Summary: Fate has brought you to the man who is meant to be the next step for humans. Was he really the right choice?
Author's Note: ... Hi, been a while, a long one actually, this is a small thing to see if anyone still wants to read, I'll probably have a new chapter ready to be posted but I wanna see how this does, without further (what's the next word), let's get started.
It was the night before the serum injection, you were to be present of course, you were what Howard liked to call “our plan b on demand” and you have figured its meaning eventually.
You were meant and even allowed to be there, in case something went wrong with the injection and whoever Steve Rogers was, suddenly went crazy and tried to hurt anyone not that they suspected it would happen, Abe knew his own work.
But you were not complaining, as that whole thing of theirs allowed some little freedom, one of which you were basking in right now, which was wandering alone, without anyone watching your every move.
The night was quieter than it should be for one before the morning of the serum injection but there was something in the air that your powers always recognised before your mind did, the kind of stillness that came before the change, the held breath of fate before it exhaled and rearranged the world.
You had felt it before, standing on the Bifrost watching armies march, standing in odin's hall the day everything unraveled.
You felt it now, outside in the cold of New Jersey, and you had not even meant to stand here.
You had simply been walking, grateful for the quiet of the night and the freedom of being somewhere that was not four walls and polite mistrust, then your feet stopped and you looked up and there he was.
Steven Rogers.
You recognised him from the descriptions, though the descriptions did not do justice to the whole picture. He was… slight, slight enough that the night seemed to dwarf him, he was sitting on a low step outside the facility with his arms resting on his knees and his eyes somewhere far away. He looked like a man doing arithmetic in his head that kept not adding up.
He noticed you half a second after you noticed him, and he straightened immediately, spine pulling to attention and there was something almost painful about how automatic it was, like someone who had spent a lifetime making himself take up less space and had accidentally learned to shrink for everyone.
“Ma'am” he said it simply, not startled, just acknowledged. Like you had every right to be here and he was simply making note of your presence.
The politeness of it caught you off guard, you were not used to being met with calm.
“I did not mean to intrude.” You stopped a few feet away from him, genuinely uncertain, which had its own strange thing, you, who had stood before the norns and the all-father and men with swords and guns in their hands in your face, not blinked, uncertain before a mortal boy on a step.
“You're not intruding.” He nodded at the space beside him, an offer. “Plenty of steps.”
You considered him for a moment, the habit of assessment you could not turn off, threads and weight and the particular gravity a soul carried, and then you sat.
For a while neither of you spoke, which should have been awkward and was not.
“You are thinking very loudly.” you eventually said.
He let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
“Sorry, Ma'am. Lot to think about.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” He agreed and left it there.
You looked at his profile. In the dark he looked less small somehow, or perhaps it was that sitting still, without anyone to stand next to him, there was nothing to measure him against and so the measurement became irrelevant.
“They tell me you jumped on a grenade.” You said.
“It wasn't-” he paused, reconsidering. “Yeah… I did.”
“Why?”
He turned to look at you then, really look, like he was deciding how honest he wanted to be then decided on fully. “Because somebody had to”
You held his gaze, blue grey eyes, you noted.
The kind that had looked like they had already seen things and quietly stored them away. “And it did not occur to you to let it be somebody else?”
“No,” He said with a simplicity that was devastating. “not really”
You were quiet for a moment.
"I have known strong people," you said, and your voice came out older than you intended, carrying distance in it. "Men who could break stones with their hands. Men who had never lost a battle and knew it and let it fill them up until there was nothing else inside. Strength like that, " you considered the word, "it is very loud. And it changes very little.”
Steve watched you without interrupting, which was its own kind of rarity.
“And then,” You continued and you were not entirely sure why you were saying this, only that the threads of fate hummed quietly in the base of your skull and your mother always told you to listen when they did. “Sometimes one finds someone whose strength is so quiet they do not even seem to know they have it.”
He was still watching you. Not with awe, not with the careful calculation of a man being flattered and wondering what it cost. Just listening. Really listening.
"That sounds like something someone says to the small guy to make him feel better," he said finally.
“It is something I say because it is true.” you met his eyes. “I have not made a habit of comfort, Steven Rogers. It does not come naturally to me.”
Something shifted in his expression, not quite a smile, something smaller and more genuine than that. "No?”
“No.” You looked ahead again, in the dark of the night. “I am told I am rather blunt.”
He did laugh then, quiet and real. “Yeah, I can see that.”
The night settled around you again, softer this time.
"Are you scared?" you asked. Not testing him, not measuring. Just asking.
He thought about it honestly, which you appreciated more than you could say. "Yeah," he said. "But not of…not of what you'd think. Not of the procedure.”
“Of after.”
He nodded slowly. "Of after. Of it not working, or it working and nothing actually being different, or-" He stopped. Started again more carefully. "I've been trying to get here for a long time. Feels strange to be here.”
You understood that more than he could know.
You thought of Asgard the way it looked from the Bifrost, golden and impossible and belonging to someone else now. You thought of how long you had spent trying to be the right shape for a place that had already decided you didn't fit.
"For what it is worth," you said quietly, "I think you are already different from most men I have met. And I have met a great many.”
He glanced at you sideways. "Because I jumped on a grenade?”
"Because," you said, "you sat here quietly with a stranger in the dark and did not once try to be anything other than what you are."
He was quiet for a moment. "That's either a real nice thing to say or a very strange one.”
"Possibly both." You stood, smoothing your pants. "Rest, Steven. Tomorrow will come whether you are ready or not, that is the irritating nature of time.”
He stood too, automatic again, that Brooklyn politeness, and gave you a small nod. "Yes Ma'am.Thank you.”
You paused. Something made you pause.
"You are going to be fine," you said, and you did not say things you did not believe. "Whatever fine looks like after tomorrow, you are going to be it.”
You left before he could answer, and you did not look back, and you did not need to.
The threads of fate were very quiet now.
The kind of quiet that meant they had gotten what they came for.
Summary: Fate has brought you to the man who is meant to be the next step for humans. Was he really the right choice?
Author's Note: ... Hi, been a while, a long one actually, this is a small thing to see if anyone still wants to read, I'll probably have a new chapter ready to be posted but I wanna see how this does, without further (what's the next word), let's get started.
It was the night before the serum injection, you were to be present of course, you were what Howard liked to call “our plan b on demand” and you have figured its meaning eventually.
You were meant and even allowed to be there, in case something went wrong with the injection and whoever Steve Rogers was, suddenly went crazy and tried to hurt anyone not that they suspected it would happen, Abe knew his own work.
But you were not complaining, as that whole thing of theirs allowed some little freedom, one of which you were basking in right now, which was wandering alone, without anyone watching your every move.
The night was quieter than it should be for one before the morning of the serum injection but there was something in the air that your powers always recognised before your mind did, the kind of stillness that came before the change, the held breath of fate before it exhaled and rearranged the world.
You had felt it before, standing on the Bifrost watching armies march, standing in odin's hall the day everything unraveled.
You felt it now, outside in the cold of New Jersey, and you had not even meant to stand here.
You had simply been walking, grateful for the quiet of the night and the freedom of being somewhere that was not four walls and polite mistrust, then your feet stopped and you looked up and there he was.
Steven Rogers.
You recognised him from the descriptions, though the descriptions did not do justice to the whole picture. He was… slight, slight enough that the night seemed to dwarf him, he was sitting on a low step outside the facility with his arms resting on his knees and his eyes somewhere far away. He looked like a man doing arithmetic in his head that kept not adding up.
He noticed you half a second after you noticed him, and he straightened immediately, spine pulling to attention and there was something almost painful about how automatic it was, like someone who had spent a lifetime making himself take up less space and had accidentally learned to shrink for everyone.
“Ma'am” he said it simply, not startled, just acknowledged. Like you had every right to be here and he was simply making note of your presence.
The politeness of it caught you off guard, you were not used to being met with calm.
“I did not mean to intrude.” You stopped a few feet away from him, genuinely uncertain, which had its own strange thing, you, who had stood before the norns and the all-father and men with swords and guns in their hands in your face, not blinked, uncertain before a mortal boy on a step.
“You're not intruding.” He nodded at the space beside him, an offer. “Plenty of steps.”
You considered him for a moment, the habit of assessment you could not turn off, threads and weight and the particular gravity a soul carried, and then you sat.
For a while neither of you spoke, which should have been awkward and was not.
“You are thinking very loudly.” you eventually said.
He let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
“Sorry, Ma'am. Lot to think about.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” He agreed and left it there.
You looked at his profile. In the dark he looked less small somehow, or perhaps it was that sitting still, without anyone to stand next to him, there was nothing to measure him against and so the measurement became irrelevant.
“They tell me you jumped on a grenade.” You said.
“It wasn't-” he paused, reconsidering. “Yeah… I did.”
“Why?”
He turned to look at you then, really look, like he was deciding how honest he wanted to be then decided on fully. “Because somebody had to”
You held his gaze, blue grey eyes, you noted.
The kind that had looked like they had already seen things and quietly stored them away. “And it did not occur to you to let it be somebody else?”
“No,” He said with a simplicity that was devastating. “not really”
You were quiet for a moment.
"I have known strong people," you said, and your voice came out older than you intended, carrying distance in it. "Men who could break stones with their hands. Men who had never lost a battle and knew it and let it fill them up until there was nothing else inside. Strength like that, " you considered the word, "it is very loud. And it changes very little.”
Steve watched you without interrupting, which was its own kind of rarity.
“And then,” You continued and you were not entirely sure why you were saying this, only that the threads of fate hummed quietly in the base of your skull and your mother always told you to listen when they did. “Sometimes one finds someone whose strength is so quiet they do not even seem to know they have it.”
He was still watching you. Not with awe, not with the careful calculation of a man being flattered and wondering what it cost. Just listening. Really listening.
"That sounds like something someone says to the small guy to make him feel better," he said finally.
“It is something I say because it is true.” you met his eyes. “I have not made a habit of comfort, Steven Rogers. It does not come naturally to me.”
Something shifted in his expression, not quite a smile, something smaller and more genuine than that. "No?”
“No.” You looked ahead again, in the dark of the night. “I am told I am rather blunt.”
He did laugh then, quiet and real. “Yeah, I can see that.”
The night settled around you again, softer this time.
"Are you scared?" you asked. Not testing him, not measuring. Just asking.
He thought about it honestly, which you appreciated more than you could say. "Yeah," he said. "But not of…not of what you'd think. Not of the procedure.”
“Of after.”
He nodded slowly. "Of after. Of it not working, or it working and nothing actually being different, or-" He stopped. Started again more carefully. "I've been trying to get here for a long time. Feels strange to be here.”
You understood that more than he could know.
You thought of Asgard the way it looked from the Bifrost, golden and impossible and belonging to someone else now. You thought of how long you had spent trying to be the right shape for a place that had already decided you didn't fit.
"For what it is worth," you said quietly, "I think you are already different from most men I have met. And I have met a great many.”
He glanced at you sideways. "Because I jumped on a grenade?”
He was quiet for a moment. "That's either a real nice thing to say or a very strange one.”
"Possibly both." You stood, smoothing your pants. "Rest, Steven. Tomorrow will come whether you are ready or not, that is the irritating nature of time.”
He stood too, automatic again, that Brooklyn politeness, and gave you a small nod. "Yes Ma'am.Thank you.”
You paused. Something made you pause.
"You are going to be fine," you said, and you did not say things you did not believe. "Whatever fine looks like after tomorrow, you are going to be it.”
You left before he could answer, and you did not look back, and you did not need to.
The threads of fate were very quiet now.
The kind of quiet that meant they had gotten what they came for.
Summary: Fate has brought you to the man who is meant to be the next step for humans. Was he really the right choice?
Author's Note: ... Hi, been a while, a long one actually, this is a small thing to see if anyone still wants to read, I'll probably have a new chapter ready to be posted but I wanna see how this does, without further (what's the next word), let's get started.
It was the night before the serum injection, you were to be present of course, you were what Howard liked to call “our plan b on demand” and you have figured its meaning eventually.
You were meant and even allowed to be there, in case something went wrong with the injection and whoever Steve Rogers was, suddenly went crazy and tried to hurt anyone not that they suspected it would happen, Abe knew his own work.
But you were not complaining, as that whole thing of theirs allowed some little freedom, one of which you were basking in right now, which was wandering alone, without anyone watching your every move.
The night was quieter than it should be for one before the morning of the serum injection but there was something in the air that your powers always recognised before your mind did, the kind of stillness that came before the change, the held breath of fate before it exhaled and rearranged the world.
You had felt it before, standing on the Bifrost watching armies march, standing in odin's hall the day everything unraveled.
You felt it now, outside in the cold of New Jersey, and you had not even meant to stand here.
You had simply been walking, grateful for the quiet of the night and the freedom of being somewhere that was not four walls and polite mistrust, then your feet stopped and you looked up and there he was.
Steven Rogers.
You recognised him from the descriptions, though the descriptions did not do justice to the whole picture. He was… slight, slight enough that the night seemed to dwarf him, he was sitting on a low step outside the facility with his arms resting on his knees and his eyes somewhere far away. He looked like a man doing arithmetic in his head that kept not adding up.
He noticed you half a second after you noticed him, and he straightened immediately, spine pulling to attention and there was something almost painful about how automatic it was, like someone who had spent a lifetime making himself take up less space and had accidentally learned to shrink for everyone.
“Ma'am” he said it simply, not startled, just acknowledged. Like you had every right to be here and he was simply making note of your presence.
The politeness of it caught you off guard, you were not used to being met with calm.
“I did not mean to intrude.” You stopped a few feet away from him, genuinely uncertain, which had its own strange thing, you, who had stood before the norns and the all-father and men with swords and guns in their hands in your face, not blinked, uncertain before a mortal boy on a step.
“You're not intruding.” He nodded at the space beside him, an offer. “Plenty of steps.”
You considered him for a moment, the habit of assessment you could not turn off, threads and weight and the particular gravity a soul carried, and then you sat.
For a while neither of you spoke, which should have been awkward and was not.
“You are thinking very loudly.” you eventually said.
He let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
“Sorry, Ma'am. Lot to think about.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” He agreed and left it there.
You looked at his profile. In the dark he looked less small somehow, or perhaps it was that sitting still, without anyone to stand next to him, there was nothing to measure him against and so the measurement became irrelevant.
“They tell me you jumped on a grenade.” You said.
“It wasn't-” he paused, reconsidering. “Yeah… I did.”
“Why?”
He turned to look at you then, really look, like he was deciding how honest he wanted to be then decided on fully. “Because somebody had to”
You held his gaze, blue grey eyes, you noted.
The kind that had looked like they had already seen things and quietly stored them away. “And it did not occur to you to let it be somebody else?”
“No,” He said with a simplicity that was devastating. “not really”
You were quiet for a moment.
"I have known strong people," you said, and your voice came out older than you intended, carrying distance in it. "Men who could break stones with their hands. Men who had never lost a battle and knew it and let it fill them up until there was nothing else inside. Strength like that, " you considered the word, "it is very loud. And it changes very little.”
Steve watched you without interrupting, which was its own kind of rarity.
“And then,” You continued and you were not entirely sure why you were saying this, only that the threads of fate hummed quietly in the base of your skull and your mother always told you to listen when they did. “Sometimes one finds someone whose strength is so quiet they do not even seem to know they have it.”
He was still watching you. Not with awe, not with the careful calculation of a man being flattered and wondering what it cost. Just listening. Really listening.
"That sounds like something someone says to the small guy to make him feel better," he said finally.
“It is something I say because it is true.” you met his eyes. “I have not made a habit of comfort, Steven Rogers. It does not come naturally to me.”
Something shifted in his expression, not quite a smile, something smaller and more genuine than that. "No?”
“No.” You looked ahead again, in the dark of the night. “I am told I am rather blunt.”
He did laugh then, quiet and real. “Yeah, I can see that.”
The night settled around you again, softer this time.
"Are you scared?" you asked. Not testing him, not measuring. Just asking.
He thought about it honestly, which you appreciated more than you could say. "Yeah," he said. "But not of…not of what you'd think. Not of the procedure.”
“Of after.”
He nodded slowly. "Of after. Of it not working, or it working and nothing actually being different, or-" He stopped. Started again more carefully. "I've been trying to get here for a long time. Feels strange to be here.”
You understood that more than he could know.
You thought of Asgard the way it looked from the Bifrost, golden and impossible and belonging to someone else now. You thought of how long you had spent trying to be the right shape for a place that had already decided you didn't fit.
"For what it is worth," you said quietly, "I think you are already different from most men I have met. And I have met a great many.”
He glanced at you sideways. "Because I jumped on a grenade?”
"Because," you said, "you sat here quietly with a stranger in the dark and did not once try to be anything other than what you are."
He was quiet for a moment. "That's either a real nice thing to say or a very strange one.”
"Possibly both." You stood, smoothing your pants. "Rest, Steven. Tomorrow will come whether you are ready or not, that is the irritating nature of time.”
He stood too, automatic again, that Brooklyn politeness, and gave you a small nod. "Yes Ma'am.Thank you.”
You paused. Something made you pause.
"You are going to be fine," you said, and you did not say things you did not believe. "Whatever fine looks like after tomorrow, you are going to be it.”
You left before he could answer, and you did not look back, and you did not need to.
The threads of fate were very quiet now.
The kind of quiet that meant they had gotten what they came for.
Omg are you actually going to continue your ‘Life Waster’ series?!
OMG HI THERE! YES, I do plan on continuing it, hope you enjoyed it so far as I doubted it sometimes! But glad you enjoyed it, I should have a new part out soon!
Nakahara Chuuya x Gifted!femReader (but not really?)
Summary: Hunted and perhaps wanted for you ability, you find yourself running from one place to another until you stumbled across a man who saved you and gave you a home but little did you know that not only did your creator want you but other people as well and one of them happened to be Osamu Dazai and the port mafia.
Author's Note: So I finally have the courage to post something but beware that it might not be good and perhaps unedited but I hope you'll enjoy it and don't come at me for the Dazai, Chuuya and reader thing… it's still undecided 😅… enjoy!
Warnings: Let's see… BSD usual violence for starters, characters deaths (naturally, it's bsd, what did you expect?) Smut(eventually)
Psychological issues here and there because again (bsd) and that's about it for now…
Prolouge (Never give me your back) :
To say it was your plan to be at Yokohama's most famous hotel and in its casino\club wouldn't be true but what wasn't really in your plans was meeting a certain redhead and the baggage that came with him.
Chapter 1 (Your Choice, My Order)
Summary: Dazai is intrigued with you but there is only one problem… you're not happy about it.
Chapter 2 (Movies, snacks and he who shall not be named.)
Summary: Dazai is getting closer to making you his subordinate, meanwhile you are making friends with a certain redhead.
Chapter 3 (Soulless, Homeless and such a hopeless case.)
Summary: The day of the initiation is here but only one problem remains… you and the Demon Prodigy seem to love fighting each other a little too much.
Chapter 4 (Living itself is the source of sin.)
Summary: Days morph into weeks and weeks turn into months… working as Dazai's subordinate proved to not be the worst but not the best either but something was happening between you and Dazai and neither of you knew what it was…
Chapter 5 (The Red Woman)
Summary: You're alive and well but a new problem pops up and Dazai chose to get involved.
Chapter 6 (Feed My Hunger. Feed My Soul.)
Summary: The conflict with the serpents' den was nearing its end but so were you, the only issue was no one knew what was wrong or how they could fix it but what if you knew what was wrong and you didn't know if you wanted to fix it.
content. you pleasure din as he sits in the pilots seat. 18+, oral (m receiving), established relationship. wc; 1094.
There's not a sight more holier to Din than you on your knees for him.
It's primal the way his eyes follow your movements, hooded and dark with lust, glinting with a hint of something dangerous. Even through his visor you know exactly how he stares at you, easy to read despite the armour—he always has been for you.
But you prefer it when you can see his face.
Right now his eyebrows are drawn together tightly, each breath he takes is shallow and sucked in through gritted teeth. The lines on his face are made that much more pronounced when he rolls his head back.
Sometimes it's like he still forgets that you can see his face, because he's no good at hiding his pleasure from you—not that you'd ever want him to anyway. There's never any signs of shame on his face when he feels good, just pure, unfiltered feeling. It's euphoric. The sight of his face contorted because of the pleasure you're giving him will never get old.
He's warm, you can tell by the way he keeps fidgeting. A visible sheen of sweat lines his forehead, beads trickle down his chest towards the band of his trousers, sending a shiver down his spine despite his heat. His armour lies piled up on the floor by your feet, an undershirt and trousers are all that cover his body, but, by the way his chest heaves, you're certain he'd welcome you to take those off of him soon as well.
You shift without thinking and the small movement draws Din's eyes, his head snaps towards you and he tilts it like he does when he's thinking about something difficult.
He towers above you even while seated, looking over you with wild eyes, his broad chest and sturdy shoulders seem impossibly large from where you kneel. Gently he threads his fingers through your hair, pulling softly before sinking back into the pilots chair of the crest.
A flicker of hesitation crosses over his face when he hears the sound of a ship flying close overhead. You question him with a tilt of your head, your mouth just inches from his lap.
When he hums a soft affirmative a wide smile splits across your face. You waste no time, tugging down the top of his trousers and letting his cock spring free. Your eyes widen with excitement at the sight of him, no matter how many times you see him in front of you you still can't get over his size.
You lean forward and plant a shy kiss to the tip of his cock. Din jerks and a hiss slips through his still gritted teeth. His hand moves downwards to rest on the back of your neck and he squeezes lightly, not quite in warning but something close. Something that says he can't handle the teasing today.
Or maybe he's just trying to tell you he needs you.
Either way you comply easily, dropping your head and pulling his cock into your mouth. Din curses, the sound of his free hand hitting the arm of the chair echoes through the empty cockpit, sending a shockwave of excitement over your body. You can practically feel his restraint fraying at the seams, it's been so long since you've been able to have him like this—needy, desperate and as slow as you want.
Steadily you start bobbing your head along his length. You stick your tongue out, making sure to run the warm muscle along the underside of his cock. Din's mind is a blank slate as you continue your skilled exploration, every inch of him is destined to be worshipped by you this evening.
With no hesitation you begin to move your hands towards his thighs, dancing teasingly along the taut muscle. You smile when he tenses under your touch, a small laugh spilling from your lips and making him jump with the vibration.
"You okay?" You whisper, lips still curled into a smile.
Your breath is hot on Din's skin, the sensation sends prickles of heat all down his legs and up over his stomach. It makes his hand tremble and butterflies erupt in his chest when you lift your head up in search of an answer when he doesn't reply immediately.
All he can offer you is a small nod, but it's enough to satisfy you. With a final smile you drop your head back down and push your lips around his cock. The taste of his precum causes you to moan around his head and you're quick to resume your previous pace. Your hands are still on his thighs and you begin to knead the muscle that has been the cause of your pleasure countless times.
Din groans, deep and loud, and the unexpected noise makes you whimper against him. You breathe through your nose, pushing your head further down his cock, deep enough that the hair at the base of his cock begins to tickle your nose.
The hand he had placed behind your head drops to rest on your shoulder and you hear the familiar sound of the armrest leather squeaking as his other hand grips tight around it.
You know he's close, you can feel it in the way his legs are shaking. His efforts to stifle his moans are unsuccessful though, low groans of pleasure slip through his parted lips, like music to your ears.
There's a desperation in his voice when he calls out your name, one that you don't hear often enough. As his hips begin to stutter you smile and pull away, a string of almost silent curses falling from Din's lips as you sit back.
"Do you want to go to the bedroom now? Or are you happy he-"
Din interrupts, "bedroom." His voice is hoarse, small strings of saliva drip from either corner of his mouth, but his throat feels dry.
He's quick to help you to your feet, your shaky legs and red knees make him feel almost light headed with anticipation.
Your spit has pooled at the base of his cock and he feels it trickle down his leg when he stands. Beads of precum are already forming at his tip and you long to bend down and lick them away, although you're almost certain that the action would be Din's undoing.
His hand feels solid in yours, his warmth seeps into your skin and as you let him lead you out towards your shared bed space your mind occupies itself with idle daydreams of whats to come.
angel startin a reblog game on a saturday?! ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ reblog with nine of your f/os/faves !! let's see if there is a trending type hehehe
very shyly tagging some mooties :3 no pressure !! @heiayen @sincerelyhunnybee @carminechrollo @yaminohimeyume @dewberrydusk @hikentomori n whoever wants to join !!
tagged by @goldengenuflexion & @backonmyvampirebullshit <3
reading: better question would be what am i Not reading right now lmao. TVA, War of the Worlds, Dante's Inferno, War of the Foxes, also working through a book on the artwork throughout the years in the Sistine Chapel.
last series watched: Dept. Q
last film: Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring!!
last song: erica western teleport by Emperor X
sweet or salty: depends on what variation of hormonal i am
coffee or tea: herbal tea always. Big Fan of peppermint and bengal spice
working on: mullllltiple fic wips. a new collage because my sister in law made me a scrapbook journal & a bunch of clippings/stickers for Christmas, moving into my apartment & finding a new job!
no pressure tags: @dykeceit @celestial-jellybean @blackopallpastawarrior @themotionwaltz @estpolynesianmary @irldanielmolloy @mncxbe
reading: uni materials</3 and i'm starting qotd after exam season. and Le fleurs du mal on and off
last series watched: the talamasca
last movie watched: i think the last movie i fully finished was les morsures de l'aube or guillermo del toro's frankenstein. and i started donnie darko but never finished it
last song: haunt me by johnny goth
sweet or salty: both depending on what i'm craving
coffee or tea: tea in the evening, coffee during the day
working on: uni projects, studying for exams, a daniel x reader fic i'm probably never going to finish and a drawing in a coloring book
tags: @cheriecoke @osarina @mouseespace and @dayndream
❤︎︎ summary. five times you thought you’d kept your relationship with steve a secret + one time everyone admits they already knew you were dating.
❤︎ contents. 5+1 fic, (not so) secret relationships, minor s5 vol 1 spoilers, idiots in love, fluff, humor, steve & reader were childhood friends, very light angst in some parts, insecurities, takes place between s4/s5, established relationship, pet names, reader is relatively new to the party — 11.3k words
❤︎ notes. happy stranger things finale day + happy new year!!! i'm super excited to share this fic and i had a lot of fun writing it. i took some liberties with what happens during the time-skip, but i think this is mostly canon compliant!! dividers by cursed-carmine. i hope you enjoy <3
I. Dustin
Droplets of cold water fell down your cheeks, soaking the collar of your—well, Steve’s—shirt completely.
Waking up never really had been your strong suit, and it normally took a half hour and a cup of coffee for you to be, at least, amicable in the morning. Cold showers never worked, as much as you wanted them to, nor did any other trick in the book.
For good measure, you splashed a few more handfuls of icy water across your skin, but it was no more successful the second go around. Instead, you stared back in the mirror, looking at a zombified version of yourself, exhausted and puffy in most parts of your face.
Sleep clung to you like the plague, and you yawned again, blinking against the bright lights of the bathroom. You gave yourself a few moments to unglue your eyes, and then began the slow motions of preparing for your day. Lazily, you reached for your toothbrush, pressing the minty end to your teeth.
While you weren't really living with Steve, most of your necessities had already found a place in his bathroom. Over the past few months, he’d bought a duplicate of nearly everything you used, claiming that you were over too often to have to pack a bag every time. He hadn’t gotten around to your makeup, but you were certain he’d find a way to make a carbon copy of your cosmetics bag, as soon as he figured out exactly what you products you liked.
You spit out the toothpaste, watching the foamy liquid rinse down the drain.
The process was slow-going, minutes ticking by as you stumbled around the bathroom, slapping things onto your skin. Mornings were your least favorite part of the day—once you were dressed and ready to go, everything else became easy. It was the getting around that made it rough, and the lack of motivation that deemed it nearly impossible.
Fortunately, you’d gotten it almost down to a science, something you could do on complete autopilot.
You had plenty of time today, though you were normally rushing around, throwing your clothes all over the place while you tried to find the things you needed.
Steve was, usually, no help in the mornings either, even if he hadn’t already left for the radio station. The two of you were an incompatible pair, when it came to getting around in the morning. He slept like the dead, and you had a habit of turning off your alarms instead of hitting snooze.
Today, you got through your routine in a relatively efficient manner, swiping a dark shade of color over your eyes, before moving onto your mascara.
Just as you were putting the finishing touches onto your skin, a voice—most definitely not Steve’s—caught your attention. The words were garbled as they came through the closed door, but unmistakably, a two-way conversation was happening.
You froze, throwing the tube of mascara back onto the countertop as you listened closely, trying to catch whatever was going on down the hall.
Steve hadn’t told you anyone was coming over.
Your relationship wasn’t new, per se, but it was something delicate, soft, and you were trying not to let it interfere with the chaos that was the Upside-Down. Too much had happened over the past year that it seemed… well, silly, to draw attention to your blooming relationship.
You pressed your ear to the door. Definitely a voice you recognized. Henderson.
They had a brief exchange—something about Dustin’s upcoming test, another something about the crawl that had happened last week. It seemed like Dustin was in a rush, his laughter clipped, no elaboration on any of the anecdotes. Steve’s replies were too quiet to make out, save for a few words here and there.
Then, Dustin said, “I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Your stomach flipped. You’d been too busy eavesdropping that you hadn’t even tried to make your way out of the bathroom. Panic surged over you, as you looked back at the mess you’d made all over the counter.
“Sure thing. I’ll just wait down here,” Steve said, heading back downstairs, a careless sound of agreement leaving his throat.
Steve, you goddamn idiot.
Scrambling, you threw all your stuff into a bag, and tossed it in the cabinet under the sink, not caring that the door didn’t shut all the way. The few articles of clothing you’d discarded onto the floor, you hastily dumped into the bath, hid them behind the shower curtain and hoped that would suffice.
With just a moment to spare, you wiped the spot of blush you’d spilt onto the white counter, and tossed the dirty towel in the bath with the rest of your clothes.
The hair products—well, those could stay. Dustin would just think they were Steve’s anyway.
Cursing under your breath, you straightened your clothes, grateful you, at least, looked presentable. If you were quick enough, maybe you could make it back to Steve’s—
You threw the door open, and jumped, clutching your hand to your chest. “Jesus, Henderson.”
Dustin, already on the other side of the door, blinked back at you, eyebrows knit together. “Oh,” he said, standing a little taller. There was confusion drawn throughout his expression, but not surprise, as he gave a little wave. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, no. It’s fine.” You exhaled, stiff with awkwardness as you clutched at the doorknob. “What are… What you doing here?”
Internally, you cringed at yourself, hating how suspicious you sounded. Sure, your relationship was something of a secret, but you weren’t doing anything wrong. You were a grown adult, for God’s sake, sleeping over at your boyfriend’s house, someone you’d known for long before that. What was Dustin going to do, arrest you?
You barely caught the first part of Dustin’s answer, too busy drowning in your own humiliation.
“—picked me up from school yesterday, and I left my homework in his car. I had to come get it before class.” Dustin looked past your shoulder, into the bathroom, before dragging his eyes back to you in a comically slow way. “What are you doing here?”
You were going to wring Steve’s neck out.
“Oh.” Your cheeks grew warm, palms sweaty as you gripped the handle harder. “Well, I—”
Then, before you could finish, Dustin broke out into a small grin, one that didn’t quite meet his eyes, didn’t show his teeth. It was about all he could muster, these days—smiles that were dull, compared to the bright ones he’d once had, but soft enough to remind you he was still a boy. Despite it all, humor played in his irises, as he rocked forward onto his toes.
“I’m just kidding.” Then, he grew serious once more, sheepishly looking back down. “I do have to use the bathroom, though. If you’re done.”
You blinked at him for a moment, getting whiplash from the conversation. Dustin, who had never been anything but polite towards you, stared back patiently, hands tucked in the deep pockets of his coat. It was almost uncanny, how much he looked like Eddie these days.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m done. It’s all yours.”
“Thanks.” Dustin nodded, a quick acknowledgment of gratitude. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“No rush.”
The door clicked behind him. You stared out into the now empty hallway, before your anger overwhelmed you once more, and you stomped downstairs into the kitchen.
Steve was humming softly to himself, the radio at a low enough volume to talk over. Robin, who was the only one that knew about your blooming romance, had apparently given Steve the morning to himself. Normally, he would’ve been at work already, and for once, you were wishing he had been.
You crossed your arms, watching as Steve poured another round of apple juice on top of the already half-filled glass. Almost like a child, sometimes, with his antics, and though you were already starting the day off exhausted with him, you couldn’t help the fondness that tugged at your heart as you scoffed.
“Steve? What the hell?”
He glanced over his shoulder, looking somewhat guilty, before he shook it off and smiled, one that was full of all the adoration in the world. It would’ve melted you too easily, had you not been on the warpath already.
The person you were later would probably apologize, but you couldn’t be held accountable for your irritability in the morning.
Steve didn’t seem to notice your foul mood, though. Maybe, he’d just grown used to it.
“Morning. I didn’t realize you were awake.”
The radio hummed behind him. Robin finished her little spiel over the crackling frequency, the first few notes of a Bon Jovi song following soon after.
While you were distracted, Steve made to press a kiss to your lips, but you put your hands up to your face, shoving him away. “Get off of me. Asshole.” You said, narrowing your eyes and holding your arms up like a shield.
Steve stared back at you for a few moments, before letting out a short laugh. “Geez. What’s got you all worked up?”
“A little warning would’ve been nice, Steve. I didn’t realize Dustin was coming over.”
Realization dawned upon his face, and he threw his hands up in surrender. “Hey, don’t blame me. He just showed up.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Besides, I thought you were still asleep. I wouldn’t have sent him into the bathroom otherwise.”
“Yeah,” you exhaled heavily, blowing out all your steam. The anger fizzled out of you easily. “I wish I was.”
Steve laughed, and tenderly guided your hands back down to your sides, lacing his fingers with your own. “Can I have a kiss now?”
“No.”
He pouted, squeezing your hands tighter. “Please,” Steve said, drawing the word out into more than one syllable. “I made you breakfast.”
That must have been why he was late to work.
You softened, eyes melting into puddles of affection you would never admit, but you were certain he noticed anyway. With a huff, you pulled him closer. “Fine,” you said, pressing your lips to his own. He smiled into the kiss, and though it only lasted a second, it stole your breath away.
The moment broke soon after, with the sound of heavy footsteps heading down the stairs. You and Steve split apart, and Dustin came around the corner, wiping his still damp hands on his pants.
“Thanks, Steve.” He looked between the two of you, and then smiled, before saying goodbye. “I’ll see you guys later.”
You returned the sentiment, and ushered him out the door, waiting until he was half a mile down the street before you said anything else.
Steve had already gone back to his cooking, splitting the food up onto two plates. It was a bit of a disaster, but you didn’t mind.
“Do you… think he knows?” you asked, biting the inside of your cheek.
Steve laughed, looking back up from the dishes. “Henderson? No way. He knows we’re friends.”
You refrained from pointing out that you weren’t just friends anymore.
“Yeah, but he’s not a little kid anymore, Steve. He’s more observant than you think.” A deep frown took over your features—how embarrassing. You’d wanted to wait until the right time to tell him, but it was never the right time. You still weren’t sure how he’d react to you and Steve dating. “Is he going to tell anyone?”
Steve was about to brush past it, deeming it a much smaller issue, but seemed to notice anxiety ridden throughout your words. He sighed.
“Listen. If he really thought—knew—we were together, he would’ve brought it up earlier. Or one of his punk friends would’ve. Trust me, they have no idea.” Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead, and clasped your hands together once more. “Come on, I only have a little longer before Robin starts getting pissed at me.”
II. Lucas (and Max)
Although you’d never been close with the girl, you visited Max as often as you could, hating the sight of her frozen body all alone in that hospital room.
In the very brief time you’d gotten to know her, you’d already developed some sort of maternal instinct over her. She hadn’t lived an easy life—not before she came to Hawkins and certainly not after—but you were glad that there were so many people that loved her now.
Lucas Sinclair, of course, being at the top of that list.
He’d become a usual presence at Max Mayfield’s bedside, paired with lovesick eyes and a shield the size of a Kate Bush tape. Running Up That Hill, as always, played out from the speaker, soft undertones of melancholy seeping beneath the crack in the door.
You almost turned away, not wanting to break the moment that was forever suspended between her and Lucas, an unfinished conversation you didn’t feel right intruding on. But Steve pushed on, knocking gently on the door, before cracking it open just enough to see Lucas.
“Sinclair?”
Lucas looked up, clearing his throat as he wiped his wet eyes. “Hey, Steve,” he said, and then repeated the same greeting to you, when you poked your head through the threshold.
You gave him a small wave and followed Steve into the hospital room. Lucas had already replaced the flowers at Max’s table, so you set the fresh bouquet next to the vase, watching the leaves flutter flat against the surface.
“How are you doing?” Steve asked quietly, not quite able to look Lucas in the eyes. He busied himself with straightening the corner of Max’s sheets, where someone had put a wrinkle in it from sitting beside her.
“Same as always.” Lucas exhaled heavily. He mustered a smile but it was sad, empty. His eyes were hollow as he glanced back at the two of you, then down to the girl with fiery hair and skin that was even paler than before.
Steve swallowed, his dark eyes fixated on the young teenager. Absentmindedly, he played with the loose strings of the thin sheets, twisting them around his fingertips until they turned purple. You had an itch to reach out and grab his hands, stop him from fidgeting.
You didn’t.
“The music helps,” Lucas said. You weren’t sure which of you he was talking to—you, Steve, or himself. He pressed a kiss to the back of Max’s hand, and then released it, leaning back in his chair. “At least, I think it does.”
The image of his longing for her made your heart ache.
There was something about Lucas and Max that reminded you, distantly, of you and Steve. You recognized her hardness, the walls she put up, and Lucas’s desperation to break them down, all because he loved her.
Sometimes, it made you feel guilty for being happy, while Max withered away and Lucas yearned for a girl he might never be able to speak to again.
These kids had gone through hell—you’d never done anything half as brave as them. How were you deserving of the love that Steve gave you?
“Max is tough,” you said, diverting your thoughts away from self-pity. “If anyone can make it back, it’s her.”
Lucas smiled, not quite believing you, but appreciative nonetheless. “She’d like the flowers. Those are her favorites.” Then, he tilted his head. “How did you know?”
It’d come up, at one point, back when you were still getting to know one another. Max had asked you if you were the kind of girl who liked flowers. You said you supposed you were. They were pretty, they smelled nice, and Steve liked buying them for you. It made you happy when he was happy.
Of course, you and Steve hadn’t been dating at the time, but the sentiment rang true now.
Max had made a face in return, complaining that it was a waste of money, that Lucas wouldn’t stop buying them for her, and that was annoying because all they did was sit in a vase and die. You’d let her grumble about it, nodding every once in a while to tell her you understood.
Then, she’d deflated, changing her tune. I do like poppies, she’d admitted, they remind me of California.
“I just had a hunch,” you smiled, shrugging as Lucas gave you a nod of gratitude in return.
The three of you sat with Max for a while, exchanging conversation beside her. You weren’t sure how much of your words were reaching her—if any—but it felt like you were helping, in some strange way. Like it would amplify the power of the music, if the voices of you, Lucas and Steve were reaching her too.
Maybe, you were just an optimistic fool.
Your thoughts drifted away as Lucas and Steve’s conversation diverted to the high school basketball team. Steve asked if he was going to keep playing into the next season—Lucas said he still wasn’t sure.
Not that you could blame him. It was so hard to keep a shred of normalcy, these days. Hard to even want to try, knowing that there were bigger things at stake. You felt like you were always on your toes, waiting for the next shoe to drop, for another tear to open up in the earth, another monster to creep out of the shadows.
Yet, you woke up every day, put on your bravest face, and kept pretending. It was nice, sometimes, to act like you were just a regular person, in a regular town, living a regular life—even if that was just a fantasy.
You looked at the clock.
“Oh, shit. I’ve got to get going.” The hospital chair screeched underneath you, but Lucas didn’t seem to mind, even as you cringed at the obnoxious sound. “I’m supposed to be there for Murray’s supply drop—I completely forgot. Can you give me a ride, Stevie?”
You could still make it, if you left immediately. Otherwise, you’d have to call Robin, see if she could get there on time—or maybe Nancy. But then you’d just feel awful for dropping the ball and being an unreliable source when everyone was counting on you.
Steve looked at his watch, already making his way to his feet. “Yeah, of course. What time was he—”
“Stevie?” Lucas perked up, the first real smile of the day, one full of mischief. “That’s cute. Can I call you that?”
You looked over at Lucas, lips parting, before you sealed them completely. Had you really let that slip? Normally, you were so good about keeping any nicknames to a minimum. A frown started to form on your features, apologetic, as you looked back at Steve, who was pointedly not looking at you.
“Absolutely not.” Steve rolled his eyes, pulling his sleeve back over his wrist. “She’s been calling me that since we were kids.”
Lucas tucked his top lip under his bottom lip, cooing at Steve like he was a little puppy. “That’s even more adorable.”
“Whatever,” Steve scoffed, though his cheeks were growing pink as his eyes darted away from Lucas, who was already laughing loudly to himself. "It’s annoying is what it is.”
“Sure,” Lucas said, drawing at out the word. “Bye, Stevie.”
“Sinclair, I swear to—”
“Come on, Steve.” You said, grabbing his wrist before he got too worked up about it. “We have to hurry.”
Steve huffed. “Yeah, okay.”
You apologized to Lucas for leaving so quickly and dragged Steve away, hiding your small, sheepish smile.
III. Mike and El
At some point in the past year, the basement of the radio station had gone from a professional meeting space to a gathering spot for people that couldn’t always see each other.
With Eleven having to keep a low profile, the times that she could be with her friends were few and far between. There were only so many places that Hopper deemed safe—the radio station, under Joyce Byers’ supervision, being one of them.
While you knew the girl was tired of all the secrecy, you couldn’t really blame Hopper for his unending concern. Even though El could take care of herself, he’d lost too much—you’d all lost too much—that nothing was worth the risk anymore.
Still, it was nice to see her lighten up around her friends, the weight of years past lifted marginally off of her shoulders. It was good for El, to be surrounded by people her age, especially ones that could understand some of the things she’d been through. Hopper was a great parent, a positive figure in her life, but he could never be a substitute for the camaraderie she’d gotten from the other children of Hawkins.
You smiled, watching the group of teenagers excitedly talk over one another, as El leaned in with wide, fascinated eyes. Mike was regaling a story from the past week, certainly adding his own dramatic flair, while Lucas and Dustin chimed in, throwing in a few anecdotes of their own.
They weren’t as lively as they’d once been—carefree kids who didn’t know the weight of responsibility and loss—but they were, somehow, still able to find joy in the small moments.
And what more could any of you do, really?
You listened to them talk for a few moments more, though only a few words really sank in, your eyes already beginning to droop from exhaustion. It wasn’t horribly late, but the past week had worn you down, and your energy was draining quicker than you’d anticipated. With so many bodies in such a small space, the heat had become trapped, turning the air miserable and stuffy.
Standing, you began to make an exit, and turned to face the rest of the adults. Nancy, Jonathan and Joyce stood on the other side of the room, deep in a conversation you didn’t feel like intruding on.
It would have bothered you, normally, that you had been ignored, left alone while the three of them carried on. Tonight, though, you didn’t mind. The Byers and Wheelers had been living together for so long now, they were practically one big family—one you weren’t a part of.
“Hey, Nance?”
During a pause in the talking, you called out to your friend, trying politely to ease your way into the group. While none of them minded, guilt flowered in Nancy’s expression as she looked over, eyebrows pinching together.
“Sorry, we weren’t trying to—”
“No, no, it’s okay,” you waved off her objections, offering her a small smile. “I’m just going to go upstairs for a bit. I’m getting hot down here.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced, but reluctantly, Nancy returned the smile and nodded. “Do you want me to come with you? We can leave soon…”
“No, it’s okay. Really,” you said, just as Nancy was rolling down her sleeve to check the time. Lately, going anywhere alone after dark had seemed daunting, so you’d ridden over with her and her brother. “I don’t want to rush Mike. I just need some fresh air.”
“Of course.” Nancy looked back at Jonathan and his mother, and then let the nerves wash off of her features. “Let me know if you need anything.”
You accepted her offer and waved one last time, finally heading up to the ground floor, where it was much quieter. Over the sound of the electronics running, you couldn’t even hear the whisper of voices a few stories down.
The station was empty, lit only by the neon signs and lamps that Robin and Steve had set up for the early mornings. It painted a calming ambience, paired with the low hum of the radio station that had otherwise gone silent.
It had only been a little over a day since you’d seen Steve, trying to balance living your own lives, but you wished he would’ve come this evening. As much as you loved Nancy and the Byers’, you always felt a little out of place tagging along with the rest of them.
Still, they were the only friends you had, save for Steve and Robin, who you tried not to tag along with on every one of their hangouts. Steve had promised it never bothered either of them, and that Robin was your friend too, but you didn’t want to be the type of person that couldn’t be apart from her significant other.
It was nice for him and Robin to have their own time together, too.
They had gone to a movie earlier, plans they’d made long before Nancy had called you about the impromptu arrangements. It must have been over by now, and while you weren’t sure when Steve was planning on getting home, you decided to give him a call.
The phone spun through a few dials, the ring on the other end sounding much louder than usual.
Waiting patiently, you tucked the phone under your chin, flicking through the records that Steve and Robin had recently added to their collection. Most of them were the regular hits, but there were a few less popular ones—ones that you had told Steve you would’ve liked to hear more often.
Softness seized your insides, and you smiled as you thumbed through all the new ones. Steve must have been waiting for a time he knew you’d be listening.
The phone clicked, as someone on the other end picked it up. Steve’s voice reverberated through the line. “Hello?”
You couldn’t help it—the sound made your stomach turn inside out, melt into a puddle of something horribly sweet. God, you never wanted to let him go. “Hi, Steve.”
“Hey, pretty girl.” Steve laughed, like he’d just been waiting for you to confirm his suspicions; he’d recognize your voice anywhere, of course. “Figured it was you.”
Another ridiculous smile split your face. “Of course it’s me. Hope you don’t get calls from any other women this late.”
“Nope just you. And sometimes my mom.” He snorted, amused. “What’s up? You still at the station?”
“Yeah, we—” Then, remembering you’d completely skipped over the question you’d been meaning to ask first, you let your reply die out. “Wait, is Robin still there? Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“Jesus, don’t be sorry. Makes it sound like I don’t want to talk you,” Steve huffed. You could just imagine his face on the other end, more than displeased by that particular thought. “But, yeah. She just went home. Everything okay over there?”
“Yeah. All good. El seems happier today. They all do, honestly.” You picked up a pen and spun it around on the table. The metallic clip scratched against the countertop. “I like seeing them all having fun together. They don’t get to do it enough.”
Steve made a sound of agreement on the other end of the line. “Are you going home soon?”
“Whenever Mike and Nancy are ready. She’s going to drop me off at home.” You yawned, midway through speaking, the last few words coming out a bit garbled.
“You want me to come get you?” Steve asked, noting your exhaustion. He’d been telling you over and over to go to sleep earlier, but sometimes, it was near impossible. The past few nights had added up, though, making you feel like you could fall asleep standing.
“No, I’m okay. Just wanted to cool down a bit. God, it gets hot down there.”
“Probably doesn’t help when you have a bunch of sweaty teenagers yelling at each other.”
“They’re keeping the volume down, this time.” You laughed, shaking your head. “How was the movie?”
Steve sighed, long and drawn out on the other end of the phone. “Robin liked it. Was a bit too on the nose for me. Bunch of kids looking for the body of a missing boy—fuck that.” He made another sound of disapproval, one that came from the back of his throat. “Next time, I’m picking.”
“Hmm. It sounds like I would’ve liked it.”
“Yeah, you would’ve, weirdo.” Undoubtedly, Steve was rolling his eyes. He took a short pause, before continuing. “If you want, I’ll go see it again with you.”
The offer softened you all up inside. Steve had never really been one for horror movies, but he watched them because you liked them. It was endearing, knowing that Steve had taken down more than enough Demogorgons, but couldn’t handle a few corny jump scares. “I’m not gonna make you do that.”
“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t at least offer?” Steve scoffed, horrified by the notion. “You think I’m a bum?”
“Well…” You smiled, leaning into the phone. “You’re alright as far as boyfriends go.”
“Whatever.”
You talked for a few more minutes, already feeling yourself beginning to drift off. Steve’s voice kept you awake, but it also lulled you into a sleepy state of calm, and you lost a few of his words to your subconscious.
The watched chimed, alerting you of another hour past. You yawned again.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?” Steve asked again. “It’s really no big deal.”
“I’m fine, Steve. Nancy should be right along.” You rubbed your eyes, trying to wake yourself back up. “Do you need me to set anything up here before I leave? Anything you forgot?”
“No, I think we’re good,” Steve said, though he couldn’t have thought long enough to know for sure. “Thanks, baby. Just go home and get some sleep.”
You smiled. “Okay. Whatever you say, champ.”
Steve laughed. “You still coming over tomorrow?”
A noncommittal sound left your throat. “Hm. We’ll see if I feel like seeing you. Which I might not.”
“Uh huh. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
You said goodbye to Steve and hung up the phone, just as another presence crept up behind you, one you didn’t notice until they spoke.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
You jumped, whirling around in the chair as the phone clattered back onto the receiver. Mike stood next to El, who was peeking her head around the corner, the two of them eyeing you curiously. Jesus, these kids were going to be the death of you, always sneaking up on you like that.
“What?”
“A boyfriend?” Mike asked again casually, gesturing towards the phone. “It sounded like—”
“like a boyfriend,” El repeated, nodding with enthusiasm. “Do you have one?”
You forgot how nosy they could be—these two especially. Not that you blamed them, really. They were normally the ones keeping secrets, not the other way around.
Sighing, you looked back at the phone, then at the two teenagers. Mike was looking at you expectantly, while El, with her suspicious smile, seemed to know exactly who had been on the other end of the line.
Did her powers work like that? You weren’t exactly sure of the extent of her mind capabilities.
“Um,” you began, wringing your knuckles together, your joints making a satisfying pop. “Well. I do, but I want to keep it a secret for now. If that’s… okay?”
God, you had to stop letting these kids walk all over you.
To your surprise, they just looked at each other and shared a secret grin. There was no exaggerated I knew it, no push to reveal more details, no questions about who he was.
Those were exactly the kinds of things you would’ve pried for, at their age. They didn’t seem to care.
“Okay,” Mike said, as El nodded promptly. “Cool. We’ll keep it a secret.”
You blinked. “Okay? That’s it?” You almost didn’t believe them. "No follow up questions?”
“Nope, that’s it.” Mike said, just before yawning. “I think Nancy’s ready to go. Are you?”
IV. Nancy and Jonathan
At some point, you’d drifted off, lulled into a peaceful sleep by the glow of the television screen and the hushed whispers of those speaking on it.
You’d thought you’d be able to make it to the end of the movie, but when Steve had passed out with his head on your lap, you’d felt your eyes growing heavy too. The couch cushions molded perfectly around you, the blanket far too warm and cozy, creating a cocoon that made it impossible to stay awake.
After closing your eyes for what had felt like a second, you’d been out like a light.
You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke back up—it could’ve just been a few minutes or an entire hour. The film was coming to an end, the climax already having passed and the characters sharing a few parting words before the final song played.
Blinking a few times, you tried to clear the fogginess from your brain and orient yourself again.
Steve was still fast asleep beside you. One of his hands hung off the side of the couch, the other squished up against your hip in an awkward position. He was too tall for the space that was left on the other side of you, and his feet dangled off the arm of the sofa, one knee slightly bent. The weight of his head on your thighs was beginning to feel like a brick.
You’d grown stiff from sitting in the same position for an hour, your body begging you to move. With a yawn, you rolled out your neck, hearing the clicks and pops that resulted from the angle it had rested at, and looked back down at Steve.
He was deep in sleep, his cheek squished against your leg, lips slightly parted as he exhaled softly.
You settled your hand back in his hair, smiling tenderly as you contemplated whether or not you should try to wake him. It couldn’t have been any later than eight; still too early for you to go to bed, but Steve was normally up much earlier than you. Maybe he needed the rest.
But before you could come to a decision, there was a sound at the front of the house, a voice calling out Steve’s name as footsteps approached.
“Steve? Are you here?”
You froze, at first hoping it was just your imagination, but the sounds grew louder and closer. There was someone inside Steve’s house.
“Steve?” you whispered, shaking him gently, your heart thudding in your chest. “Steve.” Despite the panic in your voice, he only let out a soft groan, and dug his cheek deeper into your thigh, swatting you away.
Just as you were about to push him off of you, find some way to defend yourself, you realized that you recognized the voices. You just hadn’t expected them to be here.
“Steve?” Nancy said, coming around the corner. Her eyes narrowed as she adjusted them to the dimness of the room, looking for him. “We just came by to—” She jumped, spotting you as you sat up taller, peering over the back of the couch.
Behind her, Jonathan slowed his tracks, stopping just a foot away, the two of them fumbling for an awkward apology.
It must have been too dark for them to see who you were, judging by how uncomfortable they were.
“Oh God,” Nancy said, beginning to usher Jonathan out of the room. “Sorry, Steve didn’t say he had—”
“Nancy, wait, it’s just me,” you interrupted, voice thick with sleep as you rubbed your eyes. Talking over her reply, you leaned over and flicked on the lamp. “I’m not going to lie though, you guys almost scared the shit out of me. What the hell are you doing here?”
Nancy blinked, mouth slightly agape as her eyes darted between you and a sleeping Steve. Her expression flickered through a series of emotions, unable to settle on just one. She seemed confused—and perhaps a bit relieved. They must have thought you were some random girl Steve had brought home on a date.
You supposed that would’ve made sense why she seemed in such a hurry to get out of there. Most women wouldn’t be happy with their boyfriend still being friends with their ex-girlfriend, but since you and Nancy were also friends, that was sort of the ideal situation.
Jonathan visibly relaxed beside her, and the awkwardness of the situation faded away as he greeted you. You gave them both a little wave, yawning again.
“Sorry,” Nancy shook the conflict from her face and settled on an embarrassed smile. “Did we wake you?”
“No, no. It’s okay. I should probably get going soon anyway. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” The nap had made you feel the opposite of rested, though. You could’ve fallen right back asleep on the couch. “What time is it?”
“9:00,” Jonathan said, checking his watch, wearing something of a smile as he looked between at you and Steve. “You need a ride home? We didn’t see your car.”
Later than you thought, but that was fine. As long as you left by ten, you’d have enough time to get ready for bed and fall asleep before midnight.
You waved him off. “Steve picked me up, but it’s okay. I’ll just wake him up in a bit. Thanks, though.”
“We just came by to drop off the keys to the van,” Nancy whispered, holding up the set of Squawk keys. “My mom’s getting a bit stir crazy.” A quiet laugh left her throat. “She’s been wanting to get rid of a bunch of stuff, so Steve let us borrow the van. It’s a little easier to haul things in that than any of our cars. I called him earlier, and he said he’d leave the door unlocked for us. I guess he didn’t tell you?”
“He always forgets.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “There’s a basket by the front door, you can just—”
Of course, Steve decided on that moment to raise his head and pop one eye open. “Did you say something?”
“Not to you, dumbass. Nancy and Jonathan are here.”
“Oh yeah. Forgot they were coming,” Steve said, trying to crane his neck back to look at the two of them. He muttered a brief thank you, and then to your annoyance, dropped his head right back on your lap. In a few seconds, Steve was out again.
You snorted out a laugh, one filled with fondness, as you turned back to Nancy and Jonathan. There was something sappy in their faces, something that you chose not to think too deeply about.
“I’ll tell him you came by. He won’t even remember this in the morning.” It struck you that that might be too intimate of a detail for someone who was just a friend to know, even if you had been friends for almost your entire life.
Then again, the position you’d been caught in was probably more incriminating than anything that had come of this conversation.
Jonathan laughed. “We’ll just put the keys by the door. He’ll figure out we were here.” He turned back to Nancy. “We should get going. Your mom’s probably wondering what’s taking so long.”
“I told her we might be back late,” Nancy said, but sighed anyway, knowing Jonathan was right. Ever since Hawkins had blown up last year, Karen had been a bit obsessed with knowing the whereabouts of her children. Even Nancy. “The van’s back at the Squawk, but have Steve call if anything’s wrong with it. I tried not to mess with anything.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Thanks for coming by.” You yawned. “See you guys later.”
They waved, bidding you one last goodbye before leaving through the front door.
You dropped your head back against the cushions, closing your eyes.
It stuck you, then, that you should’ve felt awkward about the situation, that Jonathan and Nancy should’ve been more surprised by your closeness than they were. Instead, the conversation was anything but uncomfortable. Perhaps, they’d just come to understand that you and Steve had an unconventional relationship, one that any of your potential future partners would need to understand.
Or, maybe, they thought you were someone just hopelessly in love with her best friend—which was a mortifying thought, but one you were too tired to be embarrassed by. You’d fret over it in the morning.
Instead, you settled back into the couch. Pushing away the humiliation and ignoring the pain in your body, you fell back asleep.
V. Will and Joyce
Pacing back and forth across the basement of the Squawk, you wrapped an arm around yourself and held your hand to your cheek as you worried your lip.
The crawl felt like it was taking forever.
There wasn’t even supposed to be a crawl.
Hopper had gotten sick earlier in the week—infected with something that had him bedridden and Joyce worrying that he needed to see a doctor. Of course, since it was almost impossible to treat a man that had been pronounced dead, Hopper continued to tough it out, and the crawl had been cancelled.
That was, until your idiot boyfriend had decided to volunteer in Hopper’s place.
Sure, Steve was no stranger to the Upside Down, the brutality of the military, or fighting off the Demogorgons, but he also wasn’t Hopper. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many that Steve hadn’t adequately prepared for.
You’d tried to reason with him, but Steve had seen the looks on everyone’s faces—the worry that if they were to miss this crawl, it would be the time that Vecna finally decided to reveal himself. Which was certainly a possibility, but what then? They were just going to leave Steve stranded in the Upside Down to fend for himself against a creature none of you fully understood?
“Are you sure, Steve?” you’d asked him before the two of you left for the station. “Hopper wouldn’t want you to do this. It’s not—”
He’d kissed you, one that lasted just long enough to shut you up.
“Relax. This makes what? Eighteen crawls? Twenty? We’ve been doing this for months, and there’s been nothing suspicious. I’ll be in and out—you won’t even know I’m gone.”
He was stupid—so stupid, but there’d been no talking him out of it.
Or maybe you were the dumb one, for being so anxious about something that had become a routine in recent months. There was nothing exciting about the crawls anymore. Just in and out, with as much time as the military allowed, scouting the Upside Down before returning with absolutely nothing of note. There was a possibility the Upside Down wasn’t even a threat anymore.
Still, you couldn’t erase that inkling of doubt. Nancy seemed so sure that Vecna was still out there, plotting, waiting… What if this was reason enough for him to return? Something changing in your routine, a sign to him that he could catch you off-guard?
Joyce called your name again, and this time, it snapped you out of your anxious pacing. Will had taken her seat manning the walkie-talkie, ensuring that Robin and Dustin still had contact with Steve, while she came over to you.
“Hey,” Joyce said, her eyes soft and full of understanding. “You doing okay, sweetie?”
You let yourself be guided away from the table, not resisting as you took a moment for a breather. Your hands were shaking, your stomach wound in a tight knot—you hadn’t realized how nervous you’d been.
“Yeah,” you said, unconvincingly, your body language betraying you. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Joyce looked down at your hands, and then to you, a reassuring smile beginning on her face. “Everything’s been fine so far. It’ll go just as planned.”
You chewed your bottom lip, looking away from Joyce and back at Will, watching for any sign of distress on his features. There was none—nothing out of the ordinary, at least. Joyce was right. Everything would be okay.
“Yeah,” you nodded, exhaling heavily, trying to muster up a smile to give back to Joyce. Maybe if you said it enough, you’d convince yourself. “I’m sure it will. There’s just always the what if.”
“I know how you feel.” Joyce said, squeezing your hand. “It’s never easy, but he’ll be fine.”
You opened your mouth, then closed it, your cheeks growing warm as your realized what she’d been insinuating. “Oh,” you said, heart thudding in your chest. Had she meant it like that—that it wasn’t easy to see the person you loved putting themselves in danger? “Steve and I aren’t—”
To your relief, Will interrupted, holding up the walkie-talkie with a smile. It didn’t feel right, lying to Joyce.
The two of you turned to face him, the start of your reply forgotten.
“He made it,” Will said, giving you a look that was so much like his mom, it was impossible to doubt that they were related. “Hard part’s over.”
Maybe that was true, but there were still countless things—non-Vecna related things—that could go wrong. Steve wasn’t exactly know for his stealth, and the last thing you wanted was for him to be caught by the military.
“It was really brave of him to volunteer,” Joyce said, as Will got up from the table, giving his mother her spot back.
You sighed, rolling your eyes while the two of you crowded around her, listening to the radio frequency. “It was brave. And stupid.”
Joyce laughed, though it was hushed, just on the edge of an exhale. “There’s a fine line between the two of those things.”
“Yeah, well. Steve’s got enough of both of them to go around.”
Except Steve wasn’t stupid—not really. He was no genius, and there were times when he didn’t think things through, but he just wanted to be useful. He knew the he could do that by stepping into Hopper’s role, so he’d jumped on the opportunity to run head-first into danger.
“Sorry,” you said, after a brief moment of silence, the crackling of the radio your closest companion. “I shouldn’t be so worked up about this. Hopper does it all the time. I guess the rest of you have just been at this a lot longer than me, you’re probably used to it.”
“Are you kidding?” Will looked up, a small laugh escaping him. “Do you realize it’s my mom you’re talking to? She’s never gotten used to it.”
“Oh, hush.” Joyce said, but her expression betrayed her, and you could tell you agreed with him.
When Steve finally got in the Upside Down, left to his own devices and away from the military, he called for you over the radio.
Joyce and Will both turned to you, knowing smiles on their features.
Trying not to give anything away on your face, you swallowed and took over the walkie-talkie. “Yeah? What do you want, Harrington?”
“Remember that time I spilled my blue slushie all over your mom’s new blouse?” Steve asked casually.
You frowned, pinching your eyebrows together. That was so long ago—1974, maybe. You and Steve couldn’t have been more than eight years old.
“I remember. My mom was so pissed she didn’t say a word on the way back to your house,” you laughed, shaking your head. Steve hadn’t stopped apologizing the entire drive home, until your mom finally broke and said it’s fine, Steve, I can always get a new one. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“It doesn’t.” Steve snorted, and a surge of static came over the radio, interrupting part of his speech. “I just passed the gas station and thought of it.” He paused, for just a few seconds, before continuing, “And I need you to quit worrying for a second.”
You started to object, but you didn’t get a chance to speak before the other people on the frequency interrupted. You’d almost forgotten they were there at all.
“Can you two quit flirting so Steve can get on with the search?” Robin said over walkie-talkie. “We don’t have all day.”
“I second that,” Dustin followed quickly after.
“I don’t see you—”
“Hey, Steve,” you interrupted, before him and Dustin could get bicker any further. “I’m handing it back over to Mrs. Byers. Focus.”
“Yeah, listen to your—” Robin began, before a pained yelp left her throat—most likely Dustin—and her radio cut out.
The crawl carried on.
At some point, you found yourself back on your feet, pacing until Steve had successfully found his way out of the Upside Down. As expected—there had been nothing. No sign of Vecna, no unusual Demogorgon activity, hardly a trace of anything otherworldly. Another bust.
You were relieved, though, that it had been as easy of a mission as it was. For two hours, you’d anticipated the worst, only for everything to go according to plan. You couldn’t have gotten any luckier.
Will and Joyce stayed with you at the Squawk, waiting until the van—and Steve—returned. There was still adrenaline racing through your body, and you chewed at your nails, trying to expel the nervous energy. The evidence of it still lingered, shocks of electricity that traveled up your body, making your hair stand on end.
Finally, you could hear the obnoxious motor of the Squawk van pull into the lot, just outside. The three of you went to greet the noise, relief and love thrumming through your body.
Steve was talking with Robin as he climbed out of the car safe and sound, not a scratch on him. When both of his feet landed on the ground, he tugged his hand through his hair, disheveling the already loose tendrils.
Despite the low stakes of the crawl, you’d never been so happy to see him.
Without thinking, you ran out the doors of the radio station, jogging the rest of the way to meet Steve. He turned, just as you threw your arms around his neck, pulling the two of you together in a close embrace.
“Hey,” Steve said, sneaking a quick kiss to your temple. He hugged you back just as tightly, digging his fingers into the space between your shoulder-blades. “Did you miss me?”
“I hate you,” you said, quietly, into his chest. “I shouldn’t be this worried for you.”
Steve laughed, his entire face lit up with a smile. “Maybe it’s because you love me.”
“Shut up,” you said, but your expression matched his when you pulled away—giddy and full of so much emotion. “I’m glad you made it out okay. Where’s Dustin?”
“Him and Lucas caught a ride back with Nance. I think they planned something at the Wheelers’ house.”
Before you could reply, Robin leaned out from the passenger’s side, grinning at you and Steve. “Aren’t you two cute? I wish I had a camera.”
Jonathan, who was climbing out from the driver’s seat, came around the front of the van and grinned. “Too bad I don’t have mine.”
“Don’t have your what?” Will asked, as him and Joyce caught up with you, the door of the station swinging shut. He glanced between you and Steve curiously, focusing on how little space there was between the two of you.
As if on a reflex, you took a small step away from Steve. Will diverted his eyes, and glanced back at Jonathan, sharing a secret look with his brother before they both broke into smiles.
Suddenly, you felt as if you were on the tail-end of a joke that you didn’t know the punchline to. You shifted uncomfortably, staring at Robin in a desperate attempt to diffuse the awkward tension, which Steve was none the wiser to.
“My camera,” Jonathan said, throwing an arm around Will. “Robin was saying she needed it for something.”
“Oh, it’s not important,” Robin brushed it off, before she was struck by a hilarious revelation, and she grinned at Steve, eyes darting back and forth between him and Jonathan. “Wait. Didn’t you—”
Steve groaned, before whirling on her, his eyes narrowed. “That’s old news, Robin. No need to bring that up again.”
“So that wasn’t just gossip then?” she asked, intrigued. “Noted. Did you ever take up photography, Steve?”
“No,” Steve’s lips pulled into a thin, unamused smile. “Any other hobbies you wanted to ask about?”
“Well,” Robin said, leaning against the van, deep in thought. “Since you’re asking…”
Steve nudged her, just enough to knock her off-kilter, and she laughed, letting the question die.
Joyce, who often indulged your conversations without having a clue what was going on, interjected. “Do any of you need a ride? Will and I are going back to the Wheelers’—”
“I’ll take one,” Robin said, pushing herself off the van to stand beside the family of three. “If you don’t mind. It’s a little out of the way.”
“Of course not,” Joyce said to Robin. The six of you spoke for a while longer, before Joyce turned, once again, to face Steve, a wistful sort of smile on her face. “Hop would be proud, Steve. Although I can’t say he’ll be too thrilled when he finds out you went in his place.”
Steve laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, now we’ve got another successful crawl in the books. That’s all that matters.” He shrugged, before sticking his hands back in his pockets. “I’ll happily go back to our original roles next time, though.”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners, another laugh escaping Joyce’s throat. “You two drive safe. Be careful getting home.”
“We will.”
You watched the four of them head towards the car and drive out of sight, before Steve turned back to you, pressing a much more passionate kiss to your lips.
Your eyes widened, caught off-guard, before you leaned into it, lips curling into a smile as Steve cupped your cheeks.
“What was that for?” you asked quietly when Steve pulled away, pressing another kiss to your forehead.
“I’m glad I made it back, too,” he said softly.
+ I. Murray
As always, Murray had come with a truckload of items to fulfill each of your personal requests, which had become something to look forward to since the quarantine started.
Dustin, as usual, had a laundry list of items, and it was rare that Murray could ever find all of them. The rest of you had smaller requests, perhaps not any easier, but just a few things here and there. Sometimes they were serious, used to help you in your fight against Vecna. Other times, they were personal things the town no longer got, since the stricter laws allowed less goods to come into Hawkins.
It was rare that you asked Murray for anything—you’d never felt entitled to it.
Which was why you were surprised when he reached in the back of the truck and pulled out a full, heavy box to give to you.
“Here,” Murray said, dropping the box from the truck to the ground. It landed with a heavy thud at your feet. “For the love birds.”
You looked back at the box, then at Murray, surprised to find him staring directly at you. You’d expected someone else to step forward and pick it up—Nancy, perhaps, maybe even Hopper. But when you looked around your small circle, they were all, very indiscreetly, looking at you.
“Oh,” you said, kneeling down to flip through the contents of the box, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on your back. “But I didn’t ask for anything.”
“It’s a gift,” Murray said, watching as you crouched down to open the flaps of cardboard. “An early one. For a birthday, or maybe an anniversary.” He shrugged, the sides of his lips curling into a grin. “Whatever comes first.”
The box contained a few stacks of books and VHS tapes, most titles that you knew well. Your cheeks burned as you shuffled through them, growing warmer as you read each one. Anna Karenina. Casablanca. The Great Gatsby. The Graduate. Romeo and Juliet. Lady Chatterly’s Lover.
“What’s in there?” Steve asked, leaning over your shoulder as he tried to get a good look at the titles. “Books?”
“And movies,” Murray said, sly as a fox. “Ones that fit a certain subject matter I thought the two of you might enjoy.”
“Huh?” Steve’s posture changed, realizing that Murray was playing his typical mind games. His eyebrows knit together as he grew defensive. “Am I missing something? Why does no one ever tell me shit?”
“You don’t want to read them to find out?” Murray laughed, sharing a sideways glance with Nancy, who was biting the inside of her lip.
“Not a huge fan of reading.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, irritated.
“We can tell.”
Steve started to argue, but you cut him off with a sigh, closing the box back up. The look that Murray had shared with Nancy, who certainly had read or watched everything in the box, told you everything you needed to know.
You stood, brushing the dirt off your pants. “How long have you known?” you asked, resigning yourself to your fate. If this was the moment you told everyone about your relationship, so be it. It’d been long enough, anyway.
“Wait, is there a special clue in the box? Even you understand?” Steve said to you, throwing his hands up. “What the hell. Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”
“Jesus, Steve,” you said, putting your hand to your forehead. “It’s about—”
“Steve, we all know that you two are together,” Dustin interrupted, his expression flat, as he spit the words out, hard and fast. “We’ve known for a while.”
You and Steve were both stunned into silence, as you gawked back at the teenage boy.
“Wait,” you said, standing straighter, the contents of the box forgotten. “All of you know?”
None of them seemed surprised in the least, nor did they say a word as you stared at each of them accusingly. How was it that you’d been trying to keep this a secret from all of them, and yet, they were the ones keeping the secret from you?
Your shoulders slumped. “For how long?”
“Well, I figured it out back in…” Dustin thought out loud, drumming his fingers on his chin, “December, I think. Of last year. You came to pick me up from school and Steve kissed you in the car. I walked back inside and waited a few minutes.” He laughed, like it was obvious.
You couldn’t even remember that. It’d been so long, and such an inconsequential moment in the grand scheme of your relationship, that it'd become a lost memory. Yet, it had been the first time that Dustin had any concrete proof that you and Steve were romantically involved.
And he’d said nothing.
“You’ve known for that long?” you asked, frowning.
“I’d suspected it for a while,” Dustin grinned. “But that’s when I knew for sure.”
“I’ve known the whole time,” El spoke up, shrugging. “I told Mike. We kept it a secret, like we promised. But then Dustin told us—”
“Hold on Dustin told you?” Steve said, his hands on his hips. “No one said anything to me.”
“Well, actually I told Lucas first,” Dustin interjected, laughing a little as he exchanged a look with the other boy. “He can keep a secret better than Mike.”
“Hey.” Mike frowned. “I can too keep a secret.”
Dustin ignored him. “Then, Lucas and I told Mike and Will, but Will didn’t really believe it at first. He was sure you were just good friends.”
You were relieved you hadn’t been so obvious to everyone, but when you looked over at Will, he seemed a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t caught on sooner. You gave him an appreciative smile.
“Of course, Mike told Nancy, and then Nancy told Jonathan—”
“Jesus Christ,” Steve said, rubbing his temple.
“I didn’t tell anyone without beating it out of Robin, first,” Nancy said proudly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, as you and Steve shot a look at your other friend. “I wouldn’t just spread a rumor without evidence, and she did say you wanted to keep it a secret, so I didn’t tell anyone besides Jonathan.”
Robin raised her hands in surrender, “Nancy was scary. Plus, I knew the two of them wouldn’t say anything. I kept part of my promise.”
You sighed, dropping your head, before speaking to Jonathan. “I’m assuming you told your mom?”
Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck, a soft, sheepish laugh leaving his chest. “Sorry.”
Before you could wrap your head around the situation, one last voice cut in. The final person of the group.
“Joyce told me.” Hopper said dismissively, as if just to clear the air, seemingly not caring an ounce about the situation. “I think I was the last to know.”
Obviously, you were the last to know, because no one had told you a thing. “Right…” you said, looking back at the man who had started the whole conversation. “And Murray? How long have you known.”
He seemed pretty pleased with himself, delighted to share his deductive instincts. “It was obvious you two wanted each other, but I realized back in October you’d gotten to home base… Which I assume was the first time?”
You wrinkled your nose, not liking your personal business being discussed so flippantly. October had been when you and Steve first confessed your feelings for one another, feelings that had been building for years, but you didn’t need Murray to know that. “Everyone knew this entire year? And you didn’t say anything?” you frowned, looking at Steve, who seemed just as perplexed. “Why?”
“We figured you had a good reason,” Mike said, tilting his head, just a hair, as he smiled. “We wanted you to tell us.”
“Most of us, at least.” Lucas said, rolling his eyes. “Murray got tired of waiting.”
Your heart warmed at the confession. They’d all grown up a lot, in the past year, and you’d barely even noticed. A small sound, something between a laugh and a sob, escaped your chest as you became overwhelmed with emotion.
“It wasn’t a good reason at all,” you said, quietly. “I just—it never felt like the right time to bring it up, and I’m so new to the group…” your words trickled off as you shrugged, feeling embarrassed, as a self-deprecating laugh escaped you. “Well, I didn’t know how anyone would take it. You’ve known Steve for so long, and—”
“That’s why you didn’t tell us?” Dustin said, before looking over at his friends. “Guys, we should’ve just stuck to the plan.”
“You’re the one that told us not to, Dustin!” Mike said, throwing up his hands.
Dustin sighed, tilting his head back to look up the sky. “Yeah, well, I was trying to be a good friend—”
“Hang on,” Steve said, and it was then that you realized how close you were standing, drawn together like two magnets. Now that your secret was out in the open, there really was no good reason to pretend otherwise. “What plan?”
Lucas grinned. “We were planning to set you two up, somehow. You’re not exactly subtle, Steve. It was pretty obvious you were in love with her.”
“But then, El and Dustin said you were already together, so we gave up on it,” Mike said, sharing a look with El, who seemed thrilled that this was all being revealed. You wondered if she’d carried the knowledge of your relationship for long, or if she’d told Mike immediately. You guessed it didn’t really matter, now. “We should’ve gone through with it, just to get you to confess.”
“You’re really not that great at hiding it, anyway,” Dustin said, shrugging. “It was getting hard to pretend like I didn’t know, especially since you’ve been so obvious lately. Any idiot could see you’re together.”
You supposed you’d never really tried that hard to hide it, and these kids were much smarter than the average person. You should’ve known they’d figure it out, sooner than later.
“I can’t believe you idiots never said anything,” Steve said, pulling Dustin’s hat over his face, a gesture that was full of affection. “You’re usually much worse at keeping secrets.”
That was true. Still, some things didn’t add up.
“Wait.” You wrinkled your brows together, looking back at Dustin. “Why did you always ask me why I was at Steve’s, then?” you said.
“I was trying to get you to tell me. I thought it’d make it obvious I knew,” Dustin laughed. “I think you were just in denial.”
That made sense. You frowned, looking at El. “And that’s why you and Mike asked me about—the boyfriend?”
El nodded, an affectionate, small smile plastered on her face. You hadn’t gotten to know her well, not yet, but it meant a lot, that even she welcomed you into the group.
Relief washed over you, as you realized not a single person in your little crew of misfits was disappointed. In fact, they all seemed excited that the truth had finally been revealed, happy, even, that you and Steve were together at all.
Which explained a few other things—it made sense why Lucas made such a big deal about your nickname for Steve, why Will and Joyce had been so understanding when Steve went on the crawl, why the two of you were always sent off on your own when you split up, why they always asked Steve where you were when he went places alone, why Nancy was relieved when she figured out that it was you at Steve’s house and not a stranger…
You felt like an idiot for not realizing it earlier.
“You really don’t care?” you asked, wrapping an arm around yourself. “I thought—”
Dustin threw his arms around you, catching you off-guard in an affection embrace. It was just a quick hug, before he pulled back, embarrassed. “You’re one of us, now,” he said, eyes crinkling around the corners with his smile. “We want you to be happy, and you make each other happy.” His cheeks grew pink, and, as if realizing he was being far too sappy, finished with, “Besides, Steve has terrible luck with girls. I was getting tired of watching him embarrass himself.”
“Shut up, man,” Steve rolled his eyes, as you began laughing,
“It is pretty sad to watch, Steve. You’re lucky I gave you a chance.”
You smiled.
Steve's eyes softened at the pure adoration on your features. He threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, I am pretty lucky, I guess,” he said, before turning back to Murray, ignoring the grins of everyone around him as he held you close. “You got anything else in there?”
Murray went back to digging through the trunk, and the focus drifted away from the two of you, back into the contents of Murray’s haul.
You'd never realized how heavy, sad, even, keeping your relationship from the rest of them had made you feel. Now, you felt so much lighter—the weight of a secret that never really had to be a secret lifted off your chest. The love of everyone around you took its place, warming you all over.
For all the fears you had about never being enough for the group, never valuable enough, just the girl that Steve dragged around everywhere, you should’ve realized that they saw you as much more than that. That they didn’t let him bring you around because he loved you, but because they loved you too.
With a smile, and tears at the edge of your lashes, ones you held back, you squeezed Steve's hand, conveying all the unfiltered emotions in your heart.
And even though you'd left Hawkins once, searched for something bigger, desperate to get out and away from this town, you'd never doubt again that you were right to come back. Being here, with all of these people, with Steve, even in the middle of a quarantine—you wouldn't trade it for the world.
You were home.
thank you so much for reading! reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3
Blurb: It's the 1940s, and you are a part of the S.S.R. alongside Howard Stark to help with the war, but the past keeps knocking on your door... can anyone calm down the raging storm?
Author's note: @cheriecoke may I send the biggest thanks your way? Because of you I actually found the inspiration to write after months of losing spirit so thank you! This one is for you, hope you like it and I'm sure there will be more to come.
Now, onto the important part, ignore any mistakes, lore wise or grammar wise, it's been quiet a long while since I last watched the first avenger so yeah... ENJOY!
"Seriously, Loki? Again?" You raised an eyebrow at the snake nearing you as you were sharpening your sword, to which it simply tsssed and kept on moving but you were not falling for that, not again.
"You can be so immature sometimes, you know that?" If you knew a thing or two about Loki, which you did, he was your brother afterall, it was that accusing him of something that was a hundred percent in him... was the easiest provocation.
The snake transformed before your eyes, going back to his original form, Loki stood before you, black hair moved by the wind and green eyes a sea of never ending mischief.
"I am not immature." He told you, his tone was serious and had that non negotiable tone....unlucky him, you took after your mother when it came to arguing.
You gave him an all knowing look. "No? Then why did Thor come to me talking about a snake, he loves them, that followed him all day, then suddenly it bit him."
"He was showing off, so I needed to give him an eye opener." Loki came to sit beside you on your balcony, watching all of Asgard.
"Sometimes, I really can not keep up with the both of you." You admitted, voice low and almost shameful because you always longed for approval from your father but Thor was always the first and after him came Loki, you were always the last, always forgotten.
"If the goddess of fate herself can not keep up, then who can?" You knew he meant it to lift your spirits, but Odin had exhausted your mind today, you could not go along with Loki today.
"Ask father, because I believe it is not me." You told him, tone clipped then decided to get up and leave to train, much as you loved Loki, you could not speak to him now.
He didn't say anything while you walked away but just as you were at the door he spoke. "He is not always right, you know... and he is wrong about you, sister."
You blinked at the sound of your name being called, then did it click in your head where you were, you were not back in asgard, but staring at Howard Stark as he was explaining something you did not even hear the beginning of.
Howard stopped his rambling and gave you that weird look of his, as if he was trying to read into your soul... did he not that was your thing, not his.
"What is it with you these last few days?" Howard asked, eyes held something resembling concern which was very not Howard Stark of him.
Meaning something was actually up with you if Howard Stark himself was worried, so you shook your head and gave him a smile that could only scream miserable.
"Nothing is wrong, my friend... what were you saying?"
"... I know I don't say it a lot but you really are a dear person to me, away from the fact that I convinced the world that you are of value... you can talk to me."
"I know I can, Howard, but sometimes you need to fight your own battles alone, as Heimdell used to tell me." Your heart ached at the memory of a home that was ripped away from you, people who you loved and they did too, thinking you had betrayed asgard... betrayed the all father.
And why? All because you wished to tell Loki the truth about his parentage, about a lie he, you and everyone in Asgard were living, just because Odin decided it was best.
It was an accident in the first place, the way you figured it out. You had just accidentally touched the casket of the ancient winters, and your powers worked their own magic, showing you the truth of that day, the day of the battle when he found Loki.
He was Loki Laufeyson and that did not make him any less your brother, but the righteousness you were raised with was what made you believe he had a right to know and choose his path, to know he wasn't bound to asgard or forever meant to be in Thor's shadow.
Only when Odin found out that you were about to tell Loki, you still didn't understand how he knew that. He tried to reason with you but the thing about your relationship with your father, it was that strained was a very lacking word when it came to it.
One thing led to another and he threatened to exile you and you, always thinking the best of people, did not believe that he would actually do it but then it happened, he requested Heimdell to send you away... you fought but at the end of the day, Asgard was your home, you could not destroy it.
Exiled you got, and when you landed on earth, was probably the worst moment of your life, there were guns raised in your face, threats made against you and you were more than ready to fight those you deemed peasants when you first came to earth yet you understood what they felt, they didn't know you and were scared.
So you let them take you and there, in some kind of base you were met by two men, Howard Stark and Abraham Erskine, both who managed to convince the ones who took you and most likely the world that you were a valuable asset to them, especially in times of war.
Howard was the first to believe your story of being from Asgard, that you are the goddess of fate and when he saw your powers it was game over.
A few weeks later after many many lessons on how to learn the ways of earth, you were assigned as a part of the S.S.R, Strategic Scientific Reserve.
It was a top secret allied intelligence agency that was meant to help the world in war, create the best army ever known with the help of the greatest minds.
And frankly, you were not given much of a choice, it was either that or they kill you, their words not yours, they could not possibly kill you and you both knew it... but you were not stupid....
You knew that you had no way back home to Asgard and even if you did, Odin would not let you return so the best you could do was get used to this planet and it's people and become someone they did not fear.
Howard always told you that 'Sometimes you gotta do with the hand you're dealt' and you never understood what it meant even when he explained it but you figured it summed up your situation so you approved of it.
To get out of your own head again, you focused on Howard, who was going to repeat himself. "Abe says he found someone worth the super soldier serum to be tested on him."
You raised your eyebrows, that was interesting... perhaps because your definition of worthy was a far cry from theirs. Asgard, Thor, The Mjolnior and the Throne... Worthiness mattered a lot to you.
"Who is it?" You questioned and right on time, Peggy walked inside the room, probably needing some papers as usual.
Howard smiled, clasping his hands together and standing up. "I'm sure Ms.Carter will be happy to tell you all about him."
Peggy, as per usual, threw a glare his way before turning her gaze to you. Now you and Peggy weren't the best of friends but you were not enemies either... you were mutual.
"Steve Rogers, Born and raised in Brooklyn and he underwent our training-"
"Strength does not make him worthy." You stopped her in the middle of her briefing which you knew was not polite but you hated worthiness to be judged by strength... it never was... it was about the inside of the person, the soul, the heart.
"I never said he was strong... he is terrible at it actually but he... jumped on top of a grenade today in training."
"He what?" Both you and Howard spoke, shocked to say the least.
And Peggy only gave you a look before leaving and you believe you understood... He might not be strong but apparently he was stupid and perhaps brave enough to sacrifice his life to save others.
"Can I meet him?" You wondered, something inside of you nagging to see that person, your powers whispering in your head, the threads of fate calling out your name.
She paused at the door, expression tight as her and Howard exchanged glances and you came up with the conclusion of why.
"I have no intention of hurting him-"
"We didn't think you did but... they are a bit tight with you these days but... we will try to help you meet him." Howard looked pained to say that to you.
Defeated and maybe even hurt, you nod your head at both of them. You thought you gave the people of midgar- earth enough reason to trust you... apparently not.
Peggy and Howard leave the room, which was the room they had you spend your daytime in, amongst the S.S.R papers to learn more but really it was just to keep you away.
You contemplated the idea in your mind, you really did but you were starting to feel suffocated here and it is not like they were able to find out anyway because if there was anything you learned from Loki... it was illusions.
You stand up, placing a well crafted illusion of you on the desk, and then you call upon your powers, thinking of the only place that helped you calm on earth, and then waited, feeling the slightest of air brush your face as you teleported there.
You had once stumbled across this bridge, they call it the Manhattan bridge, must be a place on earth as well, you liked it here at night... it was quiet, reminding you of the comforting silence of Asgard at night.
But what you liked wasn't the bridge itself, but the space under it... it was a messy place, not exactly the cleanest yet the smell of the water coming from the river was refreshing for you and the rocks helped you feel grounded and attached to this place.
With slow, hesitant steps you walked through the space until you got closer to the waterline and simply seated yourself on the ground, eyes closed and mind clearing...
You felt that all of your efforts would always be in vain, you tried so hard to make yourself seem more human than goddess, you dressed like them, tried your best to speak like them, eat like them... not use your powers whenever you wanted...
And it still would never be enough, they would always think a monster of you, a being from somewhere they did not know and only keeping you to help them... would they ever see you for you?
You thought of what your loved ones would say... Loki would tell you that you did not need their approval, that you could kill them all and that would be it. Thor would declare war upon them, Odin would not even give them the chance and your mother... Frigga, she would tell you to give them a chance, perhaps they need time.
And while you had all the time in the world as time passes differently for you, you could not help the pain you had felt, for someone who was merciful and empathetic your whole life... they did not seem to understand that-
A movement near you forced you to turn abruptly, eyes wide and powers ready to flare but then you saw... a man, standing with his arms held up in surrender, eyes a pretty mixture of blue and green yet hard to see from the night, hair dark and short.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you... I just didn't know anybody sat here as well." He told you, voice... surprisingly sounding like a lullaby to you.
You felt that you had invaded his space but you had never crossed paths with anyone here before and you immediately stood up. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was your place-"
The man laughed, not in the sarcastic way Howard usually did but more... lighthearted. "Woah, my place? I don't own it, Doll. I just came here to clear my mind... I actually don't mind the company."
You stood still, your mind processing his words as he watched with a weird expression and you asked bluntly. "You wish me to remain? Here? With you?"
He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he finally spoke. "Yes... is that okay?"
"... I suppose." You were hesitant, you didn't even know why you agreed but something about him was comforting and the weight of your powers lifted with his presence.
He offered you his hand suddenly with a smile on his face. "I'm Bucky by the way.”
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