summary: "Someone else stole him away, a long time ago, but you managed to squeeze yourself between the chambers of his heart. Any way he cares for you, cherishes you, loves you—it’s enough. It’s enough. It has to be."
words: 1.4k
warnings: just a lot of pining lol
notes: im obsessed with leon ofc i had to write a fic about him. this might (probably) turn into a series but idk!!! update it's a series lol
»part two
He comes to you and collapses against the doorway when you appear. Says he meant to call, that he’s sorry he’s been gone so long.
But all you see is the scabbed-over scrape on his chin, the bruises along his arms, the weariness in his bones.
He comes to you a lot like this: broken down, likened to eggshell, impossibly cracked and picked apart, a reset of jagged edges glued just enough that you almost can’t tell he’s struggling.
But he’s struggling. You can tell regardless.
You lead him over to the couch inside your apartment, and he follows on instinct. He visits a lot, and you aren’t sure if the burn between your ribs is relief or resentment. Maybe a bit of both.
“Where have you been?” you ask, nursing a glass of lukewarm tap water.
He doesn’t respond for a few long beats, which gives your fuzzy brain time to think. It’s dangerous.
You know when he’s gone, and you worry yourself sick, motionless at times, sad. You know when he might not return. His four in the morning visits, the familiar knocks to your door that raise you from the couch because you’re both too energized yet too emotionally exhausted to sleep, and the cold sheets of your bed never call in invitation anyway.
You can’t do this anymore, you think. Be friends with him, possess this secret kind of one-sided love that eats away at the muscle of your heart.
Possibly. Maybe.
You’ve created a safe place for him to rest, and your company provides the security of another presence. You’ll be for him what he needs, whenever he needs.
There’s someone else, anyway.
It has to be enough.
When he leans forward, he smells of signature cologne and thick forest and gunpowder, and you know where he’s been:
Gone.
“That’s classified,” he says all matter-of-fact, the perfectly molded agent equipped with knee-jerk responses. And he soothes a palm over the curve of his forearm, over scars old and new, the small, shallow peel of post-burn flesh. “Just wanted to check in. Make sure you’re safe.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
His lips tease a smile that soon flatlines, and he leans forward to balance a forearm on each knee. “I needed to be sure.” His hands hang lifeless between his legs, and you spot a crust of blood beneath a single blunt fingernail.
“So you aren’t gonna tell me?”
“I can’t. You know that.”
“I’m not asking you to give me the mission report, Leon. I just—“ you reign yourself in with a deep breath, because talking to him about work is like pulling teeth with a jackhammer. “How bad was it?”
“How bad is it usually?”
“Bad.”
“There’s your answer.”
You worry for him. Always, especially now.
“You sure don’t wanna talk about anything?”
He sighs, and the line of his shoulders stiffen. His muscles tense, almost bracing for something you can’t see.
“I’m not trying to be pushy,” you say. “I’m just worried. I’ve never seen you hurt like this before.”
“What’s the point? Shit happens, you get banged up, and you move on.”
“Do you really believe that, though?”
“Believe what?”
“That you’ve moved on. That you can.”
He exhales a laugh devoid of humor. Like the act tastes bitter on his tongue. Then his face falls, brows knotting from some invisible pain that plagues him.
“No,” he whispers.
You understand the gravity of his admission. He’s never given you such honesty, and by the look on his face, he’s never been this honest with anyone else, either.
“I still have dreams about Raccoon City. I failed a lot of people that day, and I’m still trying to make up for it.”
He doesn’t speak about the outbreak often. Just bits and pieces, breadcrumbs here and there, a trail that you’ve never been able to follow.
“I remember when that happened. It was all over the news one day and then nobody ever talked about it again.”
“Trust me, that was on purpose. The government didn’t want anybody to know. Only a few people made it out alive.”
“What happened to them?”
“I’m not sure. One person I knew escaped, but I was caught by the military. So was someone else.”
“Wait, you were there? I thought you left before all of it happened.“
He blinks as if stunned, then turns to you. Curls a large, scarred hand around your fingers. “I can’t say anything else. For your safety.”
You don’t know much about what he does. Just that he works for the government, and that his job is dangerous. You don’t think he’s a spy, or CIA, or anything of the sort. But he was a survivor of Raccoon City, and was captured by the very people he works for. That knowledge changes a lot.
“I didn’t come here for this anyway,” he says, releasing your hand, and the comfort of his warmth evaporates from your skin like cigarette smoke. “I just wanted to check on you.”
“Well, you checked on me. I’m okay.”
You attempt a warm smile, a reassurance, and he looks at you with bleary eyes, lids low from exhaustion, and you wish to tuck him inside your chest. To clear out all the viscera and bone and keep him there, where he can be safe and maybe—god, just maybe—happy.
“Can I steal your couch for the night?” he asks, uncharacteristic in his melancholy, once burrowed deep inside his bones now spread thick as tar throughout his being.
“You don’t have to ask. You know you’re always welcome here.” Another smile, more tender. “Besides, it’s kind of expected at this point.”
He huffs out a laugh, more genuine than the last, and then his lips curl up at the edges and he brushes the hair from his eyes and you know you have it bad.
“Thank you, for always being here. I’m just sorry you have to.”
The sentiment cuts deep, a clean slice through your intestines, but your smile never wavers.
You can take this. You can. You’re always there for him, he said it himself, and that’s enough. Someone else stole him away, a long time ago, but you managed to squeeze yourself between the chambers of his heart, and any way he cares for you, cherishes you, loves you—
It’s enough. It’s enough. It has to be.
“Don’t apologize. It’s what friends do.”
Friends. Such a liar.
I love you. Of course I want to help you and spend time with you and make sure you’re okay and—
“Should I expect breakfast tomorrow?” he asks, and the color’s come back to his face. His eyes shine again. He still smiles.
He deserves so much better than this. Whatever job that sends him to you in such a state, whatever past that haunts his dreams.
“What’d you have in mind?”
“Pancakes,” he replies, “with chocolate chips. Do you have any of those?”
You rise to your feet and move to collect the pile of blankets from the end of the couch. “I’m sure I could find some. If not, I have to go to the store anyway.”
He toes off his shoes and stretches out along the couch, and you try not to think about the dirty state of his clothes on your furniture. He’ll just have to help you scrub out the stains tomorrow.
He tilts his head forward, enough to meet your eye. “Get some strawberries if you go. We could bake a cake.”
“Oh, you bake now?”
“I dabble.”
“...So I should get a pre-made mix then.”
He takes a moment to yawn, his bulk comically small beneath the fuzzy mass of your comforter. If only his feet weren’t hanging off the armrest. “That’s probably a good idea.”
His eyes slip closed shortly after, expression softening, and you adjust the fabric over his legs. You brush the hair from his face.
“Sweet dreams, Leon.”
The sheets of your bed are cold and lonely, but you find solace in the man snoring on your couch a room over. You’re alone, but you’re not. He’s safe. He came back to you.
You’ll stay awake all night to stare at the ceiling, and you’ll go to the grocery store first thing in the morning, and you’ll make him pancakes with chocolate chips, and you’ll bake a cake with him in your kitchen, and you’ll pretend like you’re okay. Like it’s enough.
don't you (forget about me) | steve harrington x reader
“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door.
"First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—”
Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—"
"You did not just roll your eyes at me—”
Dustin sighs. "Here they go."
(or:
You've always thought Steve Harrington was a weirdo. When you find out you might be in terrible danger, he might be just what you need.)
pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader (she/her pronouns used), lots of henderson siblings bonding <3
words: 13.9k
a/n: gif by @dailysteveharrington. thank you all for being patient and i hope you all like it<3 i loved this season and i love steve so i hope you enjoy this lil enemies to lovers fic. this fic is a one shot, but let me know if you'd like a sequel once vol 2 is out bc its a bit of an open, ambiguous ending ;) also some fun facts before this fic starts: dustin's dad appears at will's funeral in s1 and there are several theories about him-- officially, he and dustin's mother are divorced in canon. i'll explore that in this fic. ST4 SPOILERS. this is set in season 4 ep 3 "the monster and the superhero" and follows vol 1 canon also sorry if this doesnt follow canon pretty well i mostly did it from memory cause the wiki still isnt fully updated 💀
disclaimer: this fic discusses the topic of an absent parent, please proceed with caution if this is hurtful to you. also warning for canon typical violence and cursing. english is not my first language so please let me know if there are any mistakes.
📼 NOW PLAYING: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Mind
Your mother had always been slightly overbearing and fearful, but the murder of Chrissy Cunnigham you think might actually kill her. Or at least will force her to lock you in your bedroom and flush the key down the toilet.
“You can’t go anywhere without telling me,” your mother tells you over breakfast, worriedly overcooking her bacon. “You hear me? I don’t want you running around town without me knowing. Or better yet, don’t go anywhere at all!”
You glare at Dustin’s chair, where your brother is munching on toast and eggs, hoping your mother takes the hint. She does, and so she shakes her head and says, “Dustin’s different.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Maybe this killer has a thing for pretty girls,” your mother shakes her head, shivering. “Chrissy Cunningham was such a nice and pretty girl, right your age.”
“You don’t know what that killer was thinking!” You groan. “Why can Dustin leave but I can’t?!”
“Dustin’s not an eighteen year old girl with an easily breakable neck.”
“He’s easier to man-handle!”
Dustin frowns, finally looking up from his breakfast. “I’m not!”
”Besides, do you even know where he was last night?” You ignore your brother’s protests, choosing to point at him as he scoffs in offense. “I bet you don’t, because he’s always sneaking out!”
“I’m not always sneaking out!”
“I try my best with you, Dusty,” she sighs, finally sitting down. “But your sister is right, you’re difficult to keep track of. You’re always running around, like those little legs have minds of their own.” She points the spoon she was using for her coffee at your face. “Don’t you throw that in my face, (Y/N).”
“Mom, you’re right,” you nod, sipping your orange juice, trying to appeal to her soft spot. “He is difficult to keep track off, and there’s a dangerous killer on the loose. How about I keep track of him? Make sure he’s not getting into any trouble, hm? I’ll make sure we’re always safe, together.”
Of course, you were planning on bolting as soon as you were out of your mom’s sight. You mom’s cat Tews meows somewhere across the room, as if he knows not to trust you. That damned furball.
“What the fuck? No!”
“Dusty! Language.”
“Mom,” Dustin says, exasperated. “I don’t need a babysitter. Much less a babysitter that’s also my annoying older sister.”
“No, you have Steve Harrington for that,” you mutter under your breath, and Dustin manages to kick you under the table. You glare at your little brother, then turn to address your mom once again. “I promise we’ll stay together. I know— no, I understand that it’s scary out there right now, but I can take care of myself. And Dustin. You have to trust me.”
“I trust you. It’s the murderer I don’t trust.”
“Mom—”
“Let me finish,” she stares pointedly at you, and you promptly shut up. “I don’t want you two sneaking out. But, it’ll make me feel better if the both of you are together.”
Dustin covers his face with his hands. “Shit.”
“Yes!” You squeal. You stick out your tongue at him, and he rolls his eyes. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Dusty.”
“Screw you.”
“Dusty, it’ll be fun. (Y/N), don’t taunt your little brother,” your mom scolds both of you into silence. “It’ll be like old times, won’t it? Aw, you two used to be thick as thieves back then.”
Dustin sighs, picking at his toast absent-mindedly. “Was there a murderer on the loose back then too?”
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
After breakfast, you give Dustin a ride until you arrive in a neighborhood that is most definitely not Lucas Sinclair’s like he told you it would be. You turn to stare at your brother before you unlock the car’s door, confused.
“Where are we?”
Dustin looks at your shoes. “I told you. Lucas’s.”
“Okay, you might lie to me whenever you want, just not to my actual face, Dustin.” You roll your eyes, and he mirrors you. “Seriously, why did you make me come all the way down here?”
“Why do you care?”
“I know we’re doing this to get mom off our backs, but there is actually a killer on the loose,” you say. “So, excuse me if I’m also a little wary about dropping you off at unknown locations, or whatever.”
“Fine,” Dustin sighs. “I’m here to see Max and Steve.”
“Steve?”
“Harrington.”
You blink at him. “Fucking Steve Harrington?”
“See?” Dustin rolls his eyes again. “This is why I didn’t tell you! You are extremely uncool about Steve, you know.”
“I’m not!” You try not to dwell about how defensive you sound even to yourself. “I’m extremely cool about him. I’m extremely cool about the fact you hang out with that douchebag with stupid hair.”
“He’s not a douchebag! I don’t get why you hate him so much.”
Because you remember him and his friends making fun of you all throughout High School, his sneering and stupid stares. Like your brother, you’d never fit in— you never liked going to parties or drinking and you never made an effort to be liked by him and his group of popular dorks, instead you spent most of your days in the library, reading, hiding from Steve and his friends. Whatever honorable things Dustin saw in Steve Harrington you think he might have imagined them.
Now, in your last year of High School and with Steve becoming a social pariah, you don’t have to hide the fact that you still dislike Steve as much as you did back when he was still King Steve. Steve, for however much Dustin insists that he’s changed, upon first meeting you had tried to sweet talk you as if he didn’t know who you were. And you had barely kept it together enough to tell him to fuck off. Ever since then, you and Steve Harrington had hated each other’s guts. Your mutual dislike of each other is not lost on Dustin, who continues to mostly ignore it and tiptoe around it as best as he can.
“He’s not not a douchebag,” You murmur. “Why is he hanging out with two fourteen year olds during spring break? Isn’t the barf bag, like, supposed to be in college, going to frat parties, having a life of his own?”
Dustin doesn’t appreciate the way you talk about him, clearly, but he still replies, albeit unhappily. “He’s helping me with something.”
“With what?”
Before Dustin can respond, someone knocks on Dustin’s window. You jump, surprised, but it’s just Steve and Dustin’s friend redhead Max, looking bored and impatient. You groan and reach over Dustin’s seat to roll the window down.
“Do you mind?” You say to Steve. “We’re talking.”
“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door.
"First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. You ignore Dustin’s groan. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—”
Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—"
"You did not just roll your eyes at me—”
Dustin sighs. "Here they go."
“I did not roll my eyes—”
“You absolutely did!”
“There was something in my eyes.”
“That something was lies!”
“Jesus fuck,” Steve finally throws his arms up in exasperation and turns to your brother, ignoring your insults. “You done talking to your lovely sister there, Henderson? We got a counselor to see.”
“What?” You frown at Dustin, irritation immediately melting into concern. “What’s he talking about?”
“Steve, shut your mouth,” Dustin glares at Steve, who shrugs and finally steps away from the car. “Nothing, (Y/N), seriously. See you later?”
“No.” You shake your head. “What does he mean a counselor? Are you seeing Ms Kelly?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I promise. It’s—” he looks like he’s scrambling to think of an excuse, then his eyes land on Max. Something flashes across her face and she speaks next.
“It’s for me.” she says, “Chrissy died in my neighborhood.”
“She’s kind of freaking out,” Dustin says, and when you finally turn to look at Max you realize how tense she is, her shoulders square, with her lips forming a straight line.
“Oh. That sucks. Hey, Max.”
“Hey,” she greets, awkwardly. It’s part of her charm, you think.
“See?” Dustin asks. “Can I go now?”
You nod, a little shaken up for some reason. Maybe Chrissy’s murder still made you feel slightly ill, and the mention of it made you feel even worse. You couldn’t imagine what Max might be going through. It didn’t help that they had found another body this morning, either.
“Ye— yeah. Sorry. I hope everything’s alright, Max.”
“Yeah,” she nods.
Dustin nods to the door. “Can you unlock the car, then?”
You wordlessly comply, and as your little brother steps out of your mom’s blue Ford Cortina, you talk to Max once again. “Ms Kelly is great help. I’m sure she’ll make you feel better. She really helped me this year, you know, she’s a great listener.”
“Yeah, I know,” Max says. “I’ve been thinking about seeing her for a while, a—actually. I’ve heard she’s well… you know… fine, or whatever.”
“Hey, there’s no shame in that,” you shrug. “Lots of people go to see Ms Kelly… Actually, now that you mention it, Fred Benson, the guy they found this morning, was seeing Ms Kelly too. And Chrissy Cunningham.”
Dustin pauses before closing the car door. “What do you mean?”
You blink, slightly confused as to why you’d even bring it up. “I’ve seen them in Ms Kelly’s office before. I’m not sure why I’m even mentioning it, sorry.”
“No, no, (Y/N), that’s…” Dustin says, then doesn’t finish. “You’ve been seeing Ms Kelly too?”
“Yeah,” you nod, a little ashamed. You think about telling Dustin about everything that’s been going on, the nightmares, the guilt— but then you glance at his friends looking expectantly at him and cower. So you don’t continue.
It’s Steve who breaks the silence. “Henderson, chop chop, let’s go.”
“I’ll see you at home?” Dustin says, a little softer.
“Yeah, yeah. I was gonna go to Dinah’s near Ave Park, but do you think you’ll need a ride later?”
“Steve’s got his car,” he says. “Don’t wait up, okay?”
You nod, watching him leave.
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
It’s around eight PM, and Dinah is painting her toenails as you skim through one of her books, the soft hum of the TV in the background, entering through the open bedroom door. Her parents are watching the news, the news anchors are urging people to stay home and to lock their doors to be safe of this new serial killer.
Dinah’s house is your usual hangout spot beside your own. You don’t have many other friends, and there’s only so many times you can force Dustin to watch The Breakfast Club before he’s fighting you for the remote.
“It was all Matty could talk about,” Dinah continues to rant. “I can’t stand this murder talk any longer! I can only hear about Chrissy Cunningham’s missing eyeballs so many times, (Y/N), it’s way too fucking gruesome, but it’s all everyone in this town seems to care about.”
“It’s a pretty pressing issue,” when Dinah glares, you shrug. “I’m just saying! You know I agree with you. I don’t want to hear about it anymore.”
“Chrissy was always so nice, wasn’t she?” Dinah shakes her head, putting her nail polish back in her nightstand, then wraps her arms around her legs, hugging herself. “And Fred had a future in front of him. It’s so unfair. They had a family that loved them.”
“Dinah, I really don’t wanna talk about it,” you say, feeling yourself shiver. You don’t want to think about poor Fred or Chrissy, or the families mourning them. You try to focus on the book in your hands, but the words start blurring together, becoming harder and harder to read.
You blink, confused, then realize Dinah is still talking.
“It’s the truth, isn’t it? I think about their dads too. Chrissy’s dad was crying so much at her wake. Do you think your dad would ever cry for you like that?”
You finally snap to look back at your friend. She’s staring at you like you’re small, like an insect she could stomp on. You’ve never seen her black eyes seem so soulless, so empty.
“Maybe they’ll be tears of joy, don’t you think? After all, weren’t you the one who made him walk away?” She tilts her head to the side, a sneer forming in her lips. “They could be a family without you.”
There’s something wrong in Dinah’s eyes. There’s something wrong about all of this, but you can’t point to what, where are you, when, why…what…?
When you blink, Dinah’s eyes look normal again.
“(Y/N),” She asks, frowning. “Are you there?”
You shake your head. What the fuck was all that?
“What?”
“You were staring at me like you weren’t all here,” she explains, grimacing. “Where did you go just now?”
“Sorry…” When you speak you feel a dull ache around your temple, and you lift a hand to rest against it, trying to soothe the pain aimlessly. “I think I need some painkillers or something, my head’s killing me.”
“Again?”
“Yeah,” even before spring break you had confided in your friend about the headaches and the nightmares— you never told her why, but she at least knew you were seeing Ms Kelly.
Dinah stands up, careful not to stain the carpet with her fresh black nail polish. “I’ll ask my dad for some Tylenol. Stay here, I’ll be back in a sec.”
Before Dinah is out the door she’s interrupted by the doorbell, which rings once, twice, three times and more. Dinah frowns, as her dad yells I’m coming, Jesus!
“Someone’s impatient…” you murmur, hand still resting on your temple.
“Hey,” Dinah, who has always had great hearing, says. “I think it’s your brother.”
You frown, and when Dinah’s father confirms it’s your brother by yelling out that It’s little Henderson!, you and Dinah head downstairs to find a heavy breathing Dustin, Max, Lucas and even Steve Harrington, looking as if they just ran a marathon.
Dustin’s eyes land on you. “(Y/N)!”
“Dustin?” you say, “What are you doing here? You need a ride ho—?”
Dustin runs to hug you by the waist, almost knocking the air out of you.
“Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Is your nose bleeding? Do you feel—?”
“Woah, Dustin,” you don’t know what to do with your hands— you and Dustin hadn’t hugged since he turned twelve and he and you both deemed it lame. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”
Dustin finally lets go of your waist to grab you by the face and inspect it properly. He roughly pulls your face down and tries to pull up your nose to look at your nostrils. “No nosebleed yet?”
Steve tries to stop him. “Dustin, buddy—”
Lucas adds a sustancial, “Dude.”
“Dustin!” you push his hands off your face, feeling your cheeks heat up when you notice everyone looking at you. “What the hell are you doing?”
Your brother opens his mouth to speak, but then seems to notice Dinah behind you and seems to think better of it. “We need to talk,” he says instead, “Like, right now.”
“Right now?” You ask. “I already told Dinah’s mom I’m staying for dinner. Dustin, what the hell is going on with you?”
Dinah clears her throat. “I’m… just gonna go get that Tylenol.”
“Tylenol?” Dustin asks when she walks away. “What for?”
“I have a headache.”
“Shit,” Max says, still by the door frame with Lucas and Steve.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dustin curses, deep in thought. “It’s already started.”
“What?” You ask as Dustin starts pacing back and forth.
“We need to find out how to stop this right fucking now,” Dustin starts pacing back and forth. “Think, everyone.”
“Maybe Robin and Nancy found something in the library,” Steve offers.
“Yeah,” Lucas nods. “C’mon, man. Let’s go find them.”
“Okay, yeah. Okay, okay.” Dustin calms himself down, manages to stop his pacing. “Let’s go wait for them at the Wheeler’s. (Y/N), let’s go.”
You throw your hands up in disbelief. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”
“(Y/N),” Dustin says, his voice unfaltering. Dustin is never serious about much, and this renders you speechless. “I need you to listen to me for once in your goddamn life, okay? We need to go. Now.”
“Okay, Jesus,” you say finally. “Dinah’s mom is making Lasagna so this better be worth it, Dustin.”
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
On the way to Nancy Wheeler’s house, you learn two things: One, Dustin knows where a serial killer might be hiding, and two, your brother thinks you’re cursed and are going to die in, give or take, twenty four hours.
You glare at Steve Harrington in the rearview mirror. “What the fuck have you been giving him?”
“I’m sorry,” you say, because he looks genuinely frustrated, but a second dimension and a supervillain? Does your brother think you’re stupid? Just how many movies has he been watching? “I just think D&D might actually be getting to your head, Dustin. There’s no way what you just told me is real.”
“Lucas and Max know it’s real too!”
Both of them nod furiously.
“Are the other two fourteen year olds your only source?”
“Steve too!”
Steve winks at you through the rearview mirror.
“Even worse,” you say.
“Listen,” Lucas tries to reason when Dustin groans in frustration, cursing under his breath at you. “I know this sounds absolutely crazy, I wouldn’t believe it either. But I promise you it’s all true, and if we don’t do something soon about it you’ll end up like Chrissy and Fred.”
An involuntary chill runs down your spine every time you think about them.
“Guys,” you say, slowly, “I know things are scary right now, but I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for the murders besides a demon supervillain.”
“I didn’t believe it at first either,” Max shakes her head. “Not until I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Didn’t Ms Kelly’s file say the others who were cursed were also having hallucinations?” Steve asks the kids, looking for a place to park. “So, have you gotten any weird visions lately?”
Hallucinations? You think back, but can’t seem to pinpoint anything similar to that. Except tonight at Dinah’s place, before Dustin and the rest had rung the doorbell. Suddenly you grow a little paler, uncomfortable at the memory being brought back. That had been weird, but you were exhausted and knowing a serial killer, Eddie Munson, who apparently your brother knew, was out there still was making you restless.
“I wouldn’t really call them visions,” you murmur.
“Shit,” Dustin breathes, looking at you with wide eyes. “It’s spreading faster.”
“Listen, Dustin, I may be going through some shit lately, but I promise you I’m okay. I just need some painkillers for my head, seriously.”
“(Y/N)!” Your brother takes you by the shoulders and shakes you. “Your life is in imminent danger! You don’t need painkillers!”
“I do if you keep shaking me like a ragdoll!”
“Listen,” Lucas says, grabbing Dustin and prying him off you despite his protests. “Just stay with us tonight, okay? We’ll sleep at the Wheeler’s and it’ll make Dustin feel better, right? We’re all tired.”
“Dude—”
Lucas cuts Dustin off and whispers, “We’ll wait for what Nancy and Robin have to say and then figure out how to convince her later, yeah?”
Dustin sighs. “This was so much easier when El had her powers.”
“So yeah? You’ll stay the night?” Lucas asks, hopeful.
You see all three of the kids staring at you and cave in. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.” You say, at the same time Steve parks right in front of the Wheeler residence. Before you can even step out of the car another car pulls over by the garage and Nancy Wheeler and another girl you don’t know step out of it.
“Nance, Robin!” Steve exclaims as he stops the car and steps out. “Had fun at the library? I sure didn’t.”
“It went well, I think—”
“We have a situation,” Dustin is quick to interrupt, reaching over your space and popping his head out from the open window. “It’s my sister. We think Vecna cursed her.”
“Whatever that means,” you mumble, getting out of the car, Dustin trailing behind you and slamming the door shut.
“She doesn’t believe us,” Max explains.
“Well, I personally would be more weirded out if she did,” The girl you don’t know shrugs a little. You recognize her now— she worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last summer before the fire at Starcourt, and now works at Family Video. You’ve spoken a bit with her before.
“She’s been having visions, headaches, nosebleeds,” Dustin continues, “like Fred and Chrissy were, according to Ms Kelly’s files. I think Vecna is preying on vulnerable people, people dealing with...” he looks at you for a second, then back at the girls, settling on saying: “Some shit.”
“We found some articles about Victor Creel at the library,” Nancy says, then motions at the house with her chin. “Let’s talk inside.”
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
Nancy and Robin turn out to be as crazy as the rest of them— they tell the story of Victor Creel, infamous in Hawkins for murdering his entire family, and about how he was supposedly possesed by the devil according to some conspiracy newspaper. They want to talk to Victor, but the problem is that he’s now a patient at Pennhurst Mental Hospital and completely unreachable to the public. They plan to go first thing in the morning and the rest of the group seems to agree.
“We’ll need a disguise,” is Nancy’s big plan.
You never quite get that Tylenol, because the strongest thing Ms Wheeler has is green tea. You think everyone’s lost their goddamned minds.
“So what do you want me to do while all of you plan?” You ask, sitting on the couch. Nancy and Robin leave to Nancy’s room. Max and Lucas are by the desk in the corner speaking softly, Dustin is pacing around the room impatiently as he usually does when he’s this restless, while Steve is sitting on the couch beside you, playing with Dustin’s (or is it Mike’s?) walkie-talkie. “Am I allowed to eat something? Because I’m starving.”
Dustin snatches the walkie-talkie from Steve’s hand. “You’re gonna break that.”
Dustin’s, then.
“We don’t know yet,” Lucas says, walking over to where you are, holding Max’s hand gently. “We’re hoping the girls find out something from Victor. In the meantime…”
“You can eat,” Steve concludes. “... Right?”
“Right,” Max nods.
“We have to do something soon,” Dustin’s the most anxious you’ve ever seen him, even before you took him to see The Empire Strikes Back. “We don’t know how much time you even have once the visions and all the hallucinations start. We said twenty four hours but we can’t be sure.”
“If it helps, they started today. At Dinah’s.”
“You snapped out of it, right?” When you nod, Steve shrugs. “Henderson, I think we have time to order some pizza, at least.”
“And a movie?” You ask, finally relaxing into the couch. You toss away your shoes and hug them to your chest. “Does Mike have The Breakfast Club somewhere around here?”
“Not that movie again,” Dustin groans.
You throw a pillow at your brother, who manages to dodge it easily. “It’s a great movie!”
“It lost its charm after the thirteen time you forced me to watch it with you.”
“The Breakfast Club?” Steve asks aloud. “(Y/N) Henderson is obsessed with The Breakfast Club? Is that why Dustin is always renting it at Family Video?”
Dustin huffs, offended. “Why else would I want to rent that stupid movie?”
“Molly Ringwald,” Steve answers, at the same time you yell out, “It’s not stupid!”
When Nancy comes downstairs she informs you that sadly no, she doesn’t have The Breakfast Club, but that she should. She does have the soundtrack, however, and you think about asking to borrow it tomorrow before she goes back upstairs to order a pizza.
A while later it’s almost midnight, everyone around you is tired, except maybe for Dustin, but the majority wins and you all decide getting some sleep is the best option. You agree, but know that you’re probably not getting any sleep tonight, either; you’ve been having nightmares every night for the past few days and you don’t believe today is going to be any different.
When the lights go off and everyone is already starting to doze off, Dustin is quick to turn his flashlight on.
“Dude! Turn that off!” Steve moans, launching a pillow straight into his face. Dustin doesn’t dodge this one this time, much to Robin and Steve’s satisfaction, who chuckle lightly.
“C’mon, Dustin, what the hell?” Lucas groans.
“Shut up! I’m trying to see if I can find something else in Ms Kelly’s files!”
“Dude,” Max sighs, “you’ve read them each four times already.”
“You won’t be able to find anything if you’re exhausted,” Nancy tries more softly. “Just try to sleep for a bit, okay?”
“Dustin, c’mon,” you reach for his hand— it’s a bit uncomfortable from your position on the couch and his on the floor, but you do it anyway. That seems to soothe him slightly, to see you still offering comfort, like you’re still yourself. He manages a weak nod, and he squeezes your hand slightly before turning the flashlight off.
After a few minutes, Dustin starts snoring loudly. Steve, who you’re unfortunately stuck sharing the couch with, chuckles.
“He’s a good kid,” he says.
“Yeah,” you can’t help but agree. You wouldn’t trade your dork brother for anything. “He’s great. When he was little, he used to wet his bed all time after watching scary movies with me, and he’d wake me up to change his sheets so my dad wouldn’t yell at him for ruining them.”
“Steve raises a silent eyebrow at you, sounding amused. “And you actually did that?”
“I forced him to watch them. I felt bad,” you smile at the memory. “He would offer to wash the dishes for me, though.”
“Your moral compass is stronger than mine,” he hums.
“You know, he…” you start, unsure if Dustin would be upset if you shared this, then decide it’s not as embarrassing as telling him he used to wet his bed, and continue, “he really admires you. God knows why, Harrington, but he worships the ground you walk on.”
“Henderson?” He asks, a little in disbelief. “I don’t know—”
“I’m serious, Harrington. He loves you,” You hoped you didn’t sound jealous. There had been a time where you thought Steve was almost a replacement for you as an older sibling, but as time went on you realized how important Steve was to him.
“Well. I’m pretty loveable.”
You roll your eyes. “Sure.”
“He’s pretty loveable, too,” Steve says after a few beats of silence, more softly now. “I don’t have any siblings, did you know that? So it’s… uhm, really cool to have him around. Even if he’s kind of a little shit sometimes.”
“Such a little shit,” you agree.
The rest of the group seems to be asleep already, or maybe they don’t care about the conversation enough to join you. Steve starts telling you about the time Dustin burrowed his hair gel and almost set fire to his bathroom, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle your giggles.
It’s not long before you start to feel abnormally cold, and can’t keep your body from trembling. Steve’s gentle voice is gone. The room is dark around you, and realizing that you must’ve fallen asleep while talking with Steve at some point, you hug yourself trying to seek some warmth. You try to grab a blanket from somewhere. Jesus, it’s spring for fuck’s sake, it shouldn’t be this cold. But you realize that despite the darkness you can see, and when you look up at the ceiling, you find a grandfather clock that most definitely doesn’t belong in the Wheeler’s basement.
“(Y/N).”
The voice calling your name is unfamiliar and it makes you feel ill almost immediately, like your stomach has turned into nothing but knots. You try to speak, to ask who it is, but nothing comes out, you can barely even breathe.
“Do you think you could ever keep living with this guilt?” The voice asks, somehow you feel as if the voice is right behind you, whispering into your ear. It’s like nails scraping against chalkboard in your eardrums. “Knowing what you did to your family?”
You want to turn around and find the voice, but you can’t, you can’t, you can’t. The clock is ticking, haunting you, calling for you. You want nothing but to run away from it, but you can’t move— you’re glued in place somehow, maybe in fear, you can’t tell. Everything is uncertain, except for the clock. The clock, you know, it’s real.
It’s counting down. You know what it’s trying to tell you. It’s coming for you and you can’t escape it. It’s only a matter of time now.
“Soon, (Y/N)...” It whispers. “Soon, I’ll come for you, and no one will be able to help you, (Y/N)... (Y/N). (Y/N)!”
You open your eyes with a gasp to find Steve’s arms around your shoulders, shaking you slightly. His eyes are wide, a little frightened. When you look around you find Lucas and Max draped all over a chair, their chests rising slowly, asleep. Dustin is in a sleeping bag on the floor, near Robin and Nancy, hugging each other tightly in their sleep. Steve is the only one awake.
“Shit,” you say, placing your hand in your heart. “Did I wake you?”
“We were talking and then you just went somewhere,” he says. “You don’t remember?”
You suddenly feel very cold. “I thought I was sleeping. I saw…” You think about telling Steve, but it seems pointless now, almost. What would you tell him? You saw a clock? “I think it was one of those hallucinations you guys keep talking about. You’re really freaking me the hell out, you know.”
“Fuck, I think Dustin’s right,” he says.
“About me being cursed by a being from another dimension? Are you kidding?”
Steve does manage to look apologetic. “I know it sounds bonkers, but that’s because it is. I’ve seen it.”
“What? This other dimension?” You were starting to think Dustin and his nanny were just trying to play an extremely elaborate joke on you.
“The Upside Down, but no,” he shakes his head, and then his eyes land somewhere around the room, focusing on one of Mike’s many posters. “The monsters.”
“Vecna?”
“Others,” he says, then murmurs, “Haven’t had the pleasure just yet.”
“The demoger…? What was it?”
“Demogorgon, yeah,” he grumbles. “The Mind flayer too. It’s all real. I wish Will and Eleven were here to actually explain this stuff; they are the ones who actually know their stuff about this.”
You have never seen Steve actually sound so… serious, before. It’s all actually starting to freak you out, you decide, and you aren’t sure if you actually want to find out if it’s all actually real or not. You stay silent for a few moments, sleep escaping you. You figure Steve’s fallen asleep until his voice startles you again.
“You okay there, Henderson?”
No, you want to say. You can’t shake the feeling that the voice is watching you, waiting to catch you by surprise. “Yeah,” you mumble, sleepless, scared.
Steve doesn’t seem to buy your answer however, because you feel his body shifting near your side of the couch, sitting right beside you. When you give him a look (he’s so close he can actually make it out) he clicks his tongue.
“See, I don’t really believe you, Henderson. So, I’m gonna stay near you, just in case you get another vision. Or if you want to hold my hand.”
“Screw you, Steve,” You glare, turning to the other side so that your view is Harrington-less. If you do feel better with him beside you, that’s between you and maybe Vecna, if he’s actually inside your head.
In the morning, when you wake up and Nancy and Robin are both gone (probably visiting a murderer in a mental hospital) and Steve is tangled up beside you, you decide you’ve had enough.
“So we’re just gonna wait around to see what happens?” Dustin argues, as Lucas and Max try to reason with him.
“What else can we do?” Lucas asks, frustrated.
“Literally anything else, dude! My sister might die!”
“Okay, Dustin, you need to stop and we need to go home, now,” you tell him, looking around the basement for your jacket.
“No!” he points at you. “You’re not going anywhere until we know what to do.”
“Dustin. I’m four years older than you,” you glare, placing your hands on your hips. “I’m the older sibling. I’ve entertained this enough already, but I left mom’s car at Dinah’s and we need to go get it and then get our asses home before mom loses her shit.”
“(Y/N)! Listen to me!”
“No, Dustin!” You finally snap, taking Dustin’s walkie-talkie from his hand and shoving it into your bag despite his protests. “I’ve had enough about monsters and other dimensions and whatever other nonsense Eddie Munson has been feeding you! We’re going home, now!”
“I can’t believe I’m actually trying to help you!” Dustin screams, “You suck!”
“Well, you’re stuck with me!”
“I wish I wasn’t,” he says, his eyes cold. “I wish you weren’t my sister.”
The chills return like a slap across your face, making you stumble backwards slightly. The room around you turns dark immediately, the only person left is Dustin in front of you. But it’s not him, it can’t be, his eyes have never looked this lifeless.
“You took his chance away, didn’t you?” The unfamiliar, bone chilling voice returns. “His chance of having a real family, or at least a father figure. He’s right in wishing you weren’t his sister. He deserves someone better.”
Again you want to scream, but it’s like your mouth is taped shut. Around you Mike Wheeler’s basement seems to fade away into blue, and suddenly you’re standing on your front porch, watching your dad walk away. You’re saying the hardness around your eyes, your lips drawn into a tight line. You don’t look like yourself; you look older, and tired, and disappointed, more like a woman than the girl you were when this happened, the girl you must’ve been.
“Don’t come back again,” you tell your father’s retreating form. But your voice is distorted, so far away.
“How many times has Dustin needed his father?” The voice asks. When you blink you’re somewhere else; not Mike’s basement, not your home. There’s splinters of wood scattered by your feet, like a house just destroyed. Everywhere around you is red, like blood, like the blood in those horror movies you forced Dustin to watch because he made them less scary when he squealed. “Are you proud you broke up your family?”
“I was a kid,” you manage to say, and only now you realize you’ve been crying all along, the salty tears wetting your dry lips. “I didn’t want Dustin to know what he did. I would take it back if I knew he wouldn’t actually come back.”
“But you did it anyway. You did.”
I did, I did, I did, you think, over and over. You close your eyes, hard, ignoring how it almost hurts.
“You miss him too, don’t you? Despite everything. You’re sadder about the fact that he left you, too. He left his daughter behind.”
“Who are you?” You hiss out, through your anguish.
“I’m part of you, (Y/N). Whether you want to or not.”
You’re not alone. When you open your eyes you see him — a monster, vicious even in looks, like someone slowly peeled away his skin, and all that was left of him was muscle and meat, not even blood. Vecna. Around you there are two different bloody columns, and you’re quick to notice they’re holding Chrissy and Fred’s bodies, like morbid museum displays, tokens. He was right, Dustin was telling the truth about everything, and now you were going to die because you didn’t listen to him.
“No,” you want to say, you want to scream. But you’re not strong enough, you can’t—
Hey, hey, hey, hey
You blink through your tears. You manage to recognize that melody in this unfamiliar place. You want to run towards it, but you’re not sure your legs can even respond to your commands right now.
Vecna seems to think something’s wrong, too, because as the song progresses he grows more impatient. “You think you can escape like this?”
Tell me your troubles and doubts
Giving everything inside and out and
Love's strange, so real in the dark
Think of the tender things that we were working on
His hands— his claws are stroking your cheeks, an aborted tender gesture, like he’s trying to soothe his prey before going for the kill. It’s over, you think, there’s nothing but this certain death. But then; you think of the hundreds of times you forced Dustin to watch this movie with you; of you both playing with Tews until he scratches one of you in annoyance; driving Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will to the movies; getting ice cream at Scoops Ahoy and guggling when Steve gets rejected once again; putting Dustin’s hair in braids and practicong makeup on him when he was younger; asking Will Byers what he was sketching at the park; Dustin and you laughing during dinner because of some stupid joke. You think about last night, sleeping beside Steve, and the way he made you laugh.
Don't you, forget about me
Don't, don't, don't, don't
Don't you, forget about me
You can’t give up. You can’t leave Dustin.
Somehow you manage to pull Vecna off you with a shove, and you run. You run, you run as fast as your legs let you, as your jeans stain with what looks like blood, as Vecna screams at you. You run like you've never run before.
And then you gasp and you’re falling.
“Shit, fuck, shit!” Someone’s arms are around you, and it takes you a second to calm down to realize it’s Steve, and that you’re in Mike Wheeler’s basement and you’re alive, somehow.
“Holy fucking shit,” Max is saying, but you can barely hear her over the rapid beating of your own heart— erratic, but unquestionably alive.
“God, god, (Y/N),” Dustin’s voice stands out from the others, and when you look at him there are tears streaming down his eyes, and you can barely process anything before you’re trying to reach for him despite feeling like you’re not even in your own body.
“I’m okay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, Steve letting go of yours. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
“I thought you were gonna die,” he whimpers.
“I’m here,” you breathe out. “Oh my God, I’m here thanks to you.”
You realize that the song is still playing, only to notice the headphones in your ears. You see your scattered bag around the room, and the walkie-talkie that Dustin must’ve been looking for already on the floor. Don’t You (Forget About Me) slowly fades to an end before the next song on the soundtrack starts.
“I’m sorry,” Dustin says into your shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were going through something, I should’ve noticed. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” You shake your head, holding your little brother even closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Fuck, Dustin, I’m so sorry.”
You stay like that for a moment, hugging Dustin on the carpet, Max and Lucas hovering near, and Steve’s hand on your shoulder, grounding you.
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When you explain to Nancy what happened and what you saw once she comes back from Pennhurst she’s quick to pinpoint the house you saw when you met Vecna as Victor Creel’s house. All of you grab your things and head to that location. You try to not feel so dreadful, and Dustin forcing you to listen to Don’t You the entire car ride and holding onto your jacket sleeve helps soothe your nerves, at least a little bit.
But Victor Creel’s house is something out of a horror story, dark and abandoned as it is, and the only light source in the house seems to be the hole Robin made when she smashed the window.
“Let’s split up,” Nancy offers, and everyone seems to comply much to your dismay.
Lucas and Max leave to investigate with Dustin (reluctantly parting from your side) trailing off behind them, Nancy and Robin head upstairs and you and Steve are stuck together and instructed to stay downstairs by Nancy, the only thing illuminating your way being your flashlights.
You wander through hallways, staring at ruined wallpaper and dusty portraits. Victor and his family seemed so happy in their pictures, and you wonder why nobody, family or not, ever came to look for their things. The house seemed frozen in time, like one day the family had decided to get up and leave everything behind, the house nothing more than ghosts.
“I hate this place,” you comment, trying to hug yourself tightly to keep the cold at bay. “Thinking that people died here is…”
“Horrible,” Steve finishes for you. “Yeah… Fuck this place, man.”
When you turn to a corner, you freeze in place.
“Steve.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re seeing this, right?” You point at a clock with your flashlight, unmoving. It’s the same clock from your visions, the one you saw before meeting Vecna.
“Yeah,” Steve frowns. “Real old. Why?”
“I saw it,” you try to explain through the rapid beating of your own heart. “In my visions, I mean. This clock was in them— well, the second one, mostly. In the Wheeler’s basement last night.”
“Shit…” Eloquent as ever, Steve Harrington. “Has to mean something, right?”
“If anything it proves Nancy and Robin were right. It all started here.” You finally force yourself to look away and continue forward, ignoring the way you feel your skin crawling. You hold up your cassette before re-starting the song. “What would happen if I suddenly got tired of this song? Will it no longer work? Does this mean Vecna will… come back for me?”
“Listen, I— I’m not a genius at this like your brother, or like Nancy, or even Robin,” Steve admits, very honestly. “But I promise we’ll find a way, even if that happens. Besides, Dustin told us how much you love this song. Seems kinda impossible you’ll ever get tired of it if you listen to it every day. And listen, I gotta ask. Breakfast club?”
“What?” You feel heat rise up to your cheeks, embarrassed. You start walking away from the clock, trying to get rid of the chills that had gotten ahold of you just a few moments before. “It’s a great movie.”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Steve says, and even though you can’t really see him in the dark, you can hear his smirk, picture his smile. He’s teasing, and you’re kind of glad for it. It helps. “I just didn’t think it would be your thing, is all.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s my thing then?”
“I don’t know. You seem like a Dune fan, maybe.” He wonders out loud, your flashlight lighting the way.
“I do like the book.”
“See?” Steve points at his temple. “I knew it.”
“I think working at Family Video is finally getting to you.”
“I’m good at reading people,” he says, and you raise another silent eyebrow at him. He continues, “I’d always thought of you as a little brainiac, and that you’d liked movies that were kinda difficult. You were always reading in school. I didn’t think you’d like teen flicks and Hughes.”
“Dune is not difficult. And maybe you don’t really know me enough to know what my thing is,” you shrug. “... Or maybe every girl is a little bit in love with Judd Nelson.”
“Yeah,” Steve actually laughs. “Can’t beat that hair.”
And you can’t help yourself, you smirk. You think you might actually be dreaming, or maybe this curse made Steve seem more tolerable than usual. “You give him a good run for his money.”
“We’re still talking about hair here, right?”
Now you point your flashlight at Steve and elbow him.
“I’m just asking!”
“It was a stupid question. And just so you know, there’s nothing wrong about liking teen flicks,” you say, continuing to walk and not waiting to see if Steve follows. “Pretty in Pink is my new favorite movie and my GPA is still 3.5.”
“Oh wow. Pretty in Pink?” He whistles. “You have a soft spot for Molly Ringwald.”
“Who doesn’t?”
He hums in response.
You stay like that for a moment, walking through dusty hallways and trying to avoid spider webs. Even with the flashlights the place looks abandoned and lonely, and there’s a coldness running down your spine that you can’t shake off no matter how much you try. You focus on trying to catch the sound of Steve’s breathing to somehow ground yourself to reality. It feels like ever since meeting Vecna your grip on reality slowly fades away, like someone is unraveling the carpet from underneath you, trying to catch you by surprise. Like you’re falling into an abyss of darkness and you can’t hold onto anything— because nothing around you is truly real. And so you bite your lip to keep yourself from reaching out to Steve and holding on. You can’t think of a moment you’ve felt as uncertain as you do now; but Steve’s teasing and your bickering back and forth is normal, makes you feel like you’re not actually in immediate danger. You figure if there’s a different dimension called the Upside Down, then you can most definitely forgive Steve Harrington for being a jerk in High School. He has more than proven himself to you.
Because the truth is that maybe Vecna will win. Maybe you will never beat this curse. And you’ll end up like Chrissy Cunningham, like Fred Benson, like Patrick McKinney; just dead bodies along the trail.
“Hey, Steve,” you call, slowing down to walk beside him. He turns to look at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Uhm. If something… like, happened to me—”
“Woah, woah, wait,” Steve shakes his head. “Nothing will. We beat the curse, remember? With the song?”
“Yeah, but we didn’t actually beat it, did we?” Now you do turn to look at him, and his big eyes almost render you speechless. You don’t know what to call the look on his eyes, but it makes you want to look away from him; makes you want to run. “Listen, Steve, I just— I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he says, quickly. You think he’s noticed how embarrassed you feel, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re just scared shitless like the rest of us.”
“It’s not that,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk around you and picking fights with you. You’ve— you’ve been there for Dustin when I wasn’t, and I guess you’re not actually a bad guy. So… I’m sorry I judged you. And thank you, I guess. For being there for Dustin. And… me.”
Steve doesn’t say anything for a second. You’re still looking anywhere but him, now focusing your eyes on a spider in one of the many spider webs in front of you. You feel embarrassed and stupid, but a little bit better. You know you’re doing the right thing by apologizing— you know Steve now, better than you’ve ever thought you would. You finally dare to take one look at him and his eyes are still on you, and when your eyes lock, he smiles softly.
“You’re apologizing for that?” Steve asks, and when you nod matter of factly, he tilts his head to the side. “Huh. Never thought I’d see the day Henderson’s sister apologized to me.”
“Don’t let it get to your head, Harrington,” you roll your eyes, but can’t help the small smile forming on your lips. “I’m only doing this because I might die.”
Steve chuckles, nodding. “Fair enough,” he says. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too, Henderson. To be honest, I think I kind of deserved it. I was an asshole in High School, so… yeah. I, uh, I’m sorry it took me getting kicked off the clique to realize you’re not half bad.”
“Well,” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “It took me almost dying to realize you’re not half bad either. I think we’re even.”
Steve stops in his tracks, making you stop, too, a little confused. You turn to look at him, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite so… earnest, maybe. You can’t name the look on his face, but you can’t look away, can’t seem to be able to keep walking. You’re frozen in place.
“You’re not gonna die, Henderson,” he says, determined. “I won’t let you.”
Your mouth goes dry. All you can do in response is nod. You want to say something, but the words escape you, and so you stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of you saying anything. You wonder if Steve can hear the rapid beating of your heart, if he can make out the way your eyes drop to his lips for a slow second despite the darkness around you both.
Then you hear Dustin yell out, “Guys!” and the moment fades away.
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Finding Eddie at Skull Rock seems to be harder than it should be, and once you find him you’re made to follow Dustin’s apparently broken compass. You feel like you’re wandering through the desert, with no clear path in mind. Dustin is at the front, with Lucas and Max following closely behind, Eddie (who you now have a hard time believing would ever be able to kill anyone), Robin and Nancy in front of you and Steve.
You find yourself time and time again choosing to spend more time with Steve, that he seems to be the one able to actually make you feel grounded, like you’re not gonna die in the next three seconds. You feel like yourself around him; but different. Steve is different. This whole experience is making you rethink everything you’ve ever known.
You can’t help but wonder in the silence about Dustin and the others, guiding the rest of you through the night time in the forest. Despite all of them being younger than you, they don’t seem to need your help, especially Dustin, who you think is completely in his element leading the way.
After a while of walking in silence, Dustin announces that the compass seems to be going even crazier. At this, Robin pries it off his hands to confirm that it’s true. Eddie and Dustin argue for a second about following the compass and make another Lord of the Rings reference that has you smiling.
“He’s not half bad,” you comment. “Eddie, I mean.”
“I still don’t know what the hell Modor is,” Steve mumbles under his breath.
You don’t try to explain Lord of The Rings to him— you don’t think there’s even enough time. But, maybe one day, when Hawkins isn’t in imminent danger and Steve still wants to hang out with your uncool self for whatever reason.
“What do you think we’ll find wherever this stupid compass is taking us?” You ask him, trying to avoid accidentally stepping on some poison ivy. Just your luck to get cursed and also poisoned on the same week. “You know more about this than me.”
“I’m actually more like, the, uhm, action guy of the group.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t know where we’re going,” You conclude.
Steve nods. “No damn clue, Henderson.”
“Great,” you chuckle lightly.
“All I know is that it’s probably a portal Vecna opened after killing someone.”
“A portal. To the upside down?” When Steve nods in confirmation, you sigh. “I still can’t get used to how crazy this is.”
“The third time you do this you kind of just start going with the flow of things,” Steve admits. “Russian spies, MK-Ultra, different dimensions, monsters— it all just kind of starts to sound like background noise.”
“Dustin and the kids seem to really know about all of this.”
“They do,” Steve nods. “Dustin is like, their leader. Our leader, I guess.”
“My little brother… fighting communists and monsters.” You shake your head. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. How did Nancy? With you and Mike?”
Steve stops for a second to frown at you. “With me?”
“You know, with Nancy and you dating.”
“Me and Nancy?” he asks, then shakes his head. “No, me and Nance just… we go way back, but she’s with Jonathan. That ship sailed a long time ago. We’re friends now. Besides, she’s the one killing more monsters than me.”
“Oh.”
There’s no way to ignore the way your heart skips a beat at this, or the hopeful glint in Steve’s eyes. The rest of the woods disappear and it’s only you and Steve and your rapidly beating heart. The others are lost to you, in their own little world, searching in the dark with their flashlights like fireflies.
“Yeah,” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “And, just in case, me and Robin are not a thing, either. Just friends.”
“Platonic with a capital P!” You hear Robin yell out in front of you.
You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you at Steve’s blush. “Yeah, yeah, think she got it, Buckley, thanks.”
“You’re welcome!”
“That’s… good to know,” you comment.
Steve raises his eyebrows at you, then scratches his chin. “Is it? Good to know?”
You nod slowly, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe.”
“Maybe. Okay. Maybe is—” he breathes out. “Maybe is cool.”
“Maybe is really cool,” you allow yourself a small smile.
“Really?” Steve inquires, and when he notices his smile he gifts you one of his own. “Okay. That’s great. Maybe is really cool. Cool. Cool beans.”
“Yeah?” You bite your lip, finally daring to look at him.
Steve follows your movement with his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, breathless.
“Hey guys,” Dustin’s voice rings out, the moment gone. “I think we found the portal!”
You both follow Dustin’s voice until you reach a lake, where Eddie explains Vecna killed Patrick when he was running away from Jason and the rest of the basketball team.
“So the portal is… what?” Robin asks, “Underwater?”
Dustin shrugs. “Worth a shot.”
He starts climbing up the boat, and you’re quick to grab him by the sleeves of his shirt to stop him.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” You ask him.
“Looking for the portal,” Dustin says, matter-of-factly.
“You told me this portal is supposed to teleport you to another dimension, one Will Byers got stuck in,” you reply, pulling him away from the boat. “You’re not going anywhere near that portal. None of you kids are.”
“Who died and made you the boss?”
“Three people died,” you note.
“I made her the boss,” Robin quips. “Well, Nancy might technically be the boss, actually. Nance?”
Nancy blinks at Robin’s words. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
“Nance says yes.”
Eddie frowns. “Yes to being the boss or yes to—”
“Let’s just go,” Nancy urges, gesturing at Steve to help her drag the boat offshore. Steve complies, and helps Nancy climb into the boat, followed by Robin and then Eddie.
“But what about the curse?” Dustin wonders, looking at you.
“I have this, remember?” You hold up the cassette player, and wink at your brother. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Look after Lucas and Max. Nancy might be the boss, but you’re their leader.”
“Okay, yeah,” he nods, sounding more like he’s talking to reassure himself than anything.
“Compass, please,” you tell him, and Dustin complies unhappily. You can’t help yourself from grabbing him by the cheeks and kissing his forehead like you did when he was younger. Despite being a good leader, a fighter, he’ll always be little Dusty, who steals your waffles and makes really bad coffee. “See you soon.”
Steve offers his hand to help you climb the boat and you take it with a tiny smile.
The trip on the boat is short and dark. Even with Steve using his flashlight to try and light the way, it’s barely enough to keep you from being engulfed in the darkness of the night. When was the last time the moon shone down in Hawkins? There are almost no stars above, the view chillingly dark. You fear what you might find. Nancy stares at Dustin’s compass, trying to give any semblance of direction when the compass starts going crazy.
Steve starts pulling off his socks.
“Steve,” Nancy says slowly, “what are you doing?”
“Somebody’s gotta go down there and check this thing out. Was one of you four Hawkin’s High’s swimming co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years?” He figures, already working on his other shoe. “It’s gotta be me, no complaints, alright?”
Eddie chuckles nervously. “Hey… I’m not complaining. I do not wanna go down there.”
You watch as Eddie takes something off his pocket and throws it on the boat’s floor. You want to stop Steve somehow, irrationally, because as far as you know Nancy, Robin and Eddie can’t dive, and you can barely float — but the words die on your throat when you look up and Steve is peeling off his shirt.
“Here,” Eddie says, and you realize now he had wrapped a plastic bag around a flashlight and is now handing it back to Steve. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Steve says, taking it from his hands.
“Steve,” Robin rasps out before he dives, and Steve stops to look at her. “Don’t… die?”
“Gee,” he scoffs. “Thanks for the encouraging speech, Robs.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Don’t die, seriously,” you manage to tell him, wanting to reach for his hand but stopping yourself. “Or I’ll kill you.”
Steve nods. He looks like he wants to say something else, but keeps his mouth shut before diving underwater.
The silence on the boat almost kills you, as it rocks quietly, everyone holds their breath waiting for Steve to come up once again. Your heart is in your throat, Don’t You still playing softly in your eardrums, the cassette player still on, a constant to remind you you’re still here. Miraculously.
“He’s…” Eddie whistles. “He’s got balls, King Steve.”
“Yeah,” you nod, looking at the water like you’re hypnotized, waiting for his soaked head to pop up.
“Not what you’d expect,” he adds, a little quietly.
“No,” Robin says, and the way she says it— so fond, so genuine. You couldn’t agree more. Steve is so much more than what you’d expected him to be. “Not at all.”
You stay silent for a few more seconds, all of you waiting for Steve to come back. When he does he emerges with a gasp for air, startling the rest of you. Eddie screams so loud you hear it perfectly well over the music.
“Found it,” Steve claims, holding onto the edge of the boat.
“You found it?” Nancy repeats.
“It was pretty wild,” Steve explains that he seemed to have stumbled into the portal, like an open gate illuminating the bottom of the lake and tinting it red. “It was pretty damn big—”
Before he can continue, Steve is pulled into the water once again, and you jump up instinctively, trying to reach for his hand, but he escapes your grasp quickly. He emerges again and you breathe a sigh of relief— but it’s short lived, because Steve is dragged under once again and he’s not coming up.
“Steve!” you yell. “Steve!”
“What the hell was that, man?!”
Between all the screaming going on, the only thing you can think about is Steve, Steve, Steve—
And so you stand up.
“Wait, (Y/N),” Nancy starts, “What are you—”
“You’re not going in there!” Eddie screams, trying to grab you by the arm.
“I—” You start, but can’t seem to decide on what to say. You don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you know you’ll do it anyway. You have no plan, that much is certain, you’ve never fought a day in your life. “I can’t just stay here!”
“Are you insane?!”
Robin pales. “No, (Y/N), wait—”
With one last look at the rest of the guys, you dive into the water and swim. You’ve never been a good swimmer, but you find yourself swimming like you’ve never had, quickly finding the red portal Steve had mentioned before being dragged down here. What you find on the other side reminds you of when you met Vecna— when he showed you your memories, cold, distorted and dark. You briefly wonder if Vecna had managed to drag you all the way here then, but you have no time to dwell on it too much.
Steve is laying on his back, as some creatures bite at his abdomen incessantly, like leeches. They are choking him, curling their tails around his neck. You stand up and run towards him, only to notice the others have followed behind you, their wet footsteps a reassurance.
“(Y/N)!” Nancy yells, making you turn. She throws one of the boat’s paddles at you, keeping one for herself.
You manage to catch it, God knows how. Steve is still struggling when you get to him, and the first thing you do is smack one of the things across the face, forcing it on its back and stopping it from further gnawing Steve’s abdomen. You see as Robin starts stomping on the one who has its tail curled around Steve’s neck, and Nancy takes on the other one.
“Shit,” Eddie murmurs when he looks up the sky and sees even more of them approaching.
One of them starts going after Nancy, Eddie trying to come to her rescue by grabbing Steve’s still working flashlight and smacking it as hard as he can manage. You help Robin by hitting the one she’s stomping on with the paddle, until Steve manages to bite its tail, forcing it to curl itself from his neck.
With more coming, you are distracted enough to barely notice when Steve manages to behead it, his lips stained with pitch black blood.
“Jesus christ,” Eddie mumbles. “Jesus H Christ!”
The adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heartbeat going faster— everything seems to go for so long, when in reality it must’ve been just a few minutes.
“Steve,” you manage to rasp out, walking towards him, only looking at his wounds, unsure of what you can do to help him. “Shit, Steve, are you okay?”
“They only took about a pound of flesh,” he says, making you sigh. “But other than that… Yeah, never better.”
He stares at you when he says it, and you can’t help the way your breath catches.
“You’ll need bandages,” Nancy notes.
“Do you guys know if these bats have like, rabbies?” Robin wonders aloud. Aware that everyone’s eyes are on her, Robin starts rambling about rabies symptoms and death. You and Steve glance at each other.
Steve’s chest is still rising erratically, exhausted, when he asks, “What the hell are you talking about, Robin?”
Before Robin can go on any longer though, the sky is tinted red again, and the screeching of even more approaching creatures gets you on edge.
“We need to get the fuck out of here,” you say, and the rest of the group seem to agree.
The five of you break into a run into the forest, as far as you can before Steve’s wounds start to appear more serious, and when Nancy deems it safe enough, you stop near a tree where Steve can lean against, still breathing rapidly. You remember that Nancy said he’d need bandages, and so you take the hem of your pants and start ripping them open.
“What are you—” Steve starts.
“Bandages,” you say. “I saw this in Indiana Jones.”
“Indiana Jones?” Steve asks with a chuckle, looking up at the sky, smiling. “Your movie choices keep surprising me, Henderson.”
You tie the cloth around his wounds as tightly as you can, hopeful that it’s a good enough job to keep him from bleeding out until you guys get out of here. The wounds don’t look too bad, but you have no idea how long you'll stay here for. Nancy, looking over your shoulders, seems to approve of your bandage work.
“Thanks,” Steve rasps out.
“Just don’t die on me,” you nod, staring at his eyes.
“I’ll try not to.”
He holds your gaze, your mouth going even more dry than it already is. “I’ll hold you to that, Harrington.”
You’re interrupted when Steve catches something behind you. It’s Eddie’s jean vest. When you turn, Eddie scrunches up his nose.
“For modesty, man.”
“We escaped now, but there’s more of those monsters than what we saw,” Nancy interrupts, walking around, trying to think. “They’ll come looking for us. We need to get out of here.”
“So,” Eddie starts, running a hand through his mouth. “What the hell do we do now? How do we get out of here, exactly?”
“We need to find another portal, right?” Robin replies. “That’s the only way to get out of here. But we can’t go back to Watergate, it’s probably full of those bats now. Those bats full of rabies!”
“Right now, the most important thing is to defend ourselves,” Nancy says. “We don’t know what kind of monsters are down here. Maybe they’re even worse than that.”
“Hell,” Eddie breathes. “You think Vecna is here?”
“I don’t know… Maybe.”
A chill runs down your spine at the mention of Vecna’s name. Your hand flies to your ear, and only then you realize you’ve jumped in the water with your headphones on, and when you reach the player secured inside your front pocket it’s wet and broken. Through the adrenaline of the fight, you hadn’t even noticed that the song was no longer playing.
“Shit,” Nancy breathes out, looking at your ruined headphones. “The player.”
“It’s ruined,” you lament, seeing the way it’s soaked. You toss the cassette player to the ground, near Steve’s feet, who pales even more, if it’s even possible.
“Fuck,” he says, breathless, the slight reassuring smile he’d been wearing disappears in an instant. He stands up straight despite his body clearly protesting against it. “We need to find another one before it’s too late.”
“Would it even work here?” Robin wonders. “If it’s one from the Upside Down, I mean. Things seem to be… kind of broken here, don’t they?”
“Then we need to get her out of here right now,” Steve urges, and when he starts trying to walk away it’s Eddie who stops him.
“Dude, do you want your intestines to hang out of your abdomen like some shitty Nightmare on Elm Street scene?” he asks, “Stay still! Those bats could be anywhere!”
“We need to move!”
“Steve, wait a second,” you urge after him.
“We could go to my house,” Nancy offers. “I have guns. We could use them to fend off the demo… bats, or whatever. And we need a player. We can use Mike’s, he has one he didn’t take to California.”
Eddie blinks. “You, Nancy Wheeler… have guns.”
Robin grins. “Full of surprises, isn’t she?”
Steve is already on his way despite his groans of pain, and even though the wounds had seemed pretty superficial to you when you wrapped them up, it doesn’t mean that they don’t hurt like a bitch.
“Steve, you’re just hurting yourself even more now,” Now Robin is sighing, exasperated. You briefly wonder how many times she’s had to deal with Steve like this.
“Let’s go,” he says, ignoring her.
“Steve...” you try to stop him, but he turns around quickly.
“Let’s go!”
Robin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Where are we even going, oh great leader?”
“Nancy’s!”
You all turn to look at each other, unsure if following Steve is the best idea, but with nothing else to do and no other ideas, there’s only one thing to do.
And so you all start walking.
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
It’s a while before you arrive at the Wheeler’s, the five of you mostly exhausted from the fight, with Steve clutching his wounds but still leading the way, right next to Nancy. You’re all on edge the entire way back, but despite the lack of music you don’t feel different yet, and you don’t encounter any more demobats, as Nancy had called them.
Nancy’s house seems haunted in this place, just as much as the rest of Hawkins seems to be. Despite housing monsters, the Upside Down looks more like a ghost town than anything. You couldn’t help but wonder how tiny Will Byers had ever survived something like this so young… Nobody ever gives that kid enough credit.
Nancy wastes no time climbing up the stairs; she almost seems unaffected looking at her house like this, so… dead. She hovers near a door and turns to look at you.
“This is Mike’s room,” she nods at it. “His cassette player should be in there. Me, Eddie and Robin will get the guns and look for the cassette in my room.”
You agree to it, and she disappears down the hallway along with Eddie and Robin. You and Steve enter Mike’s room, start rummaging through cabinets. You work in silence. You’ve never seen Steve this quiet, this focused. You wonder if he’s mad at you— he had to be. Now besides demobats and trying to escape, he had to help you too because you’d went and done something stupid and completely irrational.
Steve clears his throat, holding up something in his hand. “Found it,” he calls. “Think it’ll work?” He wonders aloud, as you close the closet door before walking up to him.
“Here,” You say, then pull your ruined flashlight from your back pocket. You hit the back of it against the palm of your hand and the batteries come off. You’re not sure if this might work since the flashlight got wet and stopped working once you jumped into the water, but once you plug them into the cassette player it seems to come to life. Steve sighs, relieved. “Thank God that worked. Let’s get that stupid cassette and get out of here.”
“Sounds good to me,” he quips. He wets his lips, looking around. “You don’t feel any different, though, right?” When you shake your head, he seems to be able to relax a bit. “When we were on our way here, Eddie told me you didn’t waste a second to help me.”
You wait for Steve to continue, but he doesn’t.
“I’ve never been much of an adventurer when we were kids,” you say. “Dustin wanted to climb trees and go camping, and I wanted to stay home and read books. We used to fight all the time because I never wanted to play outside with him, because I was scared of bugs and dirt and I just wanted to stay inside.”
Steve doesn’t say anything to that, but he’s near you, hoving near your hand, like he knows you need the comfort, unsure if it’d be wanted from him.
“If I don’t make it out of this stupid curse, Steve,” you breathe out, legs feeling so shaky you want to throw up, “I need you to promise me you’ll take care of Dustin.”
“He’ll kill me before I let you die,” Steve says, trying t sound lighthearted but failing.
“Steve,” you rag out. “Promise me. Please.”
Steve nods, his voice soft in the way it does when he’s trying to be gentle. “Y—yeah. Of course. You know little Henderson’s like my own little brother.”
“I know,” you acknowledge. “You’ve been a way better sibling than me. I’ve been such a shitty sister and I’m… I’m really glad Dustin has you.”
“That’s not true,” he argues, reaching for your arm in the darkness of the room— you want to flinch away. “He loves you, (Y/N). Seriously, you should hear the way he talks about you when you’re not around.”
You ignore the sting in your eyes and berate yourself for tearing up.
“It’s my fault,” you whisper.
“What?”
“It’s my fault my dad walked away,” you shake your head, tearing your arm away from Steve’s touch, feeling cold as soon as you’re away from him. But you deserve it, you deserve the cold. “I told him I hated him after I learned he cheated on mom and that he had another family, and he never came back. I told him I never wanted to see him again. I’m the reason Dustin doesn’t have a dad now. But— but I was just fifteen, I didn’t— I didn’t know what I was asking—”
“Stop, stop,” Steve interrupts, and suddenly he’s pulling you close to your chest and holding you close.
And suddenly that’s all you need to break down, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You feel embarrased, stupid for crying about something like this when the world might be about to end, horrifyingly guilty for everything— but for the first time you feel like something has been finally lifted off your chest and you can breathe, here, with Steve holding you. You’re glad Steve stayed behind with you. In truth, you think you might just be glad for Steve.
If someone had told you a week ago you’d be crying in Steve Harrington’s arms you would’ve smacked them. Life can change really fast, huh?
“Nobody is going to die,” his voice is so soft. You’d never thought you’d think of Steve’s voice as anything other than grating, but now you hold onto it like a lifeline. “I won’t let that happen.”
You breathe into his chest. You finally manage to let go of him, thanking God the others weren’t near. You miss the warmth almost immediately, as much as you don’t want to admit it. “Shit, sorry, your bandages.”
“You need to stop doing that,” he quips.
“What?”
“Apologizing so much,” he reaches for your arm again before walking, and you thank him silently. You have to bite your tongue not to apologize again. “Let’s go get that cassette.”
When you both step into Nancy’s room, the silence is almost deafening.
“What happened?”
“The guns,” Nancy explains, her eyes focused on her nightstand, not looking up at either of you. “They aren’t here. But so many things that shouldn’t be are. Like— like my curtains, and these— these toys I gifted my cousin Joanna. They haven’t been here since 1983.”
“We’re stuck in time, dude,” Eddie finishes for her.
“Three years, to be exact.”
“What?” Steve asks, confused. “Three years into the past?”
“... From when Will disappeared, you mean?” You question.
Nancy nods. “Yeah, I… think so. But, (Y/N), If we’re three years in the past, it means The Breakfast Club isn’t out yet,” Nancy swallows, hard, then finally looks up to stare into your eyes.
“What do you mean?” Steve asks, his chest rising erratically.
You bite your lip. “She means the song doesn’t exist, either.”
Nancy closes her eyes.
“I’m sorry, (Y/N).”
“Fuck!” Steve yells, “fuck!”
He kicks one of Nancy’s nightstands with so much force he manages to force it into the ground, Nancy’s belongings following suit, scattering around the carpet, making Nancy flinch.
“Steve,” you whisper, trying to reach for him. “Stop.”
Steve sits on Nancy’s bed, hand covering his mouth. He lets you rest your hand on his arm, and he breathes out another curse. He almost looks frozen in place like this, and it reminds you that everything in here feels like it is— ghosts, so many ghosts. You feel like you’re stuck in hell.
“Maybe any song will work,” Robin offers a little desperately, going through Nancy’s drawers, pulling out different cassettes and soundtracks, Duran Duran, Madonna, Elton John. “C’mon guys, one has to work.”
Eddie scratches his neck. “Doesn’t it have to be her favorite song? Isn’t that what Henderon said?”
“Screw it,” Nancy shakes her head, taking in a shaky breath. “We have to try whatever we can. This is our only option.”
“Okay,” you nod, shakily, prying your hand off of Steve’s arm, reaching to cruch own next to Robin and look through the rest of Nancy’s cassettes. “Okay, let’s— let’s try it.”
Robin holds up Total Eclipse of the Heart. “You like Bonnie Tyler?”
“Seems as good as anything,” you nod, taking it from her hands. As the first notes of Total Eclipse start playing, you gulp nervously, praying this might work, that you have at least enough time to get out of here alive.
Steve still looks miserable, but seems a little calmer now. “We need to get out of here right now.”
“How?” Robin sighs. “How did Will ever manage to get out of this place?”
“There has to be a way,” Nancy figures, then something seems to dawn on her. “Will. Will used to talk to Joyce with the Christmas lights while he was stuck in the Upside Down.”
“The Christmas lights?” Eddie asks, incredulously. “What are you talking about?”
As she explains, you can’t help but think that Nancy Wheeler is absolutely brilliant. You can’t blame Steve for falling in love with her before. She’s interrupted by Robin rather quickly though, when she claims she can hear Dustin’s voice— soon enough, all of you start to hear him, distorted and distant, but it's there no less. Quickly Dustin communicates that he thinks there might be another portal in Eddie’s trailer and that seems to be your best shot at an escape.
Robin and Nancy leave to get some supplies for the trip— whatever they can find to use as a weapon, while Eddie wanders off behind them, with the excuse of rummaging through little Wheeler’s action figures. Steve stays with you, as you stare at Holly’s Lite Brite, unsure on what to do.
You trust Dustin and his plan, of course you do. Dustin’s done nothing but prove himself to you these past few days. Still, the thought that everything might go incredibly wrong is almost unshakable at this point. What was it Max said to you? Something about how Vecna’s curse made people feel hopeless and lonely.
“You okay, right?” Steve wonders aloud, searching your face. “You haven’t had any visions yet?”
You haven’t felt Vecna’s pull yet, but you don’t want to be overly optimistic just yet. “I’m okay, I think. Are you?”
You glance down at his bandages, but he only nods. “Yeah, they don’t hurt anymore. I’m more worried about you.”
Warmth spreads all over your cheeks and inside your chest, but now’s really not the time for all of these feelings, and so you try to squeeze them out, to focus on something else.
“I just hope the plan works,” you mumble. “I want to get out of here.”
“You—” Steve shakes his head, looks at you with a look you can’t name. But he sounds frustrated, exhausted. “You just jumped in after me? You didn’t even think…” he trails off. “Eddie said you just jumped. Fucking jumped. You’re unbelievable, you know that, don’t you, Henderson? Absolutely fucking unbelievable.”
You look down at your hands.
“It was stupid, I know, I—”
“Thank you,” Steve murmurs, honesty bleeding into every word he speaks. You look up at him, surprised. “You saved my ass back there.”
The truth is you hadn’t doubted one second— you hadn’t even stopped to think about what might happen to you. Helping Steve was more important to you than anything in that moment, and you didn’t regret it, how could you regret that?
“You saved my ass first, back at the Wheeler’s,” you smile at him. “Even later, in the woods, and at Creel’s house. I don’t know if I could have kept going without you… so thank you.”
Steve stays silent for a few seconds, unsure of how to continue. You can practically feel him grow nervous now, when he clears his throat and begins speaking. “Listen, I know we are on the brink of life and death and maybe world threatening danger, but I kinda need some motivation to get out of here.”
“Yeah?”
“So, now that you know me and Nancy aren’t really a thing, and that me and Robin are platonic with a capital P…”
“Keep going.”
“And since you know, maybe is really cool,” you nod, trying to fight off a smile. “We should, maybe, go on a date together.”
“Hm…” you place a hand on your chin. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I can go out with someone who doesn’t like Pretty in Pink.”
“I’ve never said I didn’t,” he shrugs. “I just haven’t even seen it.”
“You haven’t seen Pretty in Pink, you monster?!”
“You know, I’m actively bleeding out here,” Steve gestures at your last minute bandages, his smile almost as handsome as him, even more so after tearing off a bat monster’s head off. Even more so now that it seems you finally have a plan to get out of this goddamn place. “You’re gonna make a dying man wait?”
“You’re not dying, Harrington.” You smack him gently across the shoulders. “I won’t let you.”
Steve chuckles, his hand finding its way to yours, almost nervous, scared of rejection.
“So? What do you say?”
“I say that if we get out of here alive, and it seems like kind of a longshot right now…” you acknowledge, holding onto his hand and squeezing. “I would really, really like that.”
“Yeah?”
You’re smiling. “Yeah.”
You both might be the people with the worst timing in the entire world— you’re cursed by a demon villain from another dimension, and Steve is bleeding out while you’re both trapped inside the Upside Down, with no clue if you’ll be able to actually escape. Not to mention this is all happening in his ex's house. And yet you can’t help but laugh when Steve tries to reach for the back of your neck and fails miserably.
“I really want to kiss you,” he says, “but my abdomen still really hurts.”
“I have to do everything,” you tease, before closing the distance between you, your lips pressing against his with a sigh.
Steve’s lips are chapped, bloody, raw, and yours must be equally as bad, salty, open and bleeding raw. But despite everything the kiss is perfect, as imperfect and uncoordinated as it is; the way your lips fit together, the way Steve cradles your cheek, and how you hold the back of his neck while Bonnie Tyler plays in the background of it all. Now, more than anything, you feel hope.
When you break off the kiss, Steve is smiling.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says. And you just might.
pairing: sam winchester, dean winchester x sister!reader
word count: 3.7k
warnings: ANGST, blood, descriptions of death, nausea/throwing up.
authors note: the was really fun to write and i have some ideas for a part two, let me know if you’d like to see it! bold is past events. the gif is mine.
sam is dead, or was. dean’s soul is in the possession of a crossroads demon...and you? well, you just wanted some fucking coffee. a loose re-write of 2x22.
Wind whipped past your face as you sipped from the cup in your hands. Let’s just say the walk to the Gas n’ Sip was longer than you’d anticipated and the weather was a lot colder than you had dressed for. You peer at the coffee coffee cup in your hands as you approach the house, fixating on the red stain your hand had rubbed onto it. You knew Dean would freak when he saw the angry wounds on each of your palms and made a mental note to not let him see. You hoped the veil of night would cover it up enough. You didn’t really have the energy to make up excuses for when he inevitably saw them.
As the house grew closer and closer with every passing step you the lump in your throat continued to build and build. You were tired. Tired of everything. Mostly tired of crying. Tired of wiping at your eyes that were always red raw just from the motion.
You didn’t feel ready to do this. Not yet. You considered crashing in Baby instead of in the house. It would be a hell of a lot easier. And right now, easy is what you needed (among other things). But considering your sudden departure you figured you should at least let your older brother know you were back.
You stopped by Baby in the gravel driveway and yawned. Either Gas n’ Sip coffees were really bad (which you didn’t doubt at all), or you were tired tired. Both made sense.
You were about to approach the house again when you noticed the disturbed gravel around the wheels of the car. Your eyebrows drew together in confusion. Had Dean been out?
Something didn’t feel right. You look back up at the house which looked just the same as how you’d left it. Blinds drawn, lights off (that was more due to the fact that there was no power), door shut. You kept your gaze on the house as your hands absentmindedly searched for your gun. The hell was it? You cast your gaze down to your jeans where you could have sworn you’d tucked it before you left. Or not...
You sighed shakily and cursed to yourself. Typical. You edged up the small stairs and onto the veranda. Suddenly there was a voice. No, make that two. You could barley make them out.
Baby was here, so that meant Dean was (you hoped). You still had the upper hand though, the element of surprise. Knowing there were was no other entries or exists, you knew the only option was the front door. The windows here all salted and locked, anyway. No getting in that way.
You gently turned the nob on the door, trying to make out what the voices were saying. You cringed as you opened the door wider, waiting for it to let let out an all mighty creak. But surprisingly, it didn’t. The voices continued. They hadn’t noticed. A win for you. You pushed open the door the rest of the way and peered in.
Your stomach drops. You felt your body seize up, completely frozen as you just stare. Your jaw slackened, parting your chapped lips slightly. Your breath catches somewhere in your throat and it’s like you’ve forgotten how to breathe.
The coffee cup slips from your hand and crashes the floor, sending hot brown liquid sloshing against the worn carpet. You’d forgotten you were even holding it.
Two pairs of eyes shoot to where you’re standing, completely rooted to the spot.
When his eyes meet yours it’s like your entire world starts turning again.
“Sammy...?” You breathe. Your heart is in your throat and you suddenly feel more alert. Maybe it was the coffee finally kicking in.
You can’t take your eyes off him as he stands there but you force them to your oldest brother standing next to him.
He just nods softly. He’s real. He’s here.
He’s alive.
You feel as though your knees are going to give out from under you when you first take a step in his direction, shaky and unsure but you will them to continue forward.
You crash into him. It’s a mess of limbs as your arms fly around his neck. you grip his jacket and bury your head into the crook of his neck. Sam winces softly and takes a step back with the force of your embrace. There’s a beat of silence and he glances at Dean, confused at your reaction, before his arms settle around your body.
“Hey...” He says. His voice is like heaven when it meets your ears. It’s a little hoarse but it’s his. It’s the very thing you thought you’d never hear again.
You grip him tighter to you and squeeze your eyes shut and you feel tears begin to well in them. He’s warm. So warm. A far cry from the cold, lifeless shell that lay on the bed when you’d last left the house.
“I need some air.” You looked to your older brother from where you stood at the open door. He didn’t shift his glance from Sam - no - Sam’s body, not Sam. Sam wasn’t here anymore.
Deep in thought, he just nodded.
“You taking baby?” He asked, shifting his gaze to you. His voice was flat and hoarse. The two of you had barley spoken since it all happened. What was there even to talk about?
Your heart twisted as you looked to your older brother. His shoulders were slumped and heavy with grief. His green eyes sparkled with unshed tears and were lined with a mix of red and purple. He probably hadn’t slept in days. His nails were chewed down shorter than you’d seen them for a long time. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him biting his nails.
You shook your head and forced your eyes to stay on Dean and to not glance over to the body on the bed next to him. “Think I’ll take a walk. Coffee?”
A beat of silence fell around the two of you as he studied your face like you just had his, all while your chest tightened and the all familiar feeling of a lump returned your throat once again. You kept your gaze on Dean while you awaited his answer, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your jaw and lips stiffened at the burning of tears building in your eyes. Keep your eyes on him. Keep them on him. Don’t look at Sam. Don’t look at Sam.
“No. I’m good.” He answered at last, eyes still on you. You could tell he was scrutinising the fast rise and fall of your chest that only happened when you were trying not to cry. You nodded softly, swallowing.
And then your eyes fell to Sam.
Pale. Still. Cold.
Dead.
Sam was dead. His body was unmoving, just as it had been for days. His lips discoloured and cracked open ever so slightly like he was about to to take a breath that you knew would never come. His long lashes lay still against his ashen skin... what you’d give to see them blink just one more time. To see his cheeks gain the rosy shade they would when he was tipsy, or the way his chest would heave with a sigh at one of Dean horrible jokes while you’d laugh from the backseat. What you’d give to see him run a hand through that mess of hair of his, or for him to refute for the thousandth time when you offered to cut it. To fall asleep to the sound of his fingers hitting the keys of his laptop, or threading through the pages of a lore book. Or to hear him chuckle softy to himself as you and Dean bickered over who was taking the bed and who was taking the couch.
Your throat burned. Your chest hurt. You could feel your stomach twist in discomfort, and yet your eyes stayed glued to your brothers body.
“Y/N.” Dean’s voice rang out. It felt far away. You eyed the blood that had crept out from under Sam’s body days before and stained the old tattered mattress a deep crimson. It would be dry by now, crisp at the edges and soggy somewhere towards the centre. A part of you wondered if it was still warm. You felt hot suddenly, palms clammy and sweat gathering at your collarbones. But you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t look away from Sam. From your brother.
“Y/N.” Dean said again and stood up slowly. You felt as though you were underwater, or being dragged through thick mud. Everything felt so slow.
You gripped the open doorway when you felt a breeze hit your back, only just now registering how weak you felt. You swallowed again, roughly this time. Look away. Look away.
Dean was almost to you now, his green eyes wild with concern. If he was saying something you couldn’t tell, too occupied with the way Sam’s hair fell over his face and eye slightly. If he were here he’d have shaken his head to get it out of his face. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t here. Not really.
“I’m—” You tried.
Look away.
“I just need t—” You could feel your breakfast (or lack there of) rising from your gut as you let out a shaky breath and felt your feet stumble backwards a step.
Look away, Y/N.
You loosely gestured behind you as you took another step behind you and tried to open your mouth to say something, closing it again when you felt your stomach flip.
Look. Away.
And then you did, everything came crashing back info focus. You registered the shakiness of your legs and the heat on your skin. You registered Dean’s lips moving, forming your name maybe, but you couldn’t really hear him, just your own shaky breaths that passed your lips. You held your hand up to your older brother weakly. I’m fine, you wanted to say, but you found yourself shaking your head at him instead, legs carrying you back further.
You could feel whatever you had forced down your throat last rising and you covered you mouth, turning around and letting your weak legs carry you to where Baby was parked.
As soon as your hand gripped the metal of the boot, you emptied out your stomach onto the gravel beneath you. The acidic taste burned your mouth. You really wanted that coffee now. Using the hand that wasn’t steadying your weak legs you attempted to keep the hair from falling in your face as you dry retched. You half expected to hear Sam’s footsteps in the gravel behind you. For his rough hands to gather your hair up in a loose ponytail followed by him gently drawing circles onto your back. But the footsteps never came. Neither did his hands on your back, or in your hair.
Dean was still watching you. You could feel his eyes on you as you a cough racked your chest.
You didn’t want to look at him. You couldn’t look at him right now...not at those soulful green eyes that reminded you so much of what you had lost.
He stepped closer when another wave of neausea hit and you were throwing up again but quickly paused when you held up one of your hands as to tell him to stop.
“Go.” You said roughly, still hunched, not daring to face him even when the first sob left you.
Tears were pricking his eyes just looking at you. Sobs began to fall from your lips. They were painful, broken sobs he knew couldn’t be remedied. Not by him at least. He took a step toward you, “Y/N—”
“Go!” You cried, quickly drawing in a heavy, shaky breath before another sob sounded. “Go...” you said again, this time in a smaller voice, chest heaving up and down as you sucked in heavy breaths.
Dean reluctantly retreated, his chest constricting with every cry you let out.
When you heard the front door close softly you didn’t hold back, or more so, you couldn’t. Not anymore.
Your chest ached...or was that your heart? You brought your hand to rest there and you felt it drumming wildly against your ribacage. You couldn’t get any air in your lungs so you were left in a cycle of angry sobs followed by wimpers and heavy breaths.
Dying. You felt like you were dying. And the worst part? You didn’t care.
Breathe. Sam would tell you to breathe. He would have gathered your face in his hands and forced you to look at him. He’d breathe slowly with you. “In and out...” He’d say. In and out.
In and out. You could feel the cold night air collecting in your lungs. It burned. In and out.
You gripped the cool gravel beneath your fingers, craving to focus on anything else but the way you couldn’t breathe. In and out.
It’s okay, he would say. Just look at me, he would say. You squeezed your eyes shut. In and out.
You could feel pain stemming from your palms. You zeroed i’m on it, gripping the small stones tighter and tighter. Your grip only loosened when a wave of dizziness hit you. In and out.
You shifted to a sitting position, your back coming to rest against the cool metal of Baby. You lay your head against the car, waiting for the dizziness to pass. In and out.
You focused on the pain in your palms and looked down, finally opening your eyes. Your palms were red and shaking. How hard had you gripped those rocks? You picked at the pieces of dirt that gathered in the wounds and focused on stopping the shaking of your hands. In and out.
Closing your eyes again, you sighed. In...and out.
Your hands began to stop shaking and you reveled in the first steady breath you’d taken in what felt like days. You sat there for a moment, letting the drumming of your heart sunbside in your chest.
You almost thanked Sam.
You’d forgotten he wasn’t there next to you.
About fifteen mintues passed with you sitting against Baby, fighting tears every time they welled up in your eyes. You were so tired of crying.
When you finally forced yourself up, your legs were still shaky. You needed to eat or drink or something. Anything but go back into that house.
So with a heavy heart, bloody palms and teary eyes you started up the short walk to the Gas n’ Sip up the road.
You feel so small in his hold. You feel like a kid again. When his breath falls against your hair you feel like you might collapse. He’s breathing.
“Ow...” He winces softly into your hair and pulls away slightly.
“Sorry...!” You murmur, pulling back but keeping your grip on him. You study his face carefully, like if you look away he’ll just disappear. He’s looking back at you, eyebrows drawn together in confusion as a playful confused smile settles at the corners of his mouth. His cheeks are warm with colour again and his eyes are bright with curiosity.
“You okay?” He asks still smiling softly as your wide eyes scan every inch of his face. You nod absentmindedly, unfocused, hand coming to rest against his face and run through his shaggy hair.
You pull him into you again and you grip his jacket tightly. Closing your eyes and as relief floods your body. You feel like you can breathe again.
But then it hits you. And your grip loosens slightly, eyes lifting to meet Deans over Sam’s broad shoulder. They’re glassy, the ghost of a smile at his lips at the sight of you and Sam. But it slowly vanishes when he sees your eyes.
You know.
Your breath falters as you search your brothers eyes. They’re full of sadness...guilt. You feel your eyes welling up again. He’s watching your heart break right in front of him. You hold tight to Sam again as you try to hold back your tears.
“Everything okay?” Sam asks as you pull back reluctantly.
You nod, angry tears sting as you fight to keep them at bay. You tried to focus on your breathing and keeping it in check. “Yeah.” You breathe, forcing a smile onto your lips, “I just didn’t think you’d wake up...” you admit.
His eyes are full of so much emotion, eyebrows drawn together as he looks back at you, gently resting one of his big hands on the side of your face and swiping his thumb over your hot, blotchy cheeks in comfort.
A ring suddenly sounds across the room and all three of you turn in its direction. Sam’s hand drops from your face and you instantly long for it to be there again. He makes his way over to his ringing phone on the table nearby the bloody bed. What did Dean tel him?
You and Dean watch Sam as he answers his phone and walks toward the front door, pushing it open and walking out into the cold night. You can still hear his muffled voice through the walls when Dean says your name.
Your jaw tenses and the hot tears spill from your eyes. You ignore him, walking to the kitchen and wiping at them as you grab a rag and run it under water. You breathe from your nose, your lips locked in a straight line as to not let the wimpers you feel building. Your eyes are full of hurt and anger and Dean says your name again. You continue to ignore him, attempting to blink away the tears that continue building and building. Back still to him you turn of the tap and wipe your eyes again with your sleeve and kneel on the carpet next to the ugly brown stain your coffee had left.
You begin scrubbing at the carpet, gripping the rag so tightly your knuckles were white. The wounds on your palms stung but you continued scrubbing, eyes glued on the stain. You could barley see it as tears blurred your vision. You didn’t even care about the fucking carpet it was old and worn beyond belief, you just desperately wanted distract yourself.
“Y/N.” Dean said again. You could sense him next to you. You didn’t dare to look.
“Don’t.” You said simply. Anger was laced in your voice. It was a warning. You continued scrubbing away. Tears fell into the stain as you huffed out all the anguish and ignoring your older brother.
“Y/N/N, please.” He squatted down beside you. You let out a soft wimper. Your palms were screaming in pain and you could swear you could feel blood pooling there again just at the pressure.
He watched your face. Angry. Hurt. Exhausted. “Y/N/N—” He reached out and rested his hand on top of the one vigourously scrubbing the carpet. His heart shattered when you shoved his hand away and he got a look at your face.
“Don’t touch me!” You yelled, voice shaky and hoarse but angrier than he’d ever heard it. Red circles lined your eyes, undertones of deep purples telling him you’d gotten about as much sleep as he had. Tears trekked down your blotchy cheeks as you huffed out unsteady breaths, he took notice of your busted bottom lip that was still healing from a recent hunt, open and bleeding again. Your eyes were what hurt the most though. They were accusatory - alight with hurt and anger. He could see all of your emotions bubbling under the surface, spilling out more and more with every heavy breath and stream of tears.
Silence fell around you and Dean. It was ugly and uncomfortable, just the sounds of your breathing evening to fill it.
You tore your eyes away from him, a small sob pulling your mouth into a frown. His heart was shattering as he watched you. When you finally turned to face him again the anger was gone. There was just sadness pooling everywhere he looked. Slumped shoulders, teary gaze and that downturned pout that you did as a child. You looked utterly defeated. You had nothing left.
“How long?” You said suddenly, voice breaking, your tired eyes lifting to his. He cast his eyes down. “How long did they give you, Dean?”
A beat passed but you kept your gaze on him. When he finally met your eyes he felt like he was looking at a lost child. You were a ghost of yourself in that moment. He couldn’t recall a time where you looked so utterly broken.
“A year.”
You couldn’t regulate the sound that broke through your lips. Dean’s heart fractured in two as it rang out.
“I can’t believe you...” You said softly, anger lacing your tone again.
“I had to...” He said breathlessly. You just shook your head sadly. “I couldn’t live with myself if I—”
“What about me?!” You suddenly said, sucking in a breath before continuing. “What the hell am I supposed to do?” You were yelling now, voice thick with pain.
“I’m sorry—”
“You still don’t get it do you?!” You cried, using your sleeve to wipe furiously at your eyes that wouldn’t seem to stop leaking hot, angry tears. “I just lost one brother and I’m about to loose another.” You managed to say the latter part with more confidence, keeping your gaze trained on Dean who’s face you couldn’t read. He just stared back at you a pained look settling across his features.
“You can’t tell him... he can’t know...” He choked out.
Your face didn’t change.
And then Sam walked in, pausing with his hand still on the doorknob as he took in the scene in front of him. Both of his siblings teary and on the floor across from each other - the youngest, with tears still falling as she looked at the oldest, crouched opposite her, his eyes full of guilt, a bloody rag and coffee stain seperating the two of them.
“Everything okay?” He asked carefully.
“Yeah.” You sniffled, wiping at your eyes with a sleeve he didn’t realise was bloody till just now. Dean seemed to notice this now too. You pulled your lips into a smile and looked up to Sam, standing up.
You closed the distance between the two of you and brought in into a hug again. Surprised, it took him a second before he returned it.
I saw your last post, I was just wondering if you’ve come across a fic where Bucky and reader get tacos at like 2 in the morning lol I skimmed over it and I lost it 😭
no i don’t think i have, sorry !! if i ever come across it i’ll make sure to send it to you :))
hey guys! I saw one of these the other day in my feed and it was honestly so helpful and i loved almost all the ones i read. so, I thought i’d swoop in and recommend some of my favorite reader insert fics i’ve read in the past couple months. all the authors are incredible so shoutout to them.
if for any reason your work is featured on here and you’d like me to remove it, don't hesitate to ask and i’ll take it down !! also if any of the links are broken or aren’t working, let me know and i’ll see what i can do to fix it.
p.s i’m stucky’s whore so majority, if not all of these fics are steve or bucky and the [*] means smut, enjoy :)
- c
BUCKY BARNES X READER
YOU AND ME - @youngmoneymilla
infinity war angst at it’s finest :’(
* IN SECRET - @bionic-buckyb
here comes the secret relationship smut to save the day !
SOFT AND SLEEPY - @borkingbarnes
soft, wholesome buck = the best buck
* CHERRY STEM KISSES - @borkingbarnes
#time2sin #imhorny #andlonley #plsdateme
SUNSHINE - @borkingbarnes
soft, wholesome buck round two :’)
* EXPOSED - @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan
this fic will always have a soft spot in my heart
* HELP - @theycallmebucky
okay, this was HOT. read if you're in the mood for some quality sexual tension. i recommend any of the fics in her masterlist, they’re all really good !! :)
* COCKBLOCKED - @borkingbarnes
i swear the anticipation nearly killed me this one, but very worth it in the end ;)
CLEANSE - @avasparks
protective!bucky never fails to make me melt
* RIDE - @marvelfic
i enjoyed this more than i anticipated ;)
* DRESSED FOR WAR - @bucketbarneslove
love this one !!
* FAR PAST HEAVEN - @abovethesmokestacks
this was hooooooooootttt
* NEON SIGNS - @tropicalcap
i think i have a thing for motel room sex???? ...hope i’m not the only one...
MARKS - @marvelfic
ik this is a bucky fic but this got me in the pietro feels man !! ugh, i miss him :’(
я люблю тебя - @marvelfic
the sexual/romantic tension had me dYING IT WAS SO GOOD AND CUTE UGH I LOVE THIS ONE SM
STEVE ROGERS X READER
HIJACKED - @captain-rogers-beard
bRo this one made me have a sook it was so soft and angsty at the same time i loved every second of it !!
THE FOUR TIMES - @pietrotheavenger
this was so cute, i’m pretty sure it added at least 12+ years to my life.
WE BOTH DO - @angelkurenai
i wanted to curl up into a ball and stay there for the rest of eternity after reading this
* COLD SHOWER - @redgillan
bucky’s lil cameo made me soft + some good smut
* REGRET - @captain-rogers-beard
such a cool concept for the reader's powers !! a good mix of angst, fluff and smut :))
GHOST OF YOU - @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan
dUde i almost cried !! i read the title and i was like “omg i need to listen to ghost of you while i read” and so i did and it only made me want to cry moRE
* WOUNDED - @fvckingavengers
i must have a thing for shower sex,,, idk??
LIGHT DUTY - @areyoureadyforsomemeatballz
love this onnnnnnnneeee
STUPID - @sweetboybucky
soft steve and y/n hours
* CARING COMPANY - @marvelfic
soft stevie + some smut,,, IM SOLD
* NONE OF MY FEARS ARE AS DEAR TO ME - @youngmoneymilla
okay but i loved this one. like, i’m a sucker for worried/protective steve and this one really came through with it, plus the smut was just as enjoyable.
UNDERCOVER - @buckyslightsaber
i’m a sucker for fics like this so if you ever come across one that's good... feel free to send em my way ;)
SUSPENDED - @marvhellove
i love a bit of relationship angst and this one supplied, plus part two has some really good smut. read it here
STUCKY X READER
* TENDER - @evanstarff
okay, okay, stop what you’re doing and READ THIS. oh my god, every part was such a pleasure to read. i really, truly felt like i was there as i was reading, i could read this over and over and still enjoy it just as much as i did the first hundred times.
* INVASION OF PRIVACY - @tropicalcap
based off the warnings, i wasn’t expecting to enjoy it as much as i did but here we are, there’s also a part two so you can find that here if you're interested :)
SERIES
* TWO FOR ONE - stucky x reader @captain-rogers-beard
love this series sO MUCH !! it has the perfect amount of smut, fluff, angst and protective stucky - what more could i ask for?
* BABY MAKES FOUR - stucky x reader @buckfics
oKay so i’m kinda a slow reader but i zoomed through this series because i enjoyed it so much. so, if you're a slut for stucky like myself i think you’ll enjoy this.
REMEDY - bucky x reader @avasparks
this made me so soft. bucky being concerned for the reader as much as he is is just about the sweetest thing ever.
HEART SKIP - steve x reader @after-avenging-hours
okay, not to be dramatic, but i would die for this series. it is so well thought out and different to any other soulmate au i’ve read in ages. 100% recommend.
* FIFTY SHADES OF BUCKY - bucky barnes x reader @captain-rogers-beard
just some classic smut, feat. soft and dom buck :’)
summary: the reader is steve’s girlfriend and her and nat are doing a mission together when both of their signal’s go down and the rest of the team loose contact with them for a few hours.
a/n: yo this is my first oneshot on this account, sorry if it’s horrible, enjoy !! also i’m aware that if you were to sustain an injury like i disbribe in this, there would be a lot more to the healing process in reality. but for the sake of the book i decided to keep it just as stitches :)
- c
warnings: none, mostly just fluff and a lil bit of angst.
word count: 1.9k whoops
“Wanda offered to go, you know,” Steve said as he leaned on the doorframe with his arms crossed tightly against his chest, eyeing you as you adjusted your suit.
“Yeah, I know,” You began, looking up from your suit and walking over to Steve, “I just figured I could go this time instead and let Wanda rest.” You smiled, feeling Steve’s arms pull you close. Wrapping your arms around his middle you looked up to meet his gaze that was already locked on you.
“Just..” He trailed off, eyes searching your face, “be careful, okay?”
A small smile spread played at your lips, “I always am.” You replied, standing on your tippy-toes to plant a kiss on his lips, only to be quickly interrupted by FRIDAY.
“Miss Y/L/N, Miss Romanoff has requested your presence. She says it’s time for the mission.”
You pulled away, “Thank you, FRIDAY, tell her I’ll be right there.” You answered, looking back to Steve. “I gotta go, I’ll be back soon, okay?” You exclaimed, planting a kiss on his cheek quickly before hurrying out the door to meet your friend.
Steve huffed out a sigh, watching you leave his line of sight as you turned a corner.
-
A few hours had passed when Tony lost your signal. It was Nat’s first, then yours. Last they heard wasn’t the most comforting chorus of sounds either.
You knew the risks of a mission like this, so did Nat, but you both knew you could handle it. That was until they Hydra base that supposedly only had about twenty active agents scattered throughout turned out to have a hell of a lot more.
You held up your gun as a bullet flew past your face, making an indent in the wall you were crouched behind. Whipping your head around to place Nat’s whereabouts you began talking to your comm.
“Hey T,” you began, seeing Nat just across the room, holding off agents from the other side of the room. You swiftly shot the last agent from your side and began making your way over Nat, “so, um, there’s a few more agents here than we bargained for and—Ah!” You let out a strangled cry of pain as an unbearable pain radiated from your shoulder.
Upon hearing your cries Nat turned to face you, concern etched onto her features. She sent you a concerned look as you lifted your gun, sending a few shots to the enemy who had shot you’s chest. He crumbled to the floor, presumably dead while you shuffled back to your original spot behind the wall.
You pinned your back to the wall, sucking in a pained breath and pressing your hand to your shoulder, suppressing a groan.
“Y/N?” Tony’s concerned voice rang in your ear. You pulled your hand away from your shoulder, seeing the copious amounts of hot, sticky blood coating your hand.
“Yeah, uh, we’re gonna need that backup now.” You groaned, tightly squeezing your eyes shut as the pain only became worse when you put your hand back over your wound again. The sound of Nat’s gunshots filled your ears, reminding you that she still needed help.
You opened your eyes, blinking away the blurriness and pushed yourself from your slumped position against the wall. Quickly, you steadied yourself, stumbling forward to Nat, sending a quick glance behind you, being greeted with the pleasant sight of your blood staining the wall.
“Shit, okay, what’s happening in there?” He rushed.
Nat sent a worried look in your direction, “You good?” She asked as she watched you hurry toward her. You just nodded, sending a sloppy thumbs up in her direction, instantly leaning on the wall for support when you reached it.
You stayed standing and pinned your back to the wall just across from Nat, an open doorway in the middle. You peered around the corner, seeing an alarming number of agents littered around various places of cover. You groaned, reloading your gun, “Uh, let’s just say there’s a few more agents here than we anticipated.” You answered, trying to lessen the sound of the threat as to make him not feel bad for insisting you take the mission.
“How many’s a few?” He asked as you shot your gun in the enemy’s direction, hearing a few shouts of pain as they went down.
“Uh, like eighty… give or take.” You admitted, mumbling the last part, still trying not to make him feel bad.
“Oh, jeez, okay, we’re on our way.” He answered, “Any injuries?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a bullet lodged somewhere in my shoulder.” You replied, glancing over at Nat to check for any injuries, “Nat’s okay though.”
“Shit, get out of there if you can, okay?” You swallowed thickly as you glanced down to your shoulder, seeing a lot of blood seeping out of the wound.
“Working on that, T.” You said through gritted teeth, the pain becoming borderline unbearable.
“We’re on our way, Kid, hang in there.” He assured, waiting for your answer. The sound of gunfire was followed by static abruptly cutting off your voice that was mid-reply. “Kid?” The eerie sound of the unresponsive comm’s filled the mission surveillance room back at the tower, “Kid you there?”
Most people were out, Steve, Sam, and Bucky were on a run while Wanda was somewhere in the tower and Bruce was in his lab.
Tony quickly pulled his phone out of this pocket and looked for Steve’s contact. Pressing it, he brought the phone to his ear. It rang once, twice, three, four times. “C’mon….” Tony muttered to himself, his leg bouncing uncontrollably, “C’mon, pick up.”
After a few more rings it went to voicemail. Tony composed himself just as the long beep rang out, clearing his throat, “Cap, call me back when you get this. There’s been some complications with the mission and I need to leave ASAP so if you don’t get here real quick, I’ve gotta go without you.” He quickly hung up, looking for Bucky’s contact this time. With his leg still vigorously bouncing. When it also went to voicemail he cursed under his breath, leaving a voicemail for him too.
“Bucky, tell Steve to call me as soon as you get this, I need you all of you at the tower. It’s about the girls.” He knew that last sentence would get their asses to the tower faster than lightning. He called Sam too, only for him too to not pick up.
He looked up to one of the big screens in front of him, seeing that your location within the base had dropped out too.
“FRIDAY, tell Wanda and Bruce to meet me in the jet right now.” He announced, running to the elevator.
-
You hissed in pain as Bruce stitched up your wound.
“Sorry,” He apologized, looking up at your pained face quickly before focusing back on the injury.
“And you’re sure it went right through?” You asked for the second time.
Bruce nodded, “I checked while you were passed out on the jet, and I checked when you got back here.” He paused, pulling through the sutures through the wound, making you grip the edge of the infirmary bed and squeeze your eyes shut, “It went through, okay? I promise.”
With your eyes still closed you hummed a response, trying your best to block out the pain. “And Steve? Has anyone heard back from him?” You asked, more so to Tony who was standing in the doorway, worriedly watching over you. You attempted to inhale a breath as you felt Bruce continue stitching up the wound, but it came out more shaky and unsteady than you’d hoped.
“No, not yet.” He answered, “He’ll get here as soon as he gets the voicemails.”
You opened your eyes slightly, eyebrows raised, “What exactly did you say on these voicemails?” You mused suspiciously, knowing that Steve would flip if he thought anything had happened to you.
“Just that the mission had some… complications.” He answered.
“Complications?” You pushed.
“I thought you were dead, I didn’t know what to say!” He defended, uncrossing his arms from his chest. You chuckled lightly at Tony’s concern. Your small moment of bliss was quickly interrupted as you heard a raised voice from down the hall.
“Where is she?” Steve demanded, looking around him to try and place you.
“Hey, hey, stop, she’s okay,” Wanda spoke, holding Steve back as he tried to push past her lightly. His eyes were darting around in worry when he couldn’t see you. No one blamed him since all he knew was that your mission had been compromised and everyone was gathered outside the infirmary with grim looks on their faces.
“Where is she?” He breathed again, eyes still searching the room. He was out of breath, Wanda gathered that he had probably run his way to the tower.
“She’s in there,” Wanda admitted, taking one of her hands from Steve’s arms and pointing down the hall. Steve breathed in heavy breaths as he nodded thanks to Wanda, taking off in the direction she had gestured to, just as Sam and Bucky caught up with Steve.
“She okay?” Bucky asked, heaving in breaths just like Steve. Wanda nodded, instantly reliving the boys of worry.
“Is Steve okay?” Wanda joked, earning breathy laughs from the boys.
“He will be once he see’s she is,” Sam replied.
Just as Bruce finished stitching you up, Steve’s tall figure appeared in the doorway. You watched as his eyes landed on you, leaving seconds passing as he took the sight of you in. He physically sighed in relief, starting toward you in a rushed pace and slipping between your parted legs on the edge of the bed and bringing you to his chest. His strong arms wrapped around your body as your arms Instantly snaked around his waist.
“God, you scared me…” He sighed into your hair, pulling you closer to him if that were even possible. You too breathed a sigh of relief into his chest, practically melting in his protective hold. His arms hold you close to him and one finds its to the back of your head and you begin to think he’ll never let go, not that you were complaining.
When he finally pulls away he cups your face in his hands as he searches it for injuries. Small cuts litter your skin, not exactly easing his mind, but compared to the large gash on your shoulder that had just been taken care of he was able to calm down. “You’re okay?” He asked you, though he quickly shifted his gaze from yours to Bruce and Tony who stood off to the side of him, “She’s okay, right?”
Bruce nodded, “She’s all patched up. She’ll need to rest though.”
Steve nodded, another wave of relief through him, He took an intake of breath, turning back to face you. His eyes wandered down to your now stitched up and bandaged shoulder, fingers lightly brushing over the area.
“I’m fine, Steve.” You sighed, using your other arm to comfortingly run your hand up and down his.
He lifted his gaze back to you, carefully moving hair from your face, not saying anything, simply bringing you back into an embrace, just glad that you were safe.
