting
but, starts getting tired after a couple of months
because you want more than just that one âfriendlyâ dance at tonyâs parties
and you hate only getting to sleep in the same bed as your husband on the occasional night you can sneak to his room
and you want to kiss at midnight at the upcoming new years
which, ends up being pretty much taken care ofÂ
âyouâre going to be where until january?â
âcanât tell you, you know that.â
âbut, this is our first christmas as a married couple.â
heâs mad, but not at you
and youâre mad, but not at him
so you just figure, hey, after the holidays, when itâs all calmed down, youâll tell everyone
because, really, this has gone on long enough, now
so he helps you pack, and he sneaks into your room that morning to kiss you goodbye
and to make you promise to be safe and to come back to him
youâre back a lot earlier than expected
merry christmas eve to the team!
FRIDAY lets them all know that it went south, fast
and the local hospital youâre at
his phone rings, and itâs the nurses trying to get in touch with him
because heâs your next of kin
he really does consider just telling them all right then
but he knows youâd want to be there
when they get to the hospital, youâre still in surgery
he sits there for three hours waiting for news
itâs into christmas morning when they finally get it
theyâre surrounded by drunken idiots and people who did a little bit too much cocaine while celebratingÂ
and one guy whoâs christmas lights caught fire and burned him
when they get news, he has to excuse himself
to cry in the bathrooms
because he felt like he was going to be throw up, cry, die, stop breathing, pass out-
he felt a lot of things
but now just relief
when he comes back, natasha is arguing with a nurse
âshe still needs to rest! no visitors.â
âis she even awake?â
âit doesnât matter, weâre not having all of you crowding into one room, itâs one of the busiest nights of the year, come back over the next few days, no more than two at a time.â
âbut-â
âno.â
and bucky has had enough now
âokay, maâam, I really need to go and see her, now.â
she just shakes her head at hm, and tuts, and keeps tying on her computer
âno visitors.â
âgoddamn it, take me to see my fucking wife, and take me now!â
the whole waiting room goes quiet
itâs almost enough to suffocate him with how thick the air is
âIâm her next of kin, Iâm her husband, so check her file, and take me to see my wife.â
he would slam his ID down on the counter
and less than thirty seconds later, heâs disappearing through double doors into a maze of white corridors
he doesnât even bother to look back at anyone else
he sits by your bedside all night
not one nurse bothers him again, even though he knows he shouldnât be there
the next time he wakes up, itâs to steve shaking his shoulder
he doesnât ask about it
but youâre wearing a ring, now
the ring bucky had bought you for christmas, because he really thought his wife deserved one
he put a lot of thought into it
itâs the closest thing he could find to the one his mother had worn
two weeks later, youâre discharged to go home
when you get there, nick fury looks furious
âwhat are you gonnaâ do, fire us?â
âbucky!â
âIâm just sayinâ!â
so when he leaves, the rest of the team is just, sorta, staring
âso, married, huh?â
it was always gonna be sam that spoke first
âyeah, three years ago we started fucking for fun and now weâre married.â
âreally, sweetheart?â
âIâm just sayinâ!â
steve looks so torn
but eventually, he just sighs, and congratulates his best friend
and sam makes a joke about how bucky managed to snag you
to which bucky just smirks and tucks his hands into his pockets
nat looks a little hurt she wasnât told, but she still hugs you
âthereâs more to the story than that though, right?â
âso much more. Iâll tell you all about it some day.â
wanda has a look you canât read, even though youâre great ay reading people, normally
you suspect she probably already knew, and just kept your secret
when you finally get some alone time, bucky gives you the gift he had bought for you for christmas
âa wife should have a pretty ring to show off, and now, nothinâ is stopping that. itâs not my maâs, I always imagined it that way, but itâs the closest one I could find to what I can remember.â
Fluff | Hurt/Comfort | Smut (not the aforementioned comfort)
Nightmares are never fun, but when Daryl catches you barrelling out of your house after one about the Claimers, he offers you something he didnât think himself capable of - emotional support⊠and something else when he thinks youâre asleep. He goes on a run the next day, returning half-conscious and covered in blood, and the realization that your worst nightmare almost came true compels you to do something you didnât think yourself possible of.
or
Camisado: an attack by night
In hindsight, this was probably something you should have expected.
Then again, the apocalypse and all its residual effects werenât exactly expectable.
People prepped for doomsday - fully decked out bunkers in their basements, non-perishable food items lining the walls, bottles of water whose plastic was probably well past the expiration date - but nobody prepped for the toll the constant sight of walkers or the stench of death would take on your psyche.
You, well, you werenât ready for either.
The person you see in the mirror, you realize through bleary eyes, is you, caught between your bodyâs beg for sleep and your mindâs refusal to submit. The person you see is tired, deprived of a momentary mental peace, and searching for an escape from the four walls of your bedroom. The person you see, standing between your bathroomâs vanity and bathtub, needs the comfort of the night sky and the blinking stars you donât know the names of. Turning on the sink, you run your shaking hands through the cold water, hoping to freeze them from their tremor.
You know where these reactions come from, even if theyâve dissolved into vague images and you canât really remember. A pressure weighs down on your chest, a physical culmination of everything youâve experienced, and you hate that its presence is a growing familiarity.
Another nightmare.
The sheen of perspiration from your sleep makes the pajama shirt youâre wearing stick stifling to your body, and you grasp haphazardly for your towel, wetting it and scrubbing underneath the fabric at what feels like layers of sweat. Shutting off the sink, you donât bother another look at the mirror before hanging your towel back up, beelining towards your dresser in order to dig out a pair of socks to get out of this house.
Word count: 32k (haru write something shorter challenge failed)
Fluff | A Lot Of (but also lowkey useless??) Plot | Smut
The punishment for losing game night causes you to catch Daryl in a⊠predicament, but itâs nothing you canât help with, and heâs certainly not opposed to it.
In Darylâs defence, he had never once played UNO before.
You, well, you had concluded several turns ago that luck was working against you.
âMaybe you just suck.â
Whipping your head to the left, youâre met with Carlâs shit-eating grin as he places his remaining red six down and practically jumps from the tiny table youâre all playing on to high-five Glenn. Maggie groans, having only had two in hand, and begins drawing those loathsome, loathsome cards, steadily building her deck until she finally draws a red and places it onto the pile. God, youâve all been at it for what felt like hours, but you canât lose, let alone forfeit - there were consequences for that, after all.
âYâknow, Carl, if your dad wasnât holding onto a mountain of plus twoâs right now, I would actually, physically fight you.â
The kid laughs, your insincere threat doing nothing but boosting his teenage ego. He tilts his hat, seemingly satisfied with himself, and moves to sit on the couch behind his father, no doubt beginning to whisper to him about the best moves to screw with you. Well, at least screw with you the best he can without using those four damn cards that had you sitting on the edge of the little cushion youâd stolen from the couch in the basement. You know Rickâs saving those plus twoâs for Daryl - all of you silently ganging up on him at every turn - but Daryl, sweet, sweet, clueless Daryl, is much more focused on not making what Glenn liked to call an âillegal moveâ and having to draw any more of those stupid cards.
Pointing at his deck, Daryl cocks an eyebrow at Carol and she tells him what it does in a hushed voice. After a moment of thought, he scrunches his nose and lets out a noncommittal grunt, dropping a skip and pulling a silent curse from Rick before the turn makes it back to you. The miffed expression on Rickâs face makes you laugh before your gaze drops back down to your deck, running your thumbs over each card before the corner of your lips pull up to one side. Finally, you could play your reverse. Sure, Rick would probably be out next turn, but you just had to beat Maggie.
When you first agreed to play, a two loser punishment didnât seem so bad. Now, though? Maybe you should have just gone to bed.
Daryl watches you from underneath his lashes, eyes flicking from his deck to your face in an unrelenting rhythm of apprehension as he tries to suppress a fond smile. Someone who didnât know him any better would probably think he was gauging your reactions, looking for an eyebrow quirk or a cheek twitch like he was playing poker with Merle again, and heâs pretty damn happy to pass it off like that, but everyone knows itâs more. Everyone knows that when Daryl has that look in his eye, itâs reserved for you. Clearing his throat, he diverts his attention from the way you hook your lip between your teeth in a repressed smile, locking back onto cards with uses he only barely remembers.
âThis an alright move?â
When Rick places his cards at Glennâs nod, you find yourself half-believing that he nodded to whatever was proposed just because Rick proceeds to play all seven of his plus twoâs. Your jaw drops. Sure, you knew he had at least a few, but to drop them all at the same time without any forewarning seemed a little excessive. Michonne barely manages to suppress a laugh and your eyebrows rise in both shock and amusement, eyes flickering to Daryl who you swear is popping a vein from how hard heâs clenching his jaw. Part of you feels bad, but when he mumbles under his something about how âthis gameâs bullshitâ and begrudgingly picks up his 14, another laugh bubbles up from your throat and youâre at its mercy.
âThisâs your fault, yâknow? Playinâ that damn reverse like ya didnât know he had all them cards.â
His voice breaks your smile and childishly, you stick out your tongue at him, furrowing your eyebrows in faux-annoyance before you tease him, nose crinkling in a similarly false irritation.
âNever took you for a sore loser.â
A noise breaks from between his lips, one that almost catches in his throat - a scoff, maybe? - but itâs ill-timed, cut off abruptly by a surprised yell of âUNOâ from Rick and a hearty laugh from Abraham. Fuck, you could have sworn he still had a handful left.
âI ainât lost yet.â
Thereâs a determination in his voice, a misplaced determination in your opinion, but if he wanted to hold out hope for a very, very, very underdog win, you wonât stop him. Maggie drops a plus four colour change and, despite the fact the shirt youâre wearing is too big for you, your muscles underneath the thin pajama flannel probably strain against the seams with how hard you clutch the cards. Your face contorts into an expression of pain and you send her something between a glare and a look of grief before you pick up your four, grimacing in response to Daryl.
The prison falls, and a hopelessly in love Daryl loses the opportunity to confess to you. At least, he thinks he has, but the future revels in being unpredictable.
the request:
something thatâs been on my mind in terms of fluff/smut is daryl and reader being separated when the prison fell and reuniting in alexandria! possible angst as well like finding readers belongings at terminus but no reader so the reunion is đ„ș
âYou never told me who you were with. Before I found ya, I mean. Before us.â
You glance over to him at his voice, a lazy turn of your neck bringing him into your field of vision as you lie your weight on the two hands youâve stretched behind your back. The fire heâd set up for the two of you crackles away, a dim light in the field of the prison yard, but enough to illuminate your features in an orange glow.
âYou never asked.â
Scoffing, he thinks of a response. Itâs not like he didnât want to know - he did. Had since the first time the two of you took a hunting trip together - but in an odd way, he thinks heâs scared to know. Feared it, maybe.
ââm askinâ now.â
Youâre not his, despite what the gossip in the cafeteria would say, but he cares about you. A lot. A lot more than he anticipated. A lot more than these runaway nights spent talking and stargazing would let on, and thatâs the reason why heâs never asked. He thinks that if someone had hurt you, he would get himself killed tearing through the world to find them.
âGuess you are.â
Lying down on the grass, you hear shifting from beside you before you bring your gaze to his. him watching you as he folds his vest into a rectangle. Reaching out his hand, he gently lifts your head, welcoming the tickle of your hair before he lays the leather underneath you. Itâs not much, but the way you grin from his movements makes him feel like he had just placed the softest pillow beneath you, one made of goose feathers and wool.
âI was with a group of friends when this first started. At least, they were friends until, uh⊠they werenât. Not long after that I was with another group. Then I⊠I wasnât. The last group I was with they⊠uh⊠they did things. Things I didnât agree with.â
You donât continue for a moment. Collecting your thoughts, he assumes - then you speak again.
âI used to think men before all this were bad, but theyâre⊠theyâre worse now.â
He hears a shuddering breath and his heart surges forward with anger. Itâs a foolish thought, the one he had feared would wash through him, but he canât help but think of beating whoever you were talking about into the ground. Did they do something to you? Did they lay a hand on you? Did they hurt you?
âI, uh, ran from them in the middle of the night. Mustâve, God, I mustâve walked until noon. It- it felt like hours, yâknow? I didnât know where to go and I didnât have a map, but I just⊠I just knew I couldnât be with them. So I kinda spun around in a circle and walked in whatever direction I stopped in. And I⊠I just kept walking.â
He swallows hard before you continue, pulling at the grass beneath his clammy hands. No, he panics, Daryl Dixon doesnât go clammy. Not for anyone. But youâre not just anyone. Not to him.
summary: When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help.
pairing: bucky x reader
word count: 7.8k
warnings: smut (18+), sex pollen (with as much consent as one can have in a dub/con trope)
âWhat in theââ you slammed an elbow to the nose of the assailant behind you, âholy,â a quick right jab to another coming up on your left, âgodforsaken,â a knee plunged straight to your ribs and you kicked to the assailant who managed to get one up on you, âhell, Rogers!â
Another body fell to the ground and settled at the collection at your feet.
Dripping in sweat, heart pounding in your chest, and your body short of giving out completely, you slumped a shoulder against the cold frame of the wall. Down the hall, at least a dozen more Hydra agents were barreling towards you.
There was no response on the coms; not that you expected as much. The Hydra base in Munich you were tasked with rigging to blow was meant to be abandoned. Nothing left but a dozen empty cells and decades of barbaric research no one should ever lay eyes on again.
Seemed Captain Rogerâs intel was just slightly off. Tell that to the series of bodies lying in your wake.
âYou better send backup, Rogers, or I swear to God Iâll haunt your star-spangled ass for all eternity,â you grumbled to the broken transmission as you attempted to square up. Fists out ahead of you, swaying slightly on weakened legs, a dizziness in your vision making it hard to tell exactly how many men were charging straight at you.
âWhat? Iâm not enough for you?â Bucky suddenly appeared on your right, chuckling to himself as he released the empty magazine from his weapon and quickly replaced it with a new one. Blood was soaked into his hair line, mixing with the sweat beaded on his forehead, and he brushed the back of his hand against his face to smear it back into his hair.
âAbout time you showed up. Making me do all the hard work myself,â you scoffed, shooting him a teasing smile as you eyed the hallway he came rushing in from.
He insisted youâd be out in time for movie night back home if the two of you split up, divided the C4 amongst you and met back at the quinjet in twenty. Not even his super soldier instincts could have predicted this place would be overrun with stray Hydra agents looking for a rematch.
One of the agents opposing you whipped out a handgun and Bucky jumped forward, using his left arm as a shield. The bullets ricocheted across the room, puncturing into another Hydra agent who collapsed to the ground clutching his knee.
You exhaled a heavy breath, the edges of your lips dipping down into a frown as you watched more agents stepping over the bodies of their colleagues and advancing down the hallway. You glanced up at Bucky, watching as he weighed the rifle in his hands, bouncing it lightly. It was running low on ammo.
âYou get anyone on coms yet?â
âNothing. Weâre on our own.â Bucky gritted his teeth, firing a few rounds down at the mass of Hydra agents swarming their way towards you. It knocked a few of them down, at least.
You started to take a few steps in their direction, yanking a knife from the spine of an agent on the ground before you whipped it down at the ones ahead of you, knocking another to the ground. The echo of gunfire tore through the cramped hall again and it left a pile of men at the front lines.
Four left.
âThat was my last round,â Bucky grunted, tossing the weapon to the floor as he tugged a small blade from the holster on his thigh. He smirked as he glanced over at you through the corner of his eye. âWho do you want?â
You shrugged, studying the four agents who came to a slow halt at the opposite end of the hallway. The two on the left looked about as youâd expected from Hydra agents; tall, dark haired, with shoulders twice as wide as their hips and a vicious kind of look in their eyes. Then, a blonde-haired woman who couldnât seem to tear her eyes away from Bucky, a hand resting impatiently on the knife against her hip. Last, a man who towered at least two feet above the others with a long, jagged scar covering most of his face.
âIâll take the two on the right.â
Bucky narrowed his eyes, glancing between you and your chosen assailants. The taller one cracked his neck to the side and bared his teeth.
âYouâre sure?â
You feigned offense; a hand pressed your heart as you took a few steps forward, sliding the batons out from the holsters along your shoulder blades and twirling them between your fingers. âYou underestimate me, Barnes. You think Iâd let you have all the fun?â
Bucky laughed, shaking his head as he jogged to catch up with you, disregarding the battle cries of the Hydra agents as they advanced as if it was only ever the two of you in the room. âNot a chance in hell, sweetheart.â
The blonde woman stared to advance on Bucky, eyes trailing him up from his boots to the top of his head with a devilish kind of look in her stare. She licked at her lips hungrily, as if she was ready to take a bite into him, though he paid her no mind as he rushed at the two men to her right.
âHey, Barbie!â you called, waving a baton in the air to grab her attention. âLooks like your stuck with me.â
She glared at you, pausing in her strut for only a minute, but it was all you needed. You sprinted towards her, using the wall as leverage as you jumped up against the frame to propel yourself into her. Baton at ready, you slammed down into her collarbone as she let out a yelp and fell down to the ground. It didnât take her long to get back on her feet and when she did, her knife was nestled tight into her grip, a new kind of intrigue on her face as she stared you down.
âNeed any help over here?â Bucky called out from the end of the hallway as he ducked under the right hook of one of his assailants. He clipped one in the knees, sending them spiraling to the floor with a pained shout, before he smirked over in your direction.
âMind your business, Barnes!â You rolled your eyes as a smile crept up against your lips.
Barbie took a single glance back at Bucky before her eyes returned to you and there was something darker within her stare you didnât quite notice, or perhaps you simply mistook it for enemy territory. Either way, when she raised her arm with knife in hand, you whipped around the baton in a backhanded strike, sending the knife flying down the hall. Unarmed, she stared at you with wide, fearful eyes, until you knocked her out with a final hit to the side of her. Nothing fatal, but it would keep her under until backup arrived to hull her in.
Bucky was still fighting off his second attacker as you approached the man leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, patiently waiting. He pushed himself off the wall, cracked his knuckles between his palms with sharp snaps that echoed down into the hallway.
âThink you can take me, little girl?â he taunted, voice low and thick, like it had gone years in disuse. He made a show of the way he settled into his stance; fists held out in front of him, shadow boxing in an attempt to intimidate you. It seemed to catch him off guard when you rolled your eyes.
âItâs been a long day,â you shrugged, âand frankly, Iâd like to go home. So, letâs make this quick.â
The arrogant smirk dropped from his face, replaced quickly with a wash of rage that a woman half his size would dare mock him in such a way. But he was clumsy in his stance and in his swings, so you saw each of his moves coming a mile ahead. With every right hook, you slid under his arm and stepped out behind him. In every jab, you side stepped out of reach. He exhausted himself while you made little effort in your defense. Without a single offensive throw, he was panting in a matter of minutes.
âWHAT ARE YOU DOING?!â he bellowed, loud enough to make Bucky pause for a moment and you winced as his assailant took advantage of the moment to get in a punch to his jawline. He recovered quickly, giving you the security to face your own attacker head on. The Hydra giant was dripping in sweat, red in the face, teeth bared and near feral. âFight me!â
âOnly because you asked so nicely.â
As he threw his next swing, you met it with the brunt of your baton, stilling him in his stance. He stared at you, wide eyes and jaw slacked, as you winked at him and dove under his legs. Before he could manage to turn around, you flicked at switch at the bottom of the batons which emitted an electrical pulse from the top edge and plunged it into the man's neck.
He convulsed, gargling out a few incoherent words, before he collapsed to the floor at your feet. You grinned, sliding the batons into the holsters at your shoulder blades.
âAlright, I take it all back,â Buckyâs voice chuckled from behind you. âYou donât need me at all.â
You laughed, shaking your head as several strands fell down into your face, lost to the bun at the top of your head in the struggle. As you turned to face Bucky, you found him standing with his hands planted on his hips and the brightest smile on his face, one that took him years to find again since you first met him and damn if it wasnât one of the most beautiful sights youâd ever seen.
But then, there was a sudden rush of movement on the ground. One of the Hydra agents wrestled back up to his feet behind Bucky, a malice imbedded deep into his glare, a determination as he rushed forward.
There was little time to think as you lunged for the knife you broke free of the blonde agentâs hand and whipped it across the room. It plunged straight into the manâs jugular and he fell backwards, hands sliding out from around Buckyâs neck as blood coated the tile floors.
âShit,â you panted, hands on your knees. âYou okay?â
Bucky didnât respond.
Slowly, heart pounding in your chest, you glanced up to find him pulling a syringe from his neck. He stared at it for a second, stunned as a few stray droplets dripped from the edge of the needle before he dropped it to the ground, letting it slip out from his fingers limply. The vile was empty as it rolled along the tile and settled against the dead body of its owner.
âBucky?â
There was a sudden, paralyzing dread that swept over his features, one that seemed to worsen as his eyes fell upon yours. Then, his knees started to buckle, his stance falling unsteady and you rushed forward, darting under his arm to catch him before could lay amongst the bodies of Hydra agents. He was shaking, hands trembling, and you could feel the sharp rise and fall of his breath as you held him steady.
âWe have to get you out of here,â you said, trying to push down the panic etching its way up your spine, but Bucky shook his head.
âNo time.â It was all he could mutter out.
âBucky, you've just been injected with God knows what and we need to get to you a medic orââ
âThere,â he grunted, pointed to an open room at the end of the hallway. With a thick, metal door and dozen locks lining the outside, it was more of a cell than a room. You started to shake your head, but Bucky gripped tight to your arm. âY/n, please.â
You watched him carefully, noticed how he couldnât seem to meet your eye, how sweat was beading at his hairline more profusely than it was in the midst of a battle, how his breaths were broken and trembling on every exhale.
âOkay, okay. Hold on.â You slowly guided him to step over the bodies at your feet, most unconscious, others not as lucky, and swiftly led him into the cell. It seemed to put him at ease as you aided him to sit on one of the metal chairs at the center of the room. As you released your touch from his arm, a rush of what appeared to be pain twisted into his facial features though he tried to hide it.
âSo, what do we do now?â you asked. âI could try to find the lab. They could have counteractants to whatever this is. Or I could try to fix the coms... but we all know Parkerâs a lot better with that stuff than I am.â
You laughed, trying to ease the tension in the room, but it was so thick you could have cut through it with the blunt edge of your baton. Buckyâs eyes were glued to the floor, his hands curling around the undersides of the chair until the metal warped under his grip.
âYou need to leave.â
Your smile dropped. âWhat? No, are you crazy? Iâm not leaving you alone afterââ
âGo!â His voice boomed against the walls and you tried not to let the shock startle you.
âBucky, stop. Thatâs not happening.â You dug your fingers into your hips as you paced back over the door, stole a quick glance in both directions. It was still empty save for the bodies lying in your wake. It seemed you and Bucky were entirely alone. You pinched the bridge of your nose. âWeâll figure something out, okay? We always do. This canât be worse than the time we were buried in that old chevy under twelve feet of snow in Alaska last year, can it?â
You shot him a grin, hoping to ease him, though it did little use. His face was red, jaw stoned. He looked like he was barely breathing.
âYouâre not hearing me,â Bucky groaned, his voice molding into something darker. âYou're not safe here. You need to leave. Now. Before I... Before I canât control this. Before I hurt you.â
You paused, narrowing your eyes. âWhat are you talking about? Do you⊠Do you know what that stuff was?â
Bucky clenched his jaw, turning away from you the best he could. He let out a pained groan and kicked the chair out from under him. It slammed against the wall with a harsh clash and forced a skip in your heartbeat, a hand darting up to your chest. Bucky leaned over the table, trying to find support, but he ended up gripping onto the sides hard enough to dent imprints in the shape of his hands.
You rushed forward, desperate to help because you couldnât stand to see him in so much pain, and placed a hand on his shoulder. It touched upon the thick straps of Kevlar for only a second, and still, it was enough to elicit a visceral reaction. He whined, something between a moan and cry, and he slumped down out of your reach.
âDonât touch me,â Bucky warned, though his voice broke in the effort. His breaths were labored and heavy, and still it seemed as though he could barely get one in. âPlease. YouâYou have to get away from me. Iâmâ Iâm begging you.â
Bucky choked back a cry, biting down hard on his lower lip, and it was then you noticed his right hand palming at the hardened outline nestled tight against his thigh. He pressed the heel of his left into his eyes, shame burning hot against his ears and cheeks and trailing down in red patches along his neck. He tried to hide behind his hair, hide from you, but it was enough; you recognized what this was.
It was a serum created by Hydra in the seventies, meant to create inhumans of their own design when the clinical measures were proving unsuccessful. It was created to induce a euphoric state, a primal need beyond personal control, to put its host through hell until Hydra had what it wanted: a viable chance at an inhuman child.
âBucky,â you called gently, though all you earned was a whimpered grunt in response. Slowly, you crossed the plane of the room to him and laid a hand against his collar. His eyes fluttered shut in response, his whole body keenly alert to every touch.
âYou should leave,â he warned again, his gaze slowly drawing up to meet your own; a glossy shine shielded over a stunning ocean blue. âLet me... let me take care of this on my own. Iâll be f-fine.â
âItâll be agonizing,â you told him, having remembered the speech Tony gave a few months back after the team first encountered the serum in Peru. âIt wonât kill you, but it will feel pretty damn close. Nothing you do on your own will relieve it. It doesn't work like that. You need someone to help you through this.â
He shook his head. âNo. I wonât-- I wonât ask you to do that.â
âYou donât have to,â you replied gingerly, drawing your hand up along his arm, tracing over swells of muscle as watching the way a shiver followed so tenderly in your wave. You rested your hand along his cheek, brushing your thumb under his eyes. He was scorching hot. You smiled at him, something soft and gentle, something sad. âIâm offering, Bucky.â
âNo,â he grunted out. âIâI canât. I wonât.â
You nodded, letting your hand fall to the side. It was remarkable he was able to hold himself back this long, let alone decline an offer when presented to him. Youâd heard the stories of men to devolved to a near primal state, who attempted to jump the first person they saw and fought their way to release. Bucky was determined to spare you, even as you offered, even knowing that turning you down would put him through a world of pain.
âOkay,â you conceded. âTell me what you need. Tell me something I can do, Buck, because I canât just watch you in pain like this.â
Bucky stared at you, pupils blown wide, almost as if he could see right through you.
âNeed to get this off,â he finally admitted, eyes drifting down to his suit.
âOkay,â you replied steadily. âDo you want help?â
He shook his head, his stare glued to the floor, but you could see the way his hands were reaching out for you, how he had to keep himself in check and hold them firmly at his sides. He tried to unfasten the buckle at his chest himself, but within seconds he let out a hallowed cry, dropping his head in defeat.
âHurts,â he exhaled, and slowly his eyes came back up to yours. He forced out a halfhearted smile the best he could. âCan you...?â
You returned the nervous smile, as you took a cautious step forward. He followed your every move as your hands extended towards his chest, fingers clipping the buckles easily as they unsnapped down his jacket. Each one left a new breath of relief in its wake, like he was just on the edge of the surface, under only a few inches of water.
Your hands slid under the seams, helping to slip the sleeve down his right arm, and Bucky choked back a moan. His eyes fluttered shut, lips parted just slightly, and you jumped back.
âSorry,â he muttered. His cheeks were near on fire.
âItâs alright, Buck. Itâs not your fault.â You reached out for him again. âHere, let me help with your belt.â
âNo, no, Iâve got it.â His hands were shaking as he started to fidget with the buckle. He swayed on his feet, trying to find some relief. As he unfastened the latch and unbuttoned the hem of his pants, his eyes flashed up to you. He exhaled a heavy breath. âCan you... Christ... can you turn around?â
The look on his face, the shame radiating from every ounce of him, shattered you right to your core. You nodded quickly, turning your back to him and making your way to the door. He needed privacy â of course, he did. He didnât need you around to bear witness to the consequences of Hydraâs newest attempt to leave him powerless and vulnerable.
But just as you approached the door, Bucky called out quietly, âdonât go.â
You stilled in an instant, though you didnât dare to turn around.
âIt, um,â he cleared his throat awkwardly. âI think it helps if youâre here. If thatâs alright.â
âNeed something to look at, huh?â you laughed, trying to make light of the impossible position he was in, and you were thankful for the short chuckle you heard behind you.
âDonât flatter yourself, doll. Youâre the only one here,â he replied, a teasing back in his tone, and no matter how tense it was or how forced it felt, it made your heart skip a beat.
You smiled, shaking your head. Leave it to the two of you to find the humor in a situation like this. Biting down on your lip, you tried to suppress the grin, though it did little use.
Then, you heard the soft fall of his shirt to the floor. Quickly followed by the pants of his suit, dropping to the ground in a heap. He exhaled a breath that sounded as though he hadnât done so in years and you found yourself wondering what he looked like standing there behind you, naked and aching, harder than heâd ever been in his life.
âSwear you wonât tell Sam about this.â
You shook your head, chewing on the inside of your cheek to hold back another laugh. âNo promises.â
âY/n.â
âYouâve got to be in crippling pain, Buck. You donât have time to be embarrassed right now,â you shot back teasingly. âStop edging.â
âFine, okay,â he grumbled back, though you could hear the light in his voice, even if it was a little tense. âJust⊠give me a second.â
The room became impossibly quiet, painfully so, and you waited under bated breath for something to happen. The smile slowly left your lips, fading into a restless frown as you listened intently to his labored breathing, the tight groans of pain, until finally, his hand circled around the base of his cock.
The whine that left his lips was near sinful, and you felt your own breath hitch in your chest as you listened to soft whimpers parting his lips as he stroked himself, covering his length in the precum dropping at his tip. Heavy breaths and wet pumps of his closed hand around his cock, and you clenched your thighs together, wondering how his eyes might travel over your frame.
But God â those sounds he made were beautiful. You could picture him tugging his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut, his shoulders slacking, knees falling a little weak the harder he gripped at himself. Little murmurs of âoh god,â and âfuck yes,â and âpleaseâ as he fucked his fist.
You didnât know how much time had passed by, but your lip was nearly chewed raw, nails indented into the palms of your hands. You could hear how close he was, how his movements picked up in pace, how his breaths labored, how his moans filled the room higher and higher until â it stopped.
Sudden and aching, he lost it before the fall and your heart broke as you heard him cry out in pain.
âBucky?â you called softly, not daring to turn around to face him after he asked you not to. Your heart was pounding in your chest, hands clenched tight, and you swore your knees would buckle out from under you if you unlocked them for even a second.
âFuck, I⊠I canât...â
âBucky, are you okay?â you tried again, worried. There was a panic in his voice that wasnât there before, a desperate longing etched into every syllable, and it scared you.
âI can smell you,â he said simply, achingly.
Your breath hitched and you squeezed your legs together. There was a throbbing there, an emptiness you couldnât quite shake. âDo you... Do you want me to leave?â
âNo,â he replied quickly and you could tell he was contemplating his options. He was growing desperate and that lingering sense of control he maintained was slipping through his fingers. âNo, Iâ You were right. I canât do it on my own. I needâfuck. I needâŠâ
âJust ask,â you offered again, head tilting just enough to the side that he could see your face but you kept your stare to the wall. âIâm here. Iâm saying yes. Just tell me what you need.â
âYou.â
It surprised you as he said it; a little lower, a little darker, but certain.
Slowly, you turned to face him.
Sculpted by Michelangelo himself, Bucky carried the most beautiful lines across his body; divots along muscles and carvings of delicate design. You could tell he expected your eyes to fall straight to his shoulder, to the mess of scars and metal he loathed, or to the vulnerability standing hard in his grasp, but instead, you kept your gaze focused on his eyes.
Bucky stood completely naked before you, his right hand still pumping slowly around his cock as you edged forward. He watched you, biting at his lip as he flicked his thumb over his tip. Eyes trailed down over your frame greedily, hungrily, as if the act of simply looking was enough to draw a twitch from his cock. He tugged his lip between his teeth, tightening his grip around himself.
As you came up beside him, you reached up and sat your hand against his right shoulder, watching how he closed his eyes in response, how his jaw slacked. His lazy thrusts evened out, slowing down, as you traced your hand down his arm, simply lost in your touch. Your hand slid down his bicep, over raised muscle, along his forearm to his wrist, and then, you gently nudged his hand from his cock and replaced it with your own.
His lips fell open, a slight tremble in his breath as you gripped him. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, leaning against you as he caged you to what appeared to be an interrogation table. You felt the warped metal against your thighs from where heâd clutched at it just moments earlier.
Steadily, you began to pump him in your hand, careful to spread the wet of his precum down his shaft. He was hard within your grasp, painfully so, enough that you could feel the crystal outline of a vein running up along the underside. You pressed your thumb against it as you slid your hand up to his tip and brushed it over his slit. The whine he released against your neck was the most beautiful sound you ever heard.
âThis okay?â
âSâgood.â He nodded meekly against your collar but you could feel the strain in his shoulders, the restraint that left his jaw wired shut and breaths tight.
âItâs not enough, though. Is it?â you asked gently, though you knew the answer. You knew what he needed and your hand, or even your mouth, would not be enough. The Hydra scientists knew what they were doing when they designed this. It had a very specific purpose and it would not yield for anything less.
âYou donât have to, Y/n,â he said, stronger than youâd heard his voice since he was injected. It took nearly all his strength.
You smiled, letting your free hand cup at the side of his face. He leaned into the touch, seeking more, almost instinctively. Bucky was a complicated man; capable of light-hearted jokes in the middle of a warzone and an immeasurable guilt and shame that had not left him in his years since he was freed from Hydra. He was your closest friend, your partner in the field, a man that you trusted above all others, a man you cared for in ways he would never quite understand.
âIâm here, Bucky. Iâve got you,â you whispered sweetly, but you could still feel his hesitance. âListen to me, Iâll leave if you really want me to. Iâll stop if this isnât what you want. But please, donât send me away and leave you suffer through this alone because you think I donât want you. I do, Buck. I want you. I want to make you feel good. I want to take away your pain. Let me.â
He stared at you for a moment, a strange mixture of disbelief and longing upon his features. Slowly his hands lifted from the table and felt for the clasp at the back of your suit. You nodded at him, and slid the zipper down your spine, exposing perfect, untouched skin. He pealed it down along your shoulders, over your chest and down your waist. You helped him remove it down to your feet and kicked it off to the floor beside his own.
His eyes drifted to your chest, hands itching to reach out, but he held them firm at his sides.
âItâs okay, Buck. You can touch me,â you told him, reaching behind your back and releasing the clasp of your bra. The straps fell down your shoulders and you let the fabric slip from you. Bucky swallowed, his eyes drifting to your exposed chest. A smile started to curve upon your lips the longer he stared at you, like you were something to revere.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he murmured quietly, almost to himself, as if saying it purely for the state of fact.
Your heart skipped a beat, lips parting in a slight shock, and you wondered if this was what it was like for the women he brought home on cold, lonely nights from the bar. Youâd seen the content smiles on their faces in the morning as they sauntered out of his room with messy hair and a blissful kind of look in their eyes.
Bucky wasnât the cold, calculating man the papers made him out to be. He was kind, exceptionally sweet, and a selfless to a fault. You didnât suspect he was any different in a bedroom.
He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. âI never thought this would be howâ"
But thenâ his face started to contort and suddenly Bucky was keening over. He clutched at his stomach, digging his nails deep into the muscle and he nearly collapsed to his knees.
âBucky!â
You grabbed a firm hold of his right arm, just enough to keep him steady, and even the smallest of touches alone seemed to ignite something in him. Goosebumps littered his skin and a sweet kind of whine escaped past his lips as you ran a hand soothingly along his spine.
âCome on, we donât have a lot of time,â you warned gently. It was a miracle within itself he was still on his feet. This serum had put ordinary men into shock within minutes if they didnât find release. Never enough to kill them, but just enough to make them wish it would.
Bucky followed you back to the table at the center of the room, his hand clasped tightly in your own. It was the most physical affection youâd shown for one another, a tenderness outside of the rush of foreign chemicals in his veins, and you tried not to think about the fallout you were bound to find after.
He helped to guide you onto the table, resting your back against the cool, metal surface. Then, slowly, he crawled on top of you. His eyes drifted down to your panties and you lifted your hips for him, giving him the permission he needed to pull them down your legs.
His hand slid down along your curves, drawing goosebumps in his wake, until he swiftly slid his fingers between your thighs. Dipping into the wetness at your core, he spread his fingers around, lubricating himself until he slid two easily inside of you.
âOh, Bucky,â you moaned, back arching as he pumped them against your walls. âGod, that feelsâso good.â
His left hand was curled tightly into a fist near you head as he propped his body weight up against the arm; gears whirring, the scars at the base of his shoulder red in the strain of it. One quick glance at the tension coating his muscles, the sharp breaths in his chest, the whine as his cock touched your thigh, and you were pulled swiftly from the clouds, a startling reminder why you were doing this in the first place.
âHey, donât worry about me,â you told him, a little breathless as he added the third finger. âIâm fine, Buck. You need to come. This isnât about me.â
He shook his head, determined. âYouâre not ready yet.â
You chuckled, a heat of embarrassment washing over you, even as he scissored his fingers, stretching your walls. You had to choke back a moan and the urge to clamp your thighs together around his wrist.
âIâm more than ready,â you said, voice a little higher, hands clenching at the sides of the table as you felt your walls tightening around his fingers. âTrust me, Buck. Just listening to you touch yourself was enough.â
You laughed again but the room was thick in tension, almost unbearably so. Bucky could hardly hear you. His hair had fallen down to shield his face, his gaze focused on where his fingers were lost to the most intimate parts of you; determined.
âIt has to be good for you,â he muttered out slowly. You narrowed your eyes on him, growing worried as he seemed to retreat within himself. He was distant, his mind far away from his body. âIt has to be good⊠it has to be good for you otherwise⊠otherwise Iâm⊠Iâm...â
He wouldnât say it but you knew what he meant.
âBucky, come back to me.â You reach up and grabbed a firm hold of his cheeks, thumbs at his jawline, and drew his attention to your eyes. It took him a moment to get there, but you found ocean blue again, even if it was clouded in dark, stormy skies. âIâm okay. Donât worry about how I feel, alright? Just do what you need to, Iâll be fiââ
âI wonât use you like that!â Bucky snapped defiantly, startling you. âI donât care that it feels like my skin is on fire and thereâs knives carving through my body. I donât care that I feel like Iâm going to pass out and everything in me is fighting to force my way onto you and take what I want regardless of what it does to you! I donât care! Youâre my best friend and I⊠IâŠâ He was panting, red in the face, and he couldnât seem to find his words. He swallowed, though it looked as though it burned. âIt has to be good for you, okay?â
You nodded, running your hands gently along his arms; his left, solid metal, unwavering, and his right trembled deep within the tissue â the gentle movements of his forearm pressed up against your stomach, his fingers searching out a pleasure he so desperately needed you to feel.
âIâŠâ he started before he clenched his jaw. A heavy exhale followed, a drop of his gaze, and he muttered out weakly, âI need to pretend this is real.â
Your lips parted in shock; heart stammering so painful in your chest you wondered if he could hear it. Before you could say anything, before you could ask him what he meant by that, Bucky let his fingers slip out from between your legs, resting slicked against your thigh. The emptiness was startling.
âI think youâre ready for me now.â
Bucky nestled himself between your legs, lined his length your entrance with a gentle sweep of his top through your folds. He shivered, something near violent as it shook through his spine, and you were reminded again that Bucky was suffering, that he had a foreign chemical in his veins that ripped away his control and left him powerless to Hydra.
His skin was flushed red, sweat beading on his forehead and down his neck. There were sharp marks in the palm of his right hand where he dug his own nails into his skin. His breaths were coming in quickly and uneven.
âLook at me,â you ordered, stern enough to draw his attention. âDonât hold back. You need to get this out, okay? I will tell you if itâs too much.â
It took him a moment, a breath of contemplation, before he nodded; slow and hesitant. You could see the strain in his jawline, the tension in his shoulders from how much he was restraining himself. It must have been agonizing, but Bucky had been through worse in his life. You supposed pain had become a familiar friend, one he learned to tame and control, even when it ripped him apart.
The moment he pressed his tip past your entrance, as he bottomed out in one thrust, as he felt your walls squeeze tightly around him for the first time, Bucky nearly came on the spot. He gasped into your shoulder, sucking marks against your skin as he rolled his hips against you. Slow and steady at first, reveling in the feel of being consumed whole, of being taken so well, of a rush of endorphins and pleasure heâd never felt even in the peak of sex. Everything was heightened, every touch was immaculate; he could feel your heartbeat through the walls squeezing at his cock.
âOh, f-fuck,â he moaned against your ear, breath hot, voice dangerously low. âFuck you feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking good. Goddamn perfect.â
You nodded, arms circling up around his shoulders as you rolled your hips to meet his own. You could still feel the stone carved tension in his muscle, how much he was holding back from what he needed. He was trying to be gentle with you, loving in a way the serum was not designed for, but it was testing him. He wouldnât give into it, not in the way you asked him to, because Bucky had already lost so much to Hydra, already lost pieces of his mind and body, he would not let them take his soul, too.
âJust for you.â The words passed through your lips before you could quite catch onto their meaning. Your hands slipped down his chest as you brushed your thumbs against his nipples. He moaned, hips picking up in pace. He needed the encouragement, you realized. It was the only way heâd allow himself the release he needed to free his body of that serum.
He needed to pretend it was real.
He needed to pretend that you werenât laying upon a cold, unforgiving table in an old Hydra base, that maybe this was something more than the consequences of a vile he didnât ask for.
The line between the fantasy and reality was painfully thin.
âF-fuck, youâre so tight,â he mumbled breathily. The table began to squeak with every snap of his hips, with every drag of his cock at your core, the brush of his tip to the sweetest spot. It was easy to lose yourself in him, to forget that you were in an abandoned Hydra cell, that he had a foreign chemical in his veins determined to destroy him. He felt like heaven.
âSâall yours,â you whispered, drawing your hands down along his waist, slipping over his hips and gripping into the soft flesh of his ass. You pulled him deeper into you, daring him to go further. His pupils were blown so wide, you could barely see the blue in his eyes. He was slipping, barely holding into the restraint he so desperately clung to, and you rolled your hips at just the right angle, squeezed him enough to draw a mangled cry from his lips.
You kissed at the dip of his collar, sucking sweetly as he all but purred in response. Your lips mapped a path up his neck, along his jaw line, over cheekbones and at the tip of his nose, until you paused at his mouth. His heart was pounding, thunderous in his chest, and his hips seemed to pick up in pace with every kiss.
It wasnât until you captured his lips against your own that Bucky lost the last ounce of control he had been clinging onto.
Something like a growl purred against your lips, a sound near feral, and the gentle push of his hips like ocean waves against you turned into quick, harsh snaps. He pulled his lips from you, trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck, until he found the place he was looking for and sunk his teeth to the crook of your shoulder.
âAh, Bucky!â
All consuming. Feverish. A man untamed and he did not relent, not as your walls tightened around him like the twist of a coil, or as the sound of skin and wetness between your legs echoed high into the room, or when his fingers touched at your clit and rubbed harsh, quick and pressured circles until you were crying out so loudly, it must have carried through the whole base.
âFuck! Ah, God, Bucky, donât stop!â
Bucky groaned against you, sucking a mark where his teeth had met your flesh. You could feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, the pulse of his cock in your cunt, the thick vein that ran along his underside as it added so sweetly to the pressure at your entrance. It was wild and unhinged, but God â it was good.
âY-yeah, baby, right there,â Bucky moaned, his thrusts falling uneven, haphazard, needy. âF-fuck, Iâm gonna come. Iâm gonnaâah, ah, f-fuckââ
The heat of him, the way he filled you so perfectly, the rush, and it pushed you over the edge. White hot and intoxicating, the wash of it broke open in floodgates and swept through you. His fingers did not let up on your clit as you squirmed and withered below him, his thrusts falling lazy as he chased the end of his release.
Breathless and a little dizzy as you came down from your high, you felt his heartbeat inside of you; quick, but even. The serum had done its work. It released him from its hold.
Bucky was panting, the full of his weight having fallen onto you. His hair was wet with sweat, messy and untamed, and the room smelled distinctly of sex. But more than that, it was unbearably silent.
Slowly, Bucky began to pry himself off of you, allowing his softened cock to slip from between your legs, slick and satisfied. He swallowed, a blush creeping onto his cheek as he pushed his hair behind his ear.
âAre you alright?â he asked.
You chuckled, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him quickly tug his pants back on before he bent down and picked up your suit for you, handing it gingerly to you upon the table with a shy sort of smile.
âAlright? Iâm great.â You grinned over at him, glowing in the aftermath of your release. âYou feel okay now?â
He nodded, a nervous smile tugging on his lips as he watched you jump down from the table and step into your suit. His eyes must have lingered on your thighs where his cum was still slick along the skin from his release because his smile began to fall, his jaw tightly clenched.
âSHEILD has me on birth control, Buck. Donât worry about that,â you told him softly. You tugged the sleeves back up your arms, though it proved difficult with the lingering sweat on your skin. You flipped your hair over your shoulder and turned your back to him. âDo you mind?â
He cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling forward to zip up the back of your suit. He brushed a few stray strands of hair over your shoulder, the gentle sweep of cool metal a relief against the hot flush of your skin; impossibly tender for a man capable of the things he was.
âSo,â he started, a nervous chuckle in his voice as he grasped hold of the zipper, âshould we talk about this orââ
âBucky? Y/n? You guys read me?â
Steve.
âSeems the coms are back on,â you sighed, stepping to the side after Bucky finished zipping your suit. He was still holding his tactical vest in his hand, along with the one-armed jacket. His hair was untamed, cheeks flushed, and you imagined you looked of the same.
âWe got you, Steve,â Bucky replied, though it seemed rather reluctant. âWhere you been, man? You dropped us in a warzone.â
âYeah, I figured that out,â Steve grumbled back. âGet to the jet. Weâll debrief on the way back. Donât forget to rig the place to blow on your way out.â
âRight,â you rolled your eyes, grinning at Bucky as he slipped his jacket on. âCertainly, canât forget the one thing you sent us here to do.â
âUnless youâve got more Hydra agents hiding in the wings?â Bucky added on and you could practically see Steve deadpan from the cockpit.
âJust get out of there before I come get you myself.â
You laughed as you slid the batons back into the holsters at your shoulder blades.
It was strange, how quickly it felt as if nothing had changed at all. Maybe it hadnât. Maybe it was a quick release and you were simply helping a friend. Maybe it was something neither of you would speak of again and youâd go right back to being partners, friends, as if it never happened.
But as you turned around at the edge of the room, a smile wide upon your face, you found Bucky watching you with a kind of look in his eye you couldnât quite place. It wasnât one you recognized, wasnât one youâd seen in him before. It was something new.
His eyes flickered to your collarbone where a mark upon your skin was growing discolored; bite marks and bruising where his mouth had been. A strange mixture of remorse and longing, affection and need, all rolled into one.
âYou ready, Buck?â
He nodded quickly, snapping himself from his gaze with a pressed smile. It didnât quite reach his eyes, though he tried. He met you at the edge of the room, trailing a few steps behind you, and you turned around to find him staring back into the cell, like he was trying to preserve a memory of some kind.
You realized as you watched Bucky clear his throat awkwardly, turning back to you with a gentle blush of pink in his cheeks, that there was no pretending you hadnât crossed a line together. There was no going back.
summary: bucky knows heâs still in love with you a year after the two of you mutually agreed to break up. when one phone call spirals into one plan being made and then another, and then suddenly heâs staying at your place, he wonders if there may be a chance to try again.
WARNINGS:Â small angst, a whole lotta fluff, literally fluff, swearing, mentions of s e x but they donât do the do
pairing: modern!bucky barnes x fem!reader
word count: 6.7k
a/n: inspired by if the world was ending by jp saxe (ft. julia michaels). a kinda real take on how sometimes the timing just isnât right for a relationship and how sometimes it is.
âHey.â
âHi.â
Your voice echoes in his car and he nearly shivers at how gentle, sleepy, you sound. He wondered where youâd be: at a bar or at home, working overtime or eating out after a long night, on a date. The thought had made him tired, sad, but it didnât tear a hole through him as it once would.
