#Friends - to strangers - to lovers(?)

[sanguineterrain]

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing. 

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard. 

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say. 

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted. 

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it. 

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?" 

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again. 

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks. 

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face. 

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly. 

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone. 

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you. 

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you. 

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.” 

You nod and lay back on the floaty. 

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks. 

“Just us?” 

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you. 

Whoops. Right. You're still at work. 

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing. 

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink. 

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it? 

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar. 

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?” 

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort. 

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you. 

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.” 

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add. 

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently. 

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway. 

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight. 

“You’re awesome, Y/N!" 

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?” 

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot. 

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again." 

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young. 

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town. 

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered." 

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family. 

"Who do I ask for?" 

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck. 

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says. 

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?" 

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler. 

She nods in realization. 

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince. 

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit. 

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say. 

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree. 

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand. 

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod. 

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest. 

"How come?" she asks. 

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically. 

"They're jerks," she says. 

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore. 

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans. 

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from. 

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass. 

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on. 

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures. 

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter. 

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font. 

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles. 

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye. 

"No," you manage. 

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?" 

He doesn't remember you. 

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve. 

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say. 

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin. 

Her brows rise. 

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away. 

Only there do you stop to catch your breath. 

And then you cry. 

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?" 

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table. 

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah." 

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it. 

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute." 

"I guess so," you say. 

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase. 

"Shit, here. Take mine." 

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it. 

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?" 

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before. 

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now. 

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates. 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple. 

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?" 

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention. 

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched. 

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words." 

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack. 

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says. 

You nearly swallow your tongue. 

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do. 

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair. 

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back. 

"Just us?" you check. 

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together. 

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?" 

You check your watch and close your book. 

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later." 

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.) 

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends. 

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?" 

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs. 

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though. 

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses. 

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look. 

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile. 

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation. 

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile. 

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always. 

You lean your elbows on the countertop. 

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes. 

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument. 

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that. 

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking. 

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say. 

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?" 

Lucas nods. 

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey. 

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you. 

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains. 

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone. 

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie. 

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort. 

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared. 

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector." 

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly. 

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that. 

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?" 

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change. 

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty. 

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business." 

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional. 

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew. 

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool. 

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy. 

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy. 

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason. 

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little. 

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck. 

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.” 

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area. 

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share. 

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!” 

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm. 

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying. 

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded. 

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror. 

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket. 

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you. 

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it. 

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again. 

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting. 

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth. 

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese. 

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?" 

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too. 

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava. 

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none. 

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head. 

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile. 

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble. 

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met." 

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot. 

"This town is so shit," you say. 

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?" 

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle. 

You look at the tape in your hand. 

"Does Steve like John Hughes?" 

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved. 

"I did want to watch this one," you say. 

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises. 

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on. 

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap. 

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't. 

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself. 

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been. 

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie. 

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not. 

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy. 

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life. 

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault. 

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him. 

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital. 

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it. 

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you. 

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck. 

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships. 

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that. 

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it. 

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Lo

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand. 

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open. 

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine. 

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you. 

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask. 

“Always.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 1

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader)Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3631 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

(21 years old)

'All right, team,' Y/N Prince addressed her small group of young heroes. 'Good work today. Now go hit the showers and enjoy a nice quiet night in. You've earned it.'

'So crash!' Bart cried with an energetic jump. If anyone were to guess how the team's week had been solely based on Bart's energy, they would've said it had been cruisy. Not that Y/N had led a covert task force over the past week into Bialya to take down meta-human trafficking outposts.

Y/N watched with pride as Bart and Jaime bantered on their way out, followed by Stephanie and Cassie chatting excitedly about something, all the while Tim and Cassie held hands quietly. It had surprised the team a little how, out of the blue, the two of them were dating. But if Wally's death had taught them all anything, it was that time was too precious to waste in their line of work. They'd been together ever since.

Two years, Y/N mentally noted, and suddenly the adrenaline she'd been running on for the past week died as the last of the team exited the entrance chamber of the Watchtower. Exhaustion weighed down on her spent body, but an extra weight now sat in heart. Has it really been that long already?

So much had changed in that time. Like how the Young Justice began working out of the Watchtower alongside the Justice League, having both the Hall of Justice and Mount Justice destroyed by the Reach and the Light respectively. M'gann and Connor were back together, having finally gotten over their differences and accepted their mistakes. Also, Kaldur had been offered a position in the Justice League following the retirement of his king, and so Kaldur took his place as the new Aquaman in the Justice League. M'gann was promoted to new team leader, with Connor and Y/N assisting her as senior members of the team.

Some things had remained the same, however. Like the team's energy and slight dysfunction that always made Y/N feel at home. They weren't perfect, but what family ever is?

Dick was still gone. So was Artemis. She'd, understandably, retired as Green Arrow's protégé immediately after Wally's death, assuming her undercover identity Tigress instead and going off on her own. Neither had stayed in touch with anyone on the team.

You're my best friend. Always have been, always will be...

'Yeah right,' Y/N mumbled bitterly as she made her way to the conference room. No doubt that'd be where M'gann and Connor were waiting for her to debrief the mission.

Upon entering the room with the long table, she was immediately embraced by M'gann. 'Welcome back,' she said, squeezing Y/N tighter. 'We're so glad you're okay.'

Y/N smiled softly as she embraced M'gann in return. 'You ever doubted me?'

'No,' Connor answered, 'but you can never be too cautious right?'

Y/N let go of M'gann to hug Connor as well. Since getting back together, Connor wasn't as emotionally suppressed as he'd initially been. It was nice seeing him this way, more happy and free. The same effect had happened to M'gann, who (only around the team and the Justice League) revealed her white martian self proudly instead of pretending to be something she wasn't.

'You're right,' Y/N said as she released him, then the three of them took a seat to discuss the mission.

The debrief didn't take long, there wasn't much to report on as all out-posts had been hit successfully, putting Queen Bee's meta-human trafficking at least a little behind.

'It's not much, but it's the best we could do with the little information we got,' Y/N admitted. 'I dislike Queen Bee and her minions as much as the next person, but I've got to give it to her, she knows how to keep things under wraps.'

M'gann reached across from where she sat and closed her hand over Y/N's. 'Y/N, the mission was a success,' M'gann insisted. 'And what's most important is that you brought everyone home. Alive.'

Y/N heard the underlying fear in her words, the memory she was thinking of as she spoke them. Y/N twisted her hand over to clasp M'gann's in return. 'I know,' she said softly. 'But I just... we haven't so much as put a dent into the underbelly of meta-human trafficking in the two years it's been running. Somedays... Somedays I just feel so useless.'

'I know, Y/N,' Connor reassured. 'But we've just got to trust that our hard work will pay off eventually. I know it doesn't seem like much now, but every mission counts. Don't be so hard on yourself.'

Y/N withdrew her hand at the comment, hastily standing up. 'Don't be hard on myself? My mother is Wonder Woman, is the Champion of Themyscira, a World War II hero, and had already saved the world once by my age now. My father was a fighter pilot in the Iran-Iraq war and died fighting for his country,' she said angrily. 'And what am I doing? Hiding under the protection of darkness, taking out small outposts that will just be rebuilt elsewhere just as quickly? How can I not be hard on myself?'

At M'gann's taken aback expression, Y/N felt slightly guilty for raising her voice. But they just didn't understand. All her life, she'd been training and fighting for her supposed "destiny". Surely this wasn't it.

'I'm sorry,' Y/N said, forcing herself to calm down. 'I just...'

'You don't have to a apologise,' M'gann interrupted, standing and walking over to Y/N to clasp their hands together. 'After all we've done together, I understand that what we do now doesn't seem like enough. But I can tell you were made for more.'

Y/N offered her a grateful smile and M'gann let their hands drop. 'I should go. Mother and I have patrol in Washington DC tonight.'

'Already?' M'gann asked, face dropping with disappointment. 'But you just got back. Surely she knows that.'

'Unfortunately, even in the country's capital, crime never sleeps. I'm just grateful it's nothing like Gotham,' Y/N said.

'I agree,' Connor said. 'Visited there once with-' He paused for a moment, eyes growing wary as he looked between Y/N and M'gann. But Y/N already knew what he was going to say and gave him a slight nod to continue anyway. 'With Dick. We did patrol once there together. To put it simply, they're all nutcases there.'

Y/N managed an amused half-smile. 'You're not wrong there,' she said, then made her way to the door. Before she reached the doorknob, M'gann called out.

'Maybe when you're free next, you can join us for dinner at home,' she offered, her eyes hopeful as she waited Y/N's answer.

'Yeah,' she eventually answered though it wasn't as enthusiastic as she should've been. 'Yeah, that'd be nice. I'll talk to you guys soon. Don't stay up here too late.'

It had to be close to 7pm in Washington DC at least, so there weren't many people still left in the Watchtower. Just those from the League and her team that were rostered for overnight supervision. Y/N made sure to greet each person she walked by on the way to the Zeta-tubes. But just as she was about to dial in her code to leave, a resounding voice made her pause.

'Wonderess,' Kaldur called. 'Not even a hello before you head off for another mission?'

Y/N smirked as she turned back around to face the new hero of Atlantis. 'I'm sorry, Aquaman,' she said in an exaggerated tone. 'Not all of us can sit around having team parties with our Justice League buddies.'

To anyone else, it would've been taken as an insult. But Kaldur saw her humour and smiled. 'Oh is that what this is about? You know the League do more than just chit chat.'

Y/N shook her head. 'I don't know. The mess you guys left behind in the conference room before I left tells another story.'

As Kaldur approached Y/N, the sarcastic banter dropped as they both embraced each other. Kaldur had grown into a fit, muscular man, and now stood a good head taller than Y/N. His uniform was more or less the same as it had always been, except now both his arms were covered from shoulder-to-finger in gold armour. He certainly was no longer just a young lad, but the man his predecessor saw he could become.

'It is good to see you, Y/N,' Kaldur said softly as he pulled away.

'And you, old friend,' Y/N replied, a genuine smile splitting her lips.

'I heard you went into Bialyan territory,' Kaldur continued. 'I am glad to see you and the rest of the team are unharmed.'

'Well, the team are no longer just children' Y/N said, 'but it was a simple enough mission too. Nothing too dangerous.'

Kaldur's brows furrowed together as he looked over Y/N. 'I sense you are not happy with something. Wasn't the mission successful as I have heard?'

Y/N let out a soft sigh. 'It's not that I'm not happy with the mission's success. Of course I'm happy we all got home okay. I just...' She didn't really feel like explaining herself again, but Kaldur nodded in understanding.

'You feel stuck,' he finished, to which Y/N nodded in confirmation. Kaldur turned so he could look to the giant windows of the Watchtower's entrance chamber. They framed Earth in a way that made it seem both ginormous and insignificant at the same time. 'The League is in a similar position, I am afraid to admit. Some days there is progress. Other days, it feels like I wait so much I am afraid I will freeze in one spot.'

'How do you combat that?' Y/N asked.

Kaldur turned back to Y/N, his face softened with a small smile. 'I train.'

'That's it?' Y/N asked, not quite believing her friend.

He shrugged his shoulders. 'Amongst other things, yes. I train, I go home, I see my family, I laugh with my friends. I do all these things to remind myself why I am here. Why I do what I do. It sounds to me like you need to remind yourself why you are here.'

'Because of the team,' she said without hesitation. He hadn't asked a question, but she felt she needed to justify herself. 'Because I can't just desert them, not when they're working so hard.'

'And yet you feel you are not doing enough,' Kaldur countered, his teal eyes gazing hard at her. 'Why?'

Y/N opened her mouth to answer but no answer came.

'Y/N,' Kaldur continued. 'Why do you feel the need to stay when you don't want to be there?'

'I do want to stay-'

'Don't lie to me, Y/N,' Kaldur interrupted.

Y/N swallowed thickly as she looked from Kaldur, to the conference room door where M'gann and Connor still were, and back to Kaldur. Seeing no escape from his fierce questioning, she caved.

'It's not that I don't want to stay,' she admitted quietly. 'I love the kids, I love the team. I'm just... so tired, Kaldur. Of doing the same thing week in and week out and getting nowhere. But if I leave, I don't want the team to think I'm abandoning them. Not like-'

Y/N bit her lip at the thought of him. No, she wouldn't leave. She just wouldn't.

Kaldur pressed his lips into a firm line. 'Dick needed to reforge his own path. He was grieving in his own way.'

'Well I was grieving, too,' Y/N countered, a sudden surge of anger flaring up inside her. How dare Kaldur defend Dick. 'And I had to get on with my life because the team needed me. We needed him, Kaldur. I needed him, and he just left.'

Y/N bowed her head to collect her thoughts and calm down. That's two friends she had yelled at for no reason. Before she could apologise though, Kaldur placed a hand on her shoulder, and she raised her head to find him looking directly into her eyes.

'I cannot say I am not also disappointed in our friend,' Kaldur admitted sadly. 'I did not expect him to become so closed off for so long. But you've helped rebuild this team from the grief and pain it experienced when Wally died. I think you've earned the right to decide where you go from here, Y/N, without feeling guilty or selfish if your wish is not to stay with the team. In my opinion, you were made for more than this.'

'That's funny,' Y/N said in a flat voice. 'You're the second person today to tell me that.'

'Maybe because it is true,' Kaldur said sincerely. 'You know you still have a place in the Justice League whenever you'd like to join us. I would be honoured and happy to fight alongside a warrior such as yourself again. It would be like old times.'

Y/N offered a grateful smile as she patted Kaldur's hand that still rested on her shoulder. 'Thanks Kaldur, but I'm not ready for that just yet. Besides, you don't need two Amazonians running the show. And let's be real, we would so be in charge of you boys.'

The two shared quiet laughter as Kaldur's hand retuned to his side. 'Very well, then. So what will your decision be, Wonderess?'

Y/N looked to the Earth and space beyond it once more. Her heart and head were tearing her in two. She truly loved being a part of the team, but something inside her agreed with M'gann and Kaldur. Surely she was meant for more. But what exactly that was, she had to go find out.

'I think you're right, Kaldur,' she finally said, turning back to face her friend. 'I think I need to remind myself why I am here in the first place. And that comes from knowing who I am to begin with.'

Kaldur's face pinched in slight confusion. 'I'm sorry, but I do not follow.'

Y/N didn't answer straight away. Instead, she turned to dial in her code to exit the Watchtower. 'B-00: Wonderess,' the computer announced as the Zeta-tube activated.

She then finally turned back to Kaldur. 'I need to know where I've been to then know where I will go,' she said. 'I need to go back to where it all started.'

'And where's that?' Kaldur asked.

'With my mother,' she answered, then spared him one last sweet smile. 'Tell M'gann and Connor and the team I'm sorry.'

Kaldur looked as if he wanted to say something, ask more questions. But Kaldur was always more insightful than the rest of their group. He didn't always need an explanation. He just somehow knew, and so Y/N was grateful when he accepted her words with a simple nod of his head.

'Be safe, dear friend,' he said in farewell. 'May destiny be kind to you, wherever it leads you.'

Y/N nodded her appreciation and entered the Zeta-tube. It was always a weird sensation travelling by Zeta-tube, like a million light pricks into every part of the body. Thankfully the trip was quick to the Zeta tube depot in Washington DC, with Y/N walking out of an abandoned janitor's closest in the post office down the road from her apartment.

She smiled and waved down to civilians as she flew over the busy streets, but she flew as fast as she could to the meeting point.

Her mother casually sat atop the Washington Monument as Y/N approached, floating just in front of her. 'I was starting to worry you had gotten caught in Bialya,' Diana joked as she stood to greet her daughter. 'Welcome home, my daughter.'

'Good to see you, Mother,' Y/N said, and the two briefly embraced.

'Now that you're here,' Diana said, prepping to take off for the usual patrol, 'why don't we get going.'

'Actually, Mother, there is something I wanted to talk to you about first,' Y/N interrupted.

Diana raised an eyebrow. 'Really? And what would that be?'

Y/N took a deep breath in before she spoke the words. But when she did, she had never been more sure. 'I want you to take me back to your home. To Themyscira.'

~~~

Since she was a little girl, Y/N had heard hundreds of stories from her mother about the homeland of the Amazons. How beautiful it was with its architecture, its nature, and the women who ruled the island. She'd always dreamed of someday going there, but her mother said it was impossible to find it.

Except she failed to mention that despite leaving the island and forgetting where it was located, Diana had been gifted a compass that would always lead her back home, but only if she used it. It would not work without Amazonian hands.

So after all the storytelling and all the dreaming, nothing came close to actually witnessing Themyscira in the flesh.

Y/N stood speechless on the beach, looking up at the steps that led up to the first level of the city that seemed to climb higher and higher towards the sky. It was something out of the Ancient Greek text books Diana used to make Y/N read as a child, but even more fantastical and wondrous.

It wasn't just the visuals, though. Since the Invisible Jet broke through the barrier that hid Themyscira, Y/N had felt a pull of sorts towards the island. Now that she stood on its soil, she felt a warm energy wash over her, strengthen her, pull her into its embrace as if to say, Welcome home at last.

An entourage of women in red leather slitted skirts, plated tops, and armour while holding spears followed behind a woman dressed in white and purple robes. Ebony hair billowed out behind her golden leaf crown, the grey strands in between looking more silver as they caught the midday sun.

Y/N knew immediately who she was. Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons. Her grandmother.

As Hippolyta approached Y/N and Diana, she opened her arms to take her daughter's face into her hands. 'Diana,' she said, bringing her lips to her daughter's forehead in a simple kiss. 'Welcome home.'

'Thank you, Mother,' Diana said, and Y/N could tell by her mother's smile that she was joyous to be home. 'I'm sorry it took me so long.'

'Do not worry about that, child,' Hippolyta reassured. 'You are here now.'

She then looked over to Y/N, and for some reason Y/N straightened up, flattened out her Wonderess uniform, made sure her hair was tucked behind her headband. Y/N was briefly taken back to the time she (consciously) remembered meeting her grandparents on her father's side. All dressed up so as to make a good impression.

Y/N held her breath as Hippolyta walked slowly over to her, grey eyes scanning every inch of Y/N's figure in silence. When she'd done a cursory glance, she then stepped closer and took Y/N's face into her hands. Y/N was unable to look away from Hippolyta as the older woman caressed and poked and prodded at her features.

At last, Hippolyta stopped and her hands dropped to Y/N's shoulders. A kind, joyous smile graced the older woman's features. 'You have my daughter's eyes,' she said quietly, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. 'So kind and forthright. What is your name child?'

'Y/N Prince,' Y/N managed to get out once she caught her breath. 'Daughter of Steve Trevor...' Her gaze flickered to her mother, and the two shared a smile. '...and Diana Prince, Princess of Themyscira.'

Y/N looked back to see Hippolyta tearing up as realisation finally hit her. 'I have a granddaughter,' she said as she finally embraced Y/N completely, to which Y/N reciprocated and the entourage of Amazonians cheered and smashed their shields with their spears in celebration.

Hippolyta let go of Y/N to clasp one of her hands as she went to grab her daughter's hand. She then turned the three of them to face the crowd. 'My daughter and your champion, and my granddaughter have come home!'

More cheers erupted.

'Let us prepare a feast in their honour,' Hippolyta continued, and when the crowd began to disperse, she turned to Diana and Y/N to speak more quietly. 'I am sure you have both come here for a reason, and not just to say hello.'

'You are correct, Mother,' Diana said. 'It seems as though I have neglected our origins as Amazonians for too long and can no longer teach Y/N our ways.'

'I wish to learn who I am,' Y/N added. 'I wish to know where I come from, so that I may know where I must go next.'

'And how long do you believe that will take?' Hippolyta asked.

'As long as it takes,' Y/N answered, more certain than ever before. 'I don't care what I must do, Your Majesty. I will follow your guidance, as my mother once did.'

Hippolyta considered Y/N for a moment, then spared Diana an impressed smirk. 'Well, you taught her one thing, Diana.'

'What's that mother?' Diana asked.

'Your steadfast stubbornness.' Hippolyta looked back to Y/N. 'Very well, granddaughter. You will train among the other warriors. I just hope you know it won't be as easy as you might think.'

'Trust me,' Y/N replied, 'I'm hoping it isn't.'

Hippolyta's smile widened and her eyes sparkled with excitement. 'That attitude is already a good start. Come, we will talk of this later. First, let us celebrate this homecoming.'

That night Y/N ate and drank and danced among women like her, some older, some younger, some taller, some stronger. And she had never felt more at home, more recognised and celebrated. She'd had her doubts if she had made the right decision, but now she had no doubt.

She was where she belonged.

#young justice #friends to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers #romance #angst #slowburn #young justice imagines #young justice x reader #young justice dick grayson #dick grayson #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #batfam #nightwing #nightwing x reader #wally west #kid flash #miss martian #connor kent #superboy #artemis #batman #bruce wayne #kaldur'ahm #aqualad #wonder woman #diana prince

[urfriendlywriter]

gestures between friends to strangers turning into lovers :)

(feel free to use <3 can yall plsplsplssss tag when u write these, im such a suckerrr (requested by @sc3ne-l1v3s !) )

"oh wow- *practically fumbling to find words* you look.. grown." then immediately regretting talking ever .

walking into a café, secretly hoping they're there. and THEY ARE . better, if they're waiting FOR YOU.

"didn't you like this song before?" "you remembered." ✧｡✰*♡

forced to work together and there's vivid tension all around you both

cramped in an elevator and they shield you. DAMN IT

^ "a-are you comfortable?" " *exhales, vividly turning red and avoiding their gaze* yea-yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

they do a little extra when it's for you. a very small gesture, but speaks loud

knowing much about the other, so you don't have to say a word when you're down, they just know it and they acknowledge it. (RISE YOUR STANDARDS YALL)

always bickering.

bickering as fun and they inch closer to you. eyes flickering down to those lips.

TENSION. and avoiding to acknowledge it. JUST BECAUSE.

"were you thinking about me?" "huh-" "because i can't seem to stop thinking about you."

gasping when they pull you closer to dance with them.

^ "god, I've always wanted to do this with you."

at that stage were y'all are whipped. simping for each other, but. BUT DENYING IT. BECAUSE YOU'RE AFRAID THEY'LL BECOME A STRANGER IN YOUR LIFE AGAIN.

listening to them talk about how they've been, while you realise, you are indeed in love with them.

"i can't be around you." "Why?" ".. you know why. you just fail to accept it. recognize it."

"i admit. I've had feelings for you ever since you forced me into becoming your best friend in third grade-" "Fourth grade, you mean. AND- WHY. DIDNT U TELL ME??"

"i can't leave. I've found my home in you, i won't leave."

#childhood friends to lovers #friends to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers #romance writing #otp prompts #dialogue prompts #imagine your otp #romance prompts writing #writeblr #writing prompts #writing ideas #writing inspiration #writing drabble #otp drabble prompts #otp writing #otp things #otp ideas #otp meme #writers on tumblr #love prompts #fluff prompts #writer prompts #urfriendlywriter #tension prompts #whipped prompts #writing inspo #writing prompt #writing stuff #writing quirks #writing lessons

[sirensleepingsoundly]

Hellfire and Spitfire (pt.7)

CW: spoilers(duh), regular fluff, story addition, sexual content, angst, unrequited, friends to enemies to lovers, only one bed (sort of), angry kissing, aggressive seggs, hair pulling, blood, hand/ring fetish, size kink.

Word Count: 5.1k

Your heart dropped into your ass. You, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie just watched as the bubbles dissipated where Steve had been sucked under. 

“No! No! What the fuck was that man?” Eddie started freaking out, tousling his hair.

Nancy made to stand and leant over the edge of the boat.

“Wait, wait, wait. Nancy, you are not going down there!” You scolded your own older sister. What if something happened to her? She hadn’t seen what you saw. She didn’t know all of what Vecna was capable of, but the second Steve was in trouble, she was all too willing to dive in and save him.

“Just… wait here, okay?” She pointed into the boat and then jumped in feet first. The whole thing shook and you had to grab the sides to stabilize yourself. 

You only took a second to consider before deciding. Your sister was down there. You took off your sweater, leaving only a tank top, and looked back at Eddie. He was already shaking his head. 

“Wheeler, don’t you fucking dare. Nancy said to stay put!”

You responded by diving head first into the lake, swimming straight down. The cold of the water shocked your senses and stung your eyes. Just as your lungs were starting to ache for air, you saw it. A faint red glow surrounding a strange fleshy membrane. And then you felt it, a force tugging you in. It pulled you further and further in until you fell through the gate, landing what felt like the wrong way up. You tried to stand, disoriented. And when your vision finally came back into focus you found yourself in what seemed to be an exact copy of lovers lake, only barren. Across the empty lake, you saw movement. Small creatures, a bunch of them, swarming something. Then Nancy, batting at them with an oar. You broke into a full sprint toward them, hearing Robin’s voice behind you. 

As you got closer you realized what was happening. Steve was on the ground being attacked by the little beasts, these ugly veiny little bat things. You picked up a large rock from off the ground and chucked it at the nearest bat-thing. Robin caught up and also began looking for something to throw, when Eddie appeared out of nowhere with his own oar, swinging it at every creature in sight. One had wrapped itself around Steve’s throat, and the lot of you fought off the ones that had decided to dine on Steve’s middle. 

Eddie broke the oar on one, and used the now sharp bit to stab at them. Finally the rest of the bat-things were all either dead or fleeing. 

Steve stood up and bit the last one trying to attack him, tearing it apart with his teeth and leaving nasty too-dark blood dripping from his mouth. 

“Jesus H. fucking Christ!” Eddie yelled, throwing his oar spear to the dirt. 

“Oh my god. What the hell?” You were dumbfounded, still no idea what just happened.

“Steve, are you okay?” Of course Nancy was immediately attending to Steve.

Just as Robin started to ramble about rabies, you zoned out. You’d seen the beasts and creatures born of it, but you’d never actually seen into the Upside Down before. 

You looked up and around at everything. The landscape was dead and barren, except these weird vines that grew everywhere. The sky was a strange red tinge. All around you, these flaky particles like ash permeated the air. And then across the clearing to the other bank, way up in the sky, you noticed a swarm. Thousands of the little winged beasties making their way in your direction. 

“Hey guys?” You called back toward the group, still focused on the swarm. Everyone noticed at once. 

“The woods, come on!” Nancy ran for the tree line. She was fast in those damn boots. 

Soon you were back under the cover of skull rock, listening to the horde fly over and away. After they passed, you all got up to start walking. Before everyone could even get out from under the boulder, Steve fell against the rock face and just collapsed against the wall. 

“Oh shit.”

“Steve? Steve!” You started to walk over but Nancy beat you to him, getting him to sit back down and dress his wounds. You tried not to let it get to you.

Instead you walked back to look around with Eddie, stealing a quick glance at Steve’s bloodied body before averting your gaze. You weren’t sure about how it made you feel to see him beaten up, bruised, and covered in blood. Ignoring the heat pooling in your belly, you turned to Eddie to try and make light conversation. 

“You okay?”

“No. You?”

“No.” 

For a moment it was quiet, then you looked at each other and sputtered laughing. How ridiculous was this? 

“So I’m guessing you haven’t been here before either? On this side, I mean?” Eddie was squatting down next to where you sat on the ground. Robin had taken to reminding Steve and Nancy of the symptoms of rabies.

“Nope.” You looked around again. 

“This place is fucking creepy.”

“I know right?” You blew warm air into your hands, and rubbed your arms for warmth. Eddie noticed and, without speaking, took off his leather jacket and put it around your shoulders. When you turned around to thank him, he had walked off towards the others. You took a moment to breathe in the smell of the jacket. It was dirty, and it had the faint smell of sweat and deodorant. 

“So, uh, this place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?” Eddie had climbed his way up to the top of a rock protruding from the ground. 

“Pretty much.” Nancy answered. You looked over to see Steve’s waist bandaged up with a ripped piece of cloth, which you then identified as Nancy’s sweater after seeing the ripped hem of her own top. 

“Wait, watch out for the vines.” Eddie had started climbing down the rock to level ground when Nancy stopped him. “It’s all a hive mind.”

“It’s all a what?” 

Steve jumped in to explain. “All the creepy crawlies around here, dude. They’re, like, one or something. Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.”

“Shit.”

 “But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people?” Robin asked, and you realized she’d never actually been in here either. While you, Eddie, and Robin were all totally inexperienced in this domain, Nancy and Steve had ventured down here more than once. 

“As far as I understand it, yeah.”

“So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate.” You stopped to think about how far the police station was from here. 

“I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin.” Steve made a decent point. At this point you’d settle for a heavy stick to swat the veiny little shits back to their maker. “But guns, yeah sure.”

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns. I have guns. In my bedroom.” Nancy interjected, and you were taken totally aback. 

“Hold on, what? Nance you have guns in the house? And you didn’t think to let me know?”

“You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns, plural, in your bedroom?”

“What the fuck?” 

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver.” She explained, ignoring your confusion at the fact that there are guns in her room. 

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one.” 

“You almost deserved it.” Nancy and Steve looked at each other for a little too long, when Eddie threw his vest at Steve, breaking the awkward moment. This left Eddie in nothing but his hellfire shirt.

“For your modesty, dude.”

The ground shook underneath you, casting you all to the ground, and a loud noise echoed out through the woods. You fell into Eddie’s arms. Turning to get a good grip on something stable, you grasped his shirt so tight you thought you might rip it. 

“So guns seem like a pretty good idea to me.” Eddie said from above you.

The five of you walked through the woods, all of you being careful not to step on vines or anything that might alert Vecna to your whereabouts. Robin and Nancy led the charge together, Steve slightly behind them, leaving you and Eddie at the tail end of the group. You and Eddie didn’t talk except to say thank you when he helped you over a few particularly large roots in the ground. You were grateful for the silence, it gave you time to think about everything. 

Steve clearly still had feelings for Nancy, and no matter how many times you tried to get close to him, Nancy beat you to it. Jumping in the lake to save him, going through the gate, beating off bats, and even dressing his wounds. You weren’t sure if she knew how you felt and was blocking, or if she just maybe felt the same. Either way, a tiny spark of anger lit in your chest. She had Johnathan. Why would she even care if you finally admitted how you felt to Steve? What did she care? It was her fault that she and Steve had broken up in the first place. She didn’t give him the love he deserved, and then went to Johnathan. The spark quickly grew into a full fledged fire, heating up your face and ears. If it wasn’t so goddamned dark in this dimension, you were sure Eddie would have noticed the tips of your ears going pink. 

“Eddie.” Steve fell farther behind the girls to come talk to Eddie. You let yourself linger back to let them speak. “Eddie. Hey, man. I just, uh.. I just want to say thanks. For saving my ass back there.”

You watched the boys walk from behind. Steve was wearing Eddie’s vest, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Despite being covered in dirt and dried blood, he looked good. What you hadn’t noticed, was that while Steve and Eddie were talking, Eddie turned around to check on you. He caught you looking at Steve. It burned him up inside, the way you looked at Harrington. He wished that you looked at him that way. Even still, he complimented Steve for his righteous move biting that bat.

You overheard Eddie talking about D&D for a second. Telling Steve that he was no hero, and that if it weren't for you, Rob, and Nancy, that he wouldn’t have jumped into the lake himself. It made you think of all the other things he’d done for you as children. Him and Wayne let you sleep in their trailer all the time. They’d fed you, even clothed you. You still had the old Metallica t-shirt Eddie had given you when you were twelve, only now it was a pajama shirt. If Nancy had caught you wearing a shirt like that out of the house, she’d have a fit. 

Then you heard Eddie mention the name Wheeler, but you knew he didn’t mean you.

“I don’t know what happened between you two, but if I were you, I’d get her back.”

You didn’t wait to hear what more he said before walking around the boys and ahead towards your sister and Robin. The words struck something in the back of your throat, forming a lump that made it hard to swallow. You hoped that he had no idea how you felt about Steve. That he was just trying to be a wingman and encourage him to get out of his dating rut. 

Eddie had known better. 

You’d finally made it to the house. You hadn’t walked close to Eddie for the rest of the trek, avoiding him if he tried catching up to you. You almost regretted it when you felt the ache in your legs, but then you’d remember what he said to Steve and suddenly were blessed with a burst of energy to keep moving. You led the group up to Nancy’s room, though everyone here but Eddie and Robin knew the way, a thought you tried to forget. 

“Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.” Robin joked. 

“Come on, I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to.” She opened her closet and retrieved a shoebox. Nancy had been keeping her guns in a fucking shoebox on the top shelf in her closet. You were still baffled. When she opened the box, instead of guns, there were shoes, still wrapped in the paper they come in when you buy a new pair. 

“Those aren’t guns.” Eddie stated, sounding nervous. 

“No shit, Sherlock.” You said, probably a little harsher than was necessary. 

“These heels are pointy, but I was hoping for a deadly projectile.” Rob chimed in. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Maybe you left them somewhere else?”

“There’s a six year old in the house. I know where I keep my guns. Also I threw these away years ago.” Nancy looked around the room, and so did you. There were things you recognized, but some of them were old. Things she didn’t keep in her room anymore. Nancy rounded her bed and looked at her desk, seeing a bunch of flashcards. “These are from sophomore chemistry.”

You were reminded of when Nancy and Steve had started going out. Steve snuck in to ‘study’ with Nancy. You only knew because your rooms shared a wall and Steve was a klutz getting in and out of the window. Your cheeks began to heat up again. Nancy started pointing out things around the room she no longer kept or had given away. 

“Nancy what’s going on?” You knew that sophomore year was the first time Nancy had been into the Upside Down. The year Will went missing, and then later her friend, Barb. 

“I think the reason my guns aren’t here is because they don’t exist yet.” She rifled through a diary on the desk. “This diary should be full of entries. It’s not. The last entry is November 6, 1983. The day Will went missing. The day the gate opened. We’re in the past.”

Downstairs, you could hear Steve shouting. 

“Dustin! Dustin!”

The rest of you ran back downstairs, only to find Steve yelling into the air, waving his flashlight around. 

“Maybe he really does have rabies.” You and Robin giggled together.

“Steve, what are you doing?” Nancy finally asked him. He turned, startled, and shined the flashlight in your faces by accident.

“He’s here. Henderson. That little shit, he’s here. He’s like… he’s in the walls or something. Just listen.” He continued to shout for Dustin. And when you listened hard enough, you could hear him, too. Faintly, like he was in the other room. Once you noticed, everyone had started calling out to the kid, looking in the adjacent rooms. When nobody found anything you reconvened in the dining room. 

“All right, either this kid can’t hear us, or he’s being a total douchebag.” Steve wiped the sweat off his brow. You glanced at the action, quickly averting your eyes. After the conversation the boys had earlier, you couldn’t stand to look at him. 

“Will found a way.” Nancy chimed in. 

“What?” You were still confused. You were in two different dimensions. And you hadn’t been filled in on all of the little details, but you had hoped that if interdimensional communication had been figured out by this group of bozos, that one of them might have told you about it.

“Will. He found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights.” This you did remember. Will had talked about Christmas lights and lamps in his room. Nancy went to the light switch and flicked it off and on a few times. “It’s not working.”

 “Hey guys. You seeing this?” Steve had turned around to point out the light fixture in the ceiling. Around it, the particles that floated around it weren’t the usual ash-like type. Instead, they were like tiny little embers glowing and floating around the lights. 

You gathered around the light, reaching up to stick your hand in the little sparks. They floated around your hand and between your fingers. And when you couldn’t think of a way to describe the feeling, Steve spoke up. 

“It… tickles.”

“Does anyone know morse code?” Nancy asked the room, and you racked your brain for the morse code you were sure you still knew from living in the trailer park. You had picked it up for fun when you had nothing better to do. Everyone said no, until Eddie finally mentioned his minor insight. 

“Wait, does SOS count?” 

You almost physically facepalmed. 

Eddie started plucking out SOS in the particles by the lights. Over and over, three dots, three dashes. You could still hear Dustin talking to who you now recognized as Lucas and Erica. You couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but you heard Vecna come through the veil a few times. You thought you heard Dustin mention ‘Watergate’ and ‘stupid’ in the same sentence, and you knew they had noticed. Then all the muffled talking quieted. 

You needed to clear your head, so you stepped into your room for a smoke. Unfortunately for Eddie, he had left you with his jacket, which also meant that the few cigarettes that had survived the lake were also with you. Your room looked entirely different than it had three years ago. The bed sheets were a cute pink, with frilly laced edges. Your furniture at the time had been white, but in here it looked like the remains of a house fire. You avoided any vines or weird shit on the floor and sat on your bed, pulling out and lighting a cig with Eddie’s cheapo Bic lighter. 

“Wheeler? You in here?” Eddie knocked on the doorframe as he entered the room. You realized he’d never been in your room since you moved. “Nice digs, princess.” You were too irritated with Eddie to find the nickname endearing. 

“What do you want, Munson?”

“What crawled up your ass and died? I wanted a smoke and then I realized they were in the jacket pocket. But it seems like you already knew that.” He gestured to you blowing a puff of smoke out into the room. You moved to take off his jacket and hand it back to him. 

“Here, you can have your jacket back. And what’s left of the cigs.”

He put his hand out, refusing to take it from you. “No, I know you’re cold. It’s fine.” You were cold, so you slipped it on again without argument. 

“So did you want anything? Or just your smokes?” 

“Just thought I’d check on you. It’s been a hard few days.”

“Eddie Munson checking in on me? We must be in an alternate dimension or something.”

“Ha, ha. No but really, are you okay? You’ve been kind of off today.” He sat down next to you on the bed, your legs touching just a little.

“I’m fine. Thanks, though.” You flicked ash off directly onto the bed. It felt weird, having no regard for smells or burns. At home in your real room, if Mom had caught you smoking, she’d have your ass.

“Are you sure? You’ve been weird since before we made it here.”

“Jesus Eddie, just leave it! I’m fine.” You were running out of patience for him right now. You took another stressed puff. 

“I just don’t think it would hurt to talk about it, you know? It could be good for you to-”

“Oh yeah, Munson? And why would I take any kind of advice from you? You’re the town freak for fuck’s sake.” You felt bad as soon as you’d said it. His face dropped and he looked away from you. You almost apologized, but he just had to keep talking. 

“At least I’m not still pining after some asshole who peaked in highschool.” He didn’t look up to gauge your reaction. 

“What did you say?” Now he looked at you, staring directly into your eyes. 

“You heard me. I know you’re in love with Harrington.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Eddie.” You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You forced them back, it would be all too embarrassing to cry in front of him right now, mostly because he was right. You stood up to walk out of the room, away from him. Away from this conversation. 

“Oh I don’t? The day you came to stay with me at Rick’s, why was that? You didn’t care about seeing me, you just wanted away from him because it's clear he’s still into your damn sister!”

“Shut up!” You turned to yell at him, at this point it was likely the rest of the gang had heard you two.

“Get over yourself. Harrington is in love with Nancy, and she doesn’t even want him anymore. That’s how it is. If you can’t figure that out then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.” 

“You don’t fucking get it, Eddie.” You wiped tears from the corners of your eyes. He just kept looking at you. 

“I know you probably don’t care anymore, but we were friends at one point. Before you got adopted into the Wheeler clan, you were trailer trash. Just like me. I know who you are. You’re just too pussy to admit it to yourself.” He stood up, getting in your space. “And the dumbest part is you don’t even realize how great you are. You know why I think it’s so stupid that you’re hung up on him?” He was too close, so close to your face that you could smell his last cigarette on his breath. 

“Because you could do so much better. Steve doesn’t even know how good he could have it. He doesn’t deserve you.” 

You couldn’t move. You were rooted to your spot in between your door and the bed, and Eddie was right there with you. It was hard to breathe. When it looked like he might say something else, Robin called from the next room over. 

Eddie left first. He just stepped around you out the door. You took a moment to compose yourself. You were sure your face would be splotchy. How were you supposed to react to that? Why did he say it like that? It took a lot of effort not to cry, and despite looking at the ceiling and lots of blinking, you failed. Before you could spiral into your own thoughts, you wiped your face and left, finding everyone in Nancy’s room. 

Everyone had piled around the edge of her bed. The kids had come back upstairs with something to use to help speak to them. You didn’t know what they were doing until the glowy particles materialized in front of you. It looked like a little rectangle, and you remembered Holly’s lite brite. If you weren’t literally in a different dimension, you’d hug the little shits. 

“...Seeing this?” Dustin’s voice echoed weirdly from home. Nancy swiped her hand across the little patch of light, then there was squealing and laughter from the other end. Holy shit. It was working. The kids yelled something like a command to wait and then the light changed. It was dimmer, but still there. 

“Try it now!” That shout from Dustin came through clear as day. Nancy fumbled for a moment on what to say. Then she used her finger to start writing in the light. A simple ‘HI’ sent the kids on the other side into a frenzy. 

“That worked!” They yelled. The gang started whooping and high-fiving. You smiled at Steve as he turned to give you a high-five. Once the excitement settled, Nancy started writing again, this time spelling slowly a few letters at a time. She got through three letters of the word ‘stuck’ before the little square of light was full, and she waited for it to dissipate before adding the last letters. 

“Stuck. They’re stuck in the Upside Down.” They worked it out, and Dustin asked a few questions. “You can’t go back through Watergate?”

“What the hell’s Watergate?” Steve asked out loud. Robin filled him in. 

“‘Cause it’s in water, and it’s a gate.”

“Oh. That’s cute.” 

Nancy started writing again. Her usual penmanship rocks, but letters written with a finger on a multidimensional lightboard were not her strong suit. Still, she managed to spell out ‘guarded’ for the kids to read. 

“Okay, uh Watergate’s guarded.” Dustin’s voice made it sound like he was talking to you while you had cotton in your ears. “We think we have a theory that can help with that!”

Robin kept saying things that made you giggle, praising the kids and being goofy. “Genius child.” She moved her hands like she was praying. 

“We think Watergate isn’t the only gate. We think that there’s a gate at every murder site.” You were pretty sure you knew what he meant, but the rest of the group needed help, so Nancy drew a question mark in the ash. Dustin was audibly upset on the other end.

“Okay. Seriously? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?” He was basically shouting by the end of his sentence. 

“Jesus Christ, this kid’s gotta get his ego in check.” Steve chimed in at the outburst.

“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie added. You were almost annoyed at them getting along. But Nancy had figured it out. 

“Okay. So- So how far is your trailer?” 

“Seven miles.” Eddie answered almost immediately. You chose to believe that it was because he dropped Mike off so often from Hellfire. 

The group went quiet for a second for everyone to think of the best way to get seven miles, until Robin made a damn good point. “Nancy? I know your house here is, like, weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit, but haven’t you always had bikes?”

Everyone grabbed a bike and started riding. Luckily, there were enough for the five of you, thanks to You, Nancy, and Mike having gotten new bikes around the time this dimension spawned. Eddie led the way to his, staying around big empty areas so you didn’t need to worry too much about vines. 

The ride was relatively quiet, save for when Steve almost fell off the small bike. The air in the Upside Down was cold, but humid. Your skin felt damp and clammy the whole time you’d been in this damned place, but you didn’t care enough. It had been a while since the last time you’d ridden a bike so far, so you were mainly focused on not needing to stop. 

When everyone made it to Eddie’s trailer, the bikes were discarded at the door. Eddie opened the door and you took in the sight. In the years that passed since you were last at the Munson household, it hadn’t changed much. 

“Right here.” Eddie stopped in the living room. Everyone looked up, where another gross fleshy membranous hole seemed to be growing into the ceiling. “This is where Chrissy died. Like, right where she died.” 

You watched Eddie’s expression change from tired to haunted as he remembered exactly what happened the night Chrissy Cunningham came to him to buy drugs, and was greeted with a dark ending. You wanted to comfort him. You now understood a little of what he had gone through, but he had been alone. You stayed where you were. 

The gate in the roof started moving, pulsating and squelching. The sound was enough to make you want to gag again.

“What the hell is that?” You all started moving away from underneath the gate, watching as chunks of the stuff fell to the floor. Suddenly something had torn through the gate completely, something like a stick. 

When the gate had finally been cleared, the gang slowly walked forward to look up inside, finding Dustin smiling his goofy grin at you, upside down and laughing. The relief in the room was palpable. 

“Hi there!” Dustin and the others waved at you. 

“Hi,” Robin was the only one who answered. 

“Holy shit this is trippy.”

The kids left to find things for you guys to climb up and fall onto. You could hear struggling from the other side of the gate when they threw a dirty mattress onto the ground right above you. Or was it below you? You noted the discoloration on the fabric and made a pointed look at Eddie. 

“Those stains are, uh… I don’t know what those stains are.” You laughed. You were in such a state of relief that you let yourself forget that you were upset with him. You worried about the stains for a moment before deciding you didn’t want to know what the real source was. 

Dustin was holding a bunch of sheets they had tied into a decent sized rope. 

“Not quite sure how these physics work. But, uh… here goes nothing.” He threw one end of the makeshift rope through their side and into yours, holding on to one end of it. “There we go. And if my theory is correct…” He let go of their end, and the rope seemed to just hold, in midair. The idea of it hurt your head, but you reminded yourself that you were dealing with interdimensional portals, so at this point, nothing made sense. “Holy shit. Alright, pull on it, see if it holds!”

Robin stepped forward and grabbed on with both hands, using all of her weight to yank on the sheets, and it stayed in place perfectly. Dustin laughed with glee on his side. 

Erica commented on the situation. “This is the craziest shit I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen some crazy shit.” 

Robin went through first. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.” She tugged the rope a few more times for good measure, and started climbing. 

The kids got out of the way for her to jump through, and just as she passed the threshold of the gate, she fell through onto the mattress. 

One by one, the rest of you went through. Eddie, then you. You refused to take his hand when offered to help you get up, instead using your own to pick yourself up off the mattress. 

You waited for Steve and Nancy to come through, but just as Steve started to climb up, Nancy froze.

Her eyes rolled back into her head. 

| Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.6 | Pt.7 |

#stranger things #eddie munson #hellfire and spitfire #fanfic #eddie stranger things #friends to enemies to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers #steve harrington #eddie x reader #AO3 fanfic #ao3 writer #Read on AO3

[that-sokovian-bastard]

Two Years - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Words: 5124 Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader Featuring: Alfred Warnings: Arguing/yelling, death briefly mentioned, angst, aftermath of gotham flood Summary: After two years of missing your best friend, a flood brings you back together. During this time, there is a lot of awkwardness, confusion, anger, and discoveries. Author's Note: You and Bruce were best friends for a long time, and now you're Bella Reál's assistant. This takes place a few weeks after the Riddler's flooding in Batman 2022, so this is based on RobPatBat's Batman. Other tags include: slow burn, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, identity reveal.

Also the beginning of this makes me think: Bruce "you're not my real dad, Alfred" Wayne and Bruce "where is Alfred I need him" Wayne

One more, Riddler does know that Bruce is Batman in this :)

Bruce / Full Masterlist

---

He would never admit it to Alfred, but Bruce was exhausted. These last few days, weeks even, have been a lot. From solving riddles to having to show face as Bruce Wayne, and now Batman dealing with Gotham flooding, he was tired. So when he came to the kitchen for his snack, and Alfred was nowhere to be found, he was a bit confused. Alfred's been hounding him that he's not sleeping enough, let alone eating enough, and now Alfred was missing.

Luckily, the loss of Alfred didn't last long, as Bruce heard his voice down the hallway. He was talking to someone, but Bruce didn't hear enough of the conversation to know who was on the phone. Bruce sat at the table to wait for Alfred since he's still banned from using any of the kitchen appliances.

Alfred looked annoyed in this conversation as he made his way into the kitchen to lean against a counter. "You can't do that," He said into the phone, trying his hardest to keep his frustration out of your voice. "It's not safe."

Bruce kept looking at Alfred, curious who was on the other end of this Alfred lecture, but not verbally asking. "Alfred, I'm fine, I promise," You assured him, lying your ass off.

"Okay, how are you getting out of your apartment?" He asked you, still not giving Bruce any hints that he was talking to you.

You sighed, hopefully not loud enough for the phone to pick up. "The fire escape. It works just fine," You said, "Besides, I'm not leaving much because of the aftermath."

"It is not fine," Alfred declared. He was seriously worried about your health after the water damage, especially after finding out that there was so much debris in the halls of your building that you couldn't leave that way.

"It is!" You argued. "It will just be a few more weeks and-"

"No, stop right there," Alfred was not hearing it. Bruce wasn't sure what the lecture was about, but it clearly wasn't satisfying Alfred. "Half the city is waiting for their buildings to have water damage fixed; it won't be just a few weeks. I'm positive we have room in the tower for you," Alfred finished. Bruce nearly jumped back when he heard Alfred invite whoever was on the phone to come live in the tower.

Was he seriously offering this? You were kind of shocked, really. "Alfred, I appreciate it, but no. I don't want to intrude on you and Bruce."

"You're not intruding; you're being invited." He was smiling now; you could hear it.

"You're inviting me, not Bruce, and I'm pretty sure it's his name on the tower. I will not be blindsiding him," You said, but before Alfred could retort, you continued. "So no, I m not coming to the tower. Not unless Bruce is the one that invites me, and I haven't even gotten more than one-word texts back from him in almost two years. I doubt that I'll hear from him before the debris is fully gone."

Bruce watched as Alfred turned to make direct eye contact, a slight smile appearing on his face. "I don't know about that. Master Bruce is right here," Alfred said and turned the phone around so Bruce could see it. "Master Bruce, tell them that they are invited to stay in the tower instead of their half-flooded, water-damaged apartment." Alfred made sure he saw the name on the phone, and Bruce was even more shocked to finally know that it was you Alfred was talking to. Bruce didn't move for the phone, so Alfred physically put the phone in Bruce's hand and made him talk.

"My apartment is not half-flooded!" You groaned, not getting any response.

"Uh," Bruce forced out, then croaked your name as a question. "Hi."

You had to really listen because he was quiet. "Bruce? Wow, he wasn't bluffing," You chuckled. "It's been a while; how are you?"

Bruce ignored the question. "You should come stay here instead of your water-damaged apartment."

You sat stunned for a moment, unsure if Alfred had a gun to his head forcing the invite. "Is this you or Alfred speaking?"

"Me," He said. "Gotham will need damages fixed for more than a few weeks. Come stay here."

"Bruce, it's been almost two years since you've responded to my texts with more than one word. And now, out of nowhere, you're inviting me to stay at the tower?" You asked, skeptical about where this came from.

"Yes." He didn't give you any more than that, and before you knew it, Alfred was back on the phone.

Alfred was successful. "I will pick you up in an hour."

And one hour later, you were getting into a car with Alfred and a few bags. You still weren't sure about this, but at this point, there was no going back. There was especially no going back when you were eating lunch in Wayne Tower cross from Bruce, barely making small talk. What are you supposed to talk about with the man who doesn't want to give you the time of day anymore?

Once Alfred sat down with you two, he brought some noise to the awkward silence. "So," Alfred started, getting both you and Bruce to look at him. "How has your work been?"

"Oh, very busy, as I'm sure you know," You said. As Bella Reál's assistant, there was always a lot going on. "Just a lot of work behind-the-scenes," You shrugged, then decided to continue the conversation. "Bruce, it's been so long since I've seen you. What have you been up to?"

"Work."

You're not sure why you expected more from him. You sighed, trying not to get frustrated. "Well, that I assumed. But no one's seen you. Catch me up!" You smiled. It was hard not to be awkward, but after Bruce essentially ghosted you, it was inevitable.

Bruce took another bite and was quiet for a minute. "I was at the funeral."

"I know; I was there, too." You tried your best not to snap at him with that retort from Bruce. You were right there, standing next to Bella, while she was talking to Bruce. And Bruce didn't even look at you. "You know that's not what I meant."

"I've been busy," Bruce said, not offering any more to his statement.

You looked at Alfred with a clearly annoyed look, and Alfred only shrugged, unable to offer much assistance. Even he can't get much response out of Bruce. You thought he would be able to help you, that he would be on your side since he actually talks to you, but he knew this was between you and Bruce.

It was still silent at the table until Bruce's chair scraped across the floor, and his silverware clanged against his plate. "Done already, sir?" Alfred asked.

"Yes. Thank you," He said, walking over to the sink to set his plates down to be cleaned. You were hoping he'd say anything to finish the conversation, but he just left the kitchen and walked down the hallway. You looked at Alfred and groaned, frustrated beyond belief.

Alfred shook his head with a smirk on his face. "What did you expect?" He asked.

"I don't know, something...more? Alfred, it's been nearly two years since we've seen each other in person, and he doesn't seem to care that I'm here, right in front of him, and he doesn't want to talk," You said.

Really, there wasn't much Alfred could do. He couldn't force Bruce to talk to you, even if he persuaded Bruce to invite you to stay with them. "Perhaps he is just adjusting; give him a few days," He offered, took your empty plate, and went into the kitchen to clean up. You would be persistent, but it was going to be difficult.

---

You gave Bruce a few days, and now it's been a week, and the conversations are still short and awkward. He walks so light that you've almost run into him around corners more times than you can count, but he never says anything. He barely looks you in the eye. Why did he invite you to stay with him if he hated you so much?

But they were both right. Your apartment wasn't going to be free from debris or have water damage even looked at for at least two months. So either you have to continue to stay at Wayne Tower or find somewhere else to stay. You'd stay with Bella, but that would ruin your work-life balance entirely, and you really didn't want to hate her or your job. At the tower, though awkward, you could get away from work for a few hours.

Bella was also very interested that you were staying with Bruce. She never got to finish her conversation with him at the funeral because of Riddler, and he hasn't responded to any of her attempts to contact him. She was quite surprised when you told her you were staying with him, having had no idea that you two even knew each other. It made sense, though, as you didn't start working with Bella until Bruce stopped talking to you.

Your job as Bella's assistant meant a lot of paperwork and putting out fires at all hours during the day. She tried her best not to disturb you with work too late in the night, but sometimes it was inevitable. And after the flood and citizens finding out the time frame for fixes, there were a lot of fires you, Bella, and the rest of the team had to address before it got out of proportion.

You sat in the room just off the kitchen; your face only lit up by your computer as you typed quickly. You didn't want to work in your room because if you were doing this on the bed, you wouldn't have finished and gone right to sleep. So out in a public area, it is.

It shouldn't have mattered anyways; it's nearly three o'clock in the morning, and no one else in the tower should be awake. So you sat there, typing away to fix things, sending emails and texts for answers, immersed in your computer.

Suddenly, you jumped when someone said your name. "Oh, you scared me," You said when you realized it was only Bruce standing across the room from you.

"What are you doing up?" Bruce asked.

"I could ask you the same," You squinted, trying to see him clearer in the dark room.

Bruce cocked his head at you, seemingly the first ounce of emotion he's shown you since you got to the tower. "I asked you first."

Was that a joke? It couldn't be. Quickly, you shook the thought out of your head and answered. "Duty calls," You said and lightly shook your laptop. "Putting out some fires with Bella and the team before it gets worse. Your turn."

"Couldn't sleep," Was his answer.

"Where did you emerge from?" You asked.

Bruce lazily turned his head to the side at the dark hallway, pointing with his thumb. "Library."

You nodded, not sure if he could see your facial expression in the darkness. "Maybe I'll try the library next time I'm putting out another fire," You said. Bruce accepted that response and started to make his way across the room, and getting closer to you in the process of crossing. "Hey, you have something on your face," You pointed out, making sure he knew. "Actually, it's a lot of something. What is that?" You muttered the last part, but Bruce still heard it.

He reached up, touched under his eye, and looked at his fingers, which now had black residue. "Oh. Thanks."

"Is it eyeshadow?" You asked, and again, he didn't respond. "Were you having an MCR concert in the library?" You joked.

Bruce looked down at you, unamused. "No. Goodnight," He said and left quickly. Just when you finally thought you and Bruce were making progress toward being friends again, it was already gone. You had to push all of that to the back of your mind, though, and get back to work so you could get some sleep.

Thankfully, Alfred was prepared with a nice wake-up breakfast in the morning and was curious why you were up so late. He also seemed surprised that Bruce was up late and even more surprised when you told him that Bruce had eyeshadow smeared on the top half of his face.

You chalked it up to two things: A My Chemical Romance concert in the library, or he's trying to be as cool as Batman and have a black mask. Alfred was certain the second one was correct, but it was unclear if that was because he didn't know what the first sentence even meant.

Bruce was not amused at either of them.

But it kept happening. Every few nights, you'd be working in the same spot, and Bruce would greet you at different times throughout the night on his way to bed. You had no idea he had so much trouble sleeping, and maybe you should tell Alfred about it. It was starting to worry you that every time you were up and working through the night, Bruce was awake and heading to bed at crazy hours, especially when he said he was "going to bed" earlier in the night.

Was it just routine? He says early in the night that he's going to bed, but then can't fall asleep and stays in the library for who knows how long until he's ready to fall asleep? At this rate, it was something you considered talking to him about and trying to get him to go to a doctor. With it now having been a month of you living at the tower and seeing Bruce do this more often than not, it was freaking you out.

However, tonight was different. You didn't have work that needed to be done, but no matter what you did, you couldn't fall asleep. You were tossing and turning, turning the fan on, putting more blankets on top of you, even turning everything upside down, so you were sleeping backward on the bed. But nothing was working, and you just couldn't fall asleep.

So you figured to try Bruce's trick: the library.

If he had so much trouble sleeping, and it was cured by him hanging out in the library, then what harm could it do if you gave it a shot? Besides, maybe Bruce was there now, and some company wouldn't hurt.

You ventured out of your room and down to the hallway where Bruce always came from. It was dark, and you weren't sure how Bruce could see in this hallway with no lights on. There were closed doors all down the hallway, and most of the ones you tried were locked. Finally, you found an open door with some books inside, but the lights were off, and no one was there. Really, it didn't look like much of a library, not one you would expect the Waynes to have. So you continued on, figuring there was something else that Bruce made into his library to help with sleep.

You tried a few more doors that all led to nothing or were still locked, until a different-looking door crept open when you touched it. The door greeted you with a stairway, which would've been creepy, but there was light and noise coming from the bottom. This has to be Bruce's library.

You turned on your phone's flashlight to help you down the steps so you wouldn't slip and made your way down to the library. Honestly, if it were anyone but Bruce, you'd be concerned with this downstairs library. But it made sense for him.

When you reached the bottom of the steps and turned the corner, you got confused. "What is all of this?" You said under your breath, looking at the large room as a whole. There was a lot of tech and very few books. By library, did he mean computer library?

You walked to where all the stuff was to get a better look. "Bruce, are you in here?" You announced yourself so you wouldn't startle him, but he wasn't here. You turned your flashlight off when you got to the part of the room fully lit up and started looking at things. There was a video playing on a weird-looking computer next to more tech you didn't understand. The video playing looked like it came right off someone's eye; whoever took the video had an interesting camera to shoot with. You didn't understand what the video was, so you kept going.

Papers were scattered everywhere. News clippings, journal scribbles, ciphers, letters. What is all of this? All you knew was that this was some weird-looking library. The big computer, the main attraction, had a lot attached to it and had a weird logo with a large ENTER PASSWORD button. You didn't even attempt to touch that, not wanting to mess with anything.

You got progressively more worried when you saw some type of weapons table adjacent to the tech. What was Bruce making? It seems like he got himself involved with some bad people, whatever he got himself into. Some of it was weirdly shaped and definitely sharp, but no guns, which didn't surprise you.

Finally, you realized the weirdest section of all. "Hmm, guess he was interested in what Riddler was doing," You sighed when you saw a table sectioned off. There were articles about Riddler, the aftermath of the flood, unsettling pictures of the murders, the ciphers he used, and...

Why does he have that?

At one end of the table was a scattered pile of cards with envelopes that read "To The Batman."

"What are you doing in here?" The deep voice startled you from behind, causing you to jump, turn, and drop your phone in the process.

"Holy crap, Bruce, you scared me!" You gasped.

Bruce didn't care. "What are you doing in here?" He repeated.

You sighed and picked up your phone, confused and annoyed. "I was looking for you. I couldn't sleep and thought to try out your library that you're always at," You said. Once you grabbed your phone and stood back upright, you looked at his face. The top half was covered in black eyeshadow, even though you hadn't seen that since the first night you caught him out of bed. "What is all of this?" You asked.

He didn't answer and walked over to the video that was playing. He pressed a few buttons, and it paused. "Bruce," You said, and he looked at you from the side of his eye. "Why do you have all of this?"

He didn't answer and instead typed a few more things. "I'm not saying it. I need to hear it from you. Why do you have all of this?" You walked closer to him, forcing him to hear you. "Why do you have crazy tech, weapons, and Riddler's letters addressed to Batman?" You asked.

Again, he didn't answer. "I can keep asking you until the sun goes up. I'm not leaving until you answer me."

Finally, Bruce turned his whole body to face you, and he suddenly felt a lot taller and broader when he looked at you like this. He wasn't wearing pajamas, but you couldn't tell what it was. Armor, maybe? You didn't care. Bruce took a deep breath and finally admitted it. "I'm Batman."

You knew that's what he was going to say. Yet, the confession still surprised you and made you take a few deep breaths and turn away from him. So much was rushing to your head, going back the last few years and putting countless things together. Bruce didn't say anything else as he stared at you, waiting for your response.

After a minute of composing yourself, you turned back to him. "So much makes sense now," You said. He didn't ask what you meant, only furrowed his eyebrows to get you to continue. "How long have you been Batman?"

Bruce straightened his posture and stood upright. "Two years."

"And two years ago is when you stopped talking to me," You said. "Is that why?"

He nodded his head slightly. "Yes."

"Why?" You crossed your arms. But when he didn't have an answer after a few moments, you continued. "Why, why, why, why?" As quickly as you crossed your arms, you uncrossed them and gestured wildly. He still didn't answer; he just continued to stare at you, which was frustrating you even more. "Answer me!"

"Because of this," He responded, much harsher than anything he said before. This time, you didn't respond and just gave him a confused look so he could continue. "I had to protect you."

"Protect me? Me? I'm not the one dressing up in a bat suit and getting into fights with criminals, running around on buildings, and nearly getting killed," You scoffed at him. "What did you have to protect me from?"

Bruce sighed, but he knew if he didn't respond again, it would only get worse. "From me."

You groaned loudly, throwing your arms up in the air again. "That is such a cop-out, and you know it!" You argued.

"No," He said, serious. "I couldn't let you get involved."

"Get involved? I wasn't going to put on a stupid suit and fight crime with you," You turned away from him again, taking some deep breaths to try to calm down.

Bruce shook his head slightly. "That's not what I mean. If we stayed how we used to be, you would've figured it out, and it wouldn't have been safe," He said.

You weren't having it. It was a stupid excuse, and you were annoyed. "Well, I figured it out now, so that whole plan seemed to work real well, Bruce."

"I didn't want you to find out. You weren't even supposed to be in here," He defended himself, his full attention on you and no longer on the computer.

Seriously? He's blaming you? "If you didn't want me in here, you should have locked the door!"

Bruce cocked his head, looking more confused. "It was."

"No, it wasn't," You said, and Bruce tried to turn away to check. You spoke again to stop him from leaving. "But that doesn't matter now. It already happened. Bruce, did you even think about how these last two years have affected me, or were you just thinking about yourself?" You asked sincerely. These last two years hurt, and he doesn't seem to care.

He stared at you again. "I-"

You didn't want to hear it right now. You needed to tell him how you felt and that you missed him. "Imagine waking up one day, and your best friend stops responding to your texts. Next, all our plans are canceled; the dinners, the game nights, movie times, gone! With no rescheduling. Then, I'm not even allowed at the tower, and all Alfred will tell me is that you're busy!" You were getting louder, and the more you continued, the closer you got to crying. You weren't sure if it was a sad or angry cry, but you were trying to hold it in as best you could. This was a serious conversation, and Bruce would stop interacting if you started to cry.

Bruce didn't look away from you this time, knowing that you were upset, and could see the tears forming. He knows you; he knows you're trying to hold it in, so he will ignore the tears. "It hurt me, too. I didn't want to stop talking to you."

You could tell he still wasn't getting why you were so upset. "Bruce, I thought I did something to make you mad at me. I've been wracking my brain for the last two years to figure out what I did and how I could apologize to get my best friend back. Now I know it wasn't something I did, but a decision you made on your own because you were selfish!" You finished. Maybe it was your turn to try to turn and leave, but he spoke before you got the chance.

"I'm selfish because I wanted to keep you safe?" He asked, starting to defend his decisions.

Why did he never elaborate without you asking? This conversation was driving you crazy. Things would be so much easier if you guys could just leave the past in the past and go back to being friends. But that wasn't happening, so you crossed your arms again and lowered your tone. "Safe from what, Bruce? There is no tie between me and Batman!"

He shook his head; there was a tie between the two. "Riddler knows who I am."

"What?"

Bruce looked back and sat in the chair in front of the screen that played his contact recordings. "He figured it out. He knows I'm Batman," Bruce said, which did shock you. "Imagine if he knew we were friends, then he could have put both you and Alfred in the hospital to get to me. That's what I have to keep you safe from." He explained, still keeping eye contact even if he was now looking up at you.

You waited a moment, thinking about what this meant. "Wait, wasn't the bomb meant for you, not Alfred?"

Bruce slightly shrugged his shoulders and answered. "Yes, but who's to say he wouldn't have sent one to you too, if we remained the way we were? Then everyone I cared about would have been hurt." He tried to pretend this didn't bother him as he turned to the screen, moving a few things from the contact recordings to the folders on the computer.

You grabbed the back of the chair and turned him back to look at you. Your hand didn't leave the chair behind his shoulder, leaning over him as you squinted your eyes. "I would have rather risked that than lose my best friend." You said, then let go to not restrain him from moving. You took one big breath to make your statement, hopefully driving it home your view on all of this. "Bruce, we've been friends since before your parents died. Then all of a sudden, we weren't. And the only thing that brought us back together was a flood, debris, and water damage."

Bruce stared at you, not sure how to respond.

"Are we even friends now?" You asked; not sure if you were ready for his response.

He nodded. "I want to be."

"Will you let me in?"

Again, Bruce seemed conflicted and nervous. "I'm worried if I do and someone else figures it out; then they're going to hurt you."

You got close to Bruce again. You wanted to grab his hand but didn't want to make him uncomfortable, so you just offered a small smile instead. "Then that's something we face. We take that risk. Because I really want you back."

He didn't say anything again and looked down like he was thinking. This time, you did grab his hand, just to ground him and bring him back to the conversation. "What are you thinking?" You asked.

Bruce was still looking down, but he didn't remove his hand from yours. "I don't know what I'll do if you get hurt. It's the whole reason I distanced myself from you in the first place."

"Like I said, we will figure it out together. I know we can repair this friendship; we just have to put in the work," You said, and he looked back up at you, finally, with a funny look on his face. "Like, now I know your biggest interest is protecting Gotham. You can talk to me about it...I'm sure it gets boring only talking to Alfred."

Bruce smirked a bit and stood up, not letting go of your hand. "Maybe sometimes. But I think I'd like that. And I would like to hear all about your job."

Your smile softened, and you cocked your head to look at him. "Are you smiling, Bruce?"

Immediately, the smallest smile vanished from him. "I don't know what gave you that idea."

"Maybe just the fact that it sure looked like a smile," You said. "But I need confirmation: are we friends again?"

"I would like that."

"Great, me too," You said. "But I have one more thing to tell you." Bruce nodded to tell you to go on, and you started talking before you would regret it.

"I have to tell you something about the day you stopped talking to me." You changed the subject. His smile was definitely gone now that you were bringing this up again after he thought you two had moved on. "Don't give me that look," You said, stopping him before he could roll his eyes. "We were supposed to go to dinner that night. And I was so excited because I finally got over my nerves and talked myself into being confident."

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "You were nervous for dinner? We went to dinner all the time together."

"Yes, but that night, I was going to," You paused; were you really going to admit this to him? Yes, you were; it was too late now. "I was going to ask you on a date. Not us as friends, a real date."

He stepped back a bit in surprise, dropping your hand in the process. "A date?"

"Yes. And I was so nervous because I didn't want to make things awkward and lose my friendship with you. And...then I lost it before I even asked you," You said. "I had to tell you before we went back to being friends; it would eat me alive if I kept it from you," You finished.

"You really wanted to go on a date? Not as friends?"

"Yes?" You said, but it came out as a question. "I've had a crush on you since we were like fifteen," You shrugged. "But I'm not worried if you don't think the same. I just had to tell you, and I'm sorry."

Bruce started shaking his head. "No, don't be sorry. I think I have to ask you something, now."

"Okay," You hesitated.

His small smile returned, and he grabbed your hand again. "Would you go on a date with me?" Bruce asked.

You chuckled a bit. "Are you serious, or are you playing a joke?"

"I'm very serious. If I had known two years ago," He sighed, "Things would have played out much differently."

You nodded. "I would love to go on a date, Bruce. We have a lot to catch up on."

​

#batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #dc comics #the batman #dceu #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #imagines #identity reveal #friends to strangers to lovers #mutual pining #slow burn #angst

[csashton]

Six Years - LN x Reader Fic

Summary: friends to strangers to lovers

Pairing: Lando Norris/Reader

Warnings: angsty but a little happy ending

Word count: 1327

my master list 🖤

A/N: feedback is welcome - or just come be my friend and say hi, or or - if you have a request of any type, send it over 🖤

“Lando, what do you mean?” you whispered, frozen to your spot as you listened to him speak. It sounded like he didn’t even believe the words coming out of his own mouth. “I think..” he breathed out, pausing for a moment before continuing with his eyes locked anywhere but your face. “I think it’s best if we cut communication for a while. I’m getting my chance in Formula 1 and I don’t want any distractions. I need to focus on training.” 

“You’d better be joking right now, Lando.” you spat out, anger flooding your body. “I have been your best friend since diapers, supporting every single thing you have done. I have been by your side this entire time, and you’re just going to drop me? Just like that?” you asked, the hurt evident in your voice. “I can’t believe you see me as a distraction. All these years and now I’m suddenly the problem?” you fumed feeling your cheeks grow hot with humiliation. 

Social media and his mother helped you stay connected to what was happening in his life, considering he hadn’t said a word to you since that day. Watching him win his first World Championship through your phone screen hurt more than you expected - you imagined you would be there with his family, ready to celebrate his amazing accomplishment. Yet here you were and not a word from him. 

You have changed a lot in the last few years, not only physically but mentally and emotionally. You were a lot more stable and mature, you had a wonderful job and a wonderful support system. But you always felt that Lando sized hole in your life especially when you were back home with your families, looking through photos and celebrating holidays together. 

Sounds of Lando’s family flooding in the front door caused a soft happy smile to make its way onto your face. The kitchen door opening caught your attention causing you to turn around, nearly dropping the dish in your hands. Your breath caught in your throat, frozen to your kitchen floor under his gaze. “Lando?” you questioned, unsure if your eyes were playing tricks on you. The sound of your name falling from his lips sent shivers down your spine, his eyes taking you in as you stood there, mouth hung open like a fish. 

 “What are you doing here?” you asked softly, afraid that if you spoke too loud he may disappear. He moved forward, resting his hands on the kitchen island that separated you. “Mom invited me to come, I was in town this year.” he hesitated, “wow, you…” he trailed off, gesturing one hand through the air. “You’ve grown.” The anger from all those years ago boiling back to the surface as you stared at him, a flush on his cheeks. Of course he looked good, you knew he would be beautiful when you were older.

“That tends to happen after six years, Lando.” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you placed the dish on the kitchen counter harshly. “Honestly I’m surprised you remembered my name, or even that I exist.” you added harshly after a moment, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared him down. 

“I’m sorry.” you hear quietly from across the island, his voice barely audible. “You’re sorry.” you repeat in a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “You’re sorry that six years ago you dropped me like I’m nothing, after spending our entire lives supporting each other? You’re sorry that you told me I’m a distraction to you chasing your dreams? You’re sorry that you cut all contact with me and haven’t said a single word to me since? You’re sorry that you haven’t responded to any of my messages? You’re sorry that the one time I needed you, when I thought you’d be there to support me - you were nowhere to be found?” you scoffed, shaking your head again. 

“Lando, you didn’t even reach out when my father passed. You didn’t even bother coming to his funeral.” you seethed at him, hands clenching the counter. “The man that we both looked up to, the man that came to all your races with me so we could support you.” His shoulders dropped as he placed his head on the counter, sliding into the chair he was in front of. “I know,” you heard him breathe, “I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” that garnered a hurt laugh from you as you turned back around to the oven, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Well, you did. I’m honestly surprised my mother even let you in the house.” you admitted, removing one of the dishes from the oven. You heard him hum in agreement from behind you, the sound settling in your chest.  

A little later, after dinner where you had kept catching his eyes across the table. You found yourself wrapped in your coat out on the back porch, nursing a warm cup of coffee to get away from the noise of the house. “Can we talk?” you heard from behind you, startling you out of your thoughts. “That depends,” you breathed - watching your breath roll out in the cold air. “Are you going to try to apologize again?” you probed, turning to look at him. The sight of him still took your breath away, especially now with him wrapped in his coat - nose going pink from the cold air.  At the dinner table you had time to watch him interact with your family, and see your families all together again. It was something that you had ached for when you were growing up, you always wanted to have these memories together and you finally got it after six years. 

The sad smile on his face mimicked yours as he shuffled to stand next to you, leaning against the railing. “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it takes to have you back in my life.” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. Your heart broke even more, seeing him in this unsure and sad state. You missed the fun and easy going Lando that you grew up with. 

 “I think it’s going to take a lot of work.” you bumped your shoulder into his. “Believe it or not, I want you back in my life.” you joked, “I’m still very hurt though. I thought I meant more than that to you.” you stressed, looking up at him with sad eyes. He nodded, looking down at you. “You do, you always have. I was just very stupid and naive.” he laughed sadly, “I’ve regretted it all from that day.” You shook your head, “I don’t.” sighing, you lean your head on his shoulder.

 “Look at all you’ve accomplished. Lando Norris, Formula 1 World Champion? You’re too good for me now.” you take a sip of your coffee to warm yourself. “Never.” he spat out quickly, causing you to laugh. “I want you around always, I want you there for my next win. I want you to bother me about stupid things, important things, the color of the grass. Whatever is on your pretty little mind.” he continued, “I’ve missed you so much.” he mumbled into the top of your head. “A little over confident there, Lando. Your next race win,” you joked, “you sure you’ve still got it?” he shoved you gently with his shoulder, causing you to look up. “I want to be there, I want to bother you with all of those things. Just promise me you won't drop me again?” you asked quietly, looking into his eyes. “I promise, I’d give you the world if I could.” 

Little did you know, your mothers had watched from the window - snapping a picture of the two of you in your own little world. A few years later the picture now lived happily on the wall of your shared apartment, right next to the podium pictures of his second World Championship win. 

#formula 1 fics #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #friends to strangers to lovers #formula 1 blurb #formula 1 #csashtonwrites #csashton

[emsgoodthinkin]

God I can’t help but think of pinning older Eddie and older reader who see each other in a lonely bar and haven’t spoken for years..

fuck I gotta write this.. no someone else do it 😫

#older eddie munson #older eddie munson x older reader #friends to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers #eddie munson #eddie fanfic #eddie thoughts #Spotify

[wolfstarshipping]

where are we now? by lady_grey (6487 words) Rating: Mature Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin

modern muggle AU Summary: Sirius meets a familiar stranger while visiting Berlin. Everything is different. Everything is the same.

Comment: I enjoyed reading this Berlin AU so much, Remus as a cellist is just perfect and I loved reading about them reuniting in a Berlin nightclub after being childhood friends who lost touch, just so, so good!!

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #fic rec #where are we now? #lady_grey #5k-10k #AU #modern AU #muggle AU #Berlin #Remus: cellist #Remus: musician #Sirius: artist #childhood friendship #friends to strangers to lovers #vacation

[ohhmydyosfics]

(Dojae) Red Flag

Doyoung - 27 My career will always take precedence over our relationship. My best friend and I have matching rings we wear on our ring fingers. Nothing you buy me will ever replace it. I’m allergic to exercise and green vegetables. Do not ever ask me to go camping or fishing or hiking with you. The only hobbies I enjoy are sleeping and watching dramas.

Surely, Doyoung thinks, surely no one will swipe right on this.

Alternatively: Doyoung purposefully creates the worst dating profile to fulfill a promise. Jaehyun has been waiting years for this opportunity.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38267704

#Red Flag #Dojae #Doyoung #Dongyoung #Jaehyun #Yoonoh #NCT #NCT U #NCT 127 #fanfic #oneshot #cute #fluffy #smut #pining #funny #friends to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers #top!Jaehyun #bottom!Doyoung

[commonwealthoccurences]

Back To Eden Masterlist

For your reference as to potential content of the fic, this is rated Mature on ao3. I am considering changing this to explicit.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, found family, pining, flashback scenes, noir detective show meets post-apocalyptic chaos, Preston Garvey is a sweetheart, Sole is doing their best and living out of pure spite, slow burn (Nick/Sole), disabled Sole. Tags will expand when relevant.

Warnings: Semi-realistic depictions of illness from cryo-freeze, canon-typical violence, future drug and alcohol mentions (Hancock), anything you may associate with an episode of your average crime show like Criminal Minds (for the flashback part), vomiting mention, PTSD, dissociation, hallucinations, semi-graphic torture (descriptions of aftermath, NO descriptions of active torture). More to be added.

Ao3 Link

Chapters:

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

#back to eden #fallout 4 fanfiction #nick valentine #gender neutral sole survivor #slow burn #angst with a happy ending #friends to strangers to lovers #found family #fluff #angst #hurt comfort

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 3

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader)Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 2627 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazons' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

'You are five miles from the estimated target, Master Dick,' Alfred said over the intercom of the Bat Wing.

Immediately upon entering Wayne Manor, Dick had rushed to his childhood room - the one he still used on the occasion he worked with Bruce as the Dynamic Duo, or he needed some space from his duties as Bludhaven's hero - and packed a small duffle of clothes and weapons and ran straight for the Bat Cave. As promised, Alfred had the Bat Wing waiting, ready for take off, and Dick barely greeted the old man before leaving Gotham far behind.

Dick had been flying for almost twelve hours and hadn't slept a wink. Sitting at the control panel with only a wide window of open sea to look at, Dick rubbed his tired eyes as the shadows of sleep flickered in the corners of his vision. He had to stay awake, just a little bit longer at least.

And then... Well, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

'Is there anything else you need from me, Master Dick?' Alfred asked.

Dick shook his head initially, then remembered Alfred couldn't see him. 'No, thank you, Alfred,' Dick replied, sitting up straighter in his seat. 'I should be fine from here on out.'

It was quiet for a moment, and Dick thought Alfred had signed off accidentally. But then he spoke. 'Are you sure there is something out here? I know you and your friends' findings seem well-supported, but there is only open ocean. There isn't even an under water volcano or ancient mountain range recorded there.'

'Which makes it an even more suspicious place,' Dick countered. 'Trust me Alfred, there is something out here.'

'Let's just hope Miss Y/N is too, or you'll have wasted Master Bruce's fuel. And I will tell you now, he will not be pleased about that.'

The mention of her name caused Dick's heart rate to increase with anxiety. But he quickly recovered as he scoffed. 'I don't know why he's complaining,' Dick said nonchalantly. 'He's the billionaire of the family, after all.'

'Have you seen the price of fuel these days?'

That caused Dick to chuckle slightly, just imagining the singular raised eyebrow Alfred used to ask the silent question of Are you serious? In that moment, he was once again grateful for Alfred. He barely asked any questions as to why Dick needed the Bat Wing, he just trusted Dick that it was for a good reason. Unlike Bruce, where trust needed to be hard earned, Alfred had always given his trust and love unconditionally.

The Bat Wing suddenly jerked as it seemed to hit something. Or, maybe, something hit it.

'Master Dick, what was that?" Alfred asked, worry lacing his words.

Suddenly alert, Dick brought up the different cameras hidden in the ship to try and find what had cause the sudden shift, but sound nothing.

'I'm not sure, Alfred,' Dick answered, running diagnostics over the ship in case of damage. 'There seems to be no damage to the Bat Wing, and there is nothing on the radar indicating another ship or flying creature of sorts.'

The ship rocked again, and Dick gripped tighter to the control handles as he took the ship off autopilot. 'What in the world!'

'Master Di-,' Alfred said, but his words were glitchy and some parts were coming through slowly. 'A-re yo- all rig-' Alfred was cut off before he could finish.

'Alfred? Alfred,' Dick called, but he got no reply. He slammed the control handles in frustration. 'Damnit.' He was on his own now.

However, his annoyance dissipated at the site he'd only ever seen in books he'd borrowed from Y/N when they were children.

To say Themyscira stood atop a mountain would be an inaccurate description. It was more like Themyscira was the mountain, with a long staircase weaving and winding up the entire mountain from the ivory beach and cerulean waters at the base of it. There were small stone huts with woven roofs closer to the beach, but quickly evolved into larger houses and buildings of impressive white columns and marble. As Dick flew closer to the island, he spotted a large coliseum used for sports and physical trials like the ruins in Greece, and a small amphitheatre next door that no doubt was used for the arts.

Atop Themyscira's mountain could only be the royal palace, held up by intricately carved statues of women and marble columns, decorated in plates of gold and held together by green grape vines that covered the palace walls, the statues, the columns.

The bed time stories he'd heard from Wonder Woman when he and Y/N would have sleepovers was more than his imagination could ever conceptualise, and the few descriptions and drawings of the island in the books he'd read were amateur attempts that held no candle to the real deal.

It was, in a word, paradise.

I must've hit the invisible barrier before, Dick deduced as he took in the sight of it all. That's why communications were knocked. That's why he'd felt so anxious and tired the closer he got. Now that he'd passed through, he felt ten times better.

A beeping pulled Dick out his trance, drawing his attention to the radar. Something was coming at him. Fast.

Dick looked up in time to see a large fire ball flying at him and barely dodged it. It was so hot Dick felt its heat through the window as it scraped by.

'Woah!' Dick cried, angling the Bat Wing so Dick could see where the fireball had come from. And, more importantly, who had thrown it. Down on the ivory beach was a line of catapults set up Dick hadn't spotted before, and he could just make out an army milling about around each catapult as they reloaded the catapults.

Before he knew it, he was swerving as another fireball flew at him, this time catching part of the left wing and melting it. Sirens blared, indicating the damage, but Dick didn't have time to worry about that. The Amazons thought he was a threat. He needed to change that, or he'd be a goner.

Crazy an idea as it was, Dick manoeuvred through the line of fireballs the Amazons catapulted at him towards the beach. Once he was close enough, he turned on the speaker so the outside world could hear him. 'Please, Amazons of Themyscira, I mean you no harm,' Dick announced to them, hoping he sounded genuine. 'I am going to land my aircraft on your shore. I just want to ta-'

He didn't have time as a small boulder connected with the left wing, sending the Bat Wing into a spin that Dick couldn't control. Sirens blared in the cockpit, reds light flashed and his front window lit up with the message SYSTEM FAILURE in bright red letters. The steering was shot, his vision was impaired, so Dick just closed his eyes and braced for impact.

The Bat Wing hit the beach hard, knocking the wind out of Dick for a moment. Once he'd regained his breath and the world had stopped spinning, Dick checked his immediate surroundings. He was in one piece still, and the Bat Wing hadn't exploded. Good start.

Before he could unplug himself, a spearhead stabbed through the glass of the front window, shattering it completely as the Amazon wielding it pulled it out. Dick was temporarily blinded by the sudden invasion of sunlight to his senses, but he still put his hands up in surrender in case they still thought him a threat.

'Please,' he begged through laboured breaths. 'Please, I don't mean you any harm. I just need to talk with someone you might know. Please.'

'Síko órthios, pareísaktes,' a strong voice hissed above him, her words whipping out like a delicate snake. She yanked him from his seat, breaking the seatbelt as she did, and threw him onto white, hot sand.

Vision coming back ever so slowly, Dick saw more figures approaching where he laid on the beach, spears and swords and shields in hand. All women, and all wearing brown leather skirts, sandals, and breast plates and bronze helmets of the ancient greeks. A small crowd formed around him, leaving no room for escape.

Realising this, Dick hauled himself to his feet and spun around to survey the group with his hands raised. The women ranged from youthful to mature, but all of them looked capable of killing him should he dare run. Capable, and willing.

'Poios eísai esý?' a woman with long brunette hair asked. She looked slightly older than him, perhaps mid to late 20s. But knowing how old Wonder Woman had lived for already, Dick was almost sure all of the women surrounding him were much older than they appeared.

I really regret not taking those Greek classes with Y/N now, he thought to himself, not having a clue what the woman had asked him. When he didn't reply though, she repeated her question but with more annoyance and aggression, pointing her spear towards his chest.

'I am Dick Grayson,' he said, not sure if they could understand him or not. 'I mean you no harm. Please, I must talk with someone you know... Do you understand me?'

The blank faces he received in return were answer enough. The brunette turned to two other women beside her, whispering to one another. It only lasted a moment, for then the brunette raised her spear higher towards Dick's throat. The rest of the women also raised their weapons, all pointed at him.

'Ánthropos apó to exoterikó,' she announced for all to hear, her delivery final and true, 'edó tha petháneis!'

Just as she raised her spear, Dick threw his hands up again and cried, 'Y/N!'

He waited for pain, for the sensation of falling and then nothing, but it never came. The brunette paused, spear still raised above her, and looked at him curiously.

'Pós gnorízeis tin prinkípissá mas?' she asked, and to Dick's surprise, he recognised one word. Prinkipissá. Princess.

'Yes,' he said, seizing potentially his only chance at surviving. 'She would be your princess. Sorry, your prinkipissá. Daughter of your champion, Diana.'

At the mention of the mighty Wonder Women, the brunette lowered her weapon entirely and turned to the other women as quiet murmurs broke out amongst the group. Dick wasn't sure what he'd started, but he knew they knew of who he spoke of, and what power her name held. Not just anybody could wield her name.

'I came here to speak with Prinkipissá Y/N,' Dick continued, and then he put his hands together as if he were about to pray. 'Please, can you lead me to her? Is she even here?'

The brunette and her two friends looked him up and down for a moment before consulting one another one last time. After what felt like an eternity, the brunette stepped forward and looked him dead in the eyes.

'Piáste ton!' she cried, and two women grabbed both his arms, ensuring he couldn't escape. 'Tha ton páme stin prinkípissá mas.'

She then turned away, and Dick was lead by the arms after her and the rest of the crowd. He managed look over his shoulder to see the wreckage of the Bat Wing. The left wing was one metal sheet away from tearing off completely, and the shattered glass and the many dents in the side of the ship just added to Dick's dismay. Oh yeah, Bruce is going to be pissed.

If the Amazons let him live and he ever got off the island, Bruce would definitely make sure Dick suffered long and hard.

Dick was lead up hundreds and hundreds of steps, walking through the bustling city of women and young girls all going about their daily lives. For some reason, it was off putting to Dick to see women and children doing the washing or playing games in the open street. He wasn't sure why, but he envisioned the whole island as warrior women who all fought and died for each other and their home.

They could probably still whoop my ass, he thought as he was marched by some children who were previously playing a game with some dice and a ceramic cup before he came along and stole their attention. It came to Dick's mind that these young girls probably had never seen a male before, and so he smiled at them as kindly as he could. Some of the children smiled back, others had their mothers nearby collect them and take them inside. Dick couldn't blame them for it. Wouldn't he do the same for his child if the roles were reversed.

Why the hell am I thinking about children right now? he asked himself, but he didn't have time to ponder the question as they quickly walked up a final set of stairs into an open field of green covered in warrior women training. When the whole group stopped, Dick was brought to such a startling halt that he thought his arms were going to pop out of their sockets. Thank God for that, he thought, feeling his legs ache with all the climbing. Or is it Zeus I should thank? Maybe Hera? Athena?

The brunette raised her spear, and those not holding Dick prisoner did the same. 'Prinkipissá,' she called out above the din of all the sparring and training. 'Échoume kápoion gia esás.'

Dick wasn't sure who the brunette was talking to at first, but then his gaze settled on a group of women just ahead of them. It seemed it was a six-versus-one situation, as six women surrounded one young woman with familiar H/C hair. The six women ran at the young woman in the middle, all taking swings with their fists and swords, aiming for her head and legs and mid section. While the young woman took a few punches, she didn't flinch with pain. She would just grab her attacker's wrist and flip her over and slam her into the ground.

The fight only lasted a minute, and ended with the H/C haired pointing a sword at her final opponent's throat as she pressed her to the ground with her foot.

When she flipped her hair as she turned to face their group, only then did Dick fully realise who it was.

'Y/N!' he cried out, the brightest smile spreading across his face. Two years since he'd last seen her, his best friend. After the not-so-very-warm welcome, he was beyond relieved to see a familiar face.

But instead of reciprocating his smile with the one he'd always admired since they were children, Y/N paled as if she had seen a ghost. Her whole body seemed to freeze up as her eyes connected with Dick's, and for a moment Dick feared he had mistaken some poor girl for his best friend.

But her shock melted away, and Dick was met with angry eyes and a stony face. Oh, yeah. That's Y/N. He couldn't recall the amount of times he'd seen that expression before, but there was no mistaking it.

His fear turned towards himself as she suddenly, with sword still in hand, stormed towards him, ignoring the other women around her still training.

'Y/N, it's me Dick,' he said, just in case she hadn't recognised him, but still she came at him, raising the sword to her side. 'Wait, what are you doing?

As she stood a step from him, she changed her grip on the sword's hilt and swung the butt of it at his head.

'Hey! Don't-'

The last thing he saw were Y/N's angry eyes of E/C before pain exploded from his right temple and darkness overcame him.

~~~

Síko órthios, pareísaktes = On your feet, outsider

Poios eísai esý? = Who are you?

Ánthropos apó to exoterikó, edó tha petháneis! = Man from the outside, you will die here!

Pós gnorízeis tin prinkípissá mas? = How do you know our princess?

Piáste ton! = Grab him!

Tha ton páme stin prinkípissá mas = We shall take him to our princess

Échoume kápoion gia esás = We have someone for you

---------------

Tag List:

@valiantbouquetcloud | @epicy0n | @tyrannosaurexrex1300 | @lunaizhere | @nameunknownsthings | @tqrgvryen | @pariahsparadise | @edgycatx | @b4tm4nn

#young justice #romance #angst #friends to lovers #slowburn #batfam #dick grayson #nightwing #aqualad #artemis #batman #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #young justice dick grayson #wonder woman #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagines #friends to strangers to lovers #young justice imagines #young justice x reader #connor kent #m'gann m'orzz #miss martian #artemis crock #kid flash #wally west #kaldur'ahm #aquaman #bruce wayne #diana prince

[shewrites7]

Three Things I’ll Never Understand

ron weasley x fem!reader

summary - Valentine's Day has never been your favorite holiday. In fact, it was at the bottom of your list. You've never understood it. Just like how you've never understood Ron Weasley, a boy who'd once been one of your friends. Now, it's like he can't even look at you. What happened, those years ago? Will today, Valentine's Day, of all days, be when you finally find out? Do you really want to know?

type - one shot

word count [4.7k]

tags: Ron Weasley x f!reader, friends to strangers?? to lovers, confrontation, idiots in love, valentine’s day, arguing in the rain and a rain kiss. (no specific mention of appearance, race, etc.)

warnings: none

add. - originally posted to my ao3 on 6/25/22. enjoy!

No matter what anybody says, I've never understood the world's love for rain. For rainy weather. To have water droplets pelting down on you randomly while going about your day, with no warning except the gray tint of the day's clouds. All that rain has ever done for me is wet my clothes and leave me walking home with squelching socks. Again, I've never understood the appeal.

That was why just the thought of Lavender Brown's rant about the romantic flair of rain from earlier had set my feet ablaze as I quicken my pace into the Three Broomsticks, water splashing by my feet. The eagerly darkening sky had been practically taunting me all day, about to pour its rain all over Hogsmeade any second. Finally, just when I'd had enough of today, seeing couples left and right, it had.

The door opens with a heavy swoosh as I throw it open, already in a bad mood from the events of the day. How everyone at this school manages to constantly find love within Hogwarts' walls never fails to amaze me. Lavender Brown has been gushing all over this Hufflepuff seventh-year who she has plans with all week. Seamus Finnigan found a new love in a Ravenclaw girl I'd yet to know the name of. And, though she hasn't told me who with, Hermione most definitely has plans with a certain someone this Valentine's Day. Even Harry mustered up the courage to ask out Cho Chang, who he's clearly been fancying for almost a year now.

I'm happy for them; I always am. But that doesn't make the fact that I'm utterly alone any less unbearable.

As I stomp into the Three Broomsticks, my feet make a cringe-worthy gushing sound against the aged wood of the floor. I frustratedly wipe my wet hair from my face, allowing me to spot some of the names I'd mentioned before. Sitting at a booth farther down inside the inn, sits Harry, Hermione, and lastly, Ron, who looks utterly stressed, his hands gripping his hair as he speaks to the two across from him.

Now that I think about it, I haven't heard any mention of Ron having a date this Valentine's Day, but it isn't as if Ron is the type of person to talk to me about his romantic relationships anyway. Rather, talk to me about most things. He's always been more distant around me than any of the others. Whenever I sit with them, it's like Ron goes silent, as if some tension I'm painfully unaware of fills the air. The same thing happens now as I near the trio's booth.

"No, Hermione, I can't just-"

Ron's words die from his lips when he notices me. I just know that Hermione and Harry give him a confused look before they both turn around to spot me coming toward them. Hermione greets me with a kind smile.

"Y/n!" she calls, waving me over.

"Hey, you three," I say, mustering up as much of a happy tone as I can, feeling the way I am. Harry waves at me from inside the booth next to Hermione.

"Y/n," he says cheerfully. I greet him back and turn to Ron to greet him in the same way, and he offers a rather stiff nod and a tug of his lips in response. Nothing out of the ordinary from Ron, so I try not to mention it at all.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Hermione says, something playful sparkling in her eye in a very un-Hermione way. I chew on my bottom lip to keep from sighing.

"Yea, er-, Happy Valentine's Day."

Looking between the two of them, Harry and Hermione, I remember their supposed dates. "Aren't you two supposed to be off with your dates by now?" I can't keep the grim tone out of my voice. Harry and Hermione share a look I can't decipher before turning back to me.

"Yea," Harry replies, "We just took a pit stop to speak with Ron here." He gestures to the second-youngest Weasley, who still hasn't met my eyes. He looks to the two across from him, and they all seem to have a silent conversation amongst themselves. My awful mood today might have had an effect on my ability to pick up signals. Or maybe it's the rainwater still in my eyes that I still haven't blinked away.

"You're right," begins Hermione, "Harry and I should probably get going off to our, erm, dates." Hermione can't help but blush in an achingly adorable way that whoever she's seeing today must swoon over.

"Yea," I say, the hint of a smirk creeping up on my features. "Wouldn't want to leave Cho waiting, Harry."

A matching blush grows on Harry's face before he shoves me a little, scooting out from the booth behind Hermione. He turns to Ron one last time, who sits firmly in his seat still.

"We'll see you soon, alright mate?"

The redhead looks at him and nods tiredly, waving him off. Hermione shrugs on her coat.

"Try to have some fun in the meantime, Ron," pleads Hermione softly. "It's Valentine's Day, remember?"

Ron rolls his eyes dismissively. "Trust me, I remember."

Hermione looks as if she wants to say something more, but doesn't. Instead, she pats me on the shoulder affectionately before turning to leave. Harry follows her through the door.

Not knowing if I'd make this even weirder if I continue to stand, I decide to slide into the booth across from Ron. My soaked clothes squish from underneath me and I make a mess of the wooden bench I sit on. Merlin, help me.

"Sorry for the mess," I add if only to break the silence. "I'm completely soaked from the rain. I'd cast a drying spell but I left my wand back at the castle."

Ron replies, his eyes trained on my wet sleeves resting on the table rather than my face.

"I er... I left mine too."

I let out a chuckle that lacks genuineness. "Seems like a great day for both of us so far, right?"

Ron doesn't even allow for the hint of a smile to cross his face. He lets a breath out through his nose, toying with the hem of his sleeve. A beat of silence overtakes us before he finally meets my eyes for the first time in the conversation.

"Shouldn't you be off on some date like everyone else?"

I blink at the abruptness of his question. His tone was cold, almost detached. I don't even know how to respond.

"I ... I don't have a date."

He lets a breath out through his nose that almost sounds like laughter, clicking his tongue and shaking his head slightly like my loneliness was amusing. The nerve.

"Well it doesn't look like you've managed to find a date either, Weasley, if it's that amusing to you."

Whatever had gone through his mind at that moment was rich, considering the fact that it wasn't only me sitting here alone on Valentine's Day. He was here too.

Ron looks at me like I've snapped him back into reality. Maybe he didn't even realize I could see his amusement. It didn't matter though. My words were sharp, sharper than I meant.

"I-I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean that." Merlin, was this conversation draining. "I'm just in a cruddy mood today, that's all. This bloody holiday is... well you know how it is."

Even with my attempt to relate to him, to apologize, Ron doesn't seem able to find any desire to carry on the conversation. His eyes are trained on the wooden table still, regarding it as if he found more interest in the pattern of the wood than our conversation.

I let out a sigh before I leave my seat to sit in the chair in front of the inn's fireplace. My soaked clothes could use the heat and it doesn't seem like Ron would mind the loss of company.

I lean forward to rest my elbows on my knees, rubbing my hands together for the warmth that the fire can't provide. Today hasn't been my day; Valentine's Day never has been. And maybe it was just the gloominess of the weather outside, or the bad mood that the holiday has put me in, but Ron's permanent grudge against me has been annoying me more than ever.

The fire crackles in front of me, sparking like the frustration that begins to bubble inside of me as I imagine all the times Ron's acted this way around me. He has to know just how awful it feels to be ignored like this, to feel as if you're the reason for the end of a conversation, for words dying on people's lips whenever you came around.

My spiraling thoughts come to a stop at the sound of nearing footsteps, inching closer and closer before coming to a stop by my side. I notice Ron's red hair before anything else.

He sits down on the stool next to mine wordlessly. I want to ask what the purpose of him following me to the fireplace is, but it seems as if he doesn't know the answer to that question himself.

It feels like years go by before either of us breaks the silence. He stares into the fire, eyes flickering around as if he's deep in thought. I've never wanted to get inside a person's head so badly.

"What makes you hate Valentine's Day so much?"

His words come out so quietly that I'm not sure I'm even hearing him right. If I thought I knew what Ron might have been thinking before, now I know that I truly don't have a sliver of an idea.

"I don't ..." I trail off, deciding if I even know the answer to his question myself.

"I don't suppose I hate Valentine's Day as much as I just ... don't understand it. I mean, why should you have to use an official holiday as an excuse to be romantic? Can't people just appreciate love on any regular day? We all chase to find love on a single day of the year and you end up feeling like crap if you don't find any. It feels like I'm having everyone's relationship stuffed down my throat. Godric, I sound depressing. I swear I don't hate romance, I just-"

My rampage fades away once I realize how much I must be boring the boy beside me with the contents of my mind.

"Sorry," I say, internally cringing. "I'm sure you didn't need that much of an explanation, I-"

"Y/n, bloody hell," interrupts Ron. He manages to meet my eyes again. "Would you quit apologizing?"

I don't know what surprises me more: Ron's words, or the way he suddenly looks at me, determination lying behind shining eyes that seem to flicker with the shadow from the fireplace.

"Excuse me?" I ask, making sure I heard him right.

He runs a hand through his fiery hair. "I mean, seriously, Y/n, you've apologized to me at least three times in the past five minutes."

I let out a small scoff. "Well is it really so shocking that I feel the need to constantly be apologizing to you, Ronald?"

I can tell that my temper is especially fragile on a day like today. Ron's freckled face goes paler than it already is. "What- what do you mean?"

"With the way you act around me, you'd think I killed your mum or something."

"Killed my..." Ron mumbled to himself in disbelief, looking completely and utterly lost. "Killed my mum?"

"No, I didn't kill your- Gods, we're steering away from the point here. What I'm saying is, I don't know what I did to make you act the way you do around me. To make you suddenly dislike me so much."

Ron's brows are furrowed, his lips slightly separated as he looks at me. His tone is laced with what sounds like genuine confusion and concern.

"Dislike you?"

I let out a puff of air. "Yes, dislike me. Is it really that far of a stretch?"

Ron shakes his head slowly, some color spreading back into his face. When a few seconds pass without him saying anything, I think he isn't going to say anything at all.

"I could never dislike you."

The sound of Ron's voice proves me wrong. His face is filled with sincerity, saying the words casually enough to make them seem like they lack any deep meaning at all. In reality, they leave me fumbling for an explanation.

"It's never seemed that way, Ron." I shift my body on my stool to face him. "You avoid me like a plague. When I come around, you clearly wish I were anywhere else, or that you could be anywhere else. Worst of all, Weasley, I don't even know what I did."

I breathy laugh escapes me, exasperatedly.

"The funny thing is, I can remember a time when you didn't act like this around me. A time when we'd both laugh together like normal friends, the same way I would with Harry or Hermione. But after third year it was like we'd never even known each other. I don't know what I did after that to cause this rift to form between us, but whatever it was, I'm sorry. I'm bloody sorry."

I'm practically out of breath by the time I finish. Surely I'm drawing attention to the two of us in the inn, but that doesn't phase me as I speak to Ron. Clearly, something's bothering him, though. He doesn't even make a move to face me.

"Well," I say, my voice beginning to grow louder. "Aren't you going to say something?"

Seconds go by.

"Anything?"

Even if Ron wanted to say something to me, I'm losing the patience to sit here and beg for him to utter strings of words to me. If it's that hard to talk to me, I'll put him out of his misery.

I stand from my seat. All the time I spent warming by the fire threatens to go to waste as I go to march right back towards the pouring rain, wandless with no umbrella in sight.

I turn to look back at the red-haired boy one final time to see if he was going to make any move to give me an explanation or even just say anything to me, but when I see him sitting on the stool still, his crimson locks covering his eyes as his head still hangs, I know there's no use.

I push the door open, rain instantly whipping onto my clothes.

"Happy bloody Valentine's Day, Ron."’

I've never thought of myself as a lonely person, but today I most definitely do seem like a bit of a loner.

Ever since my conversation with Ron, if you can even call it that, I've been going around Hogsmeade by myself for the rest of the trip, trying to avoid a certain redhead at all costs. I've been pretty successful, too.

That is until I leave Honeydukes and notice three full heads of red hair standing in front of Zonko's—an overwhelming sight for someone trying to avoid a certain ginger at all costs.

Ron stands in conversation with his two older brothers, Fred and George, or George and Fred, (I still can't tell them apart), leaning against the brick wall of the shop under the safety of the roof's overhang, protected from the rain that still hadn't settled completely. His head is hung low as the two speak vivaciously in front of him, hand gestures and all.

My heart practically stills for a moment as one of the twins spots me in the distance, stopping his rant with wide eyes and nudging his younger brother on the shoulder. I stupidly freeze in place as Ron turns to look at me, giving time for my eyes to meet with his, a fountain of emotion stored behind them threatening to spill over.

His cheeks flush almost as red as the hair on his head, and the sight of his twins shoving him a little in my direction sends my legs pushing themselves into the crowd of Hogsmeade as I head in the opposite direction.

What am I doing?

I don't even have an answer to that question as I bustle through the many people in the rainy street, trying to go anywhere that wasn't next to Ron.

Do I really want to speak to him again?

Is finding answers to my questions as important as I thought it to be?

Why do I care so much about what Ron thinks of me?

As much as I tell myself I don't know the answer to a single one of these questions, deep down, something tells me I do.

"Y/n!"

I heard Ron's voice calling my name over the ocean of voices between us. He was far enough away in the crowd that, if I truly wanted to, I could make a run for it and not have to face him and whatever he had to say to me. The next question I had to consider was, did I really want to do that?

"Y/n!" He calls again, this time his voice closer. I turn around to face him, seeing him shoulder through people at both sides to reach me.

That feeling deep down inside of me, the one that gave me an inkling as to what I truly wanted, was the same one that makes my feet slowly stop moving, finally stopping my steps. I dip my head down, building up the courage to turn around. Sure enough, Ron is behind me, much closer this time.

When he reaches me, he's practically out of breath. This time, I won't let it be me that has to speak first.

Some seconds go by with the only noises heard being the droplets of rain still falling and the voices of people passing by as they head inside to avoid the rainstorm approaching.

"Y/n," he breaths finally. "Can we talk?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" My tone is sour, and I feel bad. But I have to remind myself he's only ever treated me the same way.

"Don't you want to head inside?" Ron asks sheepishly, gesturing to the shops on either side of us. I shake my head.

"Not really."

Ron frowns. "It's clearly gonna storm in a few minutes, Y/n, c'mon." He begins to walk toward one of the shops, but I don't follow.

"I'm sorry if I don't want to sit down and share a conversation with you right now, Ron."

Instead of reacting how I thought he would, Ron begins to shake his head and chuckle under his breath. I cross my arms, both in confusion and because of the chilly weather.

"What's so funny?"

He looks up with a very much Weasley grin, with something meaningful behind his smile.

"Still, with the apologizing, Y/n."

I give Ron a warning look, but fight to hold back a smile. Something about Ron used to always leave this warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest. That is, before he decided to freeze me out the way he did.

"Gods," I say, shaking my head. I remind myself that everything can't just be okay with a single flash of a smile—not when this conversation has been years in the making. I hide the traces of a smile that I once had on my face before I address the boy in front of me again.

"We..." I begin, finding my ground. "We need to finish our conversation from before. But this time, you need to actually talk to me, Ron."

The humor leaves Ron's face, and he clears his throat. "I- I know. I know I do. I've never been good at ... at talking to you, Y/n." He flushes. "I always say the wrong things."

"Well, you've had almost three years to get better at doing just that. But you've never made any effort to talk to me until now."

Ron fidgets with the sleeve of his jumper. "You're right and ... I'm sorry. I should have apologized before and-"

"An apology isn't what I've wanted. I've just missed my friend."

Ron stops his fidgeting, looking down at me through slightly wet hair, damp from the rain that patters lightly on the two of us.

"I need to tell you, Y/n," begins Ron. He glances at my face with purpose. "You and I ... we could never be friends."

My lips part, brows pinching together in complete and utter confusion at the statement that just came out of Ron's mouth.

"We could never be friends?" I repeat slowly, in disbelief. Ron, looking at me with an almost hopeful smile, nods. His words were like a painful slap in the face.

"What the hell, Ron?"

I turn around, beginning to stalk off angrily. Who in their right mind tells someone that? If he didn't want me around this whole time, he could've just said so from the beginning and saved all of us the trouble.

I don't hear Ron's footsteps following me for a few seconds before he's chasing after me.

"Y/n!" he hollers. "Wait! I- I didn't mean it like that!"

I don't turn around, confused and completely over the conversation. The corner of the road approaches, but I feel a tug on my wrist before I can turn, whirling me around despite its light hold. A fiery warmth spreads through my arm from his touch for a reason I can't explain or make out and, when I meet his eyes, Ron's looking at me in an almost pleading way.

"You've gotta give me a second," he says, breathing heavily. "You just ... you make me so nervous."

My heart's rhythm feels heavier in my chest. Ron laughs under his breath. "I told you I always say the wrong things." He cracks his knuckles after he releases his light grasp on my wrist, a habit of his I've noticed that makes me cringe inwardly at the sound. The rain begins to fall faster, heavier. Neither of us moves.

"Just," he pauses, thinking, "tell me what you want from me. Tell me what I can do."

I begin speaking without thinking. "I just want an explanation. Something to make it clear to me why you just totally iced me out without a single warning." Ron lowers his eyes, but I continue.

"I mean, I get we've grown to be different people and all that but, when I see you with Harry and Mione, you're the same Ron I've always known. When you're with me, you're colder. Distant. It's a god-awful feeling, Ron. It's like you're a different person around me."

"I feel like a different person around you," Ron fumbles. "I can't speak around you ... it's like I can't even form a single sentence to explain myself without blubbering like an idiot."

My face doesn't mask my hurt well enough. "That doesn't explain why you just stopped being there for me after third year."

Ron must see the wounded look in my eyes, the one that reveals just how much I care about what his next words will be. He swallows.

"I guess I just ... I guess I just couldn't be around you anymore."

"What?" I ask. Nothing about this makes any sense. "Why not?" I look at him pleadingly for a clear answer. "What did I do?"

"Nothing!" He says, hands out in front of him like he's scared I'd run off again. "You didn't do anything."

My head spins with the words I know haven't been said, trying to think of what they may be—I have no idea.

"I don't understand it."

Ron frowns, confused as if everything he's been saying has been perfectly clear, even if it's been anything but. "Don't understand what?"

"You, Ron. I don't understand you." I run a hand through my hair. "You're the most confusing person I've ever met. Merlin, if I could just know what's going on inside your brain, everything would make sense."

Ron takes hold of the sleeve of my sweater, holding it like it was his lifeline. His words are rich, full with desperation. "You want to know what's going on inside my head?"

My heart beats fast, and my cheeks are flushed. The only thing keeping me sane is the cool rain pouring down on us, the very rain that I despised this morning. It picks up its intensity, but I manage to block it out and focus on Ron's waiting gaze behind wet hair. It's as if I nod subconsciously.

"Every day," Ron starts, letting out a breath, "I think about you. I think about this barrier between us and why I put it in place to begin with and, even though the reason is foolish and definitely isn't good enough, it's all the truth that I can say."

Ron takes a breath, preparing himself. "When I told you we could never be friends, I was telling the truth. I iced you out because I couldn't be around you without driving myself crazy. I couldn't pretend that I wasn't falling for you. That ... that you weren't the most stunning girl I'd ever seen."

We're standing close enough that I'm sure Ron can hear my heart beating out of my chest, even over the sound of the rain beating against the ground, and against us. Neither of us seem to care.

"Sometimes I- I can't even look into your eyes, Y/n, just look at your face for too long because I know that I won't be able to resist the urge to just ..."

Ron doesn't finish his sentence, trailing off, but he doesn't need to. Even if he tries not to, his eyes keep flickering down to where my lips are, drenched from the rain like the rest of my body. Heavy breaths escape them.

Even with my soaked hair hanging in my eyes, I can't help but feel like I've never seen Ron this clearly before. And, as I stare into his eyes, I can't help but think my thoughts aren't that different than his. The rain hitting my skin feels like boiling water, overheating me and making me dizzy. I swallow.

"Y/n?" Ron asks, breaking the silence I hadn't even noticed form.

"Sorry," I say, so soft I'm not even sure he can hear. "It's just..."

I look up right at him. This is the longest he's ever looked at me. And it's certainly never been in this way before, with the meaningful look he has behind his eyes.

"Why did u ever feel like you had to resist? Why didn't u ever just tell me?"

Ron laughs breathily, and the sound is like honey. "Isn't it obvious?" He asks, meaning all things. "You'd never feel the same."

Now it's my turn to laugh.

"Ron, you bloody idiot."

I tug on his jumper, standing on my toes to be level with the tall boy. Time freezes for a single moment that feels like dozens, as the sounds of rain and distant chatter fade out, and the only sound that reaches my ears is our breathing, in time with each other, and the heavy beating of my own heart.

With the courage that only Godric could have given me, I close the distance between me and Ron with an extra tug on the neck of his jumper. Our lips connect in a way that makes my head spin in every direction and my stomach flutter with butterflies that feel too real to be true.

Already addicted to the feeling of his lips on mine, a feeling so soft and sweet it almost aches, I run my other hand through Ron's bright hair, tugging slightly at the root. I can feel him grin that utterly Weasley grin against my lips as he kisses me, cupping his hand behind my neck affectionately. With the way he holds me so close, it's like he can't stand for a single inch of space to be left between us any longer. I absolutely love the feeling.

Is this why everyone loves Valentine's Day so much? If it is, I can say with confidence that now, without a doubt, I understand it completely.

#ron weasly x reader #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley #harry potter #golden trio era #golden trio #ronald bilius weasley #weasley #x reader #friends to strangers to lovers #one shot #secret crush #idiots in love #ron sucks at romance #rain kiss #confessions #love confessions #valentine's day #hogwarts #ron weasley x you

[cambria-writes]

huffing puffing i forgot to update here today in my perpetual struggle to write the update for ao3 hhhhh

um idk i'm havin a rough time of it this week and my boss is gonna be gone for a while cause he's getting ✨married✨ and i'm basically the person with the highest iq in the place after him so uhhh it's. it's gonna be a wild ride.

also i'm so sorry i barely proofread this please forgive me

anyways here's chapter ten!!

pairing: eddie munson x reader rating: M, each chapter rated individually warnings: guns, active shooting, blood and injuries, swearing, DND lingo, series typical violence (against non-humans) word count: 3,246

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖊𝖓: 𝔉𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔓𝔞𝔱𝔥

It’s a mistake to try and run as soon as you feel the ground beneath your feet. Your knees buckle almost instantly, and you find yourself tumbling down the slope leading to the lake bed. There’s a high pitched screeching in the distance ahead of you that makes your ears ring and eyes water. 

You also hear the distinct screaming of people. 

You scramble to your feet and grab your gun where it had skittered a few feet ahead of you. You’re not prepared for the sight in front of you: slimy creatures that look like bats taking turns diving in on Eddie and the others. You double check that the safety on the Beretta is flicked off, smack yourself in the forehead with your free hand to try and focus, and you make your way forward. 

You jog as fast as you’re able to with your stomach in knots and your lungs clenching, and when you’ve walked around the glowing red mass you assume in the gate, lift your arm up and aim and the highest flying bat.

The shot is deafening and feels like it echoes, and though it might not have been an instant kill, the sound of liquid splattering on the ground says you at least hit the damn thing. Before you can aim for a second shot, Nancy rushes toward you and, with what you think is an oar, hits a bat away that had been diving right for you. 

You shoot the one coming up behind her, and it plummets to the ground with a squelch and a pathetic squeak.

You follow Nancy closely when she makes it over to Steve, in time to see Eddie spear clean through a bat with some kind of broken stick. You shoot the thing in the head for good measure when Eddie slams it to the ground. 

You turn just in time to see Steve fucking Harrington tear a bat clean in half. When you see him spit blood, you take the time to process what he looks like. And what he looks like is bloody. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you croak, putting your arms down and walking over to him. “You need to—”

“It’s fine,” Steve grunts, waving you off and taking a look down at himself before looking back up to you. “Wai—What the hell are you doing here?” 

“You ditched me so I plane shifted, asshole,” you reply quietly, moving aside to let Nancy inspect the wounds left behind by the bats taking ‘a pound of flesh’. 

“Those things don’t have, like,” Robin starts, looking around nervously at the carcasses. “Rabies or something, right?” 

Nancy looks at her like she’s sprouted a second head. You scoff. “If they do have some kind of disease, I’m pretty sure it’s nothing we know.” 

“Fantastic,” Steve mutters. He opens his mouth to say something else when the now-familiar shrieking of the bats sounds behind you. 

There’s a sound like a wounded, pitched howl that sounds in the distance. When you turn to face it, you all get to see several bats land, annoyingly gracefully, around the gate. 

Clearly guarding it. 

“Alright, there’s not that many,” Steve speaks quietly, taking a cautious step forward. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s plenty enough,” you hiss, shuffling over to stand next  to Robin, behind him and Eddie. 

“Nah, we can take ‘em,” Eddie says, with all the confidence of someone who has no idea what he’s looking at. “Right?” 

As if summoned, there’s another wounded howl, distinctly coming from the woods beyond the bats, beyond the gate. The sound alone feels louder, like it resonates behind your eyes, but when you see the tip of what looks like a very black cloud, you nearly trip over yourself trying to step back. 

“No, no we definitely can’t take those,” you breathe, pulling at Nancy and Robin.

Nancy does a half spin, eyes wildly looking at the edges of the lake, before she points behind you, legs already carrying her.

“The woods,” she calls out, breaking into a run. “Come on!” 

You take off after her without a second thought.

Unlike the other four, huddled as closely to the edge of cover Skull Rock provides you, you stay huddled on the ground as hidden as you can possibly be. You can hear the swarm of bats pass you over, but you don’t breathe until everyone stands up.

While Robin sighs audibly in relief, you already notice Steve is slower to get up than the others. When he starts canting to one side, you call him out and lunge to catch him. 

“Woah, holy shit,” you breathe, helping Steve to slide down to the ground. “You—dude no offense but you look like shit.”

“Great bedside manners,” he groans, putting a hand to his wounded side. It looks… like a really angry racoon got to him. 

You’re vaguely aware that Robin’s going on about rabies while Nancy’s tearing the bottom half of her shirt. You can feel something tingling in your fingers, but before you can open your mouth to speak, there’s a throbbing in your head.

I thought I told you to leave.

“Oh fuck no,” you whisper in a growl, propping yourself up. You get to your feet and lean against the stone. “I really don’t need you in my head right now.” 

I could make it easy, the gravelly voice—probably Vecna, right?—says. I could teach you how to use your powers.

You guffaw and turn around, like that’ll help you find where the voice is coming from. You shrug off the hand you feel landing on your shoulder. You can still hear the bats in the distance. 

“Right, fuck off, buddy!” You shout, belling your hands into fists at your sides. “You don’t get to offer me a fucking job when you just tried to kill my friends!”

“We’re friends?” You don’t catch whose whispered awe you hear. 

It doesn’t have to be like this—

“For the last time,” you start, voice low, closing your eyes. “I told you to Fuck. Off!”

The tingling in your fingers suddenly feels like starbursts under your skin, enough that you fall back into whoever had tried to grab your shoulder earlier. You can faintly tell that there’s a short gust of wind around you; whatever leaves were on the ground get blown away from beneath Skull Rock, in a neat circle.

You feel blood seeping from your nose, and your head feels like it’s full of cotton. 

It’s Eddie who lowers you to the ground, the back of your head braced against his shoulder. You feel sick, light-headed and weak. Eddie’s trying to keep your attention, keep you conscious, and though it’s hard to keep your eyes open, you double tap the arm across the top of your chest. He drops it in favour of grabbing both your shoulders.

You hear Steve groan behind you when Nancy tightens her makeshift bandage around him, and Robin muttering something panicked under her breath. 

“I’m fine,” you croak, pulling your legs out from where they’d folded under you and letting your weight sink back into Eddie’s chest.

“Yeah, sure, believable,” Eddie replies, and you can feel him turning around to look back at the other three before lowering his mouth to your ear. “Wanna tell me what that whole episode was about?” 

You scoff and, with a grunt, force yourself to sit up straighter. 

“Remember when I told you that Vecna was probably the one who kicked me out of here the first time?” Eddie rubs your shoulders, and when you turn to look at him, he nods. The other three still look shocked. “Yeah well, he kind of, like. Telepathically spoke to me then. And now.”

“He what?” Steve asks, but Nancy shushes him and motions for you to continue. 

“You said he was trying to offer you a job?” She prompts. 

You tilt your head. “Kind of? He said he could teach me how to use my powers, whatever the fuck that means. So I guess…”

“Sanctuary,” Eddie breathes, helping you turn around so you can at least face him while you sit. “That’s what that whole,” he gestures at his nose. “Thing is about, right? Whenever you do something your nose bleeds.”

You frown and lick your lips, and wipe angrily as your upper lip and nose when you taste the unmistakable tang of iron. Spit off to your side to get it out of your mouth.

“Fucking probably,” you mutter bitterly. You move to get up, and accept Eddie’s help when he offers an arm to get up. “Never really thought about it but it makes sense. Eleven’s nose always bleeds when she uses TK.” 

“TK?” You wave Steve off. “Telekinesis.”

“Wait, so if this is just like, Hawkins but with monsters and creepy crawlies,” Robin starts, hands behind her head like it’ll help her stay calm. “That means everything from our world is still here, right? Except for people, obviously?”

You shrug with Steve while Nancy speaks up. “As far as I understand it, yeah.”

“So theoretically,” Robin continues, already sounding a little bit less frazzled. “We could go to the police station—”

“There’s no way we’d make it downtown,” you cut in, flexing your fingers. “We’d either get spotted by the bats again or get jumped by a demodog.” You pause for a second and glance over at Eddie. His eyes are round as plates. “If not just, y’know. A straight up demogorgon.”

“Well,” Nancy starts, staring at the ground. “We don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns. I have guns. In my bedroom.” 

“Nancy Wheeler has guns, plural, in her bedroom?” Eddie asks incredulously, when Steve steps forward. 

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin says, and there’s almost an excited bounce to her when she does. 

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver,” Nancy says.

“Yeah and you almost shot me with it.”

“And you almost deserved it.” 

You squint at them for a second and look over to Robin. She throws you a smirk like she knows something that you’ve just caught onto, but you roll your eyes and shake your head. There’s a sounding ‘thump’, and when you turn your head to look, Eddie’s tossed his denim vest at Steve. 

“For your modesty, dude.”

Steve looks like he’s about to say something in return, but before he can speak the ground begins to rumble violently beneath you. Robin stumbles forward into you, and you in turn fall back right into Eddie. A quick look confirms that Steve caught Nancy. The best you can do is try to keep breathing until the shaking subsides.

This would have been perfectly fine if you didn’t immediately hear some kind of horrifying braying in the distance, a sound you don’t recall hearing even in the nightmares. 

“Yeah so guns seem like a pretty good idea to me,” Eddie says, shakily, releasing what you now realize was a death grip on your upper arms.

“Yeah, me too,” Robin breathes, holding out a hand to help you up once she’s gotten back up on her own feet.

“Alright well, lead the way. I’m way out of my fucking depth here,” you state, taking a knee to tie up your shoelaces. You’d been able to run just fine with them undone, but if you’re going to have to avoid tripping over hive mind vines, you’d rather not leave yourself at a disadvantage. 

When you start walking, it’s easy for you, Eddie and Robin to stay a few feet behind Steve and Nancy. They are, after all, the only people who know where they’re going from here. You turn to Eddie as you walk and tap him lightly on the shoulder.

“What was that you said earlier?” you ask. “Sanctuary?” 

Eddie hums and nods, sticking his hands in his pockets and keeping his head down. 

“Yeah, like, the spell?” He turns to look at you for a second to see you nod and looks back down at the ground. “It protects you from targeted attacks and spells.” 

“Like scrying or TK.”

“Like scrying or TK, yeah.” The grin you’re gifted with makes you turn your own gaze to the ground and clear your throat. 

“Wait so you can cast actual spells?” Robin asks, reaching a blind hand out to hold onto your sleeve. “Like a witch?”

You can’t help but laugh a bit. “Not really,” you say, taking a second to carefully hop over a particularly large vine. “It’s kind of more… thought based? Will based, I guess? Like the whole plane-shifting thing, I can just think about the Upside Down hard enough and then boom, I’m here.” 

“And what about that thing Eddie said, sanctuary?” 

You twist your tongue in your mouth while you find the words. “It’s like… a fuck-off zone. If it works right, Vecna can’t attack me or use spells on me. Which, on the one hand, is great—”

“But leaves you open to anything that isn’t directed at you,” Eddie finishes for you.

“So if he sends an army of bats against us…” Robin starts, looking over at you. 

“They might not be able to attack me, but if one of them flies close enough that its tail hits me or just happens to wrap around my neck, that’s kind of fair game.” 

When you look up again, Steve’s stopped in front of you, Nancy a few feet ahead of him. Robin gives what you think is a reassuring pat on the shoulder before jogging to meet up with Nancy. When you and Eddie catch up to Steve, Eddie nudges him with his shoulder in passing. They seem to strike up an easy conversation—which is no surprise, given how masterful Eddie is in social situations, despite what people might think of him—and you give them a few feet of space.

You don’t really want to hear Boy Talk right now.

So instead, you look down at the palm you’d scraped when you first tumbled down the incline to the lake, and focus on the small, scabbed cuts.

You try to recall the tingling feeling from earlier in your fingertips, and the way it spread like fizzing soda throughout the rest of you. You’re not entirely sure if it’s even related at all to your… ‘powers’, but given the fact that it seemed to contract and immediately release when you cast what you assume is the equivalent of Sanctuary…

You’re making a lot of assumptions, but spend most of the rest of your time walking trying to get the small cuts in the meat of your palm to close up.

“Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.” 

“Robin, I doubt a maid can fix a parallel dimension vine infestation,” you retort offhandedly, stepping over said vines on the floor. 

“Come on,” Nancy calls, heading for the stairs. “I don’t wanna stay here longer than we have to.”

You shrug and follow up the stairs behind Robin, but when you turn at the top of the stairs, you can’t help noticing that Steve isn’t behind you. He’s, in fact, stood stock-still halfway up to the landing, pointing his flashlight out at the… kitchen? 

“Dude,” you start, but it stuns Steve enough to make him stumble down a few steps. “Holy shit, relax, are you good? Do we need to worry about Upside Down rabies.” 

“What? No,” Steve frowns, but immediately turns back to the kitchen. “No, just. Listen. Do you hear that?”

You huff but shut up anyways, and try to pay attention. And you barely catch it, at first; a sound like someone mumbling into a pillow two rooms down a hallway. It’s your turn to frown, and you push past Steve to continue down the stairs. When you walk into the kitchen, the sound is clearer.

“It’s… Henderson?” 

“Right? Right!” Steve almost trips over himself getting down the stairs. “Dustin? Dustin!” 

“Oh my god shut up!” You hiss, slapping at his shoulder. “He can’t hear you from here!” 

“Dus—! Wait, what do you mean he can’t—”

“Steve, what are you doing?” Nancy asks, flinching when Steve turns and shines the flashlight right in her face. 

Eddie takes a few steps toward you, walking out from behind Robin and Nancy. “You good?” He whispers, looking sideways at Steve while he talks about Dustin being in the walls. 

“I’m fine,” you whisper back, before taking a step in front of Steve and putting your hands up. “Oh my god I wasn’t kidding when I was telling you to shut up, he’s not in the walls and he cannot hear you.” 

“How do you know that for sure?” Robin asks, crossing her arms against the chill in the house. 

“When Will Byers went missing,” you start, turning around to face the other two girls. “Joyce only said she could hear him through the wall when there was kind of like a… that weird not-gate that happened when he tried to reach her when a demogorgon was after him right? But he could hear her all the time.”

“Like a two-way mirror but with sound!” 

“Exactly. That’s probably why Will used lights to…” you trail off, looking past them to the hanging lights in the living room. 

Nancy’s the first to turn around and try to spot what you’re looking for. Once she does, she immediately turns back round to you. 

“The lights, she said he was talking through the lights.” She turns back and rushes to stand under the light fixture and reaches up to it. It’s faint, but it does seem to glow, somehow. When you follow and look closely enough, it… almost looks like there’s a shimmering mist around the lightbulbs. 

“That’s… kind of funky,” you mutter, but reach your hand up too. When Steve walks up and shines the flashlight up, the damn thing practically sparkles. 

You pull your hand down and almost jolt when you feel a hand against your lower back. You don’t have to turn around to calm your nerves; you can feel Eddie’s hair brush against your ear. 

“It… tickles,” he huffs, looking down at you with a crooked smirk. 

“It kinda… feels good,” Robin adds.

Nancy slowly pulls her hand back down, and when she lifts her head and catches your eye, you already know you’re thinking the same thing. 

“Anyone here know morse code?” 

“We both do,” you answer, nodding back at Eddie. 

“Uh, since when?”

“We both know SOS, dumbass,” you sigh, batting Steve and Robin’s arms down and reaching back up. “Three short,” you start, making three quick tapping motions. “Three long, and three short. Lather, rinse, repeat.”

“How do we know it’s working?” Steve asks, looking down from the lights to you, then to Nancy. 

“When we hear them realize the lights are blinking, I guess,” Eddie replies with a shrug. “Might take a while.”

“I fucking hope not,” you grumble. “My arm’s already getting sore.”

And in fact, it isn’t so much the presence of conversation that lets you all know it’s working so much as the fact that there’s no sound at all after a few more seconds. 

And then you hear Henderson speak up. 

“Hey uh, remember when I said the wouldn’t be stupid enough to go through Watergate? I overestimated them.” 

“Okay that’s just plain rude!” you explain in a huff, pulling your hand back and crossing your arms. “I didn’t even go through the gate?” 

“You know I think that might actually be worse.”

“Oh fuck off, Ed.”

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

@anothermunsonsimp @storiesbyrhi @doratheignora @alovesongshewrote

taglist is always open!

#stranger things #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steve harrington #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #gun violent #demobats #canon typical violence #vecna #he's very briefly in this one #friends to strangers to lovers #slow burn #mostly canon compliant #ravenloft

[rairecs]

title: part of something ours author: ohsun rating: explicit wordcount: 52111 pairing: lee donghyuck (haechan)/mark lee summary: 

While Donghyuck was trying to sort out college applications, Mark was signing a record deal, and when Donghyuck dropped out after three months of feeling dead inside, Mark was busying recording June Bug’s debut album –– at least, that’s what Donghyuck likes to think.

Fact is, Donghyuck doesn’t know. He didn’t stay in touch with Mark, for more reasons than just practical –– so he doesn’t know what happened to Mark, how he got where he is today. Most importantly, Donghyuck doesn’t know who Mark is now, and maybe that consoles his fear a little. 

It doesn’t matter if Mark doesn’t recognise him, because Donghyuck is not sure he will recognise Mark.

link

#markhyuck #nct fic #nct fic rec #haechan #mark lee #au: modern setting #au: rock band #childhood friends #friends to strangers to lovers #hurt/comfort #misunderstanding #miscommunication #some pining #angst with a happy ending #i really liked this #author: ohsun #wc: 50000

[lunastcrz]

“He’s my person. He’s always been my person. My best friend, my confidant, probably the love of my life. And I’ve spent the last eleven years being angry and self-righteous. But at the end of the day, he tore a hole in us, and fate ripped it wide open.” — Love and Other Words, Christina Lauren.

#love and other words #christina lauren #macy sorensen #elliot petropoulos #friends to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers #second chance romance #childhood friends to lovers #romance #book #book aesthetic #book recommendations #bookworm #must read

[hellcheerficdatabase]

all the ashes in my wake

Author: @Cunnninghams

Rating/Warning: Mature

Chapter Count: 2/2

Description:

Funny thing is, the first thing an infected person would say is I’m not sick. He holds his ground steadily.

His index finger hovers over the trigger as he takes two steps forward. He looks down towards the pit, and he sees her.

Dirty, matted blonde hair. A torn flannel, a backpack. Hands held up in surrender. Scared grey eyes that he would always remember — even now, even nearly ten years later.

Tags: Alternate Universe, last of us AU, Eddie is lonely, :(, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fast burn, smut, angst with a happy ending, touch starved Eddie, Eddie POV, two-shot, status: completed

#Alternate Universe #last of us AU #Eddie is lonely #:( #friends to strangers to lovers #angst #fast burn #smut #angst with a happy ending #touch starved Eddie #Eddie POV #two-shot #eddie munson #eddissy #eddie and chrissy #eddie x chrissy #chrissy deserved better #eddsy #munningham #hellcheer #chreddie #stranger things #chrissy cunningham #status: completed