SUMMARY. you are a part of the national south korea football team and happily married to the one and only im nayeon.
WARNINGS. none, pure fluffy (in honor of 2026 world cup)
The stadium had never felt this alive.
Seoul World Cup Stadium, dressed in red and white from pitch to the highest row of the upper deck, hummed with the kind of energy that pressed against your ribs and made it hard to breathe. Seventy-eight thousand people had found their seats, waving scarves and plastic thundersticks, the noise already cresting into something enormous even before a single whistle had been blown.
It was the quarterfinals of the FIFA Women’s World Cup. South Korea versus Spain.
And before the game, TWICE were performing.
You stood in the tunnel with your teammates, shin guards taped, laces double-knotted. You should have been running through set pieces in your head, rehearsing defensive lines, mentally mapping Spain’s left winger who’d terrorized three teams already in this tournament.
Instead, you were watching your wife on the big screen.
The stage had been erected at the far end of the pitch and even from the tunnel, the sound was crystal-clear, TWICE’s latest title track bouncing off every surface, the nine of them moving in that sharp, synchronized way that still made your chest squeeze no matter how many times you’d seen it. But your eyes found Nayeon every time, the way they always did. Front row, center stage, grinning like she’d been born standing in front of crowds. She had been, practically.
“Yah, Y/N-ah.” Your teammate Jiyeon nudged your arm. “Stop making heart eyes at your wife and get your head in the game.”
“I’m focused,” you said.
“You’ve been staring at that screen for four minutes.”
“I’m strategically focused, trust me.”
A laugh rippled down the line. You smiled and looked away from the screen, but the image of Nayeon stayed with you, the way she’d kissed you this morning in the team hotel hallway, two seconds stolen before your coach had rounded the corner and you’d both jumped apart like teenagers.
You’d pulled back just enough to look at her face her eyes bright, lipstick already slightly smudged from the kiss, expression somewhere between proud and desperately nervous on your behalf.
“You’ll be performing,” you’d said.
“I’ll be watching in my heart,” she’d answered squeezing your cheeks.
Three weeks married. You’d had the ceremony quietly, a small garden in Jeju, eight very loud and emotional bridesmaids. The ring on your finger was thin gold, simple, exactly what you’d wanted. You’d slid it off before games because of tournament rules, no jewelry; and it sat in the small zippered pocket of your training bag at all times. Close enough.
The roar from the stadium surged as TWICE took their final bow, and the lights shifted from concert-warm to floodlight white. The crowd didn’t stop cheering. If anything, it got louder.
Time to go.
The first half was brutal.
Spain’s defensive line was the best you’d faced in the tournament: organized, physical, quick to cut passing lanes before they opened. Your striker, Minji, had been held scoreless despite three dangerous runs. You yourself had found space twice in the midfield only to have the ball dispossessed before you could thread through.
0-0 at halftime. The coach’s talk was calm, precise. Adjustments. Movement. Patience.
You rolled your shoulders in the tunnel, took a long breath, and thought about what Nayeon would say. She’d probably say something embarrassingly cheesy, like “You’re going to be incredible, you always are, I believe in you so much,” and then she’d mean every single word of it.
You jogged back out.
The sixty-third minute.
A corner from the right side. Jiyeon’s delivery was high and angled, designed for the back post. Spain’s keeper called for it, punching outward, but the clearance fell short, right to the edge of the box, and suddenly there was a scramble, bodies and boots and the ball bouncing somewhere in the chaos —
And then it was at your feet.
Ten meters out. One defender between you and goal. A fraction of a second in which the entire stadium seemed to hold its breath.
You didn’t think. You just did — a drop of the shoulder left, a touch right to make the angle, and then your right foot connected and the ball flew, low and hard, swerving just inside the far post before the keeper could dive.
The net rippled.
The world exploded.
You didn’t hear it so much as feel it the noise as a physical force, thousand voices detonating at once, red confetti falling somewhere in the upper tier, your teammates crashing into you from every direction. Jiyeon’s arms around your neck. Minji screaming something you couldn’t understand. Your name reverberating off the roof.
But even in the middle of all of that, you were already thinking of something else.
You peeled away from the pile, held up one hand to pause them, and looked around with a half-wild grin until you spotted what you needed one of the sideline cameras, tracking you, the red recording light blinking.
You jogged over.
And you lifted your red Korea jersey.
Underneath, a plain white t-shirt. And on it, written in your own handwriting — blue marker, slightly messy, undeniably sincere —
나연아 사랑해 ♡
(Nayeon, I love you)
The camera held on it for three full seconds.
Then your teammates understood, and the screaming got somehow louder.
In the TWICE backstage area beneath the stadium, nine phones lit up simultaneously.
Jihyo grabbed Nayeon’s arm before she’d even finished reading the texts. “NAYEON. NAYEON LOOK AT THE SCREEN —”
Nayeon looked.
She saw your face, flushed and grinning and wild-eyed with joy, holding up your jersey. She saw the white shirt underneath. She saw the words.
The sound she made was not a word. It was something between a gasp and a sob and a laugh, all collapsed into a single breath. Momo and Sana were already screaming. Chaeyoung had both hands over her mouth.
Nayeon pressed her fingers to her lips.
나연아 사랑해.
“I’m going to die,” she announced to no one in particular.
“You’re going to the field,” Jihyo corrected, already steering her by the shoulders. “We cleared it with the organization. You’re going to the field right now.”
Final score: South Korea 1, Spain 0.
The whistle blew and the stadium became something beyond sound — something felt in the bone, in the chest, in the throat. Your team was already piling again, and you let yourself be pulled into it, laughing and crying with no real distinction between the two, Jiyeon spinning you around by the waist.
And then someone tapped your shoulder.
You turned.
Nayeon stood on the pitch in her offstage outfit white shirt, jeans, face entirely undone. Eyes red-rimmed. Smile so wide it looked like it almost hurt.
For a moment, neither of you moved. Around you, chaos: photographers, teammates, staff, the roar still going, reporters already positioning. None of it touched the small, still circle where the two of you stood.
Then she took one step forward and you met her the rest of the way.
The kiss was immediate and total, her hands in your hair, your arms around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground because you couldn’t help it, because she was here and you’d scored and her name was written on your chest and you were married and hopelessly in love. She laughed against your mouth and kissed you again, softer this time, and you pressed your forehead to hers.
“I saw it,” she whispered. “The shirt.”
“I know,” you said. “I wore it for you.”
“You are so —” Her voice broke. She laughed to cover it. “You are the most embarrassing person I’ve ever —”
“You love me.”
“So much.” She pulled back to look at you properly, both hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing the streaks of sweat and maybe a few tears from your cheeks. “Y/N. That was — you were —”
“I was thinking about you,” you told her. “The whole game. That’s why I scored.”
She laughed, bright and full, the laugh you’d fallen in love with years ago, the one she gave when something caught her completely off guard. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sure it does.”
Behind you, eight TWICE members had gathered in a loose cluster, several of them crying, all of them making noise. Jihyo had her arm around Jeongyeon. Momo was eating a snack she’d produced from somewhere. Sana and Dahyun were already trying to get into your team photo.
The cameras were on all of it.
Nayeon kissed you one more time, quick and certain, then tucked herself under your arm as you turned to face the chaos together. You felt her fingers curl into your jersey.
“Semifinals,” she said.
“Semifinals,” you agreed.
She looked up at you. “Wear the shirt again.”
You grinned. “For every goal?”
“For every goal.”
The lights were bright, the crowd was still singing, your name moving through the stands in waves you could feel underfoot. And Nayeon was laughing beside you, her head against your shoulder, the gold ring waiting in your training bag for after the celebrations, for the quiet that would come eventually a hotel room, two cups of instant ramyeon, her feet in your lap while the highlights played on mute.
But for now: this. The pitch, the noise, the red of seventy-eight thousand strangers who had no idea they’d witnessed a love story nested inside a victory.
pairing: amber glenn x fem! model! reader summary: accidentally hard launching your relationship with amber during a livestream because she wanted strawberries. the internet will never let you live this down. warnings: social media | livestream setting | accidental relationship reveal | mentions of internet attention & fandom reactions | very soft domestic fluff | excessive strawberry discourse | english not my native language, possibly spelling mistakes gif not mine | pics not mine library
You had been live for maybe fifteen minutes.
It started as a normal stream just you in your oversized hoodie, sitting cross legged on the couch, phone propped up against a candle while thousands of viewers flooded the comments.
“Okay wait…stop” - you laughed, reading the chat. - “No, I did not dye my hair again. It’s the lighting!”
Hearts and usernames scrolled endlessly.
Being a model meant people were used to seeing you online. Photo shoots, brand deals, little casual lives like this. What they weren’t used to… was seeing much of your personal life.
Especially your love life.
Which was exactly why you’d been careful.
Until tonight.
“Someone asked what I did today” - you said, adjusting the sleeve of your hoodie. - “Um… honestly? Nothing exciting. Grocery run. Gym. I watched-“
A sound came from the kitchen.
Cabinets opening.
You didn’t notice.
The viewers did.
The camera angle was just wide enough to catch the open kitchen behind you. A tall blonde figure padded across the floor in sweatpants and one of your hoodies, hair tied up in a messy bun.
Completely unaware you were live.
“- and then I watched practice videos because apparently I’m being forced to become a professional figure skating fan” - you joked.
WHO IS THAT
WAIT
IS THAT AMBER???
IS THAT AMBER GLENN??
You blinked, confused. - “Why is everyone-“
Behind you, the blonde opened the fridge.
And spoke.
“Babe, did you finish the strawberries?”
The second the word left her mouth, the chat absolutely detonated.
You froze.
Slowly… painfully slowly… you turned around.
There she was.
Amber Glenn stood barefoot in your kitchen, holding the fridge door open, staring at you and your phone with dawning horror.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” - Amber asked.
You pointed at the phone. At the live.
Her eyes followed your finger.
She saw the comments flying.
Her soul visibly left her body.
“Oh my god.”
You slapped your hand over your mouth, half laughing, half dying inside.
“I-okay-so funny story-“
“Are you LIVE?” - Amber whisper shouted.
The chat screamed even louder.
THEY LIVE TOGETHER???
AMBER CALLED HER BABE
HARD LAUNCH???
Amber slowly shut the fridge door like she was in a horror movie.
“You said this was a chill night” - she said.
“It WAS” - you wheezed. - “Until you committed a relationship reveal.”
Amber dragged a hand down her face before looking directly at the camera.
“Well” - she sighed.
Then she walked over and leaned on the back of the couch, appearing fully on screen for the first time.
“Hi internet.”
The comments went nuclear.
You buried your face in your hands. - “This was not how we planned this.”
Amber shrugged, completely calm now.
“Eh” - she said, resting her chin on your shoulder. - “Too late.”
Then she kissed your cheek.
The chat crashed so hard the live froze.
For a solid three seconds.
Then your screen went black.
“…Did it just crash?”
Behind you, Amber groaned.
“Please tell me that means it didn’t save.”
Slowly, you turned around on the couch.
“You called me babe” - you said weakly.
Amber pressed her hands to her face, dragging them down like she was trying to reset her entire life.
“I was asking about strawberries!”
“You did it on camera.”
“I didn’t know you were LIVE!”
You grabbed your phone and reopened the app.
Big mistake.
Your notifications were exploding.
Mentions. Tags. Comments.
The same clip was already circulating everywhere.
A perfectly clear video of Amber standing in your kitchen in one of your hoodies.
“Babe, did you finish the strawberries?”
You dropped your phone onto the couch like it had burned you.
“Oh my god.”
Amber leaned over your shoulder.
“Oh no.”
You opened Twitter.
Trending:
AMBER GLENN
HARD LAUNCH
THE STRAWBERRY INCIDENT
Amber blinked.
“…The strawberry incident?”
“You’ve created lore” - you said faintly.
She leaned back against the couch and sighed dramatically.
“Well” - she said. - “At least they know I have good priorities.”
You turned to stare at her.
“You accidentally revealed that we LIVE TOGETHER.”
“Technically” - Amber said, raising a finger - “I revealed that someone ate the strawberries.”
You shoved her shoulder.
She laughed, pulling you into her side.
“Hey, hey,” - she murmured. - “It’s okay.”
You buried your face in her hoodie.
“This was supposed to be a soft launch.”
Amber kissed the top of your head.
“Baby, you had me in the background of like five photos already.”
“That was ambiguous!”
“You were literally wearing my Team USA jacket.”
“It could’ve been borrowed!”
Amber snorted.
“Sure.”
Your phone buzzed again.
And again.
And again.
You hesitated before opening Instagram.
Your comments were chaos.
IS THAT AMBER GLENN IN YOUR KITCHEN???
WAIT THEY LIVE TOGETHER??
AMBER CALLED HER BABE
I KNEW IT
You groaned.
“I’m never going live again.”
Amber leaned over your shoulder again, reading.
Then she smiled slowly.
“Oh wait.”
“What?”
“You should check my notifications.”
The first comment under her latest skating photo read:
bro when were you gonna tell us you live with a supermodel
Amber burst out laughing.
“You’re the headline now.”
You smacked her arm.
“This is your fault!”
She grabbed your hand before you could pull away.
“Okay but” - she said softly - “are you actually upset?”
You paused.
Because… honestly?
No.
Your life was already public.
But the relationship with Amber had been the one thing that felt yours.
Private. Safe.
You squeezed her hand.
“I just didn’t expect the internet to find out because of strawberries.”
Amber grinned.
“That’s pretty iconic though.”
You tried to stay serious.
You failed.
Soon you were both laughing on the couch.
Eventually Amber nudged you.
“You know what the real problem is.”
“What?”
She stood up and walked back to the kitchen.
You watched as she opened the fridge again.
Completely empty of strawberries.
Amber turned around dramatically.
“You DID finish them.”
You pointed at her.
“You’re the one who ate half the container this morning!”
“That’s slander.”
“You had strawberry juice on your face!”
Amber gasped.
“Defamation.”
You rolled your eyes.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Amber leaned against the counter, arms crossed, smiling at you.
Then her eyes softened.
“Come here.”
You walked over.
She wrapped her arms around you automatically.
Your head fit perfectly under her chin.
The apartment was quiet again now.
Just the hum of the fridge and distant city noise.
“Guess we’re public now” - you murmured.
Amber kissed your temple.
“Guess so.”
“Are you okay with that?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“With you?”
She tilted your chin up so you had to look at her.
“Always.”
Your heart melted a little.
“You’re being suspiciously sweet.”
Amber smirked.
“Don’t get used to it.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“Oh no.”
She grabbed your phone off the counter.
“Amber-”
Too late.
She flipped the camera on.
Your eyes widened.
“DON’T.”
Amber grinned at the screen.
“Hi guys.”
You tried to hide your face.
“Amber Glenn you PUT that down-”
She wrapped an arm around you so you couldn’t escape.
“This is my girlfriend” - she said proudly.
You groaned into her shoulder.
“Second launch” - she said cheerfully.
“Harder launch.”
“AMBER.”
She kissed your cheek loudly.
Amber finally ended the video after about twenty seconds.
You stared at her in disbelief.
“You’re insane.”
She looked very pleased with herself.
“Too late now.”
You sighed.
“Yeah.”
A beat passed.
Then Amber nudged you toward the couch again.
“Movie?”
“Only if you apologize for the strawberry incident.”
Amber thought for a moment.
Then she reached into the freezer.
Pulled out a hidden box.
Inside?
Chocolate covered strawberries.
You gasped.
“You were hiding those??”
She shrugged.
“Emergency supply.”
You grabbed one immediately.
Amber watched you with a soft smile.
“What?” - you asked, mouth half full.
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“You’re cute.”
You narrowed your eyes again.
“You’re still in trouble.”
Amber leaned forward and kissed you slowly.
“Worth it.”
⸻
You woke up to chaos.
Not the dramatic kind.
The internet kind.
Your phone had been buzzing nonstop on the nightstand for at least ten minutes before you finally groaned and reached for it.
Beside you, Amber was still asleep, half buried under the blankets, one arm loosely around your waist.
You unlocked your phone.
Immediately regretted it.
Your notifications looked like a disaster zone.
Instagram: 48,000 notifications.
Twitter: completely unusable.
TikTok: you didn't even want to open it.
You rubbed your eyes.
“What the…”
You tapped Twitter first.
The top trending topics stared back at you.
#AmberGlenn
#TheStrawberryIncident
#AmberHasAGirlfriend
#ModelGirlfriendReveal
You stared at the screen.
“No way.”
Amber shifted beside you, mumbling sleepily.
“What time is it…”
“You’re trending” - you said.
She made a confused noise.
“What?”
“You’re trending.”
“…For skating?”
You slowly turned your phone so she could see the screen.
Amber blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then fully woke up.
“Oh my god.”
You opened one of the trending clips.
It was the moment.
Amber in the kitchen. Hair messy. Your hoodie on. Opening the fridge.
Babe, did you finish the strawberries?
The video had over 14 million views.
Amber dropped back onto the pillow.
“I’m never recovering from this.”
You kept scrolling.
The skating fandom had clearly discovered the clip overnight.
Tweets were flying everywhere.
AMBER GLENN HAS A GIRLFRIEND???
WAIT SHE CALLED HER BABE
THIS IS THE CUTEST HARD LAUNCH EVER
NOT THE STRAWBERRIES
One tweet had over 200k likes.
Amber Glenn accidentally hard launching her relationship while asking about strawberries is the most on brand thing I've ever seen.
Amber groaned into the pillow.
“I hate the internet.”
“You absolutely do not” - you said.
Another tweet appeared.
the fact amber glenn is just barefoot in the kitchen wearing her girlfriend's hoodie… domestic lesbian excellence
Amber peeked up.
“…Okay that one’s nice.”
You laughed.
Then you checked TikTok.
Your jaw dropped.
Compilation edits already existed.
Clips of Amber skating transitions into the livestream moment.
Dramatic music. Slow motion.
Someone had zoomed in on her saying babe like it was a cinematic confession.
Amber leaned over your shoulder.
“Oh my god they edited my triple axel into the strawberry clip.”
“They’re shipping us” - you said.
“They’re what?”
“Look.”
You scrolled.
Fan edits. Relationship theories. Side-by-side photos of you wearing her jackets. Old interviews where Amber mentioned “someone special.”
Amber stared in horror.
“They were INVESTIGATING.”
“Oh they’ve been investigating for months” - you said.
Then your phone buzzed again.
A text from your manager.
CALL ME ASAP
Amber saw the message.
“…Am I getting you in trouble?”
You shrugged.
“Probably.”
Your phone buzzed again.
Another text.
This time from one of Amber’s skating friends.
She opened it.
It was a screenshot of the clip.
Followed by:
bro you got caught by strawberries
Amber rolled onto her back.
“I’m quitting skating.”
“You just won a competition two weeks ago.”
“I’m retiring immediately.”
You laughed.
Then your phone buzzed again.
Instagram DM.
Amber leaned closer.
“Oh no.”
You opened it.
It was from a fan account dedicated to Amber.
The message read:
we support you both btw and your girlfriend is gorgeous
You softened a little.
“Oh.”
Amber looked at the message.
Then she smiled quietly.
“That’s nice.”
More messages kept coming.
Some from fans. Some from brands. Some from friends.
One from your modeling agency that simply said:
honestly the engagement is insane keep doing whatever you're doing
Amber burst out laughing.
“You’re welcome.”
You shoved her shoulder.
“You caused this.”
“You’re benefiting from it!”
Another notification popped up.
A sports account had posted the clip.
Caption:
Olympic figure skating star Amber Glenn accidentally reveals she lives with her model girlfriend during livestream.
Amber pointed.
“STAR?”
“Focus.”
She shrugged.
“I’m focusing on the positive.”
You groaned and dropped your phone onto the bed.
Amber rolled over and propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at you.
“But…”
“But what?”
She brushed a piece of hair from your face.
“Everyone seems pretty happy about it.”
You thought about the comments again.
The edits.
The support messages.
The ridiculous strawberry memes.
“…Yeah” - you admitted.
Amber smiled.
“See?”
Then she leaned down and kissed you softly.
Your phone buzzed again.
You ignored it.
A moment later Amber pulled back.
“…Wait.”
“What?”
She grabbed your phone again.
Opened TikTok.
Then held it up.
Someone had already made merch.
A shirt that said:
Did you finish the strawberries?
You stared.
Amber stared.
Then she started laughing so hard she nearly fell off the bed.
“Okay” - she said between laughs.
“That’s actually iconic.”
⸻
Competitions were usually loud.
But the media zone after a competition was louder.
Cameras. Microphones. Reporters calling names.
You stood near the edge of the rink boards, tucked into a seat with a hoodie pulled over your head and a credential badge around your neck. Amber had insisted you come to this one.
“Good luck charm” - she had said.
You hadn’t expected the entire internet to already know who you were.
Amber had just finished skating. And she had been incredible.
The crowd was still buzzing about it as she stepped into the media area, hair slightly damp with sweat, medal resting against her chest.
A reporter immediately spoke up.
“Amber! Amazing skate tonight!”
She smiled politely. - “Thank you.”
Another reporter leaned forward.
“So… we have to ask.”
Amber’s expression immediately shifted into cautious amusement. - “Oh no.”
A few reporters laughed.
“You probably know what we’re referring to” - sne said.
“Do I?” - Amber asked, though the smile tugging at her mouth said she absolutely did.
“The livestream.”
Another reporter added - “The strawberries.”
Amber groaned softly and covered her face for a second. The room laughed.
“Okay” - she said. - “In my defense-“
“You didn’t know you were live?” - someone finished.
“Exactly.”
Another microphone pushed forward.
“Fans were really excited to see that moment. Are you comfortable talking about your relationship?”
Amber glanced toward the stands for just a second.
Your eyes met. She smiled. Then she turned back to the reporters.
“Yeah” - she said simply.
Another question came quickly.
“So the mystery girlfriend does exist.”
Amber laughed. - “Yes.”
“Can you tell us anything about her?”
Amber tilted her head, thinking.
“Well” - she said slowly - “she’s very patient.”
The reporters chuckled.
“She eats my strawberries” - Amber added.
More laughter.
“But seriously” - she continued, her voice softening just a little. - “She’s amazing. And she’s been incredibly supportive through everything.”
Your face felt warm even from across the rink.
One reporter asked carefully - “Has the attention been overwhelming?”
Amber shrugged. - “A little.”
Then she smiled again.
“But the support has been really nice.”
Another reporter raised their voice slightly.
“Will we be seeing more of you two publicly now?”
Amber pretended to think about it. - “Hm.”
She glanced back toward the stands again.
You raised your eyebrows at her.
She grinned.
“Probably” - she admitted.
The reporters looked pleased.
“Last question” - someone said.
“If she’s here tonight, do you want to say anything to her?”
Amber didn’t hesitate this time.
She turned fully toward the stands. Toward you.
Even from a distance you could see the warmth in her expression.
“Yeah” - she said into the microphone.
Your heart jumped.
“Next time” - Amber said - “don’t eat the strawberries.”
The room erupted in laughter.
You buried your face in your hands.
Amber was absolutely glowing.
Then she added quietly, still looking at you - “Love you.”
❄️ “Gold Medal, Dumb Anime” — Alysa Liu x Model Reader
she sneaks away from the olympic village to cuddle and force you to watch her "dumb" animes + reader hating on her girls smiley piercing😁😛
The hotel room lights are low, curtains half-closed against the Milan night. Somewhere far away, the Olympic Village is buzzing with athletes and media and security.
But Alysa?
Alysa is absolutely not there.
She’s sprawled across the hotel bed with you, hoodie on, gold medal tossed carelessly on the nightstand like it’s just another accessory.
You’re tucked into her side, legs tangled, her arm heavy around your waist.
On the TV?
Chainsaw Man.
You stare at the screen.
“…Why is there a man with a literal chainsaw coming out of his head?” you mumble.
Alysa gasps like you just insulted her entire bloodline. “Shh. This is peak storytelling.”
“It’s stupid.”
“It’s ART.”
You roll your eyes but snuggle closer anyway, resting your chin on her shoulder. You pretend to pay attention. You really do. But every five seconds you’re just staring at her instead.
She looks different off the ice.
Messier. Softer.
Her medal-winning hair is slightly flattened from laying down. And when she turns her head to argue with you about some anime plot point, her smile stretches wide—
—and the stupid little smiley piercing catches the light.
You squint at it.
“I still hate that thing.”
Alysa grins slowly. “You don’t.”
“I do.”
“You think it’s hot.”
You glare at her.
She leans closer, smug. “You literally stared at it for five seconds.”
“That was judgment.”
“That was admiration.”
You huff, but your hand comes up anyway, thumb brushing lightly near the piercing. You try to look unimpressed.
“…It’s dumb,” you mutter.
She tilts her head, playful. “You wanna kiss it?”
You shove her shoulder. “Shut up.”
She laughs — that stupid, soft Olympic-gold laugh — and suddenly she’s rolling on top of you just enough to cage you in, careful not to crush you.
“You are so mean to me,” she says dramatically.
“You made me watch this.”
“It’s character development.”
“You won the Olympics and this is what you choose to do with your power?”
She leans down, nose bumping yours. “Yes.”
And then she kisses you.
Soft. Slow. Nothing dramatic — just her lips brushing yours, warm and familiar. You try to stay annoyed.
You fail.
Your hand slides into her hoodie, gripping the fabric as she kisses you again — a little deeper this time. When she pulls back, she grins against your mouth.
The piercing brushes your lip slightly.
You freeze.
She smirks. “Still hate it?”
You swallow.
“…Unfortunately.”
Her smile widens.
“Unfortunately?” she teases.
You pull her back down by the hoodie strings and kiss her again before she can talk.
When you break apart, you mumble against her mouth:
“It’s still stupid.”
She rests her forehead against yours, medal glinting in the corner of the room, anime still loudly chaotic in the background.
“But I guess,” you sigh dramatically, tracing the edge of the smiley piercing again, “it’s kind of hot.”
Alysa looks way too pleased with herself.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I know.”
And somewhere between explosions on the TV and Olympic gold on the nightstand, you fall asleep tangled together — pretending you care about the anime, pretending you hate the piercing, but very, very aware that you’re completely in love with the girl who snuck out of the Olympic Village just to cuddle you.
warnings: fem!snowboarder!reader. celebrity crushes, sort of? mentions of r & alysa being shipped. reader is lowk an awkward nerd sorry(not rlly). this is my first time writing for alysa so bare with me please LMAO also this is probably very inaccurate i know nothing about the olympic village.
you were lying on the bed of your dorm, your roommate already passed out. you wish. you weren't tired at all, which seemed ridiculous considering the amount of practice your coaches put you through today. you looked away from the sleeping girl, directing your attention back to your phone.
a few minutes of scrolling passed, before your stomach growled almost embarrassingly loud. "seriously?" you couldn't help but think. of course you'd be hungry at... what time was it... 1:34 in the morning.
with a sigh, you slowly pushed yourself up, trying to avoid any creaking of the bed from waking up lily. you slipped out from your room, walking down the corridor and into the elevator.
"thank god they don't close the kitchen." you mumble to yourself, grabbing a blueberry muffin and putting it onto a plate, loading it up with a few berries afterwards.
"totally." you jump at the sound of a voice behind you, a blueberry almost rolling off of your plate.
"jesus christ!" you set down the plate, putting a hand on your chest and turning to look at who the owner of the voice was. "oh, you've got to be kidding me." you think. meanwhile, the other girl felt like the heavens above had just struck her.
"i'm not going to kill you, relax." none other than alysa fucking liu tells you. "i just saw someone else down here, figured i'd come say hello." yeah, if only it were that easy! how could you act normal when this was the girl that the media's been shipping you with since you announced that you'd be competing as well? was this girl just really chill, or chronically offline?
"well, you scared the shit out of me." you huff, turning back to your plate and piling a cookie on it for good measure. she couldn't help but find the action just the slightest bit endearing.
"you're a snowboarder, right?" she proceeded to say your name in clarification that it was in fact you, but she knew already who you were.
"yeah, that's me. you're alysa, i'm guessing?" years of media training meant you had an incredible talent of acting nonchalant. most people fell for the act, but you think that your jumpiness gave you away before you could even try.
"yup." she walks closer to you, plucking a blueberry off of your plate, even though there was literally an entire bowl full right in front of her. you have to fight back an eye roll. "you're up late."
"so are you." you shoot back. "i was hungry. and was getting tired of watching dumb videos for entertainment." you unwrap the muffin, taking a bite and almost groaning at the taste. compliments to the chef, because they were like your damn god around here.
"dumb videos, yeah? so, i'm guessing you've seen the edits?" you freeze at that. okay, so your previous question was now answered. she was just really chill. or really damn good at acting like it.
"...what edits?" you lie through your berry-stained teeth. alysa laughs, running a hand through her stupidly cool hair. you curse at yourself for finding the motion attractive.
"oh, come on. there's no way you haven't seen them. you know, the ship ones?" you give up on acting clueless, figuring it's worthless.
"oh, those. yeah, i've seen a few." which was the truth. you avoided watching them at all costs. "it's kind of crazy, considering we've never met."
"well, i've been wanting to meet you. so... when i saw that it was you making all that noise," your cheeks burned at the revelation that you weren't as quiet as you'd thought. "i decided to follow." you felt your face get a bit hotter. she'd followed you? she wanted to meet you?
"huh. well, hello, then." you internally slap yourself in the face. that's the best you could do? a very cool (and very attractive) girl was here, introducing herself and expressing interest, and you settled on "hello"?!
alysa laughed once more, before looking down at her watch and sighing. "ugh, i have to go back up. my coaches don't like me out past 12." she glanced back up at you, flashing a grin that showed that damn smiley piercing. "i'll see you tomorrow, i hope?"
you smile back and nod, and once she turns around, you grab a pen from the counter and tear a piece off of your napkin with a random burst of confidence. you scribble down your number, placing it in the hood of alysa's jacket without her noticing.
she doesn't realize what you did until later that night when she's getting ready for bed, the note falls onto the ground. she catches herself blushing after she realizes who left it.
ok... what do we think guys... i'm scared this is my first time writing for her🥺😅 see original request here ! also for my yjs followers do not fret i have a nat req that i'll be completing tomorrow
Summary: once targeted by Vecna, you lie in a coma in a place away from everyone else, having taken the spot of Max. Nancy can't help but feel somewhat responsible for this— and now she's desperate, and will do anything in her ability to have you come back to her. Anything. She doesn't expect demodogs wanting to get to you first.
Content: talk of suicide and the files for the kids targeted, depression, descriptions of blood and gore (vecna bone breaking & killing), hospital setting, mention of guns, arguments, injuries, nightmares, angst/fluff, no coma perspective just nancy yearning hours, r!uses a wheelchair at the end like max, nancy being sad, happy ending obvi, eventual fluff let it cook
Req: Nancy x reader where reader was basically in max’s place in the events of season 4 and Nancy feels like it’s her fault [read full..]
₊⊹⁀➴ w/c: 4,4k ･ a03 ･ prompts ･ ST masterlist
The hospital monitors beeped faintly as Nancy let her pen flow rapidly across the pages of her personal journal that was spread wide open across the side table, accompanied by the quiet hospital bed beside it. The bed had been adjusted to her liking, a routine way to check up on you that spoke of being a Nancy specific habit.
Your pillows gently fluffed as she lifted your head with the utmost care into her chest, letting her sight flutter down to where you looked.. rather peaceful— though it seemed something was lingering down beneath the surface she couldn't quite grasp completely, leaving her to feel like she was constantly missing the last puzzle piece of your story.
This is how her afternoons usually went by. They passed as she did her homework, slowly drifting off to you as her hand attempted to grip the pencil, only to break the led instead of focusing. She picked up the sharpener, aggressively tampering with it as she mumbled curse words at her abandonment to her studies.
But how could she help it? You were stuck, stationed to a bed, with your mind in who-knows-where?
The hours passed dreamily, and some days she wouldn't even notice how the hours would tick by until a nurse came in and had to escort her out. It was a reluctant goodbye every time. She didn't have a chance to really let her words be engrained into you. She had speeches, a letter of how her day was, something silly that Steve or Robin did. But she never got to talk to you directly. Not anymore.
She wished you'd give her a little lift of your head. Maybe an eye movement. A twitch of a finger. But it never came. Day after day she waited.
It never came.
She remembers the first day by your side like it was yesterday— remembers the trouble before it too. Sometimes, it even comes back in nightmares to haunt her. To creep back up on her, keep her on her toes. A tap on her shoulder, and she's back strapped into a chair of a white room, now watching you be taken by heaves of vines in a way that's sadistic. The curl over you like they own you, dark and twisted as Vecna claims what he thinks is his. What he made to be his.
Your eyes, once clear, now bloodshot as they viciously rolled back and the liquid ran hastily down your face, the rest of you levitating eerily as she had no way to get to you, only her voice screaming your name which did nothing but damage her vocal cords, which she found out when words wouldn't dare to escape the next day at breakfast. Mike didn't say anything out loud, but he always gave her a look. A look of pity.
One that she felt bordering on her last pieces of sanity she had stowed away somewhere.
She doesn't know how— the crack of your bone still echoes loudly in her skull when she tries to take a deep breath. Sometimes ruptures her thoughts when trying to focus on writing an important article for class. I'll be fine, she thinks. Then, she'll hear it.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Her, calling out your name, for Steve, for Lucas, for anyone nearby that can help through her tunneling vision, nausea at the sight of you distraught and crumbled nearly unconscious in her lap, your chest shaky, if even expanding at that moment. She can still recall the feeling of her fat tears running down her puffed cheeks as she felt the life physically drain from you— the way her sobs shut out any other sound of people approaching the two of you.
In the moment, all she could do was hold you for what she hoped wasn't the last time she'd get to.
From then on, she reminisced about your voice. Your smile— the way it got so stupid and bright when she did absolutely anything, the bare minimum as she put it, when you laid in her bed looking all pretty just for her.
And suddenly she's back in the cycle. The daydream of terror.
You, calling out her name. Then a gasp, and a sullen startling crack, followed by another, and another, and another—
"Nance?" Robin asks, hand on her shoulder as she realizes she's sat on a couch below the radio station, their secret basement to be precise.
"Hm?" She replies, trying to play off her zoning out as a faint lack of sleep or sudden ignorance, choosing not to feel the rooms impending gazes on her.
"You alright?" Steve approaches now, clambering down the steps as he announces details about a crawl. And suddenly, you're forgotten again, pushed away like you were never there to begin with.
Every day more conversations came, and the more they put her on edge. Crawls of abundance yet no more traces of Vecna found in any of them. Sacrificing materials and the safety of the group to even get in the little sliver of the open tunnel to the upside down they had left, coming up with nothing. It felt as if they were going in the wrong direction— like they really were locked in with no escape, but not just Hawkins. Every single corner was of no relief.
She'll let herself wonder about what you'd be doing right now if you were standing alongside her. How you'd tease Dustin and pinch his cheeks for being so smart. Blabber up an argument with Robin about some nerdy thing she would never be able to grasp and just watch in a state of mass confusion or utter amazement. Or both. Probably both.
And.. you'd be there. Beside her. Hand on her shoulder, running it down to her waist and holding her from behind and resting your head in her hair, dressing herself with the same abundant amount of perfume she had since you two met— the one you were utterly obsessed with. She misses your smell, too. The weight of your arms, the intimacy of your kisses.
You, standing, walking, in front of her.
Her fingers delicately slipped the cassette into the player she kept beside your bed, letting your favorite song run its course. She knew the lyrics to this song by heart. Emerald Eyes by Fleetwood Mac echoed in the otherwise eerily quiet and dimmed hospital room, and that's when she allowed herself to take a deep breath she didn't even know she was holding.
Her shoulders dropped to the edge of your bedside, gripping your palm in hers, interlocking your hands. She hummed the tone, her eyes already glassy as she leaned down to press her forehead down to your skin. Just to feel you. Feel like you were touching her again. Your warmth.
Something, anything, really— is what she truly hoped.
Now was the time where she resorted to self-deprication. Not on purpose. In a way where her mind runs with the image of a you who's awake, and safe— one that, maybe if she hadn't slipped up and let you go down so bitterly by the hands of that creature, you wouldn't be stuck in a coma.
She remembers a conversation way back, when you had overly exerted yourself that day and ended up curled in her arms, head to her chest and telling her how much you hated hospitals. That, after finding out about interdimensional creatures, you knew the worst thing wasn't a lady with gloves and a needle. In the moment, she only looked at you like, 'seriously?' as you blushed at her remark.
But you were still scared. Of death. Of injury. And she couldn't protect you. Not from him. Not this time— not like you needed to be saved.
God, she thought, running her hands frustratingly through her untamed locks, fuzzed from her continuously doing the same motion while also disregarding her self-care.
"You're going to be worse than my dad's receding hairline if you keep doing that" a voice emerged from the door, scaring her as she piped up with a gasp.
"Relax. It's only your favorite person ever."
"You're telling me, Steve the 'hair' Harrington has a dad with a receding hairline?" She questioned more importantly.
He chuckled, "Unfortunately it doesn't seem to get any better than this— I'm in my hairy prime right now."
Nancy only smiled faintly, the first trace of a smile he had seen on her in days. Maybe weeks. He looked down at the mess of curls pulled into a messy ponytail, which gave him a wave of nausea at the fact Nancy hated ponytails now. It was a sign of many, of her falling mental state.
"How's she doin'?" He pointed towards you and pondered, seeing you prepped in the bed like Nancy had made sure to intricately pursue every detail you couldn't right now— your hair was nicely brushed, the collar of your shirt pulled up and the blanket tucked nicely into your sides.
Nancy was the complete opposite picture of you, he thought.
"She's—" she sighs, now lacking the urge for conversation. "Like usual. Heart rates normal. No signs of her coming back yet, though"
He pauses at that, considering his next words.
"Y'know.." he starts. "it's okay to talk to someone"
Nancy only stares at the ground when he says that. It reminds her of when you first mentioned the clock. Neither of you knew anything about the existence of Vecna, yet he was haunting you one way or another. She didn't mean to put your feelings aside. She didn't know what it meant. Not then.
It doesn't mean she doesn't regret it. Because she does, every damn day she does. She didn't know about your visits to the counselor in the past, and then a proper therapist as the years passed. Stumbling across those old files in the cabinet when sneaking into the school for the kids? Her world was turned upside down. Literally.
Her stomach sank to the bottom of her gut, thinking of you at home peacefully asleep having graduated only a little bit ago, while she knew the painstaking things you had gone through and been suffering, not even aware of the full extent. The group saw, but not many said a word. None except Max.
"Hey. It'll be okay— she has me now." The girl explained, but they didn't know that Vecna had chosen already. She was weaker than Max. Broken down piece by piece, night by night. Memories that seemed too realistic played in your dreams every night, slowly turning into night terrors that had you frantic, jumping into a cold sweat beside your sleeping girlfriend.
You were the perfect one for his next victim, and Nancy brought you right to him.
That's when she looks away from Steve with a cower like she's been slapped, the memory dusted off like an old book. He stays silent while he reads the expression on her sorrowful face.
"Nance— we're all here for yo—"
"I'm too busy being here for her." She interrupts, not wanting to have this conversation with him right now.
He backs off the subject knowing he's not going to get himself far with how distressed she is.
"You should come to our meetings more often, y'know. Stay a bit longer. It'd give you a chance to see everybody for a bit. Have some food, get info on the next crawl"
"I already helped you guys with planning.. now, im here, where I'm supposed to be"
"Nance, it's not healthy-"
"Don't tell me what is and isn't healthy! It wasn't healthy to see her bones snap— wasn't healthy to see her eyes go white and blood drip down from them while I—I was.." she hiccups, stuttering through her sentences. "While I just sat there. Doing nothing— I couldn't help her Steve. I just had to sit there and watch while she suffered" Her shoulders are shaking and she's folding into herself, Steve rushing towards her to capture her in a comforting hold she hasn't felt in months.
Accompanied by the painful realization of her mother and sister being attacked by a demogorgan, even taking her sister. It was all just too much— she couldn't stand to sit and wallow, nor was she allowed in her mother's hospital room. Both her and Mike stood in the reception pale as ghosts, wondering what more tribulations Vecna might put them through.
"Hey.. hey, it'll be okay. She's tough. She's in there, looking for you— following the music you're sick of and seeing you." He reassures, not sure if Nancy really believes it.
Letting out a laugh through her cry, she lets herself sag, and for her eyes to close and a tear to fall. For once she's opened herself up to Steve, and to you in the process.
She doesn't quite remember when he leaves and she's back to reminiscing with the silence again, but she knows it's gotten dark and she can hear all sorts of noises clatter through the hospital. Your room is now bathed in a calm moonlight that goes away once Nancy shuts the curtains with ease, focusing on your rested face instead.
Then— she hears your heart monitor. Its gaining traction, and not in a good way— you're elevating fast, and she's running to your side, head swiftly looking left, right, left, right, trying to gauge what's happening to you as the little heart line goes up and up.
"Baby? Baby? Oh god.." she's trying to shake you awake with caution, anything at this point— but then she notices you're doing it yourself, eyes wiggling underneath your closed eyelids and body wracking with weird quakes and shivers.
She backs up in fear, before she hears "Nancy you need to get y/n out of there, there's a demo headed your way. Repeat, there's a demo headed your way you need to get y/n to the basement" overhead on the speakers, recognizing the voice of Robin warning her to escape, and fast.
She kicks into overdrive, using her built-up strength and sudden adrenaline to withstand your weight and the music player as she inches herself out of the room and into the white hallway of the hospital, shoes skipping across the tile.
Hearing the rough scrape of sounds echo through the corridors has her pacing it toward the elevator in a newfound panic, not wanting to be caught in the demo's wrath, especially not with you obviously so close to finally coming back to her.
She rounds the corner, quick to see the elevator and presses the button multiple times with urgency before it dings with a chime. Pressing the bottom floor with haste, she's holding down the close door button, seeing the demodogs finally catch up and spot her so far away.
She's clenching her jaw now, fists balled and sweat beading down her neck as it finally closes with a harsh thump, an indent on the metal meeting you almost face to face— luckily protected by the elevators gracious timing.
It went down the floors slowly, each one beeping the number. Floor two.. floor one... Basement.
The doors creaked harshly, recklessly urging themselves open as she ran out with you, your braids now slung over her shoulder and your head drooping in the crevice of her neck. She saw the familiar face of Robin up ahead, ushering her to come forward quickly.
"Come on! They're coming for her, and they're going to get down here one way or another" and as they ran, she was right—
Robin used all her weight to push into the first door she spotted, one that might be safe, but would at least get the four of you away from the scurrying demodogs they could hear scattering, catching up, and quickly at that. Vickie to her side as all of them ran into what seemed to be the hospital's laundry mat, Robin attempting to secure the door as the dogs made ample progress, dents blooming as the seconds ticked passed.
"Go, go!" She whisper-yelled, ushering them to the furthest corner of secrecy being one of the counters in a room connected with an open door, all of them now hidden with you still securely in Nancy's arms and music still rumbling through the terror.
As the doors broke open with a loud bang! Robin urged Nancy to turn off your music.
"Nancy— they're gonna find us" Robin urged, almost pathetically.
Nancy cried, "I can't— she's almost here"
All Robin could do was submit, grabbing Vickie's hand as Nancy's eyes stayed on you without moving, hearing only the whisper of ideas on the other side of her.
Thinking this would be it, they both shut their eyes preparing for doom, not for the loud explosion that would come from the left side of the room where something was aflame and the demodogs were no longer making a sound, all of their shoulders wracked with a distressing shock at the noise, causing all of them to look up and see a shadow standing in the fog of the door, still.
"Jesus, Ms Wheeler!" Exclaimed Robin, finally seeing the face of Karen appear through the fog of ash. "You— you really saved our asses back there"
Nancy's not listening, not really. She's too busy lifting you up onto the countertops, swiping everything off except for a towel on top of the granite as she grasps your hand and holds it graciously with hers, in a silent prayer.
Your chest starts to heave, and she feels the slightest of movement of your hand against hers, your first sign of coming back.
Then, she sees it. The gentle flutter of your eyes, getting used to the bright luminescence directly above you and staring her straight in the face, eye contact making her breath hitch as you squinted with intensity.
The tears have already started cascading down her cheeks, once pale now a harsh rosy as they glide down her smooth skin, catching on her cheekbone.
"We're here, sweetheart, we're here" she almost starts to sob, voice cracking as she sees your eyes finally come to, blinking open fully.
"Nancy?" It's rough, and it's small, but your voice— god, your voice is there.
"Yeah— yeah, it's me. Are you h—hurt?"
"I—i can't really... feel anything" you say, a nervousness wracking your unrecognized voice.
"Can you feel this? My hand?" She squeezes gently, interlacing your fingers. You only nod, reflecting her as your eyes become glossy through the foggy sight you have.
A redhead somewhere behind you comes into range, her voice calming through you're awakening "your body's still adjusting. Don't worry, you'll get used to it. You've been asleep for a long time, just give yourself a little rest"
Nancy's eager, unlike Vickie.
"Can you see?"
"The.. the lights are— really bright. B—but it's there. It's there" she swipes a strand of your hair that's fallen out of the braid band behind your ear, feeling a drop of her delicate tears falling on you from the amount she's producing just looking at you there with her in the moment.
"I heard you playing my music" you say, and she smiles through the aching feeling that clenches at her gut.
"Yeah?" She says with a nod of her head.
"Mhm— and I realized.. I just— I just needed you" she finally breaks, half-sob half-laugh as she takes you in her arms, cradling you up to her as you wrap loosely around her waist.
"can't believe you're here.. I knew it. Everyday— I waited" she whispers into your ear, finally feeling your heartbeat back against her. You relish in everything she has against you. Her curls. Her hands. Her breathing. You missed the touch of her. Two years in a guy's mind, you'd think he'd give you a little leeway.
"Vecna— he's going to be angry. Mad that I escaped." On cue, some of the gang hurries in. El, Mike, Max and Lucas.
"About time you decided to join us" Mike comments, though you can hear his sniffles matching his sister when he sees you in his sister's arms.
"Shut up Wheeler" comes from you, and it makes the older sibling giggle.
"Jesus— y/n!* Max mumbles, El joining her side, "You're here! You made it!" Both rub your back in reassuring circles, praises floating all around.
"Holly's still in there. He's definitely not going to be happy that she's escaped with me. He'll be after both of us" a conversation ensues, but Nancy's quite insistent on keeping you glued to her side for the whole thing as they argue, telling you not to be bothered with their bickering for now, they'll cue when everyone is clear minded and you can give the insight to where her sister is being kept.
She can't bare to lose you when she just got you back.
"Nance" you ask through the noise.
"Yeah, baby?" She responds immediately.
"I— my eyesight.. it's all.. wispy."
"Wispy?" Vickie catches on from a distance, running to aid you.
"Yeah like I— I can't see clearly" she examines you with her eyes, her brows furrowed in a sudden switch to intense worry.
"What's wrong?" Nancy's demanding, seeing the way Vickie straightens up.
"It could just be the suddenness of all the lights flashing in your face" clicking a flashlight into your pupils as they dilate.
Nancy's barging herself into the conversation, "It's okay— we're gonna get you somewhere safe now, and we'll figure it out"
"Okay, Nance" her eyes still glassy and water constantly pooling, she brings you back into the crevice of her neck and just inhales your scent, warmth, presence. She mutters, "You're back. You're here. You're safe" over and over again.
It's been a couple days since you woke up, no time to spare while putting all your effort towards Vecna. You quickly came to realize that the effects of surviving his inflicted torture meant your eyesight clearly obscured, having trouble making out things sometimes as your eyes went blurry and lights might've gotten too bright.
Nancy stayed by your side through all of it.
She helped you gain the courage to muster up strength in your muscles that had remained dormant for about two hellish years, both her and Vickie there for you every step of the way.
The gang welcomed you back, Robin with wide grins and her usual nonchalant comments and over the top jokes. Steve welcomed you with a pat and a nod, just fondly smiling at you like he had remembered what he lost. Jonathan sent a hug your way, a little awkward because he had to lean down to make it to your wheelchair height, but he got there eventually and had you giggling in the process.
You got to see the familiar faces of all the kids, and they all pampered you tenfold, making sure you were okay— they were so grown. It was like time had only stopped for you and became a concept for them. It was.. admittedly weird. You felt younger. And like you were missing the joke of every conversation when they talked about something and you had to look up at Nancy with a piqued brow to subtly question what the hell they were on about.
Dustin gifted you a little robot and a big hug when you finally opened your inviting arms. Max brought you more cassette tapes to switch it up, the two of you ending the days with a jam session. Lucas and Mike both stood by your side like protectors, wary of how to treat you but trying nonetheless.
Though not steady and on wheels, you were part of them no less. And that meant helping El and Kali retrieve the kids safely— and you were the only one who knew where that was— you lived in it for two goddamn years.
"I'll be okay, Nance." You hum, although you can tell she doesn't trust it regardless. She's drumming her fingers anxiously against a gun half put together she holds in her fumbling hands.
"but what if he takes something else from you? I can't have that happen again" she's pacing aggressively, shoes slapping against the floor of the WQSK building where the two of you roam in the main room as Robin does her daily playing for the radio as the kids continue their schooling, waiting for signals.
"Nance" you try to intercept. "Nancy" it's low, a pitch she hasn't heard in a while. Your grumpy, pouty tone of voice when she does something stupid and overly protective. She unconsciously smiles at the old gesture, reminded of the tribulations to get you back to her, here, arguing out of all things.
"Sorry— m'sorry sweetheart.. didn't mean to get like that" she sits down on a seat beside your wheelchair, now face to face as she props herself on her elbow to admire you in all your sun-rising glory as the moon fades over the horizon behind you.
"I know, Nance" you grab her vacant hand, grabbing it and placing it on your cheek like a grounding momento.
"You're so beautiful" she comments out of the blue, "so gorgeous in the sunlight. Missed it."
"the sun?" You joke, but she's deadly serious.
"Your smile when your cheeks raise and your eyes go wide for a second— the sound of your voice and the way you look at me when you're pissed.."
"Well.. better get used to it because now you're definitely stuck with me"
"Yeah. You are"
You both let out a little laugh, foreheads dropping to touch against each other's, feeling the wisps of hair and the easy glide of breath. Her cherry lipgloss she wears again, just for you to notice. She remembers how much you like it.
And in that moment, every bad thing that ever happened goes away. Your eyes close in tandem, and your lips touch with a languide delicacy that has you melting into it. You feel her fingertips brush the side of your head, pulling you ever-so-slightly closer as to deepen it before pulling away to end up in the same position as before.
"I love you" with a small, not-so-secretive lovestruck smile carved on her lips
"I love you too, Nancy wheeler"
"Forever? Because you can't leave me again" she asks, and you laugh with a huff.
"Forever. I pinky promise" you reply, bring your pinky up to her face, as she interlocks them.
"Forever." She repeats.
Thank you for reading! Notes and reblogs are appreciated :)
Nancy and fem reader gets trapped in the flooding room inside upside down Hawkins lab and Nancy confesses to us that she's always had feelings for us, her close friend. (Let's just pretend Jonathan and Nancy broke up earlier on) And maybe that's the reason they did, because Nance realized she only like girls. We reciprocate but they both think they're gonna die so it's kind of sad too, bittersweet I guess.
The Gold | nancy wheeler
summary: 1,1k. trapped on a metal table as an opaque, alien liquid rises through the ruins of the upside down hawkins lab, you and nancy wait for what feels like the inevitable.
cw: confession before death vibes, bittersweet, mutual pining, fem!reader, friends to lovers, english is not my first language xx.
currently playing: the gold
The liquid is rising faster than either of you expected.
It creeps in through the cracks in the lab walls first, cold and oily, spreading across the tile floor in thin ripples that reflect the flickering emergency lights. Somewhere far above, metal groans. The Upside Down Hawkins Lab is collapsing in on itself, and the room you and Nancy stumbled into—panicked, bleeding, soaked—is becoming a trap.
You slam your shoulder against the door again.
It doesn’t budge.
“Nancy,” you say, breathless, your voice echoing strangely. “The door won’t—”
“I know.” Her voice is steady, too steady, which scares you more than if she were panicking. She’s standing a few feet away, shotgun discarded on a counter that’s already half submerged. Her hair is plastered to her face, freckles darkened by water and grime.
The milky liquid reaches your ankles.
You meet her eyes, and something unspoken passes between you—fear, yes, but also understanding. You’ve been through too much together for denial to survive moments like this.
The room hums. The lights flicker again.
You lean back against the wall, contemplating the loss of alternatives. Nancy hesitates for half a second before grabbing you, her hand brushing yours. The contact is small, but it sends something sharp and aching through your chest.
She guides you on top of the table before you can do anything.
The liquid reaches the legs of the table before either of you say it out loud.
It isn’t water—not really. It’s too thick for that, opaque and slow-moving, like diluted ink, like something alive that hasn’t decided what it wants to be yet. It slides across the lab floor with a soft, muffled sound, swallowing reflections instead of mirroring them. Where it touches metal, it steams faintly.
You and Nancy are kneeling on top of the long table in the center of the room, boots soaked, hands braced against the slick surface to keep your balance. The table wobbles every time the structure groans, every time the Upside Down shifts its weight around you.
There is nowhere else to go.
The door is sealed. The walls are bleeding vines. The ceiling drips something whitish and viscous that splatters into the rising liquid below.
Nancy’s shotgun lies forgotten beside you.
Her hand is in yours.
She didn’t even ask. She just grabbed it when the liquid first started pooling, fingers cold and desperate, like instinct took over before fear could. You haven’t let go since.
The table shudders again.
“Nancy,” you whisper, more breath than sound. “I don’t think—”
“I know.” Her voice cracks this time. She isn’t trying to be brave anymore. “I know.”
The liquid laps higher, licking the underside of the table now, thick waves pressing against the legs like it’s testing how much time you have left. You can’t see through it. You don’t know how deep it is. You don’t want to.
The blue-gray light from the Upside Down sky filters through the cracked windows, casting shadows under her eyes. She looks exhausted. Younger somehow. Stripped down to the truth.
She looks at you like she’s memorizing your face.
“I never told you why Jonathan and I really ended things,” she says suddenly.
Your throat tightens. “You don’t have to—”
“I do.” She squeezes your hand harder. “If this is it… I don’t want this to be the thing I keep locked away.”
The table creaks beneath you. The liquid climbs.
Nancy inhales, shaky. “I thought something was wrong with me for a long time. That I was broken. Or too demanding. Or incapable of being satisfied.” She laughs softly, bitter. “But the truth was… I was looking in the wrong direction.”
You can’t look away from her.
“I loved him,” she continues, “but I was never in love the way I was supposed to be. And every time I tried to force it, all I could think about was you. The way you looked at me like I wasn’t asking for too much. The way being close to you felt… easy.”
The liquid reaches the tabletop edge, sloshing dangerously close.
Nancy’s eyes shine. “I like girls,” she says. Then, barely above a whisper, “I really like you.”
The words don’t feel loud. They feel heavy. Like they settle into your bones instead of the air.
You laugh quietly, breath hitching, tears spilling before you can stop them. “You know what’s cruel?” you say. “I used to wish you’d realize that. And then I started wishing you never would—because I didn’t want it to be like this.”
Her lips tremble. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” You shift closer on the table, knees brushing, foreheads nearly touching. “I’ve loved you for so long it stopped feeling like a secret and started feeling like a fact. Like gravity.”
The table rocks as something collides with it underneath. The liquid swells, coating the metal surface in a thin, glossy film.
Nancy moves without thinking. She cups your face, thumbs warm against your cheeks despite everything.
“I was so afraid,” she admits. “Afraid that if I chose you, I’d lose everything else. And now…” Her voice breaks. “Now I’d give anything for more time.”
You lean into her touch. “Then let’s not waste this.”
She kisses you like it might be the only time she ever gets to. Slow, reverent, desperate in its softness. Like she’s afraid if she presses too hard, you’ll vanish. The world is ending in quiet, horrible ways beneath you, but for a moment, there is only her mouth against yours, the truth finally allowed to exist.
When you pull apart, she rests her forehead against yours, eyes closed.
“If we survive,” she whispers, “I want mornings with you. I want ordinary. I want boring. I want a life where loving you isn’t something I have to be brave about.”
The liquid is on the table now, seeping around your knees, opaque and cold.
You hold her tighter. “And if we don’t…”
She opens her eyes, meeting yours.
“Then I’m glad I didn’t die lying to myself.”
The table groans, sinking just a fraction.
You stay there together, holding on, surrounded by the slow, inevitable rise of something you don’t understand—knowing that even if this place takes everything else, it can’t take the truth you finally gave each other.
Why is writing Will Byers x fem reader something problematic?↷
First of all, let’s summarize this situation in one short sentence: you are turning a gay character into a straight one.
Why this is troubling:
Will Byers represents a marginalized minority group
The actor who portrays him is part of that minority
The fifth season, which gave rise to all this mischaracterization in fanfics, is the season in which his sexuality finally received a direct approach (and it is also the first season with a consolidated queer couple; Robin and Vickie ❤️)
The wave of conservatism and the normalization of homophobia on the internet
Imagine the person who saw themselves represented by the character’s arc, who identified with Robin’s speech, coming here and seeing, basically, Will Byers in an intense gay conversion session? Frustration is already expected (even disgust), so no, it is not surprising that people complain — they have the right to complain! To talk about the character who represents them and about how he is being approached in these stories! Do you even care about what Will Byers represents?
The comment about “gay cure” was deliberately an exaggeration, but it is an easy line of thought to draw. Let’s go back to the summarized statement: you are turning a gay character into a straight one.
Or worse, into a bisexual one! You are modifying a queer storyline with the sole purpose of heteronormatizing it and turning it into an erotic tale with a woman. No, you are not developing a diverse plot by keeping Will’s passion for Mike in your fanfic with a female reader; you are being disrespectful and showing that you have no tact whatsoever to deal with sensitive writing and LGBTQ+ characters. If you are going to do it anyway, just turn him straight once and for all! Clearly, there is no care, nor is any importance given to what the character represents.
“You turn heterosexual characters into gays!”
People who say this are ignorant. Are you really trying to put a MINORITY, which is brutalized every single day for being who they are, on the same level as the privileged social norm? The norm that exists across all media vs the marginalized minority with few representations and that feels immensely attached to the little it has. It doesn’t seem like the same thing to me 😕 or are you the type of people who believe in heterophobia? hahaha
“It’s just fiction!”
Countless discussions are raised from fictional works! Film adaptations, for example, turn non-white characters into white ones, and the issue is discussed.
What’s the next step? Robin x male reader? I hope the sapphics speak up if that happens, and I’ll be there with them!
Meeting Nancy Wheeler's parents was something you'd managed to avoid for months—partly because life in Hawkins was always a little too eventful, and partly because the idea of sitting across from Ted and Karen Wheeler felt strangely scarier than facing a demogorgon.
But tonight, there were no monsters. Just you, Nancy, and a carefully planned family dinner.
You stood on the Wheeler porch with a plate of still-warm brownies in hand, the ones Nancy insisted would "help your odds." She gave your arm a quick squeeze before ringing the doorbell.
"Relax," she whispered, amused. "They're not going to interrogate you."
"Your mom might," you murmured back.
Nancy laughed under her breath—soft, reassuring, familiar. Before you could joke again, the door swung open.
Karen Wheeler beamed. "Nancy! And you must be Y/N. Come on in!"
She pulled you both inside with that warm, over-eager energy she was famous for. The scent of roasted chicken drifted in from the kitchen, mixing with the faint smell of rose scented detergent that always clung to the Wheeler home.
"Nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Wheeler," you said politely.
"Oh, Karen is just fine," she said, patting your arm like you were already family. "Ted! They're here!"
From the living room, Ted Wheeler looked up from his recliner. "Hey," he said simply, raising a hand before turning back to the television.
Karen sighed but smiled anyway. "He's thrilled," she whispered to you with a wink.
Nancy rolled her eyes affectionately. "Come on, let's go sit."
Dinner started smoothly enough. Karen asked the usual questions—school, hobbies, how long you and Nancy had been dating. And you answered carefully, trying to sound both respectful and confident. Nancy watched you with faint amusement, clearly enjoying your nervousness.
At one point, Karen clasped her hands. "Nancy tells me you helped with... that science project?"
Oh. Right. The "science project." She meant the time you and the Party had dealt with a creature from another dimension. Nancy coughed gently, and you forced a smile.
"Uh, yeah," you said. "Lot of late nights. Teamwork."
"Good," Ted said suddenly, fork pointing at you. "Teamwork's important."
Nancy nudged your leg under the table, fighting a smile. You relaxed a little after that.
Halfway through dinner, Holly toddled over, staring up at you with wide eyes. She climbed into the empty chair beside you without a word. You offered her a piece of brownie, and she grinned, chocolate already smudging her cheeks. Karen cooed at the sight.
"She likes you," she said. "That's a very good sign."
You tried not to blush.
When dinner wound down, Nancy helped her mom clear the table while you talked—well, mostly listened—to Ted explain the importance of fixing things yourself instead of calling a repairman.
You nodded at all the right moments, earning the closest thing to approval he ever gave: a nod in return.
When it was finally time to leave, Karen hugged you. "We're glad Nancy brought you around," she said warmly. "You're welcome here anytime."
Outside, Nancy slipped her hand into yours. "See?" she teased. "Told you it wouldn't be that bad."
You exhaled, smiling. "Yeah. But next time, we're ordering pizza."
lowkey hate how big stranger things is of a show cause everyone and their mother has something to say about it and that is how we have people pushing for stancy and mileven in the big 2025... do you hate nancy and eleven or something
