❀ Listen to the flora and the fauna singing - perhaps, if you hear a particular song you like, you might choose to stay a while! Feel free to take in the sights of the blooms and bursts of color if you like ❀
❁ The Lead Botanist ~ about me!
❃ High-climbing Vines Encyclopedia ~ Top Gun Masterlist
❁ Tendrils and Thorns Encyclopedia ~ Stranger Things Masterlist
❃ The Local Plant Encyclopedia ~ Anime Masterlist
❁ The Visitors Handbook ~ byf!
❃ The Experimental Greenhouse ~ requests/asks/questions!
❀ Tools of the Trade ~ request guidelines!
❁ Become A Savant ~ taglist!
I am proud to present the Botanical Gardens. Here you will find the lush plant life we offer to visitors and savants alike. Please, before you enter the large glass doors and gaze upon the new flora we have to offer, do take a quick read through The Visitors Handbook - it’s essential to fully understand the rich environment the lead botanist has worked so hard to cultivate! And, while you’re at it, if you come to take an interest into what the lead botanist here truly is like, take a look into The Lead Botanist’s Biography! She is open and excited to make friends with those who are passionate about the certain types of flowering and growing plants in the Gardens. Please, do be patient with her though. As she is emerging into the field a tad younger than most, currently in the summer in between her junior and senior year of high school, she is working hard to balance her responsibilities, both the ones in school and the ones here in the Gardens! And now, after reading this and leafing through the pages of The Visitors Handbook, we open the big glass doors to the Botanical Gardens. Please enjoy your time here - don’t be afraid to stop and smell the roses!
Currently Playing in the Botanical Gardens: First Light by Hozier
YOU'RE BACK, BIRDY, YOU'RE BACK! (Tumblr isn't messing with me on this one, right? RIGHT? It's glitching sometimes...)
So happy to see you in my dash this morning, I couldn't believe my eyes! How are you?
Can I send you a request later (I saw you were asking for some) ? I also HAVE TO read what you posted earlier.
Take good care of yourself, beware of the wandering viruses all around and see you ♥️
HELLO!!!! Absolutely you can send in requests, I am more than happy to write!!! I've been well -- school is tough but what's new lol! How have YOU been?! I'll be around on tumblr for a little while before next semester starts!!
I've been away from Tumblr for quite some time, and I'm slowly coming back :').. I'm so happy to see you're back at the same time !
Hope you've been doing good ♡
I don't have many idea for my request... But I absolutely want to read you to celebrate our return *^*
So here are my prompts, but feel absolutely free to write and tag my on anything cause Im so excited to read you again 😳❤
So, prompts:
Character : Shouto Todoroki of course, or Shinsou if you prefer
And prompt : how about Y/N helping Shouto (deliberately or not) to discover Christmas magic, and for the first time enjoy some good moments during Christmas time ? As they're still only-close-friends-but-secretely-pining-on-each-other, you know *^* Cause Pining. I love pining. Secret crush FTW.
Feeel free to text to chat, or for any question ! And double-feel-free to write anything else with Shouto or Shinsou, cause I just love your writing.
Luluuv on ya~ !
Hello hello hello!!!!!!! First, thank you SO much for the request, I had a bunch of fun writing it. I always love a good Shouto request, you know me <3.
Second, YOU ARE THE SWEETEST EVER I MISSED YOU TOO!!!!!
I have another Shouto fic in the works that is definitely angsty (ends fluffy because of course) but I love the idea so much. Hopefully I finish it in the next couple of days. I hope you enjoy!!!!!!!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi
MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist
WARNINGS: Fluff, Spoilers for the movie Love, Actually.
Request by @luluwiie: how about Y/N helping Shouto (deliberately or not) to discover Christmas magic, and for the first time enjoy some good moments during Christmas time ? As they're still only-close-friends-but-secretely-pining-on-each-other, you know *^* Cause Pining. I love pining. Secret crush FTW
A/N: Oh we're so back. Thank you so much for the request @luluwiie you are the absolute best. I'm so serious about that, you never fail to have the loveliest requests and sweetest words. Happy holidays to everyone who celebrates, and enjoy!!!
Word Count: 1.8K
There seemed to be some kind of energy in the air – one that seemed to have wired every single one of Shouto Todoroki’s classmates into becoming a strangely more happy version of themselves. That was, of course, not to say that his classmates weren’t usually happy, they absolutely were, but during this time of year it was next level.
Taking in the scene before him, all he could really do was people-watch. Iida, if one could believe, was almost relaxed – leaning back in one of the chairs in the dorm living room and reading a book with a calm smile. A group of some of the girls, including Yaoyorozu, Jirou, and Uraraka, were trying their best to construct gingerbread houses. Even with the extra bags of icing Yaoyorozu created with her quirk, the walls kept falling down. But, even with each collapse of the houses, the girls just smiled, shook their heads, and tried again. Even Bakugou, against all odds, almost had a twitch of a genuine smile on his face as he bounced around the kitchen baking cookies, marinating several dishes for the night’s dinner, and prepping produce for the following morning.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. It was what many, if not most, called the most wonderful time of the year. Christmas. Well, to be more specific, Christmas Eve.
“You plan on joining in?” A soft voice sounded next to him. He smiled a bit and turned towards it.
“I’m not so sure.”
“Why’s that?”
“Christmas was never a particularly happy time for me.” Shouto wished he hadn’t really said it like that, because when he did, he had to watch your smile dim. His closest friend since the beginning, the first one he made, was you. You, with your pretty Y/E/C eyes and
“Ah.” You say. “I understand.”
“That’s not to say that you shouldn’t enjoy it. I’m just more at ease looking at all of this from afar.”
“Nah, it’s no fun if not everyone’s having fun. Especially if you, my closest friend, isn’t.” Shouto watch you brush a stray cookie crumb from the alpine sweater you were wearing.
“Baking cookies with Bakugou?” He asked. You snorted and bumped his hip with your own.
“More like stealing away with some of them. He makes a mean snickerdoodle.” Shouto hummed and turned back to his classmates, watching them make merry. He never felt so out of place.
“I may just head back to my dorm, catch up on some things.”
“We’re on break from school, Shouto.” You deadpan. “C’mon. Let’s do something else.”
“I don’t want to pull you away from anything,” he begins.
“You’re not pulling me away. In fact, I think I have a more fun idea in mind. Let’s go back to mine.”
“Just to recap,” Shouto says, sitting criss-crossed on your bead, “you want to checklist your way to making new holiday memories? So that I can enjoy Christmas?”
“Exactly!” You say, pointing towards him with the aforementioned list. “I’m telling you, I think you’ll find at least one of these things fun.” Shouto considered the list before him for a moment. Things like ice-skating, movie marathons, and gift shopping were all included.
“And you’ll do these things with me?” He asked, confirming that he wouldn’t be facing such activities by himself.
“Of course.”
“Then I’m sure everything will be fun.” It almost looked like a flicker of a blush danced on your cheeks, but he must have just been seeing things.
“Alright. Where do you want to start?”
“Well,” he considered, looking outside of his window. The sun had already set and a fair amount of snow was piling up on the ground outside, “seeing as many of our options involve going into the city, which isn’t entirely safe right now, we should probably settle on something a bit more tame.” You jumped to sit next to him on your bed, your hands going to the windowsill.
“Damn,” you say, shooting him a somewhat embarrassed look. Shouto couldn’t help but smile. He loved whenever you had that look on your face. Your nose scrunched a bit and your hands went to your cheeks.
“I’m happy with a movie,” he suggests, taking one of your hands from your cheeks. You pause for a moment, waiting for your breathing to get even after his actions, and then settle in.
“Well, it’s gotta be the perfect movie.” You think, grabbing your computer while Shouto unfurled the blanket at the bottom of your bed. “Nothing too cheesy but nothing too sad. So, probably, no Elf or It’s A Wonderful Life. Although It’s A Wonderful Life is so good.”
“Why don’t we watch it then?”
“It makes me cry. Kinda counterintuitive to me helping you make happy Christmas memories. But we’ll put it on the ‘to watch’ list.”
“And Elf is cheesy?”
“Kinda,” you admit, staring at the blinking line in your search bar. “Although it’s funny.”
“So you want something funny… and heartfelt… and something that helps with the idea of Christmas?”
“That’s it!” You exclaim, your fingers flying across the keys. You pull up a movie and sit back in your pillows with a satisfied smile, waiting for Shouto’s reaction.
“Love Actually?” He says, looking closely at the movie cover. “It doesn’t really sound like a Christmas movie.
“Trust me,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder, “it is. The best.”
“I always trust you,” he says, giving you another one of those heart bursting smiles. The kind, it seems, he saved only for you. But of course, it was probably you making it up. He was your friend, as you had stated before, your closest friend. You did not want anything to mess that up, even if you had to keep some of your feelings under lock.
“Well then,” you clear your throat, “get ready for Christmas wonder.”
As the finishing notes of God Only Knows by the Beach Boys played from the tiny speakers in your computer, you sighed happily and closed your laptop. You turned to find Shouto, searching his face for any kind of reaction.
“So, thoughts?”
“That was…” he trails off. Immediately, a sense of disappointment in yourself bloomed.
“Oh god, you didn’t like it all did you?” You fret. “It was probably too much, I’m sorry, I should’ve found something else–”
“Y/N.” Shouto says, interrupting your rambling.
“Yeah?”
“I loved it.” Where panic took hold previously, excitement sparkled in your eyes.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, some parts were certainly… interesting,” he says, making you laugh, “but I thought it was really nice. But,”
“Uh-oh,”
“I don’t really understand the whole message in terms of Christmas.”
“Huh?”
“Well,” he says, shifting a bit on your bed to face you more, “I understand that it all takes place during Christmas, but it mostly centered on relationships. Both good and bad. I still can’t believe he cheated on his wife with that girl though. And she forgave him? Just like that?” You laughed and leaned into him
“Well, I don’t think that’s the whole story. And they have kids, so she was putting them first. But, more importantly, it conveys the main message of Christmas.” You say to a dumbfounded Shouto.
“And what’s that?”
“Love, of course. In every situation, love is what remains constant. For a friend, for a family member, for their significant other… love is what Christmas is all about.” Shouto felt his heart speed up as he looked at you.
“I think I may be starting to get it.” Your breathing became short as he looked at you. It was quiet, so quiet, in your dorm room.
“You are?” You whisper.
“Yeah,” he says, bringing his hands to cup your face. You were moments from closing your eyes until someone banged on your door.
“Y/N! Todoroki! You in there?” You squeezed your eyes shut and sighed.
“Yep! What’s up Mina?” Shouto smiles as your frustration becomes evident on your face.
“We’re all gathering in the common room! One last activity before we all go to bed and wake up for Christmas morning!” You glance at Shouto to see him grinning, which makes you roll your eyes in amusement.
“Okay, we’re coming!” Shouto shuffles off of the bed first, helping you to your feet as well. The two of you leave your dorm and make your way down the hallway, only to stop in the doorway as you find all of your classmates face you with smug smiles.
“Is everything okay?” Shouto asks.
“Yeah guys, what’s up with the crowd?”
“Look up!” Uraraka smiles, pointing with one of her hands to whatever was above you. A cold sense of dread courses its way through your body as what you were worried about was confirmed. A seemingly harmless sprig of mistletoe was hung delicately on above the doorway, sitting just above you and Shouto. All of your classmates laugh as they see your face, making Shouto’s twist in confusion.
“Mistletoe?”
“Yeah,” you confirm sheepishly. “It’s this Christmas tradition where two people have to kiss if they walk underneath mistletoe at the same time. We don’t have to do it. It’s stupid, really.”
“On the contrary,” Shouto says, sweeping an arm around the small of your back, making your heart jump in your chest. “I actually kind of like Christmas traditions.” Your anxious smile turns into a wide grin.
“Really?”
“Mmm.” he hums in affirmation, using his other hand to tilt your head up towards him. “In fact, I think I love Christmas traditions.” You didn’t have time to come up with a cheeky response before he pressed his lips to yours. The whoops and cheers from your classmates faded to become background music. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, wrapping both of your arms around the nape of his neck. You went up on your tiptoes, leaning further into him and deepening the kiss. The both of you leaned away after a few moments, laughing as the class descended into pure chaos as several other duos, including Kaminari and Jirou as well as Midoriya and Uraraka, were being pushed towards the white-berried plant. Shouto led you back down the hallway to your room's door, pressing another kiss to your lips.
“Merry Christmas, Shouto.” You smile. Opening the door as you bid him goodnight.
“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He says. He leaves you with one more quick kiss before he says goodnight. All you could do after you closed the door was slide down it, a lovesick smile on your face. You were in love and so was he. Actually.
I'm on break for a little bit and am itching to write. Feel free to send in requests - if you want to check the guidelines for those, they should be linked on my nav.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi
MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist
WARNINGS: S6 Spoilers, War arc manga spoilers, descriptions of injuries, angst, fluff
A/N: Another one inspired by queen TS (I recommend either listening or looking at the lyrics, they’re so good) - also, includes she/her pronouns for the reader
Word Count: 1.6K
The monotonous thrum of his heart rate monitor was the single thing Shoto could ground himself with. His eyesight was blurry, his sense of self shaky, and his skin was raw – like all of his nerves were exposed to the world. Shifting his arms was not an option, as with every adjustment he made the bandages would dig into his burned flesh.
Where his body was in shambles, stitched together by dexterous but rushed medical attention, his mind was frayed. It did not help that he’s been in isolation for hours upon hours, bedridden and left alone to his thoughts. And those thoughts were anything but rosy.
Everything that had happened from the moment he stepped into Jaku City to where he was now changed his entire perspective of the world. The heroes had, essentially, lost. His father, the number one hero, was beaten. Bakugou and Midoriya looked to be injured beyond repair. And, his long lost brother who on all accounts had been declared dead was well and alive… and was Dabi.
This was not how this mission was supposed to go. Shigaraki was supposed to be defeated, the Meta Liberation army captured, and this uprising put to rest. Instead, it seemed that the heroes simply threw yet another stack of delicate kindling atop a raging flame. Really, all Shoto could do was lay atop the stiff hospital bed and think.
He thought of his loved ones. Of his mother, Fuyumi, and Natsuo, and how they too were left with this grenade of information and how they must be dealing with it. He thought of his friends and teachers, and how he had no knowledge of who had lived and who had died. He thought of the civilians whose entire lives revolved around Jaku City. Their local grocery stores, the coffee shop that became a ritualistic stop on the way to work, the parks and playgrounds where children would play make believe.
However, there was one thing he refused to think of – you. To him, you fell into each of those three categories.
Jaku was where your family lives, no, lived. He saw the all but destroyed sign of that flower shop you had mentioned working at part-time. He found street signs with names that he would hear drop from your lips as you tried to describe a story to the best of your ability. This was a place you had relished and thrived in. The mere notion of you having to fight for your life and those around you on the burning remains of your home was entirely too harrowing for Shoto to believe.
You are his classmate. You’re the girl who sits next to him in class and wakes up early to accompany him on morning runs. You have a blue spiral notebook that, while it holds notes, also provides a lined-paper canvas for doodles. Your bookbag sometimes slumps against his, which you always apologize for, but he never minds.
And deep, deep down, Shoto loves you. He wants to have you in his life after the both of you graduate. He wants to know you, really know you, and revel in all your favorites – color, book, animal, everything. He wants to hold your hand and lace his fingers with yours. He simply wants to be able to have the chance to love you.
What he does not want is for you to see him. Not like this, as the broken shell of who he had patched himself up to be. Shoto knew how who he was affected those around him. Maybe it was not directly his fault that his mother got sick or that his siblings existed in a fractured home, and why Toya became who he was. However, it was most definitely within his control how he behaved at the beginning of his time at UA. He was so hateful, so cold. His first iteration of his hero costume was the embodiment of his perspective – sheer ice. If he could go back and act differently, he would. Then he would have become friends with everyone faster and they wouldn’t have those preconceived notions.
But that was just who he was. Granted, Shoto accepted that fact and moved forward, striving to be the person and hero he wanted to be. But that didn’t stop him from driving people away. He was cold until he was warm, but he was warm until he became too hot. To others, he remained within those two extremities of his quirk – too mean and closed off or too much to deal with. You had always seen him in that happy medium of ‘warm,’ and he did not want to change that image of Shoto Todoroki.
It must have been early afternoon since Shoto could hear birdsong, but the rays of sunshine reaching through the windows became stronger. The burning in his esophagus had been healing properly, as he was assured multiple times by the doctors and nurses who frequented his room. His speech was hoarse, but functional – a fact that he was not going to take for granted. Friends had come by to see him, assuring Class 1A’s safety despite Midoriya’s current condition.
He was grateful for company, but today being a no visitor day, he was also grateful for the quiet. He was moments from picking up a book from his bedside table – Little Women, the novel you had recommended a while back – when a cacophony of raised voices and door slamming arose from the hallway. He couldn’t catch much, just the measured yet strained tones from who he supposed to be doctors, and the fiery resonance from someone else. He tried to return to the pages, yearning to return the lives of the March daughters, before his door was swung open. Standing there, huffing breaths and desperately trying to tuck flyaways back to where they belonged, was you.
There was a large cut across your forehead, covered by a bandage but still bleeding. The hospital gown hung off of you and billowed when you shifted your weight. But most of all, an evident look of concern and relief flickered across your features.
“Shoto?” Your voice was small and laced with disbelief. He thought that his expression was a mimic of yours. He wanted to say your name, wanted to say he loved you and that he was so glad you’re okay. Instead, what leaves his lips is cold.
“Why are you here?” Your face twists in confusion.
“What do you mean ‘why am I here?’” You question, your tone holding an underlying hue of defense. Shoto turns his face towards the window and away from you.
“I think my words were quite clear.” Your mouth turns to a frown as you let the door close softly behind you. Shoto feels his heartbeat quicken the closer you get to his bed.
“I don’t believe you.” At your words, he scoffs, and faces you with a stony look.
“And why is that,” he asks in a monotone.
“Because I know you. And I see through you.” Shoto wills himself to stay apathetic.
“Then why,” he begins, his voice growing thick, “are you still here.” He keeps his eyes trained outside, but he feels a dip on the mattress.
“You know why,” you murmur. He feels your hand atop his, curling around it softly.
Shoto feels as if his whole body was about to cave in on itself. After everything, everything that had come to light, here you were. He was being cold and defensive, yet here you were. He was broken, bruised, and bandaged… and here you were.
Shoto held his breath as he turned to face you, bracing himself for the reality of what would hit him. There you were, your eyes and smile the kind of devastating beauty that some people can only read of in poetry. Your hands, although scabbed and callused, are soft to his touch. God, did he want to say everything that had been stored up in his brain.
“There you are,” you say, a smile growing on your lips. Your hands moved up to his face, gently cradling his bandaged cheeks in your palms. Almost reading his thoughts exactly, you brush your thumb in soothing circles. “None of this is your fault. Everyone loves you and cares about you. We’re all worrying and wondering how you’re holding up. How our friend is doing.” He sighs as he hears your words.
“I am… strong. And weak. I’m angry, and I’m scared.” Your smile turns into one of understanding. “I am everything and nothing and I don’t know what to do.” Wordlessly, he slides over on the bed – no matter how much his burns and lacerations begged him not to – to make room for you.
“None of us would know how to react to everything that has just been thrown at your face. I…” you begin, but end up shaking your head. “Don’t think of it right now. And yes, you’re happy and sad, angry and scared, everything and nothing. But you can count on us to stick by your side. I will stay with you always. How could I even think of leaving?”
Shoto wants to say that anyone could think that. That, in the end, people would realize that to stay would become too much. But, when he sees that fiery passion in your eyes and feels the way you hold his hand. And he knows you. He loves you.
“Y/N, I–” he starts.
“I know.” You whisper, tucking strands of hair that had fallen in his eyes away. “Me too.” Shoto feels weightless at your confession and the confirmation of his. No more words were exchanged between the two of you before doctors eventually pulled you back to your own room. Instead, you just lingered in the silence and focused on holding the other's hands. Holding on to each other.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi
MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist
WARNINGS: none
A/N: lol hi this is inspired by queen TS
Word Count: 1.4K
Your body was cold, but your hand was warm as snow began to lightly fall. It was December in Musutafu, one of your favorite times of the year. The city just seemed to hold an all encompassing sort of glow – while the days became shorter, the lights burned brighter. Children all around were cradling carefully crafted snowballs in their hands, all the while ducking behind bushes and trees in order to get the jump on their friends. Garlands filled with ruby red ornaments adorned the streetlamps, menorahs were displayed in window sills, and holiday cheer was in full swing. And, holding your hand, your boyfriend.
Turning your head to the right, you find Shoto Todoroki keeping perfect pace with you. He looked perfectly content – his lapel jacket and scarf providing the little warmth he needed. He wasn’t even wearing gloves, but you knew that was because he was holding your hand. Using his quirk, he was able to keep your right hand nice and toasty, relieving the chill that tended to creep down your spine every time you exited your apartment.
He squeezed your hand. “I can feel your eyes on me, what’s up?” He asks, drawing a roll from your eyes.
“I’m not looking at you.” Shoto huffs a light laugh and sends an extra flicker of warmth through your palm.
“You’re right, you’re not looking at me. You’re staring.” His comment makes you laugh, leaning your body into his further.
“Fine. I’m staring.”
“Any reason why?” You frown, slightly, at his question and wiggle your left hand further into the pocket of your down jacket.
“I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Your admission was fair. For the past few months, a frenzy had descended upon you and Shoto. All of the tabloids wanted every detail of your relationship. It was bad enough that you were both Pro-Heroes, but due to Shoto’s standing in the rankings, he was a hot topic. Ever since a picture of the two of you at a fundraising gala went viral, the conversation regarding your relationship became public gossip. Sure, your relationship has been public since the very beginning. Shoto asked you for a first date in the mid to latter half of your third year at UA, and since then, he has been yours ever since.
It was peculiar – no pictures of the two of you had sparked this much popularity previously. There had been plenty of pictures before, ones much more “scandalizing” than this one, however the public seemed to zero in on one tiny detail; a delicate band of silver resting on your left ring finger.
That damn ring caused an absolute frenzy to occur at every news station and magazine publishing house. You and Shoto could not catch a break. No matter how many times the question was masterfully avoided in interviews, it always seemed to work its way back into fruition.
“I am too.” Shoto’s response was solemn and understanding. This was the first time in quite a while that you weren’t bombarded on the street with fans asking when the wedding was. It didn’t matter that it was your grandmother’s ring that you were wearing in her memory, or the fact that people wouldn’t care to hear your genuine explanations – all they heard were excuses. “But,” he continued, swinging your hands back and forth a little, “let’s try and be in the moment.” He leans down a bit and presses a whisper of a kiss to your cheek, keeping you pendulum of hands going. You smile and nod, letting a timid flush creep onto your face.
“Okay. Holiday shopping it is then.”
It took only five minutes of you and Shoto being in a store for a crowd to descend upon you two.
“Shoto, is it true you popped the question?!” A young fan asked, their eyes boring into the center of your boyfriend’s skull.
“Y/H/N, please show me what your dress will look like! Is it a custom design?” A teenage girl demanded, clinging onto your arm.
“Please televise the whole wedding! It’s basically the closest thing we’ll get to a royal wedding.” Another begged.
You laughed awkwardly as the bombarding questions continued, stepping closer to Shoto, whose arm snaked around your waist almost instantly.
“Um, look guys, we appreciate the, uh… support. But we’re not engaged.” You explain, gripping onto the cashmere sweater you were fawning over earlier tighter. Out of the corner of his eye, Shoto noted that small movement and drew you impossibly closer to him.
“Come on, we can’t wait around forever. Get married or move on so the next person can get in line.” You could hear a pin drop, the room became so silent. Eyes flicked around to find whoever said it, but whoever the perpetrator was didn’t matter. The comment struck the both of you so hard that you were gobsmacked. In a flash, Shoto took the hanger that the sweater was on from your hands and hung back on the clothing rack.
“Okay, we’re done here.” He murmured, shuffling the two of you through the throng of people.
The cold now, as you exited the store, was much harsher than before.
“I told you, I’m fine. I was just surprised at the comment. You were too!” You say, cradling a mug of hot chocolate in your hands. Beneath a chunky knit blanket and lounging on the plush couch of your apartment, you watched Shoto walk towards you. He himself held a steaming mug, green tea in place of molten chocolate, and tugged some of the blanket over his legs.
“I’m not saying I wasn’t, I’m just saying that the comment was ridiculously out of line.” He paused to take a sip of the tea. “And, I know you’re upset that we didn’t get to finish looking at that store.” A small smile spread across your face but you kept your eyes on your mug. “Y/N?” His voice is softer now, much more cautious.
“I… I-yes, I’m bummed that we couldn’t really spend a normal day out, but I guess I sort of signed up for that when becoming a Pro-Hero.” You say as Shoto laid an arm over your shoulder. “I just wonder when it’s all gonna stop.” Shoto hummed in acknowledgement, massaging a knot in your neck gently.
“I think that all this frenzy will never completely disappear,” he says, keeping his eyes on yours. “But as long as we’re here,” he kisses your cheek, “together,” a peck to your other cheek, “and we just enjoy each other,” a lulling kiss to your lips, “then we’ll be okay.” You sigh in comfort, curling into Shoto’s boy as his hand moves from your neck to playing lightly with your hair. You bite your lip, suddenly, to suppress a laugh. Shoto, of course, notices and raises his brows. “Something funny?”
“No,” you admit, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “Just thought a nice plan B was to get married.” His body shakes in laughter.
“Oh, I plan on proposing to you. Just not for the sake of the public.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course.” A smirk spreads across your face.
“Then the rock on that ring better be huge. You know, so everybody can see it when they watch the live broadcast.” You laugh as Shoto leans his head back over the edge of the couch, releasing a fake groan of annoyance.
“And the flowers?” He asks, egging you on.
“No flowers. I want lavender, dripping from every corner.” You answer earnestly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Shoto contemplates your answer before pressing a smacker of a kiss to your lips, making you shy away in laughter.
“Lavender it is.”
“So, are you gonna propose to me or not? I mean, we’re deciding our wedding before I have a ring on my finger. It’s counting your chickens before they hatch.”
“I suppose so. But, the difference is, I’m telling you – I will propose.” You smile and settle back into his arms.
“Alright then. That’s good enough for me. Is it good enough for you?” You ask.
“It’s good enough for me.”
“Good. That’s all that matters anyways. That we’re both happy.” One final kiss seals the conversation with a wax stamp, putting it out of the way. Off your desk and off of your chest. And now, you two can just stay in that lavender haze.
I wanted to give this little update because keeping you all in the loop is important to me. I have loved writing and updating this blog for the past few years and getting support and interacting with so many of you have brought me such joy :,).
However lately, I’ve been feeling super unmotivated and discouraged when it comes to creating an idea, spending time developing it, and eventually, posting whatever works its way onto the page. I am so thankful to those of you who have supported me in likes, reblogs and in the comments. Recently, though, the ratio of likes to any source of feedback or reaction has been staggeringly large. Again, I am so incredibly thankful to everyone who has taken the time to read and like any of my works, but what I really cherish is interaction.
It is always nice to hear and see that my work is appreciated. However, what motivates me and pushes me to create more is hearing your thoughts, opinions, and suggestions. I have tried to really push through what I regard as writer’s block or I guess me just being uncreative, but when it comes down to it, I think I’m just exhausted of trying to find things to write about.
This is not to say that I’m completely abandoning this blog or am stopping writing. I am still incredibly passionate about seeing or hearing something that inspires to me create. But, with the start of college and my limited time, any posts will most likely be varied and far apart -- especially if I am trying to come up with individual posts.
That being said, requests are open!!! I am always so thrilled to see requests in my inbox and, referencing bak to this post, I LOVE the interaction!! If you are making a request, I simply ask that you refer to the guidelines -- they are located on the pinned post (my nav) on my page!
Again, I am so incredibly thankful to each and every one of you. I look forward to posting when I can.
Summary: For his whole life, Rooster has had one special, defining feature - his heart eyes. Full of such love and adoration for so many things, he’s been told and teased countless times by his mother and friends for them. So when you, the niece of Penny Benjamin, walk into a garden party where he and his top gun buddies have been invited to with a smile on your face and the sweetest personality to boot? How can he help it - he just has heart eyes for you.
A/N: Idkkkk I had this idea and kinda loved it. Now, 2.8K words later, it’s all written and done! As always, I appreciate comments, constructive criticism, and support, so let me know what you think! Requests are open <3. Enjoy!!!!
It had been a part of Bradley for as long as he could remember. Other kids had defining characteristics to them – dimples on their cheeks, a buck-toothed grin, maybe even the cutest button nose to date. But Bradley, oh little Bradley, he has heart eyes. With so much love in his heart, his big, brown doe eyes would fill with so much compassion and adoration for things that he couldn’t keep it in him. He wore his heart on his sleeve and his love in his eyes.
His mother always used to tell him that he had them whenever his babysitter, Audrey, would watch him for the night. She was a high schooler who lived close by, always willing to lend a helping hand to Mrs. Bradshaw and her son. Bradley saw her as the prettiest girl alive – long hair, a kind grin, and always happy to let him talk to her about his new action figures.
“Oh honey, you’ve got heart eyes.” Is what she would always say, grabbing his chin gently and giving him a nose kiss. He’d blush and duck his head away, trying to hide the fact that he was utterly infatuated with his babysitter.
“No I don’t,” Bradley would protest, “She’s just nice, that’s all.” Sensing her son’s embarrassment, she’d switch topics quickly and let him show her how he organized his model planes. But anyone could see the way his eyes transformed when his babysitter would walk through the door and give him a big hug.
It followed him, of course, throughout his life. An easy source for teasing amongst his friends and something for his previous girlfriends to coo at, Bradley’s heart eyes were part of him every step of the way. Until he had his papers pulled and he spent those extra years trying to get back to where he was. Those heart eyes faded into a sullen, hard stare. Even when he went on dates and house calls to whoever he was seeing that week, nothing but lust entered his pupils – and lust wasn’t love.
But then he got called back to Top Gun and everything changed. He trained under the man that had screwed him over, and after getting chosen and landing in enemy territory alongside him, Maverick and Rooster had repaired the damage that had been previously inflicted. This repair was not one made with bandages, oh no, Bradley and Pete Mitchell’s relationship was now mended with super glue, duct tape, and reinforced by steel. Unbreakable.
Which was how he found himself, and his buddies from Top Gun, at a garden party hosted by Penny Benjamin. It was nice outside – not too cold to warrant a sweater and just warm enough to the point that one could wear a sundress or breathy polo shirts comfortably. Bradley, to the surprise of many, had traded in his usual open Hawaiian shirt and white tank for a light blue long sleeve button down – his mother always used to tell him he looked good in light blue – and a nice pair of navy slacks. For once, he didn’t look like he worked as a naval pilot in California – more similar to someone who worked in an office set in a metropolitan city.
“Looking good Rooster,” a velvety voice expressed, causing Bradley to roll his eyes. Turning to his side, Jake Seresin sauntered closer and held out his hand. Bradley grabbed it and gave him a quick hug.
“Not looking too shabby yourself, Hangman,” he quipped, seeing Jake in a similar outfit to him.
“Forwent the old Hawaiian shirt, huh?” He prompted, grabbing a drink from a nearby table.
“Well, I figured Penny wanted a more formal event than usual.” Jake nodded at Bradley’s answer. “Any idea why?” Looking around, Bradley didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There were members of his Top Gun class dotted all over the beautifully decorated backyard along with employees from The Hard Deck. Penny and Pete were side by side with his arm wrapped around her waist, greeting everyone and trying to make the whole event less boring for Ameila.
“I think I heard something about Penny’s niece coming into town? She’s from the East Coast and they haven’t seen her in a while.” Bradley hummed in acknowledgement of Jake’s comment.
“Lookie here – the big boys are all dressed up.” Both Bradley and Jake spun around, finding Natasha Trace with her hands on her hips and a deadpan stare. Jake whistled as he looked her up and down, struck by the view of their friend in a maxi skirt and silk tank top.
“And she rises out of the ashes of those regulation shirt and pants,” Hangman simpered, a cocky smirk on his features.
“A shame, Bagman, that the same can’t be said for you.” Natasha rolls her eyes but gives both him and Bradley a hug. “Any idea why this is so fancy?”
“Something about Penny’s niece coming to town?” Bradley says, watching as Natasha’s eyes grow exponentially.
“Y/N’s coming?” Bradley’s face screws into one of confusion as Natasha was clearly very excited.
“Who?”
You never really loved these kinds of parties, but of course, you put up with them because your Aunt Penny threw them for you whenever you managed to come to California – and you loved your Aunt Penny. It had been years, probably nearing eight now, since you’ve last seen her. Eight years ago, you were just graduating from college and entering your professional field with confidence and a love for the hustle and bustle of New York City. Now? You were taking the success you had created in the city and moving to Miramar, California.
The reason why was, well… messy. It had started with your growing distaste for a city setting and morphed into unhappiness with the relationships you had been in, creating an unfortunate cocktail of misery. You were longing for sun and warmth – and not one that would pair with the stench of hot trash sitting streetside next to littered walkways. Freshness and a need for something brand new was what packed your bags and sent you on a one way ticket to California.
Well, the decision of California itself was more of Penny’s idea. She had promised you that her house could serve as a homebase for any endeavor – house hunting, a makeshift office, and a place to unwind. She had also said that she knew of the perfect person to help you familiarize yourself with a new atmosphere. A navy aviator and the godson of her fiancé, she described him as the most perfect boy ever to walk the Earth. And, yes, Penny may have mentioned that he was strapping and attractive and, as Amelia described him, yummy.
You stopped just outside of the big garden gate of Penny’s house and brushed out the skirt of the spaghetti strapped dress you were wearing. It was nothing too fancy – just a white dress with a small floral pattern to it – pastel blue hydrangeas. On the top of the shoulders were little bows; just enough to make the dress not entirely too simple.
Taking a deep breath, you swallowed that irrational nervous lump in your throat, and pushed the door open. Immediately, Penny’s and Ameila’s eyes found you and they both squealed with excitement.
“Y/N!!!” Amelia exclaimed, running and throwing her arms around you. You laughed into the hug with your little cousin.
“Ames! It’s so good to see you!” You twirled her around a little before you set her back down. “When did you go and grow up?” You say with a faux frown, making her laugh.
“Y/N, honey, look at you!” Penny marveled, wrapping you in a softer hug than Amelia’s more eager one. You grinned as she hugged you and then grabbed your hands, squeezing them. “My god, you’re just gorgeous.”
What Penny had said was an understatement. The second that Amelia had launched herself into you, drawing Bradley’s attention due to the noise, his eyes fell on you. A pretty, Y/H/C haired woman with a shine in her grin and a certain sparkle to her whole person. He was currently watching you as Penny smiled and told you something, making you respond with enthusiasm and hand movements to further emphasize your words.
“-ster. Rooster!” Bradley only registered Phoenix’s voice when she started to shake his shoulder, making him whip his head towards his friends. Blinking away the glassiness that took over his pupils, he cleared his throat.
“Yeah– yes?” He managed, his voice cracking just slightly on his first word. Phoenix, knowing when and when not to poke the bear, pursed her lips to stop a teasing smile from crossing them.
“That’s Y/N.” Y/N. That name when it crossed his mind now brought such a light and airy feeling to his whole aura.
“Well are you just gonna stand there and gawk at her or are you going to introduce yourself?” Hangman chuckled, pushing Bradley forward. He stumbled forward, shooting a glare at his friend, before making his way over towards Penny, Pete, Amelia, and you. Penny, of course, saw him first.
“Oh!” She exclaimed, a giddy smile on her face. She looked at Bradley, and then focused on you. “Y/N, this is Bradley Bradshaw. You know, the one I’ve been telling you about?” Your face immediately flushed and you felt hot all over in embarrassment. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before facing him. Your eyes widened as they fell on Bradley.
“I… uh,” you began, exhaling as your gaze befell him. He was tall – at least 6’0”, sunkissed, and his arms. You cleared your throat as it had become increasingly aware that you might’ve been staring for a moment too long. “I’m Y/N.” You feel stupid, your name being the only thing you could say to him, but he quells the churning in your stomach as he flashes a grin.
“Bradley,” he introduces himself, sticking out a hand to shake yours. You let him as you turn your face towards Penny, Pete, and Amelia. Penny’s face is the exact tone of enthusiasm that had been in her voice, Pete simply watched Bradley with a goofy expression, but Amelia… Amelia’s eyes were like a hawk on you, smiling mischievously.
“So!” You say loudly, effectively cutting the tension. “I hear you’re a naval pilot.”
“I am,” he smiles, turning towards your aunt, “you’ve been gossiping about me Penny?” He jokes.
“Only the best things,” she promises.
“C’mon Rooster, you gonna introduce us or what?” A voice from behind both of and Bradley calls out. You spin, finding a group of mostly guys, fixing the both of you with a smug and teasing look.
“Rooster?” You ask, feeling confidence enter your system again.
“My callsign,” he sighs. Reluctantly, he beckons the group over. It’s a flurry of tall guys and proud statures, all of them introducing themselves at lighting speed. Keeping up with both names and callsigns was hard, as was conversing with all of them exactly at the same time, but you were glad of one thing – Bradley Bradshaw stuck to your side for the entire evening, making everything so much easier.
The party was nearing its end as the sun had set, casting a dusky sky over top of Penny’s backyard. A few people lingered while most had already turned in for the night, mentions of an early morning making them grudgingly part from the event. Out of the corner of your eye, Penny and Pete were gathering the last bits of food and shoving them into tupperware and plastic bags, pushing some of it into the arms of naval aviators so as to make meal planning easier. Amelia, who had previously been busy updating you on everything in her life, was yawning and slowly making her way inside. That left just you and Bradley to take down the decorations and lights while Jake and Natasha were lugging tables and coolers inside.
“So.” Bradley says, folding paper lanterns into easily portable squares, “how long are you planning on staying in Miramar?” You sigh, gathering string lights.
“Hopefully, as long as I can. That all depends on if I can get a place, establish my practice here, and… other aspects of life.” Bradley pauses his folding to watch you coil the lights around your hand.
“Other aspects?” You turn to look at him and produce a small, but misty, smile.
“If I can see myself being happy here. If I can stand the always warm weather.” He laughs at your latter comment. “If I can meet the person that I want to spend the rest of my life with.” His amusement faltered.
“You don’t have someone?” He queried, leaning onto the fence nearby. You huffed and shook your head.
“I thought I did. Thought I was set. For three whole years, I was in a lie of a relationship, and when I found out…” you used your hands to simulate an explosion, a harsh laugh echoing from your chest. “But, that was about five years ago. I’ve had off and on relationships, but nothing really felt… right.” You explain. Bradley nods, his expression thoughtful.
“Well, Penny already told me about a nearby office begging for your practice. Are you gonna take it?” You beam, continuing to roll the lights in your hand.
“I’d be crazy not to. It’s about 20% more than my previous annual income and the benefits are through the roof.”
“And a place to stay?” He continued. You shook your head, starting to understand what he was doing.
“There are several listings bookmarked on Zillow.”
“Are you happy here?” He stepped closer to you, unfurling and retucking the paper lantern in his hands.
“I sure am right now,” you quip.
“And the weather?”
“I finally get to wear sleeveless stuff, so that’s certainly a plus.” You stop weaving the lights along your hand, knowing what the question that he was going to ask next.
“The person that you want to spend the rest of your life with?” He whispered, only a very minimal distance in between the two of you now. You bite back a lovesick grin.
“You just met me,” you point out.
“True,” he acknowledges, tilting his head back and forth a few times. “Does that make my judgment any more flawed than it would be a few days later? Because, honestly sweetheart, I think I’d be even more keen on you the more I got to know you.” You tilt your head back and laugh.
“It’s been less than seven hours and already you’re in love with me,” you tease, your hand creeping up towards his shirt to fold back his shirt collar.
“Oh? And how’ve you come to that conclusion?” He says, his voice now gravelly and full of unchecked confidence.
“I can see it right there,” you smile, pointing gently towards his brown eyes. “You’ve got heart eyes.” Suddenly, he’s startled – those very eyes growing wide at your words.
“Wha, what? What did you say?” Immediately, you squeeze your eyes shut and ball your fists. Of course, you had to go and make it awkward.
“Sorry!” you blurt, “Sorry, I just said that you had heart eyes. You know that look in someone’s eyes where it’s just kinda adoration and all… that… damn, now I’m rambling–” Bradley grabs your hands and holds them.
“No, no you’re right. I have heart eyes. I have heart eyes, and they’re on my face right now.” You stop talking at his confession, your cheeks breaking out into a sliver of a smile.
“Will you take me flying?” He barks out a laugh at the change in subject. “I’ve never been.”
“Sure I’ll take you flying, but not right now. Maybe in a few years.”
“A few years?” You say astounded, “why a few years?”
“Because,” he remarks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If I’m gonna be the person you spend the rest of your life with, we’ve got nothing but time.” He murmurs, placing a whisper of a kiss to your cheek. He steps away from you while also placing something in your hand, closing your fist around it. “I’ll be seeing you around, Y/N.”
Bradley walks away with an armful of paper lanterns and gives you a wink before joining Natasha and Jake, both of whom were nudging and slapping him on the shoulder in a not so subtle celebration. You’re left standing there with lights wrapped around your hand, a piece of paper with his phone number in your fist, and a memory of those heart eyes replaying in your mind, sending the fears of fulfilling that last aspect of life into a blissful end.
steve harrington x reader | part 3 of 3 | 13k words
◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ
as will byers older sister, you vaguely know steve harrington. upon becoming steve harrington's (randomly and abruptly selected) lab partner, you realize you know him even less than you thought.
「 link to part one & part two 」
warnings: fem!reader, byers!reader, shy!reader, bickering, lab partners, classmates, starts in season 2 ends in season 4, frenemies to lovers, slow burn, pining, "unrequited" love emphasis on the air quotes, steve is popular and reader is not, doting mother joyce, running with the headcanon that jonathan dropped out of high school, hurt/comfort, language, blood/injury warnings level to what's on the show, slight canon divergence in epilogue
PART THREE → 1986
The first thing you noticed when you got to Hawkins was that it was cold.
Colder than before, at least. It was the first week of April, and there wasn’t a hint of heat in the air. It was dry, too. Hailing a taxi from the airport was terrifying (how do you even do it? Just stand there and whistle?) and the ride home had been even more horrifying. Nothing awful happened. You just had to run after the driver when he missed you the first time, and on the way, you tried to be polite.
“Is this, um…the longest route you’ve had today?” you asked. The old man’s eyes never left the road.
He sighed loudly. “Yes.”
You peered down at your lap and folded your hands there. Okay.
You had a mission; please Nancy. Jonathan chickened out of a trip back home, afraid to see her, afraid to upset her. It was absolutely ridiculous. If he wanted to stay together, why tear them even further apart? But he was resolute. Being the sister that you are, you offered to go back instead. Visit Dustin or Robin; find something to do. And along the way, somehow convince her that everything was completely fine, and that Jonathan loved her more than anything.
He did love her more than anything, but everything was definitely not fine. You couldn’t solve all of his problems, but you could do this. This was the main reason for your return.
You stepped out of the car in front of the motel and slid your heavy suitcase out of the backseat. Paying the driver, you opened your mouth to offer him thanks. He drove off before you got a word out. Hawkins hospitality.
Your heart thumped in your chest as you approached the motel door. Nancy was short on the phone when you spoke to her.
“So Jonathan’s not coming? At all?”
“I know… I’m sorry. I’m still coming, though. Not that it helps.”
“No, it’s… That’s okay, Y/N. It will be good to see you.”
You grimaced when she said it. She was only being nice. The two of you had actually become friends over the years, somewhere in between Jonathan pining over her, dating her, and slowly screwing it up. It was nice but odd- you never imagined she would be interested in being your friend.
Still, you were not your brother. What Nancy wanted was to see her boyfriend. Instead, she was seeing you.
You swallowed the regretful knot in your throat and entered the motel. A tiny bell rang over your head, chirping like a mouse. At the front desk, the woman crooned-
“The previous guest in that room won’t be out until tomorrow morning.”
You blinked, easily able to stay polite, but not able to mask your confusion.
“Oh, that’s- that’s okay. Where should I go, then?”
She scrunched up her nose. “Sorry, honey. You booked the room starting tomorrow at noon, so you’ll have to stay somewhere else tonight.”
Knowing full well you booked the room for tonight, you glanced away and said- “Okay. Thank you.”
Cool spring wind wrapped around your bare arms as you trudged into the parking lot. Dustin’s house was nearby, but you didn’t have your bike. It would still be a long walk. You were wearing a t-shirt, from the high school you attended in Lenora Hills.
The main reason you came to Hawkins was to help your brother. Deep down, the only place you would ever feel at home was this town, and at least you got to spend one week in it. Joyce could hardly afford to move all of you to California, and the idea of moving back to Hawkins on your own seemed impossible.
A soft breeze rustled the surrounding trees. Dustin’s house beckoned a few streets away. Swallowing a sigh, you picked up your suitcase and started down the road with a pit in your stomach.
The air was different.
. . .
“Y/N!”
A grin broke out on your face, unstoppable. “Hi!”
Dustin smiled so wide you nearly cringed. His cheeks would be sore all afternoon. Trotting down the porch steps, he wrapped his arms around you and patted your shoulders gingerly.
“This is crazy. What are you doing here? Are you here for Steve?”
Oh, dear god.
You sucked in air. “No! Just…just for me.”
“Well good! I just thought maybe you had planned on visiting him or something.”
You tried to keep the smile painted on your face. It hardly worked. Softly, you shook your head.
You hadn’t spoken to Steve in seven months. When you got to California, it occurred to you to call; ask him what the hell happened at the end of the summer and why you two kept doing whatever it was you were doing. But you didn’t have his number. Surprisingly enough, after all that time, you still didn’t have it. And it wasn’t in the phone books.
Joyce didn’t know it, Jonathan didn’t know it, Will didn’t know it, and El definitely didn’t know it. No one did, so you didn’t call. Neither did he. As the months went by, it was easier to keep thoughts of him out of your mind, but the feelings remained. Ribbons of longing around your ribs, knotted tight. A constant ache. Even when you weren’t thinking of him, he was there.
“Just carrying your suitcase around?” Dustin snickered, motioning to it.
“No, actually. I, um… I’m supposed to be staying at a motel, but they won’t let me in.”
He made a face. “What?”
“The lady said I booked the room for tomorrow instead of tonight.”
“Oh. Did you?”
You shrugged a little, flattening your lips. “No, but…it’s okay.”
Dustin made an incredulous face at you and said- “That’s ridiculous.”
You made a defeated face. “I know.”
“I would tell you to come in, but I’m just leaving, actually.” A smile grew on his face, proud and sly. You must have made some sort of face, because he sprung into a speech like he had been waiting all winter to tell you.
“...and his name is Eddie, and he’s really, really cool. The coolest guy I’ve ever met. And we meet on most weekdays, but tonight is, like, the final round of the campaign, basically? It’s super important. And I’d tell you to just play with us, because we actually needed somebody to take Lucas’s place, but we already got Erica to do it. Sorry.”
“You got Erica to play DND?” you asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Well, that’s nice,” you responded softly. “I’m happy for you. Eddie sounds really cool.”
“He is cool. The club’s called Hellfire. Maybe you could join, if you asked him. He’s kind of intimidating, but I bet he’d take it easy on you.”
You cast him a perplexed smile. “What? Why?”
Dustin’s expression was perfectly nervous. “You know. You’re just…you know. How you are. You know.”
“You know?” you mocked gently. But, whatever he was trying to say; you weren’t really sure.
“Whatever. Just- yeah. You could ask him to let you join and I bet he’d say yes.”
“That would be nice of him,” you responded, dropping your teasing. “Have fun tonight.”
“I will. If you need a place to stay for the night, you might be able to stay here. Just come back later and I’ll let you know. But, uh…you know how my mom is. Where are you going, though? For now?”
“I’ll…” you trailed off, stranded in the street. Where were you going to go? “Did you say Lucas had a basketball game tonight?”
Dustin nodded.
“I’ll go to that.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Really?”
“Yeah,” you started, and stopped yourself before you could say; I bet he would really appreciate seeing a friend in the stands. There was no point in telling Dustin what he probably already knew.
. . .
Lucas made a basket.
The stands erupted around you, a booming symphony of screaming and clapping. A quartet of trumpets cried out, playing his victory. You flinched as the man beside you shot up and howled, pumping his fist in the air. The noise was rattling, but Lucas’s smile was bright as the gym lights, wide as Dustin’s when he had opened his door to see you. A grin crept onto your face and you even cheered- albeit a quiet one.
This was new for you. Doing things alone and not feeling awful about it. There were hundreds of people surrounding you, many of them that you knew, and yet, you cheered anyway. Audible. Noticeable.
That made you smile even harder. When you glanced at the band, you caught a familiar eye. She tore the instrument away from her lips and shouted- “Y/N!”
Your eyebrows lifted, a little stunned. Robin. She beamed at you, then tilted her head backwards and screamed, “Steve!”
A pang of anxiety hit you instantly. When you followed her gaze, you found him. Standing next to an unfamiliar blonde girl with a friendly smile, cheering loudly. Her teeth glinted as she cast him a beaming glance.
He was looking at you. Zeroed in, like there was not a single person there other than you, not even himself. The trumpets faded to a dull hum and the roaring crowd became distant. He wore a soft off-white shirt with buttons on the chest, his arms fuller, his stance taller but somehow humbler. The proud grin on his newly matured face was dissipating as visions of Lucas likely melted away, and his brows flicked up, like he was trying to make a polite expression at you. But all he could do was gawk, it seemed.
He had never looked more like an adult, but he was still beaming at you like he was seventeen; pouring borax over an open flame and singing his skin off just to make you laugh.
The game resumed. You cast Steve a small wave, careful not to look too long, careful to make sure the girl he was with knew you wouldn’t be a problem.
All you saw was her. Not the way he looked at you- the intensity of his stare went right over your head. It didn’t matter, because there was a girl. A new girl. Or had she always been around, and you never noticed?
You turned around and sat down to watch the rest of the game, breathing manually, like you had forgotten how. You had to break that loop; the waiting and wondering. There was no reason to be surprised by Steve Harrington anymore.
. . .
On the walk back to Dustin’s, something ruffled in the trees.
Your head snapped up, and you stopped, whirling. Years living in Hawkins trained you not to be flippant about strange noises. Paused along the road, your heartbeat rose to your ears, thumping there like thunder. Shadows scattered across the forest floor. If there were any out of place, you couldn’t tell. It was too dark, and the trees were too thick.
This was the only part of the walk that was along the interstate. If you could just get back to the sidewalk, you’d feel better. Safer. And the faster you got away from the noise, the better.
You kept walking, suitcase bumping against your shin. Less than three steps later, there was another sound. Then- the slapping of skin against the blacktop.
What followed can only be described in plain terms, for lack of words capable of describing the horror before you; a man you had never seen before, pale and slender, rose ten feet into the air- and his bones snapped.
You screamed and clamped a hand over your mouth. When he fell, your instinct was to lurch forward; reach for him and help. But there was nothing you could do. Moonlight reflected off of the blood dripping down his cheeks, crimson tears staining his lapels.
No demogorgon had ever done anything like this.
You ached to stay and help the stranger but logic told you to run. After a moment, you obeyed. There was nothing you could do. Barreling along the interstate, more noises gathered in the trees, whispering and slithering along the dirt like snakes. Maybe you imagined them. It didn’t matter. In all your life you had only ever been more afraid when Will was missing. No fear would ever match the panic you felt that winter; but this came close.
Light danced along the blacktop. Tears sprung free from your eyes, blaring yellow beams flickering along the road. A car was coming, but it brought you no comfort. It might have been whoever killed that man- though, deep down, you already knew what happened to him couldn’t have been done by any person.
You ducked into the treeline, hovering in the shallow ditch. Puddles of water sprung droplets onto your jeans, staining your elbows and ankles. It smudged your cheek like paint. Stunned into focus, you sat there and waited for the car to pass.
You nearly screamed when it did. Steve!
The burgundy BMW barreled by, going far over the speed limit. If the wine red paint didn’t give him away, the driving did. You clambered out of the ditch and back onto the road with your mouth craned open.
Then you snapped it shut. Oh no.
You couldn’t scream for him. Who would hear you first?
Your feet broke out into a sprint before your brain had thought of it. Running, icy wind smacked your cheeks, nightfall bringing even colder breezes than the pale afternoon. His headlights faded into the distant fog. Your heart thumped like a racehorse in your chest, lungs searing with cold.
Steve’s car disappeared. You kept running.
Two stop signs and one red light later, you saw his car in a parking lot. Relief hit you like a brick and you exhaled in a burst, almost laughing with grief. Your legs wobbled beneath you like sticks as you barreled across the lot, barely stopping to check the neon sign over the brick building. FAMILY VIDEO.
Manners hit you when you slammed into the store, the door jingling shut behind you. You stood up straight and wrapped your arms around your chest. Trying to stop your hands from rattling, trying to stop your sobbing. When the bell jingled, Robin popped out from underneath the front desk.
“Hi,” she said dryly, her eyes elsewhere. “We’re closing in half an hour, but you can look around if you want.”
You swallowed the searing feeling in your throat and choked- “Hey.”
She looked over, brows furrowing. Her eyes widened.
“Y/N?” she breathed.
You meandered forward, setting down your suitcase and pulling at the short sleeves of your t-shirt. Red overhead lights smeared in your vision, tears blotting them to crimson stars. The air in Family Video was cold as ice. Right under an AC vent, you shivered and tried not to sound pathetic when you sniffled- “Are you okay?”
She made a face at you, half-incredulous and half-horrified. “Yeah, of course, but what- what happened?”
A door creaked open at the back of the store and Steve emerged, entering the area behind the desk through a small latched door. He slid a pile of tapes onto the counter. “We need to log these before we can-”
His eyes snagged on yours almost instantly. When they did, he went still as stone. His face went flat; like there was no expression horrified enough to match his thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” you warbled, trying not to cry. You weren’t even sure why you said it. Maybe because you knew how large of a bomb you were about to drop on him.
Steve was moving before you had even finished the ‘I’m’. He hopped over the desk, sliding over the counter and landing before you. Warm hands gravitated to both sides of your neck and squeezed. His palms spanned the length of your neck and jaw; fingers sliding up to pull the hair away from your cheeks, eyes flickering frantically around your face.
“What happened?” he demanded. And then, almost instantly, “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered once more- and then the dam broke. He made a short, soft noise when you started crying. An exasperated gasp, like someone had stuck a needle between his ribs.
“Why are you sorry? Don’t be- are you-”
He grabbed your shoulders and leaned back, taking in your frame. His eyes caught on every smudge and wrinkle, thumb brushing over a mud-covered belt loop. When you sucked in a garbled breath, he shot up.
“Are you okay?” he repeated, enunciating every word.
“Steve-”
“No, I need you to tell me if you’re okay. Alright? Just one time, you have to breathe. I need you to tell me. Are you listening?”
His voice was gentle but firm. It didn’t match his gaze; wide and panicked, glossy with tears you never would have imagined seeing in his eyes. You tried to tell him yes but failed, the word catching in your throat. He exhaled like it hurt and turned over his shoulder.
“Robin, call nine-one-one.”
“Okay, I’m-”
“Now, Robin, do it now.”
You grabbed at his sleeve and pulled him around again. He stumbled before you, taking an impressive effort to hold you upright instead of himself; soft hands sliding up the length of your bare arms.
“Did you see it?” you managed.
“See what, sweetheart?” he breathed out, pained. His brows crossed and uncrossed, trying to solve the puzzle on your face. His voice was so soft it was barely there.
“You didn’t see it?”
“Honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have to- are you hurt?” he prodded gently, trying to simplify his questioning. “Can you tell me that? Did somebody touch you?”
“No,” you sniffled.
He exhaled loudly, eyes rolling up into the back of his head for a moment. Then he removed his left hand from the cap of your shoulder and slid it around the back of your neck, pulling you to him.“Oh, thank god,” he muttered, rambling it off like he hardly noticed himself saying it. Your face fell into his chest and he held it there.
“I’m sorry,” you sobbed.
“Don’t be,” he started. “Don’t be. Alright?”
You could only nod, crying more. He wrapped an arm around your back and squeezed you flat to him, left hand knotting in your hair. His feet walked backwards slowly until he was leaning against the counter, able to drop his jaw in line with your scalp. He murmured, I know, and, you’re good, over and over again until the cops came, even though there was no way to be sure.
Every breath he took buzzed against your cheek, shaking with fear.
. . .
You opened your eyes to find him propped up against the door.
Sunlight steamed in through the closed blinds. Your eyes burned, swollen from crying and stained with tears. Without moving, you watched him, stunned.
This was Steve Harrington’s bedroom.
His eyes were open, fluttering open and shutting slowly. Violet rings encased his eyes. His hair was slightly disheveled, like he had been running his hands through it all night. A small paperback book rested in his lap. A green Family Video vest was draped over the chair, Steve still clad in his beige henley and jeans. He flipped a pencil between his fingers and blinked down at the page.
You were almost too afraid to speak. There was nothing dreamlike about any of it; you were only there because you watched a man die. Still, you could hardly believe it. Any of it. You couldn’t go back to the motel last night, and Steve hovered over you at the police station so much it would hardly have been an option to try and go anywhere else. Not that you would have.
It almost felt too soon to breathe again.
“Are you a sudoku guy?” you whispered.
His head shot up and his eyes flicked to you, wide and warm.
“Huh?” he jolted, mouth barely open.
“Sudoku,” you said, pointing to it in his lap. He stood up, and you straightened out against the headboard, pulling the covers up to your shoulders. The walls were an odd shade of tan, capped by old plaid wallpaper. The carpet was thick and soft. It was an apartment, not a house, and clearly, there wasn’t much he was allowed to change about it.
He glanced down at the book in dismissal and dropped it at the foot of the bed. “I’m awful at it.”
“No...”
He peered at you, like he was afraid his voice would shatter you into a million little pieces. A pit formed in your belly.
“Do you feel okay?”
“Yeah,” you nodded instantly, eager to appear less vulnerable. “Yeah, I feel fine. I felt fine last night, too. I was just scared.”
“Well, yeah,” he nodded, scoffing a bit. Same Steve.
You blinked a few times, swallowing dry air.
“Did you sleep?” you asked.
He made a brief gesture, shrugging and scrunching up his shoulders. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You look…”
He glanced at you and his brows flicked up. “What, huh? I look what?”
You laughed despite yourself and sunk down into the mattress. He didn’t sleep; it was obvious. For a few moments, he just watched you, lips flattening in that signature faux-blank gaze. His pupils darted between yours, down to your nose and back up. His scent was everywhere- on the comforter and in the pillows. In front of you. You were drowning in him. Truthfully, it made you want to curl up and go back to sleep.
“Did your date get home okay?”
You weren’t even sure why you asked. It just slipped out. And, truth be told, you wanted to know if she was sitting in the kitchen waiting for you to come out, or something equally as horrifying.
“My what?”
“The girl you were with at Lucas’s game.”
He poked his head out and then shook it. “Oh, no. You…she’s just a friend of mine. Really. Not a date.”
His tone was genuine, but you knew a lie when you heard one. It was a date; even if he had changed his mind about her.
His brows ticked down. “Hey. What-?”
You felt it then; tears pricking at your eyes. His voice was so soft, so concerned, it only made it worse. You scrunched your eyelids together and rubbed them vehemently, pretending you were just tired.
His hand fell over your covered ankle. The weight was warm, and he kneaded the blanket there gently. Barely.
“Can I take a shower?” you blurted, trying to break the spell you were under. “Please? It’s okay if not, I just…”
I was hiding in a ditch.
He looked at you like you were crazy. “Of course you can. Why would you say it like that?”
“I don’t know what I’m trying to say, just- yeah, of course.”
Your eyes burned again. Hurriedly, you thanked him and ducked behind the door on the far side of the bedroom, grateful to discover it actually was the bathroom.
. . .
Everything felt different.
You were still you, and Steve was still Steve. But everything else had changed. The wires between you were crossed. You passed him in his kitchen to grab your jacket off the counter, and he sucked in a breath, like you had smacked him or stepped on his foot. With a shaky hand, you slipped on your zip-up.
The scent of soap curled into your nose. When you peeled the jacket away from you for a moment, glancing over it, Steve motioned to it.
“I washed it. Sorry- did it shrink, or something?”
“No!” you said. “No, not at all. I just didn’t know…”
You trailed off, jaw locking. This was unfamiliar territory, not even within the realm of things you had dreamed of happening. It felt weird. To be this alone with him.
You weren’t sure how to act. It seemed like he wasn’t, either.
“It smells good,” you shrugged, a little sheepish.
He made a wry face. “It better. Detergent’s expensive.”
You watched him walk to the fridge and open it, those familiar veins in his forearms. He looked different, more adult, but not any less himself. Like this was how he was always supposed to look; warm and safe.
Oh, shut up.
“Thank you,” you said, climbing onto the barstool. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Nah. I like laundry.”
“You do?”
“Uh, sure,,” he mumbled, pouring milk into a bowl with comedic focus. “It smells good.”
He probably only said it because you did. After he set the bowl of milk in front of you, he swiped two cereal boxes from the counter; variants of honey oats and fruit loops.
“Do you like either of these?” Steve asked, holding them up.
You wrinkled your nose at the bowl a little. “You put the milk in first?”
“Don’t even start, Byers. We don’t have time,” he rambled off, shaking his head at you.
Byers. Your heart swelled, and you laughed, not stopping to think about it. Too pleased at the sound of your nickname to even think about how long it had been since he called you it. Steve did, too- soft and sheepish.
“Start what?” you retorted.
He rolled his eyes. “You know what.”
. . .
The case spiraled.
There was another body, a boy named Fred; one of Nancy’s friends. They worked together on the school paper. Any hopes you had of convincing her to forgive Jonathan or spend any time with you were gone, but you could hardly blame her. You saw what happened to that poor man. What would it have been like to see one of your friends snapped in half, bled dry before your eyes?
Besides, she wasn't focused on Jonathan. Steve was in town.
You tried not to think about it, but it was almost impossible.
He still called her ‘Nance’. You convened in Max’s neighborhood after meeting her at the site of Fred’s death, and he said it.
“Hey, Nance.”
She shot him a small wave. You stood there behind him on the driver's side of the BMW, listening to Max and Dustin bicker. It had been years since you had to watch the two of them talk face-to-face.
You’d always assumed, really, that there were two reasons Steve abandoned you at the Snow Ball. One being that he was embarrassed to be seen with you, and two, being; he was still in love with Nancy.
Who wouldn’t be? She-
“Y/N,” Steve beckoned.
Your gaze jolted up. Cool spring wind wrapped around your ankles, your jeans slightly too short for your legs. You wound your jacket around your shoulders and replied-
“What? I’m sorry.”
“We’re gonna’ head out,” he said, lingering between the open driver’s door. “Everything alright?”
No, not at all.
“Yeah,” you nodded, breathing out and adding a smile. “Yeah, sorry.”
You tried to call home that day, right after lunch. Joyce didn’t pick up. You called again, twice, three times, nine times, and nobody picked up. There was hardly any time to be worried about your brothers, because people were dying in Hawkins, right before your eyes. Of course, you made room. The weight of their safety was on your chest now, too, a constant unanswered fear.
And then there was Eddie Munson, falsely accused of murder.
You felt awful for him. When the five of you found him, he was hiding under a tarp. Steve startled him, and Eddie pinned him to the wall with a blade at his throat.
A surprised noise burst from you, and you lurched forward instinctively. Robin grabbed your sleeve and hissed your name. Eddie’s gaze snapped towards you. And then, like your face had been all it took to prove Steve was harmless, he held his hands up and said-
“Alright. But watch yourself.”
The back of Steve’s head collided with the wall when Eddie released him, eliciting a jarring clang. You reached hesitantly for the bruised back of his neck. But before you could touch him, he arched his arm around your frame with his back to you, leisurely shielding you from Eddie and his nervous pacing.
Your heart thumped in your ears. A drop of blood beaded at the bottom of his neck. When you swiped it away, he sucked in a breath.
“What are you doing?”
He whispered it instantly, like you had shocked him. Barely glancing over his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, you just- your head is bleeding. I was try-”
“No, it’s okay,” he rambled off. “S’okay. Sorry.”
“Why are you-?”
The conversation faded into silence as Dustin began talking about more important things; the Upside Down and Eddie’s introduction to it. Chrissy’s death. There were thousands of things more important to talk about that week, which made it easy to forget the way Steve’s sheets smelled just like him, or how he kneaded the back of your neck at the police station while you waited in the lobby; smoothing out the fear you held there and replacing it with his constant vigilance.
But only when you weren’t alone. Back at his apartment; it was nearly impossible to ignore.
You had just finished repacking your suitcase in his bedroom. The blinds were open just barely, the lamp on his bedside table bathing the room in a golden glow. Everything smelled like him, or, if it had no smell- looked like him. He made the bed after you got up; blankets meticulously tucked under the pillows, but still wrinkled, from where he probably got frustrated and yanked on them to cover the mattress. His Family Video vest was draped over the doorknob, like he wore it so often there was no reason to put it in the closet.
The lights were off when you came into the kitchen.
“Hey,” Steve mumbled, holding a small plastic tin that was covered in frost. “I was gonna heat this up for you. It’s, like, orange chicken or something. But it’s kind of ancient, so I don’t know.”
He was reading the label intently, not looking at you.
You smiled. “That’s okay. Thanks for offering, I’ll, um…I’ll get out of your way.”
“Do you want to order- you’ll what?”
He glanced up; the first half of his sentence a nonchalant ramble, the second a pinging interrogation. You straightened out a little bit, surprised.
“I just meant I’ll go back to the motel. You don’t have to get me food, or anything, I wouldn’t ask you to. You already let me sleep here.”
You laughed a little at the end of the sentence, trying to dispel the obvious discontent between his brows. His shoulders softened slightly and he leaned against the counter, resting his palms on the laminate, but that frustrated stare remained.
“You want to go back to the motel?” he asked. He looked soft in the light of the kitchen; blue polo snug over the breadth of his shoulders. His hair fell into his eyes a bit, longer and maybe a little blonder than before. Still Steve. And yet, with every tiny change in his appearance or demeanor, you only loved him more.
“You gotta’ stop doing that, Byers,” he nudged, voice soft as silk.
You blinked, drawn out of your thoughts.
“Doing what?”
“Zoning out on me.”
“I don’t zone out on you,” you retorted immediately. Lied.
His next words were a string of uttered ramblings, barely audible, while he fumbled around the kitchen and put the orange chicken back in the freezer.
“Fucking- drives me insane. All the time.”
His voice was strained but gentle. He was only ever sharp with you when the argument didn’t matter. When you both were bickering uselessly. This was…different. This was him trying to bicker uselessly, but saying something real instead. What were you supposed to do? Pretend he made sense, that all of his nervous mumbling had meant nothing since your sophomore year?
“What do you mean?” you asked.
He froze with his back to you. Then he shut the freezer and glanced slowly over his shoulder.
“What?”
He looked shocked. You never asked him about these things; these little things. Goddamnit, Byers. This sweater really is nice, you know. Of course I want to dance with you, don’t be ridiculous. Oh, you’re working here this summer? This job is going to kill me. Can’t you stay here by the car, where it’s safe?
All the little things. The way he would whip around when you looked at him, like he couldn’t handle it. Running a hand over his eyes every time you said something that worried him. Acting like someone had stabbed him every time you cried.
If he didn’t love you, if he really felt nothing for you; then why should explaining his behavior be so hard?
You blinked at each other for a moment. He had this look on his face; that faux-blank one that he used whenever words were failing. Whenever he was afraid to use them.
A similar fear overcame you and you backed down, rattled.
“Nothing, I just couldn’t hear you. Sorry.”
Still stuck in that awkward, twisted position, one hand gripping the freezer handle, Steve said-
“You do know, don’t you?”
Every word was chopped, a struggle. Only audible because he forced it to be. After there was only stillness; in his stance and on his face, fear and freedom at the same time. Like he had finally revealed something, only you weren’t sure what it was.
“No?” you whispered, voice breaking.
You glanced away, nervous. Steve suddenly straightened out and let go of the freezer.
“I’ll take the couch, yeah?” he hollered, already in the other room. You followed him with your eyes as your heart sped to a panicked pace. “Stay here.”
You blinked. “All week?”
“All week.”
He tossed a blanket over the old green couch and turned to you, hands on his hips.
“There’s a murderer on the loose, Byers. I don’t want you sleeping in a motel.”
Thump, thump. Your pulse was loud as a drum. Staring at him. He opened his mouth with that trademark exhaustion, probably to say, you’re doing it again.
“It’s more of a demon than a murderer,” you commented uselessly. Afraid of anything, of everything that could come next.
He got this weird look in his eyes then, all dazed and worried.
“Would you just stay here, please?” he begged.
It was the saddest sound you ever heard.
. . .
You stayed with Steve. One night later, Max stayed with him, too.
Taking her home after what happened at the cemetery felt wrong. Her eyes were bloodshot red, each of her breaths a stuttered effort. Seeing her hovering above the ground like that topped the fear you felt the night of Lucas’s basketball game; knowing what would come next. The feeling of her pale hands grappling at your sleeves when she came back down, grasping for someone, anyone, was heartbreaking.
Dustin and Lucas weren’t allowed to stay out, and sending her home with either of them was out of the question, too. The idea popped into your head well before Steve offered. But when he did, it sounded obvious.
“Max, can you just share my bed with Y/N?”
You were in the passenger seat of his BMW, worriedly eyeing Max and the boys in the backseat. You met Steve’s gaze there when he asked her, that familiar glint of concern in his eyes. Your heart swelled heavy as a bowling ball.
“S’fine,” she murmured. Lucas was cradling her head at an awkward angle against his shoulder, clearly desperate to be holding her, however he could. She didn’t ask what Steve meant, or ask how long he would have her; she just trusted him to take care of her.
A stray tear rolled down your cheek just thinking of it.
“I’ll sleep on the floor, Max,” you said softly. “The bed is yours.”
She said nothing. Maybe she wasn’t able to, but the tangled expression on her face uncoiled a bit. You smiled at her in what you hoped was a comforting fashion, heart fluttering against your ribs like a bird.
She took to you that night. Max had never been as brash with you as the others, but she opened up once you got back to the apartment. Or, rather- cracked open. Steve hovered behind the two of you, far enough away to give her space, close enough to catch her if she fell as you guided her to the bathroom. Max leaned against the sink and shivered.
“Can you help me?” she whispered.
You could have wept at the sound of it. “Of course. What do you need?”
She sniffled, and her eyes pointed to the bathtub. “I feel like I can’t...lift my arms.”
“Oh,” you breathed. More of a broken noise than a reply. “Of course. I can help with your clothes, too- is that okay? Do you want me to?”
She nodded, lips crumpling into a soundless sob. Before you shut the door, you turned to Steve. His face was awfully hurt, stained by anger and unwarranted guilt.
“Holler if you need me,” he said softly.
“I will.”
His brows fluttered together as he looked at you. “Don’t cry, Byers.”
His words were gentle, entirely commandless. Like he said it more for himself than for you. You cast him the tiniest, tiredest smile and shut the door.
Later that night, Max sat at the foot of Steve’s bed as you dried her hair, in a pair of your borrowed pajamas. Long red strands ended in dripping water, blotting Steve’s comforter and sheets as you squeezed a fistful of her hair in a towel. Soon, there was a knock at the bedroom door.
You glanced at Max. “Are you okay with him coming in?”
She nodded, and you got up to open the door.
Steve filtered in slowly, leaning quietly in the doorway as you got back to drying Max’s hair. When you grabbed a brush from your suitcase, he finally spoke.
“Feeling okay?” he asked.
Max sniffed. “Fine.”
“You need anything? Water?”
“I guess.”
He turned instantly and sped to the kitchen, like a soldier at attention. You watched him grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with ice like her life depended on it. Sweet. You snatched your eyes away when he came back and continued brushing, careful not to tug on any knots.
Steve held it out to her, in front of both of you. Her hand rattled as she reached for it. For a moment, it seemed like she would just give up. Her other hand floated up at her side, tentative, like every movement felt unfamiliar.
Then, gently; Steve took that free hand in his and wrapped the glass of water in her other, clamping her other palm slowly around the glass. He watched her intently with a tiny knot between his brows.
“Good?” he asked, holding her hands in his.
Max nodded, clearly embarrassed, and snatched the glass away. “Thanks.”
It took everything in you not to stare at him in awe as he retreated to the doorway.
“I’ll be out here,” he said choppily, “on the couch. If you…if you need anything. Just holler.”
The two of you locked eyes. His were glossy as marbles, his expression more rattled those past few days than you had ever seen it in the past few years. He made that face at you- the flat-lipped, faux-blank one. You wondered what he was thinking behind the mask.
“Can you both stay in here?”
Your focus shot to Max. She glanced over her shoulder, water staining the soft gray sleeves of your sleep shirt.
Steve poked his head out. “What’d you say?”
“Can you both sleep in here,” she repeated, a little terse. “On the floor, or something.” Then she glanced at you. “And can you stay up here?”
The ‘with me’ was silent. You did your best not to weep at the sight of her face and nodded enthusiastically. Of course, you obliged. She chose the right side of the bed closest to the window and curled up instantly, facing the blinds with shaking shoulders. You laid next to her under the covers, careful not to crowd her, but with a hand draped over the top of her pillow. If she looked up, she would see you there.
Eventually, her trembling stopped and she fell asleep. Relief poured over you. It had been nearly two hours since you all laid down, and you could finally move a bit- placing your other arm on top of the nightstand. It had fallen asleep squished into your side, but you were too afraid to move it while she was dozing off.
Steve groaned on the floor. Hesitant, you leaned over the bed, squinting down at him in the darkness.
“You okay?” you whispered.
His eyes popped open, frantic gaze flickering up at you from his floor bound blanket cocoon. A wry strand of chestnut hair fell into his swollen eyes.
“I was sleeping,” he mumbled.
“No, you weren’t,” you retorted.
You had been avoiding each other. Not avidly, or even intentionally. But speaking after what happened last night in the kitchen felt wrong. There was so much you missed there, so much that he missed. The wires between you were even more tangled than before, but you had no idea how to fix it.
You do know, don’t you?
KNOW WHAT! You wanted to scream. But he seemed disappointed when you said no- like you had done something wrong. Prying made you feel even worse.
So you ignored it; as the two of you often did.
Steve sniffed. “Shut up.”
You bit back a laugh, not apt to let it out in the first place. Max’s warm shadow at your side was a constant reminder of the danger you were facing. It was still crazy to you that everyone had survived the one lone demogorgon in 1983. Fighting a mind-warping phantom who could kill you from miles away seemed nearly impossible.
“My back hurts,” Steve muttered.
You glanced down, brows drawn. “Do you want another pillow?”
“No, keep yours.”
You blinked. “I didn’t offer you mine.”
“You were going to.”
A tiny grin rippled over your face. “You know me so well,” you teased.
A genuine smile grew on his lips, slow, and then all at once.
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
His face made your chest hurt.
“She seem okay?” he asked next, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glanced at Max fondly, happy to see her completely still.
“Yeah. She fell asleep.”
“Good.” He breathed in slow. “Fucking awful.”
“I know.”
“She must have been ter-”
Just then, Max stirred. A tiny, whining sound fell from her lips as she rolled over in Steve’s bed. Your brows drew in instant worry and you sat up, following her movements with hazy eyes. The world was completely blue outside the window, varnished by a television-like haze. Her outline was fuzzy.
She settled in beside you, then- her head on your pillow. As you sank down, hesitantly wrapping an arm around her shoulders, you noticed Steve had sat up and was leaning against the nightstand with a worried stare.
“Is she okay?”
“I think,” you nodded, patting her hair down. You stroked softly; afraid to go too far, to give her too much. You never imagined she would be vulnerable like this. Maybe she never felt safe enough.
“Yeah,” you added, scanning the length of her frame beneath the blankets. “She’s okay.”
Steve stared at you.
“Huh,” he mumbled. That one huh, the huh that meant I’m thinking something and I’m not going to say it.
Annoyance reared through you.
“What?” you practically snapped.
He smiled with his mouth closed, eyes still on Max.
“You would be a wonderful mom,” he remarked sheepishly. A little sarcastically, but only because the notion was so glaringly obvious he didn’t even need to say it.
The comment had your hands buzzing. “Really?”
He wrinkled up his cheeks. “Of course.”
You glanced back at Max, limbs like jello. “Why?”
He scoffed.
“Don’t even ask me that.”
“Why!”
“It’s obvious, Byers. Don’t play dumb.”
You glared at him. “I never play dumb.”
His gaze softened, a thin crease of sadness between his brows. “I know.”
You gazed at each other. He was fuzzy in the midnight light, too; but his resolve was hard, firm lines around the lean angles of his shoulders and chest. There was something statue-like about his posture. Like you would fade away if he moved.
“I hate that you’re here,” he breathed suddenly.
“What?”
“I’m just- fuck me,” he murmured, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He scrubbed them and then sighed. “This is so fucked. All of it.”
“I know,” you replied instantly, desperate for him to get to the point. Horrified.
“I wish you’d stayed in California for break. It’s the first time in a year anything’s happened in Hawkins, and it happens when you’re back. It happens in front of you. I hate it. I fucking hate it, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
For a moment, all you could do was stare. He stared down at his lap, defeated, but mostly tense. Rigid with anger in that familiar snappy way he always was.
“I’m…” you started, unsure. He didn’t even look up.
You sucked in a breath and let the words fall out.
“You’ve done plenty,” you whispered. “You went to the police station with me. You let me stay here. You’re letting Max stay here. You’ve done more than enough.”
He shook his head, but his gaze flicked up, now focused on your fingers where they softly patted Max’s hair.
“I want to do more,” he whispered, like he remembered she was sleeping. “I have to do more. I’m losing my fucking mind,” he murmured, head dropping back onto the nightstand.
You peered down at him, stunned into stillness. He was so close. The freckles on his nose were pinpricks in the dark, long lashes fluttering as his full brows drew in concern. You didn’t mean to stare; but you had to. And then, when you finally worked up the gull to say something, he sat up.
“I shouldn’t have dumped that on you. Shit. I’m sorry.”
“No,” you shook your head, replying softly. He glanced over at the sound of it, before you could finish your sentence, and your noses came so close you felt the warmth of his skin ghost over yours.
You both inhaled. Frozen. Your hand stilled on Max’s head as Steve stared at you unblinking, mouth slowly falling open as his gaze teetered between both of your eyes. He shook his head at you slowly. The moment seemed to last for an hour and one second all the same.
“Byers,” he breathed out, the tiniest cry behind it. “You deserve so much more.”
His breath fanned over your nose. You tensed to keep from shivering.
“Than what?” you dared to ask.
His gaze fell to your nose for a long time. “Than everything,” he replied, a little dumbfounded.
His pupils darted to your lips for the shortest second, and you saw it there in his mirror-like gaze that what he had in mind was not what he said. Jarred, too tired to overthink what he really meant, you sunk down into the mattress and leaned towards Max.
You felt Steve’s eyes on you as you tried to sleep, on your fingers as they weaved through her hair. You fell asleep with them on you. In the morning, there was no way to be sure whether he looked at you all night; but he had those same purple rings beneath his eyes from the first night he stayed awake watching you, sleepless in his own home.
. . .
There was a gate to the Upside Down inside Lover’s Lake.
Somewhere buried at the bottom, glowing red like an open wound. Bleeding Hawkins. You came upon it in the forest the next night while police searched the woods for Eddie, an old boat lapping against the shore.
“Will you watch the kids?” Steve asked gruffly. You glanced up where you knelt on the bank, trying to push the boat into the water.
“Right now?”
“Yeah. While we’re gone.”
Eddie clambered into the boat beside you, ungracefully helping Nancy and Robin slip onto the old deck. You blinked up at Steve, hesitant and a little angry.
He hissed suddenly. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t…with your eyes, don’t do that.”
He rambled it off like it hurt. You sat there and ‘did the thing with your eyes’ for a moment more- you looked up at him. You had to, you were sitting on the ground. You weren’t even doing it on purpose, when suddenly, he crouched down in front of you and came close to your ear.
“I can’t do what I need to do when you’re here,” he pleaded, Steve-like and snappy. Heart wrenching, nonetheless. “Do you…does that make sense to you? I can’t do this. You can’t be here, or I won’t get this done.”
“Why?” you begged. Afraid for him to throw himself in harm's way for the thousandth time.
“All I’m thinking about is you,” he strained. “I’ll get everybody else killed, cus’ all I’ll be thinking about is you. Walking around the Upside Down, marching through hell. Do you understand me?”
His tone was sharp but not angry. He was afraid. He was telling the truth.
You blinked at him, almost level with his eyes.
“That’s what you need?” you whispered.
“Yes,” he nodded instantly. “Yeah, sweetheart. That’s what I need.”
You could have smacked him. He had called you that more than once now; sweetheart. Like he knew it would get you.
You stood up. His nose brushed over your ribs and the top of your thighs, nearly knocking him over. He shut his eyes and went perfectly still.
You left to stand by Max.
. . .
The next time you saw Steve his stomach was slashed.
You nearly threw up. Your heart was beating in your eye sockets, blaring in your head. He was cradling Nancy in his arms. Vecna got her, he said, but she was fine. She would be fine, she wasn’t dead. Everyone was crying but Steve.
Back at his apartment, you offered to help him dress the wounds.
“No,” he shook his head. “No. You can’t.”
“Can’t?” you repeated as he labored to the bathroom. And he responded with this awful look; defeated and guilty, but most of all, yearning.
“Can’t,” he nodded, practically mocking himself.
He slept on the couch instead of on the floor beside you.
. . .
Eddie hotwired an RV.
That day was just as dismal, but a little more exciting. You stopped by the gun store to buy weapons for your expedition into the Upside Down, wandering around for a while until your eyes landed on an enormous mallet. The dull metal shined in the fluorescent lights overhead as Robin walked by.
“Oh shit, Byers.”
You glanced over. “What?”
She smirked. “Nothing. Just looking at your mallet.”
You smiled a little. “Should I get it?”
“Of course.”
You laughed, but her gaze was already elsewhere. As you turned to follow it, you saw a redheaded girl behind a few shelves of bullets, a boy leaning down to kiss her nose. You squinted at the pair. Does she like one of them?
When you glanced back at Robin, the sting in her eyes was obvious.
“Oh, Robin,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes shot to you, a little wide.
“What did you say?”
Panic shot through you. “I just said I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“You know?” she gushed, stepping towards you. “Who told you? Steve?”
You blinked at her. “Know what?”
She blinked back. And then, just like that, it locked into place. She stared at you expectantly as realization flooded through you. Of course. For a moment, you thought about lying to her, saying you knew all along or something corny like that to make her feel better. Ultimately, what you said was probably best.
“No, actually,” you replied quietly. “But I do now.”
“Oh, fuck-”
“No, no. Robin. I love you. It’s great. It wouldn’t matter to me either way, but I’m…I’m sorry I accidentally sprung that on you. I didn’t know, but I do now, and I promise I won’t say a word to anyone. If you don’t want me to.”
She stared at you in disbelief. “You won’t?”
“Of course not.” You smiled a bit, unsure of her reaction. “My opinion doesn’t matter, but I’m…it’s great,” you settled on. A bit nervous. “It’s great, and I love you. And I’m sorry. That I found out.”
It’s a moment of choppy apologies and poor congratulations. But Robin sighed like you lifted a boulder from her shoulders.
“No. Don’t be sorry. This is great. This is fantastic,” she beamed. “For a second I thought you might have remembered.”
“Remembered what?” you blinked.
“Just…” Her face went pale. “Shit.”
“Robin-”
“I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about that.”
You opened your mouth to beg for more when Erica breezed by you and whispered, “We’re leaving. Now.”
“Why?” Robin muttered.
“Jason is here.”
. . .
“I’m coming.”
Steve stared at you from the opposite side of Eddie’s front lawn.
“I am begging you to do literally anything other than that.”
You did it anyway.
The plan called for you to join Steve, Eddie, Nancy, Robin and Dustin in the Upside Down; so you would do it. Someone had to be there to run between groups, to relay information, to join whoever fell behind. The plan called for you to be there, plain and simple.
What Steve failed to understand even after all of your years together was that you worried about him just as much as he worried about you.
He was guiding the group of you- Nancy and Robin included- up the front porch steps to Victor Creel’s old house when you felt it. A cold, spindling feeling crawling up the back of your neck as you entered the foyer, climbing up to the second floor. You wondered if this was what Will felt like when the Mind Flayer picked at his brain.
As if summoned by your thoughts, the gelatinous vines snaking up the walls of the Creel house shot out like tentacles and seized Robin’s throat.
“STEVE!” she screamed.
All three of you lunged for her. More vines shot out, wrapping around Nancy’s neck and pinning her to the wall. Sense finally slammed into you as you pulled your mallet from your backpack.
Another wet cord leapt for Steve. You reared your mallet overhead, ready to bash it into the wall; and suddenly you were surrounded by metal.
You sunk down as your legs folded beneath you. The walls swam and swirled around you, the color of steel pipes and aluminum cans. Steel walls. Where in the Upside Down were there steel walls?
A weight landed on your left shoulder. You should have flinched- but you couldn’t. Everything was heavy. You could hardly see.
“Still there?” a voice rasped. It clicked instantly, a switch flipped in your brain. You knew him anywhere.
Steve? You tried to call for him. Instead, something else left your lips.
“Yeah.”
It was a strangled, exhausted noise. Slurred and messy. You thought to panic but couldn’t. Your thoughts weren’t your own, your feelings weren’t even your own. Like you were witnessing your own life from the outside.
That weight on your shoulder turned, and a nose nudged into the side of your neck.
“Too short,” Steve muttered. “For me to sit like this.”
“Why?”
“You are. Not comfy.”
“Huh…”
The swaying of the walls seemed to clear slightly the longer you sat, so when you glanced down, you finally saw the floor. Your ankles were tied to a chair, a little bruised. A graze covered your shin. In your lap was a mass of blue fabric. And behind you- a mass of lean limbs and chestnut hair.
There was another ankle beside yours, pale and freckled. Not Steve, but Robin. You saw a wisp of her blonde hair out of the corner of her eye. She was sniffling, crying. Happy tears, you realized. She laughed a bit and sighed in relief. Something must have happened. What happened? What had she said?
Robin. Just that day, you found out Robin liked Vicky. Is that what she was happy about? Telling the two of you?
But this didn’t happen that day. This had never happened. Not that you could remember.
A door flung open beside you and a man marched in, clad in heavy green canvas. A soldier. He reached for Robin, untying her and plucking her from her chair. You and Steve both screamed for her as she was dragged away, the door slamming shut in her absence.
His head lolled onto your shoulder again. Your vision was pretty clear now, only your thoughts and movements still painstakingly sluggish.
A tear rolled down your cheek. You sniffled in dry, sterile air. Steve breathed out.
“Don’t,” he whined.
“Don’t what?” you managed.
“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
“I’m not,” you sniffled.
“You are,” he strained. His weight shifted, further down your shoulder. His face was buried in your hair. “I can’t. Don’t.”
“Steve…”
“Please don’t. Please don’t.”
His words were slurred, strained. Like he too was swallowing a knot in his throat. You swallowed yours and nodded, diluted panic coursing through you like molasses.
“I hate feeling like this,” you wheezed.
“I thought…you would.”
“Why?”
“You are so good.”
“At what?”
“Everything.”
There were no lies between the two of you now; only delayed responses, thoughts rolling in one second too late. Both of you, open books. You should have been relieved, but you were trapped in a Russian bunker underneath a mall.
Oh.
Your body was nonexistent in that moment; a claw wrapped around your mind. But if you could have, you would have gasped. This was what happened that night at Starcourt.
You let the memory play out.
“I don’t want to do this,” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks.
“Do what?” Steve said into your ear. His head pressed against yours, backs flat to each other.
“I don’t want to say it.”
“Say what?”
You started to cry again, audibly. You couldn’t help it. You were so afraid you would blurt it out, then and there; that you loved him. There were tears everywhere and your legs shook as you sobbed. It was miserable. Steve cursed and yanked on the ropes around his wrists. You felt it behind your back.
“What are you doing?” you sobbed.
“I can’t-”
“Just stop!” you cried. “They won’t break. You’ll hurt your hands.”
For a moment, it was quiet in the metal room.
And then Steve cracked.
His shoulders convulsed as he cried, the chairs creaking between you as he dropped his head down to his chest. You had never heard Steve cry before. It was quiet, unpitched, timid and sheepish. Like allowing himself to cry was a reason to be crying.
He sat up and you felt his hair brush against yours.
“This is my fault,” he choked. You tried to whip your head around, horrified at the inclination, but you could barely move.
“Of course it’s not,” you slurred. “Steve.”
“No, not- fuck, not this, I mean-” He sucked in a breath. “You. You are my fault.”
He spoke again before you could get your mouth open.
“I feel so much for you I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t do…anything to…you’re just everywhere. All the time. You’re everywhere and you’re all- you’re all I can think about and I let you down.”
“No you didn’t,” you lied.
“I did. I left you, at that dance. And you were crying.” He stopped, and sucked in a warbled breath. “You were crying.”
“It’s o-”
“I hate it when you cry. I can’t…you should never be crying over…about me. You should never…there’s no reason.”
You stared at the side of his head. “Of course there is.”
Steve let out another sob.
“I just love you,” he choked.
His head dropped onto your shoulder. The bruise around his eye was swollen and raw, streaked with tears. A stream of blood fell from his nose as he peeled open his good eye to look at you; haunted and pleading.
Steve breathed out. “I just really love you.”
You blinked down at him, one of your tears landing on his cheek. “You do?”
He scoffed painfully, and it moved your chairs over an inch. “So much. All I think about. And it’s- it’s okay. You don’t have to…y’know.”
“No,” you managed. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to pretend to love me, Byers,” he slurred.
A fresh wave of horror washed over you, waking you up slightly. You dropped your head onto Steve’s shoulder and stared at him, in awe of the boy before you. His eyes scrunched up at your sudden weight, pleased and pained.
“I know…I’m not enough for you. You should have more. S’why I…I never wanted you to know I liked you. Didn’t want you to feel bad.”
“Steve…” you whispered.
“I know what you think about me,” he murmured, letting his eyes fall shut.
“What do I think about you?”
He let out a long breath.
“I’m Steve,” he said. Then he laughed, like he knew it was stupid. “Your Steve. Stupid and…careless. With Nance. With you. Your Steve, the one you know. Speed of sound Steve.”
“Speed of sound Steve?” you wheezed, almost overjoyed. He nodded, a few more strangled sobs reverberating down the hard plane of his chest.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I did that for you. I messed up…the grade. For you. I wrote another speech the night before and just…threw it away.”
“Why?”
“So you wouldn’t be nervous.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” you strained, the words heavy on your lips.
“Course I did.” He grinned a little bit. “Had to do it for you.”
The question bubbled out of you before you could stop it.
“What about Nancy?”
He made a regretful face, brows crossing.
“I loved Nancy. But you are…you. You’re you.”
“I’m me?”
“Yeah,” he said, turning to face you. You strained your eyes to look at each other, welling up with tears all over again. “You’re you, Byers, and it’s always been you. I knew it the whole time.” He sniffled, and his expression crumpled. “I am really in love with you.”
“Why did you leave me?” you dared. “At the dance?”
“I wanted you to have better. You should have better than me. I thought it was…right thing.” A tear beaded in his bruised eye. “Wrong, I know. But I didn’t…know what to do. I figured I would just…fuck it up even more.”
You blinked at each other.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Your brows knit together.
“I do love you,” you pressed, forcing the words out. They weighed more than the two of you combined. “Steve. I love you.”
He hardly had enough strength left to smile.
“Really?” he replied. Prayed.
“Yeah. I love you, Steve. Speed of sound Steve.”
He snorted.
“My Steve. I love you. Always have.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I do.”
You stared at each other. The ghost of a grin rippled over his lips, every muscle in his face likely sore beyond belief. Then he breathed out, oh, fuck, and started crying all over again.
The memory at Starcourt wound to a close. Dustin and Erica came for you eventually, Robin close behind. When they untied you, you both clattered to the floor for a moment in a heap of warm limbs and salty tears. Steve slipped a poorly aimed hand under your head to keep you from hitting the floor and slung you over his chest; draped over him like a blanket.
He wrapped his arms around you and cried some more. You felt him smiling against your ear; ridiculously and incandescently happy as Hawkins collapsed around you.
Collapsed.
. . .
The Creel house snapped back into view.
You felt the long spindles of Vecna’s fingers retreat from your mind as you wheezed, exhaling loud. You were in another room, somewhere upstairs; an attic brimming with newly lit fire. Leaning against a warm body. Robin and Nancy stood at the top of the stairs, rambling to each other, crying out when they saw your eyes open.
“It’s done?” you breathed.
A hand wrapped around your far shoulder and spun you like a rag doll. When you steadied Steve, he gripped your forearms, steadying you in return.
“You were hovering,” he blurted. “I dragged you up here, Byers. What the fuck was that? Are you-”
“I’m fine,” you breathed. “I’m fine.”
“Why were you-? What happened?”
He clamped his hands down on either side of your face. You rocked to the side and stood upright again, wrapping your hands around his wrists. He held you there, and you held him back, peering into dark wells of his eyes. Knowing.
It almost made you smile; the idea of an all-powerful monster trapping you in a memory to keep you from splitting his evil vines in half.
“You bashed that tentacle in half,” Steve scrambled to say.
Oh!
“Oh, it- I did?”
“Yeah, right before you…whatever it is. Saved my life, probably.”
“Robin and Nancy are fine.”
“Yeah, because I got them down,” he retorted.
You blinked into the mirror of his eyes, overcome with adoration. It had always been there, but allowing yourself to feel it wasn’t so scary anymore.
Steve’s brows flicked down. His resolve cracked.
“Don’t ever do that shit again. Alright? Ever again. I thought I was going to have a heart atta-”
You wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed. His jacket and bag slipped down over his shoulders a bit, the force almost knocking him over. He steadied himself and gripped your waist like that wasn’t an option; leaning into you, collapsing into you like you did to him. His chin dropped to the top of your head. You held each other up, his scent curling into your nose. Safe in the most dangerous place on Earth.
You buried your head in his chest for a moment and he exhaled, nose dipping to your forehead. He breathed you in.
You pulled your head up, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then his lips.
His grip tightened around you as he went stiff. It was soft- everything about him was soft, and his mouth moved to kiss you back before it seemed his brain had even thought of it. He tasted clean, warm like summer. For a moment, he was completely still. Steve opened his eyes and blinked down at you, pulling away slightly.
“Are you serious?” he pleaded, voice cracking. Like you could break him in two with just a glance. His eyes were glassy with tears.
“Yes,” you managed.
He breathed out hard. “Byers- I mean- if you’re not sure, you can’t-”
“I’m serious. I have never been more serious about anything in my entire life.”
“You’re serious,” he retorted in disbelief.
“Yes, Steve-”
His fingers threaded into your hair and pulled gently, like he was feeling to make sure you were tangible and not just a mirage as he pressed his lips to yours. Locked in. His hands flew back to your neck and pressed there, the tension still in his brows seeming to disperse at the feeling of your pulse against his palms. Dizzying warmth flooded over you as the tips of his fingers cupped your ears, hot as irons against your icy skin.
“I love you,” he breathed suddenly. Letting go of him felt like snapping out of a mold. “And when you asked me about the girl I went to Lucas’s game with, I thought you…when I said we weren’t dating, you looked like you didn’t believe me. I meant it. I mean, it was a date, I’m sure she was nice, but I was only going on dates because you weren’t here. You know? You are the love of my life. You know, don’t you? You know?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, trying not to cry. There was no reason to anymore. “I know.”
“That’s what-”
He paused, staring at you. Then he kissed you again, like it couldn’t wait. You gripped the collar of his jacket to steady yourself, feeling him tilt his neck up so there was room for you to lean on him.
“That’s what I was trying to ask you,” he said, pulling away from you again. “At my place. I asked you, you know, don’t you? That’s what I was asking.”
“I didn’t know then,” you replied.
“But you do now?”
“Yes,” you laughed.
His face was perfectly serious. “You love me?” And then- “Fuck. You don’t have to. I’m sorry.”
“Steve,” you strained. “Of course I do.”
“You do?”
“I d-”
He kissed you again. You never considered it; that Steve might have been just as afraid of loving you as you were of loving him. Your teeth knocked into his, and instead of letting go, he positioned his hands on the side of your face to pull you back just slightly; enough to keep you from feeling the sting. His palms smashed your hair into your eyes. There were tentacles on the wall and a pile of demon ashes behind you, melting through the floor.
My first kiss, you realized. But you would tell him that later.
. . .
You picked at your yellow gown as they called the name of the graduate before you.
Clapping rang through the auditorium as they crossed the stage and you climbed up the stairs behind them, hands shaking at your sides. A drop-down projector screen wavered in the light breeze of the afternoon, hanging from two poles driven into the turf of the Lenora Hills High football field. The urge to look for your family was strong, but the urge to look directly at your feet was stronger.
The announcer cleared his throat.
“Y/N Byers.”
You forced yourself up the stairs. Sunlight reared in your eyes as you bounded across the carpeted stage, eager to be off as soon as possible. The principal handed you your diploma and smiled, shaking your hand so hard you thought you might keel over.
The sound of bat-like screeching snagged in your ears.
When you looked up, Joyce was holding up a sign with your name on it in the front row of the bleachers, screaming bloody murder. Behind her, Jonathan hollered, looping his arms under Will’s shoulders and yanking him into the air. He pumped his fist shakily.
Beside them, a tall and chestnut-haired boy cupped his hands around his mouth and howled- “YES, BYERS!”
Steve Harrington. Your boyfriend.
Your face cracked open into a smile when you met them afterward. Joyce took her time with you; wrapping her arms around you tight and knocking you around like a buoy in rough waters. When she let go, Will tugged at your sleeve, and you hugged him quickly, certain he was ready to get out of the crowd.
When you let go of him, Jonathan smiled. He hugged you tight and patted your shoulders.
“I do love you,” he remarked. “Even if I never say it.”
You laughed over his shoulder. “I know.”
Even before Jonathan let go, you were looking at Steve. A few inches away, beaming with a bushel of yellow and white roses in his hands, staring at you like you were the Sun even though it burned bright right behind him.
Jonathan let go. You meandered over, nervous although you had been together for nearly three months at that point.
“Miss Byers,” Steve greeted grandly, handing you the bouquet as if to knight you. “Now a graduate.”
“How do you feel about it?” you grinned.
He cast you an incredulous glance. “How do I feel about it?” he repeated. Steve stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you into the air. “How do you feel about it!” he laughed. You squealed into his shoulder, content. Too content. After he spun you around a few times and set you down, you felt like crying.
The world wasn’t perfect. People in Hawkins still blamed Eddie for Vecna’s killings, and Max had yet to wake up. There was a rift in the ground, growing wider each day. Only the few of you knew where it led. There was work to be done, eventually. One day soon, you would have to go back and decide what to do.
Steve placed his palms in their familiar slot on the sides of your neck. You met him there, wrapping your fingers around his wrists.
He shook his head. “I’ll never get over it.”
“Get over what?”
He grinned and swallowed, glancing down at your lips.
“You,” he said. “I think I’ll be this corny about it for the rest of my life.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Oh, you don’t?” he replied, leaning in with a thumb swiping over your lips.
“No,” you grinned.
“Really?”
He kissed you before you could respond. Every nerve in your body sparked; relieved. Overjoyed.
Somehow, you just knew you would figure it out.
◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ HELLO!!! after a corrupted file and two crashed links part three is here. thank u for being patient with me and thank you for reading it means the world to me. i hope you love this last part. it makes me happy. actually i don't even know what to say the idea of anyone reading one of my works until the end is so sweet it makes me want to cry so thank you so so so much for interacting with SOS :((( i am emotional anyways likes reblogs comments just plain thoughts literally ANYTHING is so appreciated and i cannot thank you enough for the love on this fic. i am so happy. ok gn talk soon <3
Masterful — absolutely masterful writing. This is one of the best works I’ve ever seen down to the plot to the descriptions and everything in between💗💕✨
❀ Back to Navigation ❀ ❀ Stranger Things Masterlist ❀
Steve Harrington x F!Reader
WARNINGS: Just pure fluff, Spoilers for S2 EP9
Summary: Having to be a chaperone for the Snow Ball was not in your evening plans, not at all. However, as you’re greeting the middle schoolers and making sure they get in safely, you run into Steve Harrington, your best friend, dropping off Dustin. It’s cold and icy everywhere, but thankfully, Steve is there to lend a helping hand.
A/N: Frost Kisses? Get it? Instead of Frost Bites? It’s 1:10 am I gotta go to bed. Enjoy <3
Word Count: 3.4K
Looking at your reflection in the mirror, all you wanted to do was rip off what you were wearing and slide into a warm pair of pajamas. A bowl of popcorn could have been on your bed, drizzled with butter and sprinkled with salt, and Indiana Jones & the Temple of Doom could have been on your small television screen. Instead, you were dressed in a ruffled blue dress with puffed sleeves that your mom had bought for you at the department store about an hour away.
The shoes were uncomfy, the dress made noise when you moved, and the necklace around your neck felt like it was choking you. Your hair was pulled and tugged at it in all different directions and your shoes were pinching your feet so much that you were sure that each toe would be covered in blisters.
“Y/N, would you come downstairs darling? If you’re going to grab a ride with me on my way to Karen’s this evening, we need to go now!” Sighing, you frowned at yourself in the mirror, swiped one last layer of lip gloss on, and shoved the tube in your clutch. You took the stairs one foot at a time and very carefully, trying to not trip over yourself. Gasping, your mother watched you come into view, instantly grabbing her polaroid and snapping a picture. You blinked away the bright flash and grimaced.
“Mom, really?” You say, unhappy with everything that was going on.
“Oh you look beautiful sweetheart. Perfect, if I do say so myself, I knew that dress would look spectacular on you.” A thankful, yet strained smile, flickered across your cheeks.
“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” you manage, watching your mother’s face as it morphs into one of annoyance.
“Y/N. You are doing this because it is nice to do favors for your friends. Karen said there needed to be one more volunteer to chaperone the school dance, and I said that she could count on you!” You rolled your eyes and pressed your lips into a tight smile.
“Alright. Fine. But next time, please ask me before just signing me up?”
“Well, honey, I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal.” Your mother sighed, digging in her purse to find her car keys. “Besides, you won’t be totally by yourself, Nancy will be there!” That made you feel a bit better. Sure, you knew Nancy well, but she was in the grade below you and had dated your friend, Steve. Key word – had. The last you really heard about her was that she had dumped Steve Harrington in favor of Jonathan Byers.
That was what led you to the introduction of the true realities of Hawkins when you were babysitting the Wheeler kids. Steve had walked into their house wielding a nail-studded baseball bat and a confident expression fixed on his face, leaving you with too many questions and not enough answers. He was patient with you as he, and the kids, word-vomited information about Eleven and the true disappearance of Will and the Upside Down. It was just then when you realized how brave Steve really was. Hell, you saw it up close and personal when he shoved you out of the way when Billy Hargrove came in swinging at the kids you were looking after. After that whole debacle, your time with Steve had been limited due to prior commitments and the aftermath of those damn demo dogs. You hadn’t gotten to see him in a little while.
“Y/N? Where’d you go?” Suddenly, you register a hand waving in front of you, indicating you had spaced. You shake your head, making your dangly earrings knock into your jaw a bit.
“Okay,” you sigh, adjusting your dress once more, “yeah, let’s go.”
The Snow Ball had barely begun by the time you got there. You found Nancy, who immediately waved and smiled at you, beckoning you over to where she was.
“Hi Y/N! I’m glad I’m not really alone doing this.” She confessed, a relieved expression on her face.
“Me too,” You admit, looking around and finding just parents and teachers as the rest of the volunteers.
“I love your dress,” She says, eyeing the material closely. “It’s beautiful.” You smile.
“Thanks, I love yours as well. The plaid is really pretty.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see someone taking pictures of the venue, causing a slight smirk to cross your features. “Byers’ here taking pictures, huh?” You comment, nudging Nancy a bit. She blushes as her eyes find Jonathan’s, waving a bit to him.
“Oh, uh, yeah. He’s here to get some for their yearbook and school paper.” You nod your head and nudge her side a bit.
“I’m glad you’re happy with him. He seems really nice.” You say, organizing some of the plastic cups on the punch table in front of you while Nancy continued to stare at her boyfriend.
“He is,” she says breathily.
“Damn,” you murmur, “you’ve got it bad, Nance.”
“And you don’t?” Immediately, her comment makes you whip your head up to look at her.
“Whaddyou mean?” You spit out quickly.
“Oh, come on Y/N. I know you’ve got a thing for Steve.” You scoff and shake your head.
“No way,” you say, waving your hands in front of you, “you know what he’s like.”
“Yeah, I do.” Nancy confirms, “which is why I know that he’s interested in you as well.” You huff a bit but can’t help a flush that seems to take over your body at the thought. Steve? Liking you like that? Sure, you’re friends, but… nah, no way.
Just moments later, the staff dimmed the lights of the gymnasium and flicked on the spotlights and disco ball. At once, kids started milling in from the double doors.
“Oh, I should probably go outside and make sure they get inside okay,” you suggest, earning a nod from Nancy.
“Good idea – the steps can get kind of icy though, be careful with those heels!” You throw Nancy a thumbs up and make your way outside. It’s cold, wow it’s cold – who knew Hawkins’ winter could bite like this? It’s easy enough work, though. Little middle schoolers in dresses and suits, awkward as can be. You try to give as many smiles as you could, wanting to soothe their anxieties about first dates and slow dances. You’re able to spot Mike Wheeler and Lucas Sinclair head on in, the latter seemingly rehearsing lines.
“Hey kiddos,” you chirp. The two boys looked at you and offered you a smile.
“Hi Y/N.” You pause after their response, looking at Lucas a bit more intently.
“Sinclair, I’m sure if you just ask her she’ll say yes.” At your words, Lucas stands up a bit straighter and his eyes go wide.
“Uh, what are you talking about?” He sort of stutters out, garnering a nudge from Mike. You smile and shake your head.
“Just have fun.” You wave them off just as you spot a girl with red hair taking the steps up to the school. She seems to relax at the sight of you but tries her best not to show any nerves.
“Wheeler and Sinclair are already in there–”
“Why do you think I care where Lucas is?” She says quickly, making you laugh a bit. She hurries up the rest of the steps and darts quickly inside the gymnasium, followed closely by Will.
The sea of kids starts to damper to just a few kids leaving their parents' cars. The sky is dark – a perfect piece of parchment paper that someone accidentally spilled their entire ink bottle on. Stars speckled the vast expanse, only outshined by the bright full moon. It was peaceful. A nice juxtaposition from the events that occurred just a week previously. Scary creatures from the Upside Down that threw you in the middle of danger, just Steve Harrington wielding that damn bat, standing between you and peril.
As if you conjured him out of thin air, a burgundy BMW pulled into view. You recognized it instantly. Placing one hand on your jutted out him, you watched through the car windows as the most popular kid in your grade gave a pep talk to little Dustin Henderson, the boy’s hair all poofed up. Steve gave you a wave, which you returned, through the dusty window. It only took a few moments for Dustin to gather himself and then step out of Steve’s car, taking the steps one at a time. His eyes found you and he smiled a toothy grin.
“Hi Y/N!” He exclaimed, looking somewhat eagerly between both you and the car.
“Looking sharp, Dustin,” you compliment, earning a beam from the boy in front of you. He straightened his bowtie a bit. “You’ll knock ‘em dead.” He nods and starts going inside, but turns around immediately and runs back to Steve’s car. “Wait- Dustin!” You call, trying to make your way down the steps as quickly, and carefully, as you could. However, the heels and ice didn’t pair together as nicely as you would’ve hoped, and one bad step had you pinwheeling to try and stay balanced. Just as you were falling backwards, though, a strong arm braced your lower back and kept you standing. Looking up, you found Steve’s brown eyes staring directly into your Y/E/C ones, an air of quiet concern and amusement battling within his.
“The steps are icy,” he says, a bit breathless. Nodding, you give him a little smile.
“Yeah, I know.” Steve chuckles a bit and helps you stand back up. You brush out your dress a bit before your eyes are on Dustin. “Hey, are you okay? You’re not nervous, are you?” You ask, your voice soft. Dustin’s gaze is quick, again, between you and Steve. However, you focus yours directly on Harrington’s face, watching it transform as he shifts his jaw and communicates to the younger boy by giving him a hard stare.
“Uh… yeah! Nervous.” He finally spits out. You’re still skeptical, but decide to brush it off.
“Well, everyone’s inside and Nancy’s by the punch bowl if you need any help.” Dustin nods and waves goodbye as he takes the steps quickly. “Go get ‘em tiger!” You shout. Steve laughs as he watches Dustin all but leap through the doors. Raising an eyebrow, you look back at Steve.
“I’m assuming the hair was your idea?” You quip. Steve grins and scratches the back of his head.
“He wanted to know the secrets behind the success,” he said simply, a lovely warmth in his voice. You nod and look back towards the gym. The Snow Ball was in full swing now – all of the stragglers having finally found their way inside.
“I should, uh, probably get back–” you begin, pointing with your thumb towards the school.
“You look beautiful.” He interrupts. Standing there, almost shivering in the nippy December air, you grin.
“Thank you.” You breathe out. There’s a quiet that graces the air as Steve just takes you in. You fiddle a bit with the material of the dress before a harsh gust of wind swept past the both of you. Steve was completely fine in his soft looking red sweater. You, however, grabbed your arms and shuddered as a shiver worked its way through your body. “Shit, it’s cold.” You hiss.
Steve wanted to punch himself in the face. Of course, of course, this was the one time he wasn’t wearing a sweatshirt or jacket that he could easily take off and give to the girl he likes. He was pissed, watching you wrap yourself in your arms to try and stay warm.
“It’s really nice to see you Steve and as much as I want to stay out here–”
“–You’re freezing your ass off.” He interjects, watching with a crestfallen expression. You nod your head and give him a sheepish smile.
“If you’re free, gimme a call tomorrow.” You suggest, trying not to let how much you desire him do just that seep into your voice. He throws a tight-lipped smile your way and nods curtly, watching you smile and begin climbing the steps.
It’s still incredibly icy as you begin the trek back up to the double doors. To your dismay, you’re a bit wobbly during each step, resulting in your arms stretching out to help with balance.
“Hey, wait, let me help,” Steve instantly takes one of your hands in his and, with his helpfully tractioned shoes, takes on the steps easily. At all times, he’s one or two steps in front of you, your hand in his to act as a sort of support beam.
“Thanks,” you murmur, your focus only on the next elevated slab of concrete. “I don’t know why I wore these shoes, it was a stupid idea.”
“Gotta disagree there,” Steve mutters to himself quietly. Finally, the both of you make it all the way to the top of the steps, finding and making eye contact with Nancy. She gives the two of you a wave, makes sure that everything with the punch bowl is situated, and drifts over.
“Y/N, are you okay?” She wonders, looking at your chilled figure.
“Oh yeah, totally fine. Almost slipped on some ice and caught frostbite, but everything’s under control,” you joke. Nancy smiles and nods, taking note of your hand still in Steve’s.
“Well, uh, everything’s totally fine here. In fact, if you want, you could probably get away with leaving early. All the kids have to have a parent come inside and sign them out, so unless you want to sit on the bleachers and watch middle schoolers slow dance, you’re free!” Elation creeps into your features.
“Oh, that would be amazing. Do you think I could use the front office phones?” Nancy’s face screws into one of confusion.
“Huh? What for?”
“So I get picked up by–”
“I can drop you off at home.” Steve cuts in, drawing both yours and Nancy’s attention. A satisfied smirk crosses Nancy’s face while one of surprise, and underlying delight, flashes upon yours.
“Really? That would be great.”
“Yeah, no problem.” He says, like it’s no big deal. “Probably should keep holding my hand though, don’t want you falling on the steps.” A flush creeps up your neck and onto your cheeks.
“Yeah, I guess I should.”
After bidding a quick goodbye to Nancy, the two of you enter the sheer, icy wind of the night. You tremble slightly at the chill, but whereas Steve had merely held your hand before, he now wrapped an arm around your frame and pressed you close to him.
If anyone were to have asked, you would have been happy to tell them that you could’ve slipped and cracked your head open on the ice for all you cared – Steve Harrington was just that intoxicating. As the two of you took one step at a time, you were held closer and closer to him with every movement. You could smell his shampoo, his deodorant, the aroma of his hair products. You could barely make out the rhythm of his heart beating and the pattern in which he breathes. It was quiet and cold, but everything was well. Finally, you made it to where his car was, illegally, parked in the bus loop. With a click of his car keys, the doors unlocked and he opened the door for you.
“Quite the gentleman this evening,” you quip, settling down on the car seat. He shuts the door and then makes his way to the driver's seat, plugging the key into ignition.
“Well, I am technically whisking a girl in a blue dress away from a ball.” He says, tilting his head at you in a joking manner, making that fluffy piece of his hair flop. God you loved it when he did that. You grin and close your eyes, letting your head hit the headrest. Steve wordlessly starts the car and the heaters start blasting, enveloping you in a warm hug.
“That feels nice,” you hum. You register him switching the car into ‘drive’ as the radio starts playing and the familiar feeling of driving on pavement sinks in. You don’t open your eyes for the entire time – instead, you relish in the warmth of the car and Steve’s soft voice, singing along to all the familiar tunes that pop on. In no time, he was pulling into your driveway.
“Y/N, we’re here.” he murmurs, shaking your form gently. You groaned in unhappiness, but nevertheless, fluttered your eyes open.
“But it’s so comfy here.” You protest, garnering a light laugh from Steve.
“C’mon, I’ll walk you to your door.” You frown but abide by what he suggests, unbuckling your seatbelt and exiting the car. The walk to your front door is short, but is elongated indefinitely when something cold settles on your skin. You squint your eyes to examine it even further to find… It's snowing. Instantly, you jerk your head towards the sky to find millions of fluffy, white snowflakes falling down on both you and Steve.
“Wow,” you breathe, watching the snow and then turning to look at the boy next to you. You were surprised to see that his eyes were steady on you. “No wonder the steps were so icy.” Where he might’ve laughed before, now he just took a step closer to you.
“You have snowflakes on your eyelashes,” he whispers, “and in your hair.” Raising a hand to a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face, he takes it and tucks it behind your ear. You can hardly breathe, so he takes the chance. “You really do look beautiful. You’re always beautiful, but… damn L/N, you cut quite a fine figure in this dress.” Steve’s melted chocolate eyes bore into your Y/E/C ones. The only reaction you could really come up with was tenderly gripping the bottom of his soft red sweater.
“I’m cold, Steve.” you murmur, leaning closer to him. “Can you make me feel warm?” Slowly, so slowly, does he meet your lips. His barely touch yours at first, merely a brush. But he hears the shudder of your breath, and he throws away the whole concept of a sweet kiss goodnight. Instead, one of his hands cradles your cheek and the other wraps around your waist, pressing you impossibly close to him as he completely envelopes your lips in his. Steve’s in control, dictating the push and pull and deepening the angle of the kiss. It leaves you utterly his as all you could do was hold onto that sweater for dear life. The material was the one thing grounding you to this Earth, for each time he met your lips, you were in the stars.
With a few more long kisses and a smattering of pecks to your lips, he pulls away from your face but keeps his hands where they were. Heavy breathing was what filled the quiet, cold air but damn did you feel toasty.
“Come inside with me?” You prompt, earning a raised brow from Steve. He quirked his now swollen lips and cracked a grin.
“One kiss and you're inviting me inside?” He jokes, earning a little push from your fists.
“To curl up on my couch while Indiana Jones plays in the background, and eventually, fall asleep.” At your suggestion, Steve’s expression seems to, if even possibly, glow.
It didn’t take long for you to fall into a deep sleep. You had changed into a comfortable set of pajamas before the movie had started and joined Steve on the plush couch in your living room, a blanket thrown over the both of you. More kisses had been shared throughout the evening – short and fleeting ones mixed into the bunch of slow, longing ones. But just as you had promised, sleep graced your mind. Your head was supported by Steve’s chest – the steady rise and fall of it lulling you into a slumber. Your arms had managed to wind themselves around his torso and your legs had tangled with his. Steve, though, was not sleepy. Instead, he watched you peacefully doze and just marveled at the sight of you. To hell with Indy and his perilous journey of escaping the underground temple. Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, until he too eventually fell asleep – a blissful smile on his face. Whereas some people had to spend lifetimes collecting the things they required to live their life, Steve had everything right here in his arms.
it’s no secret that tumblr writers have been leaving or deactivating their blogs, especially in the last year or two. and i think the reason why is even less of a secret.
the fact that writers have to practically beg for feedback and interaction on a site where they post their works for FREE is ridiculous. the fact that most of the people who are reading and consuming these works don’t even spare 10 seconds to add a nice tag to their reblog (if they even bother to do that) is borderline enraging. this is tumblr, not instagram or twitter. likes on tumblr do nothing for the writer. i don’t care if you think that it helps them appear in the tags, or if you think that seeing yet another “___ liked your post” is encouraging to them, because it doesn’t and its not.
and speaking of likes, why is the ratio of likes to reblogs so fucking huge? and before you think i’m being dramatic, lets take a look at some of the notes from my own works.
at the time of me writing this, my one-shot, dream lover, has 821 notes. that’s pretty good right? but let’s see how many are empty likes and how many are reblogs.
769 likes.
52 reblogs.
out of those 52 reblogs, 35 of them are empty. no tag, no comment.
one of my reactions currently has 2,038 notes. you may be thinking that’s a lot, which it is and i’m incredibly thankful for how many notes i’ve gotten on it. but how many are likes and how many are reblogs?
1,924 likes.
113 reblogs.
out of those 113 reblogs, 81 of them are empty.
one of my headcanons currently has 1,110 notes.
1,069 likes.
41 reblogs.
28 of those 41 reblog are empty.
why is it so hard to reblog things and give feedback?
“oh but it won’t fit my blog theme!” if you’re so fucking concerned about what your precious tumblr blog looks like, then send an ask. they’re just as appreciated.
“i don’t know what to say tho!” we’re not asking you to be shakespeare. if you’re really that no thoughts head empty just put a keyboard smash, if nothing else.
“but i’m shy and embarrassed!” the anonymous option is there for a reason, and most writers have it turned on. being shy when you have the option of keeping your identity a secret is no excuse.
and yes, i’m aware that some writers don’t have the anon option on, which brings me to my final point.
stop. demanding.
if a writer has requests open, be a decent human being and use your manners. going into their inbox and saying “____’s reaction of this.” is no way to request something. saying please, thank you, or even “hey, could you do a reaction of _____?” is a thousand times better than just telling them what you want them to write.
writers spend hours of their time and energy to write things for you to read, and leaving an empty like is meaningless to them.
if your liked a writer’s works, reblog them and maybe add some nice fucking tags while you’re at or send an ask to them about it. because sooner or later, after so many likes and barely any interaction, more and more writers are going to leave.
stop making them desperate for any spare crumb of interaction and start leaving feedback if you love these writers so much.
This is so important!! It absolutely makes my day when I see reblogs with tags AND/OR comments that offer constructive criticism, feedback, or just reactions to the work - it motivates me, and other writers, so much!🥹💗💕
Request by Anonymous: can you write a rooster fic where the reader and him buy a new puppy and give it a bath… i dunno basically just pure fluff!!!!
Summary: You and Rooster have just adopted a new Australian shepherd puppy and have to give it a bath... a touch of chaos insues.
A/N: Thank you so much for the first request for my 1000 followers celebration! Also -- nothing about the reader p.o.v. was specified, so I just had the reader be Swan Song from Birds of a Feather!
This was a bunch of fun to write and I hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 1.3K
A content smile was all you could wear as you sat in the passenger seat of Bradley’s baby blue Bronco, feeling the warm wind on your face. You always loved car rides in his car – it made you feel like you were in a movie, set for a summer release. But this time? This time it was just made all the more better by the puppy asleep in your arms. Her little head was nestled into the crook of your arm and her belly was rising up and down, snoozing away.
“How’s she doing?” Your boyfriend’s voice brings you out of the trance your new Australian shepherd had so innocently lulled you into. Turning, you look at Rooster’s face. His eyes were hidden behind Raybans and most definitely on the road in front of you, but you could tell he so desperately wanted to look at his new dog.
“Perfect,” you coo, petting her gently. She stirs a little at the contact, but settles down again soon after that. “Any name ideas?” You inquire, tilting your head to get a better few of your puppy’s face. Bradley chuckles and shakes his head.
“Y/N, I know for a fact you already have a name picked out.” You pout to try and hide the smirk that started to take shape on your cheeks.
“I just want to make sure that, if you had any ideas, they would be heard.” He reaches over to grab your free hand. Of course, you let him take and raise it towards him so he can smack a kiss on the back of your palm.
“Honey, the floor’s yours.” Your smile spreads into a full-on grin.
“Piper.”
“As in Piper Aircraft?” You wince a little bit, rethinking your choice,
“Is it too on the nose?” Bradley shakes his head and smiles, taking a left hand turn into your neighborhood.
“I think it’s cute,” He reassures you, “very fitting for our little family.” Your gaze goes back to the Australian shepherd asleep in your lap. “You just have to promise me we'll name our first born ‘F18.’” You laugh loudly which makes Bradley only smile more.
“You’re just the sweetest little thing, aren’t you, Piper?” You lean down to press a kiss onto the puppy’s fur, but stop short. “Oh…” you mumble, wrinkling your nose and slowly leaning back up into your seat.
“Talk to me, Swan.” Is all Bradley says, trying to gauge the problem. You grimace a little bit and look at him through your own pair of shades.
“She needs a bath.”
Holding the door open for you, Bradley watched with adoration as you stepped in, carrying little Millie, as you nicknamed her, through the door. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and daintily scratched the puppy’s head before heading straight to the laundry room.
“What should I grab?” He asks as you make your way to the sink in your kitchen. It was one of your favorite additions to the house; a big farmhouse sink that, while it didn’t exactly scream California, was one of the things you had always loved about your childhood home. Placing the sweet little bundle of fur that was in your arms into the sink, you all but swooned at the high-pitched bark that she gave you.
“Some towels would be good! I think I also have that box of dog shampoo and a comb on top of the dryer as well.” You hear things being shuffled around before Bradley returns with an armful of towels and the box you had mentioned. Dumping the materials on the counter next to the sink, he wraps an arm loosely around your waist as you slowly turn the sink on, feeling the temperature of the water with your hand.
“Hangman and Phoenix already want to come over and meet her.” He remarks, turning his head so that his nose is in your hair, smelling your shampoo.
“We haven’t even had her home for more than half an hour,” you laugh, finally taking away your palm when you deemed it the perfect warmth for Millie.
“Vultures,” he mumbles into your hair, causing you to bump your hip with his lightly in amusement. You moved to the side a bit to grab a plastic measuring bowl, filling it with water.
“Can you hold her with your hands? I don’t think she’ll be annoyed by water since Aussie’s usually like it, but who knows.” Wordlessly, your boyfriend gently holds her, receiving playful nips and licks from Piper. You winced as you began to pour water over her coat, but to your relief, she seemed perfectly fine with the water, wagging her tail and panting.
It took a little while to give your puppy a bath because, while she was comfortable with the water, she wanted nothing more than to play. Her sleepiness from the car had morphed into unbridled energy, squirming and jumping about as you tried your best at rubbing the shampoo into her fur and giving her a nice thorough wash. Rooster, much to your chagrin, was not helping. Instead, he was encouraging Piper’s energy, waving around towels and tennis balls for her to grab onto and play tug. While Bradley was having fun, you were getting splashed so often that your shirt now clung to your stomach.
“Bradley, I swear, if you do not hold her down…” you grit, trying to wash off some lingering soap you saw on Millie’s belly.
“Aww, c’mon Swan, can’t handle a bit of water?” You turned your face slowly towards his, taking in that charming, smug expression on Bradley’s face. That cheeky smile lifted only the very corners of his mustache and his eyes held such a mischievous look that all you could do was give him a saccharine sweet simper… before flinging at him the water that had been filling up in the measuring cup. He stood there for a moment, his jaw dropped and hands held out in front of him as he’s dripping with water, not moving or speaking.
“Aww, c’mon Rooster, can’t handle a bit of water?” You parrot back, slotting a hand onto your hip and fixing him with a playful grin. Bradley blinks a few times, letting the shock wear off, before scooping water up with his hands and launching it at you. Shrieking with laughter you duck and turn around so it hits your back.
“Oh you are so gonna get it now,” he threatens sweetly, grabbing you by the waist and pressing a hard kiss into your cheek while stealing the measuring cup away from you, filling it back up, and dumping it on the both of you. Laughter and giggles was all that could be heard in your kitchen as your water fight concluded and you finished washing Piper together, not minding getting splashed once in a while. You towled the little puppy down, holding her in your arms and receiving tiny licks on the chin. All you could do was marvel in the joy of not only having a dog, which was truly, very exciting, but sharing her with Bradley. He hadn’t proposed, though you both were both certain of your love for each other, and talk of starting a family with children was pretty small due to the nature of your jobs. But Piper was perfect. One little soul that the both of you could pour your love into and cherish.
A towel was wrapped around your shoulders and Bradley tugged the edges so you were brought closer to him.
“Y/N L/N, you have just captured my heart and won’t let it go.” Your face heats and a smile melts onto your face.
“You have a way with words, Bradley Bradshaw. Has anyone ever told you that before?” You quip, but soothe the remark with a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I love you.” You feel him bring up a corner of the towel and wipe some water off of your forehead, placing a peck there afterwards.
Become an Analyst of tendrils and thorns! Those who are interested in learning everything and anything there is to know about our local and native species of dangerous plants find a home here in the ranks of the Botanical Gardens! Whether it be in favor of specific types like Hawthorn (Steve Harrington) or Brambles (Eddie Munson), Analysts can choose to hone in on a specific species of thorns - just be sure to let the Head Botanist know whether you want to specialize in all kinds of prickly plants or just a specific species!
Become a Professor of high climbing vines! Those who are interested in learning everything and anything there is to know about our local and native species of woody-stemmed plants find a home here in the ranks of the Botanical Gardens! Whether it be in favor of specific types like Wisteria (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw) or Rocktrumpet (Jake “Hangman” Seresin), Professors can choose to hone in on a specific species of vines - just be sure to let the Head Botanist know whether you want to specialize in all kinds of climbers or just a specific species!
I would like to start this off by saying thank you, so so much for 1K followers. When I started writing on this platform, I had no idea I would ever even have 10 followers, let alone 1,000. I just loved to write and thought, hey, wouldn’t it be a fun idea if I posted it? Now, here I am, with so much support and love that it makes me want to cry and scream and yell and laugh with so much happiness. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Now onto the celebrations! My requests have been closed for a little bit, so they are opening back up now! Below, I will include some of the fandoms I write for and the guidelines for requests. If you have any questions, comments, or just want to chat, please say hello in the comments below and I’ll try and respond to the best of my ability! Also, if you would like to be on a taglist for certain fandoms or characters, let me know that as well! You will be notified when a new fic regarding that character or fandom is posted, so you never have to worry about missing one!
So please, enjoy, and hit me with those requests! <3, Songbird
Fandoms I write for!
- Top Gun
- Stranger Things
- AOT
- MHA
Request Guidelines!
1. I do not write anything nsfw
2. I might choose not to write if I am uncomfortable with the subject matter you request, for example, hangovers or the intake of alcohol since I am underage and don’t want to assume anything about that experience! I will definitely message you, letting you know if I can’t fulfill your request <3
3. If you want the fic to be a specific gender (male, female, non-binary, gender neutral, etc.) please let me know! I try my best to make my ‘x reader’ fics gender neutral, but sometimes I default to she/her pronouns, so just let me know!
4. There is a limit of one character per fic. Please specify which character you want me to write for!
5. I will try my best to write and post the requests in a timely manner, but requests sometimes pile up and I have a job, so there will be instances in which it takes a little longer to finish a work, so please be patient! I will not forget about the requests.
