#I'm making death saves each time he gets sick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevie-petey · 4 months

Text

episode eight: the upside down

You know you shouldn’t, but you laugh. Honestly, after everything you’ve been through tonight with Steve, how can he possibly think the two of you aren’t friends? “Why are you laughing?” Steve mumbles, confused. “Sorry,” you wheeze out, still uncontrollably laughing. “It’s just–I mean, dude! We almost died together, of course we’re friends now!” “We are?” He looks like a little kid on Christmas day being given the gift he’s always wanted. Your heart warms. “Yes, idiot.”

summary: drinking game time ! take a shot every time jonathan tries ditching you or every time you almost die at the byers house, you find out that steve really is an athlete and tbh it's hot, but you know what's even hotter ? saving hawkins and reaching a tentative compromise with steve after he loans you $5 for snacks. after, jonathan makes a promise you really hope he can keep.

rating: general, cursing and slight scary violence

warnings: violence, use of fire and weapons, guns, use of fem!reader and use of y/n, slight mentions of blood and death

words: 13.7k

before you swing in: the final chapter ,,, my heart </3 please enjoy my child, i put so much into this chapter. action scenes scare me, they're hard and i'm weak, so i hope this lives up to everything you guys wanted n more ;) i cannot believe we're at the end (but i do have another chapter planned that's set in season 1, so shhhh). thank you so so so much for all your support. i never thought this silly lil fic would get that much attention, but i'm insanely flattered and grateful for each and every one of y'all. i'm so proud of what i've created and you guys are my beloveds ,,, anyways, enjoy !!!

You almost miss Jonathan and Nancy sneaking off.

You had been explaining a comic book that had been in your bag to El when you noticed a shift in your periphery. Turning your head, you see Jonathan stand, offer Nancy his hand to help her up, and then walk towards the main doors together.

What the fuck.

“They wouldn’t dare…” You excuse yourself and run out the gym and into the hallway to follow them, absolutely furious. You’re so sick of their bullshit, of Jonathan’s bullshit and putting Nancy first. This isn’t even a petty jealousy thing, this is about the years of friendship between the two of you that has just suddenly disappeared within a damn week all due to circumstances completely out of your control.

The slam of the main door is the only warning Jonathan gets before you’re yanking him by his coat and flinging him back, forcing him to look at you. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

You’ve never, ever yelled at him like this before. Not even earlier this week when he’d given you that bullshit apology after screaming at you for being in his room, for saying the two of you weren’t family. You didn’t yell at him for hiding Nancy’s pictures from you, for going off without you to find the monster. Despite everything, you’ve never been this cruel to him, even if he may have deserved it at times.

Jonathan’s wide eyes stare down at your hand that’s still clutched around his coat, frightened. “Bug, we were just–”

“Just what? Sneaking off without me?”

“It’s not like that, Y/N.” Nancy now steps in, her hands held up as if you’re some rabid dog she wants to calm down. “We just figured we’d help Joyce and Hopper.”

“‘We’? Are you fucking kidding me? You two talked about this, had an entire conversation, and still somehow came to the conclusion that ditching me was a great fucking idea?” You scoff, deeply hurt by the fact that the two of them had an entire conversation without thinking to include you in it.

“Bug, can we talk about this one on one?” Jonathan asks, his voice lowered. You can see the genuine upset in his eyes and for a moment your grip on him lessens, but then you see Nancy behind him and your anger only returns.

“No, we can discuss this right here.”

He sighs and tries to grab the hand not clutching his coat, but you slap it away. “Bug–”

“You’ve lost that privilege.”

“Bug–I mean, Y/N,” His voice falters. “Look, my mom and Hopper are out there right now trying to find Will while that monster is still out. Nance and I… We want to finish what we started.”

“Without me?” You don’t mean for it to happen, but your voice catches at the end.

Jonathan’s gaze softens and this time he succeeds in grabbing your hand. You let go of him and allow him to pull you in, weak against him as always. “I’m doing this to protect them, to protect you, Y/N. I’m always trying to protect you. You know that, right?”

You used to think that you did, but now? You’re not so sure, and it terrifies you.

Nancy has stepped away from the conversation, now kicking at rocks while you’re with Jonathan, and you can’t help but think about how wrong all of this feels.

Throughout this entire week it’s felt like someone has given you a photo of Jonathan, smeared its lines and edges, removed his moles and his crooked smile and made it neater, altered so that if you squint you can see the boy you grew up with underneath it all… But it’s fuzzy, almost too unclear to really see.

Now he’s standing in front of you, his smile once more crooked and cunning and his moles faded underneath the moonlight and for a second you can see him. There he is, clear and untouched and him in a way that’s never quite been yours.

“I know,” you tell him. “But how many more times do you expect me to forgive you for lying and ditching me? If you want to protect me, you need to talk to me.”

Jonathan winces. “I know, I know it sounds stupid and I know I’ve fucked up more than enough this week, I just get caught up in wanting to make sure you’re safe. It’d kill me if I let anything happen to you… I just, I can’t lose you, bug.”

“So pushing me away is your grand plan of keeping me?”

“I’ve always been an idiot.” He manages a smile, and you can’t help but laugh.

“That’s true, but if you attempt to ditch me one more time I swear to god I’ll pour tar all over your car.”

The boy laughs and for a brief moment everything feels okay again, but it doesn’t last very long. “In our defense, we figured you’d be better off with the kids since you’re not really a fighter, ya know?”

You drop his hand. “Excuse me?”

Jonathan’s smile is gone. “What?”

“I’m not really a fighter? You’re kidding, right?”

“Hey, no I didn’t mean it like that–” Jonathan fumbles over his words, clearly taken aback by your sudden mood change.

You step away from him. “How many times did I defend you against Lonnie? Better yet, remind me how we became friends in the first place. Wasn’t it because I threw milk at a bunch of idiots bullying you? Huh?”

“Y/N–”

“God, I can’t believe I almost let you get away with it again! I mean, do you even hear the bullshit that comes out of your mouth?” You deepen your voice, now doing a poor impersonation of him. “‘Hey, bug! You know I love you, right? Cool! Now, I’m gonna go do fuck all and ignore you and ditch you and then somehow turn it into me being a good guy because duh! I can never do any wrong!’”

“Please, just–”

“Did I get it right? It was a pretty good impersonation in my opinion. I mean, I am the one who has had to deal with this shit all fucking week. I think I'm an expert on this topic now.”

Jonathan looks pained but you don’t fucking care anymore. You’ve reached your limit, you’re sick and tired of being treated like some delicate creature that’s incapable of taking care of itself. You literally slapped Tommy Hagan this afternoon in order to help Jonathan, yet here he is basically calling you weak.

And yet Nancy is the fighter. She’s the one who gets to go along on the adventure while you’re sidelined because for some damn reason you’re always the second option. Never taking matters into your own hands, always the one left behind to clean up the mess and take care of those also discarded.

You’re sick of it.

You step closer to Jonathan again, so that you’re nose to nose, and whisper, “I’m tired of never being good enough.”

And with that, you reach into his coat and snatch up his keys, a game you’ve always played with him but now has turned into a bitter taste in your mouth, and run back into the gym. Someone has to inform the kids of the plan, make sure they’ll be okay on their own.

Dustin sees you approach and smiles, but when he notices the angry pace in your steps, he frowns. “Uh oh.”

“Yeah, uh oh.”

“Jonathan again?”

You nod, still too angry to trust your words. “Yeah.”

He notices the keys in your hand. “Where are you going?”

Mike and Lucas look over now, curious as to what’s happening.

You sigh. “I’m going with Nancy and Jonathan to the Byers house, we’re going to kill the monster.”

“Why the hell are you going?” Dustin exclaims while Mike shoutes “sick!” and Lucas mumbles “great, alone again”. El remains quiet, still resting.

You flick your brother’s hat. “I have to, Dustin.”

“For Jonathan?” He shakes his head. “I like him, but aren’t you mad at him right now?”

“Is it just me, or is she always mad at him these days?” Mike whispers over to Lucas, who simply shrugs.

“Girls, man.”

You ignore them and focus on Dustin. “It doesn’t matter. He needs my help, and no one in the party gets left behind. Remember?”

“Y/N–”

“I love you,” you kiss the top of his head. “I promise I’ll be safe, just be careful, okay? I’m putting you in charge, so don’t let me down. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll see you in a few hours tops!”

Dustin tries to argue some more, but you quickly run back outside before he can get another word in. You feel horrible leaving him behind, but you know this is the right decision. If you can kill the monster, there’s less of a chance of the kids or Joyce and Hopper getting hurt. Jonathan and Nancy may be fine on their own, but there’s always power in numbers and they’ll need all the help they can get.

You just… you have to help. You know this is what you’re supposed to be doing, even if it pains you to do so. Dustin and the kids are smart; as long as they stay at the school, they’ll be fine.

In theory, that is.

Nancy and Jonathan are waiting for you outside. You push past them and march towards Jonathan’s care; they awkwardly follow after you. You unlock it, throw yourself into the backseat, and promptly dig through your backpack to make sure you have everything.

The two teens get in a few minutes after you. Not one word is spoken as Jonathan starts the car and the three of you drive off, leaving Hawkins Middle behind.

–

You thought the car ride with Nancy and Jonathan from the funeral home had been tense, but this one? Downright painful.

Jonathan has a tight grip on the steering wheel and keeps trying to catch your eye through the rearview mirror but you avoid his gaze. You’ve spent the last five minutes arranging and rearranging your backpack to give you something to do while Nancy has tried three times to make conversation to make this car ride bearable.

“El seems nice.”

“You said four words to her, Nancy.” You retort, switching open your switchblade once more to watch the moonlight dance off of its blades.

“Right.”

Nancy shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat. You know she realizes she’s once again upset the balance in your relationship with Jonathan. It was only an hour ago that she tried getting you to admit your feelings for him before convincing the boy to up and leave you. Sure, Jonathan made his own decision in the end, but damn. She could’ve at least pretended to want you around.

She notices your knives and tries to spark conversation again. “I love the color of the handle, it’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you switch the blades closed and sit up in your seat. “Anyways, you geniuses have a plan or were you just counting on ditching me and winging it from there?”

“Y/N–”

“No, Nancy. I insist, let’s talk about a plan. We’re here to kill a monster, right?”

She closes her mouth and frowns, turning to Jonathan for help, but he’s no use. He’s busy tapping his fingers against the wheel and praying that the world will just swallow him up whole. Too bad for him you’re a stubborn pain in the ass and would simply pluck him back up so you can torture him some more.

Nancy sighs. “Well, Jonathan and I were thinking we use the supplies we got earlier and lure the monster to his place, then we kill it.”

“Awesome plan, guys!” You say, your voice dripping with sickly sweetness that leaves them both feeling even more uncomfortable. “But may I suggest some actual details or shall we just bank off of this wonderfully dull and vague plan?”

“Sure, Y/N. Tell us what you had in mind.” Nancy rubs her face tiredly, knowing she deserves this.

“Great! I’m assuming we’re luring the monster with blood?” They nod at you, so you continue. “Okay, so before we lure it I think we should completely booby-trap Jonathan’s house. Nail the bear trap down onto the floor, make sure the floor is cleared of anything that could trip us up. Then, once we’ve got the house secured, we knick ourselves to draw some blood and pray to whatever god is up there that we can kill the thing.”

You pause for a moment, remembering how all the Christmas lights had been unscrewed by Joyce earlier. “The lights, we need to fix them. The monster communicates through the lights so if we have them, then we can track it.”

“That all sounds great, bug.” Jonathan finally speaks up, ass kissing.

“Thanks, pal. Still don’t have the bug privilege back, but I’m sure you simply forgot.”

He gulps, once more going back to being silent as he drives you and Nancy to his house.

Nancy again tries to diffuse the tension. “How do we even kill the monster though? I mean, will my bullets be enough?”

“I have this idea, but it’s… well, it’s out there.” You bite your lip, now feeling your cocky demeanor slipping. “If we can safely set fire to it, I think that’s our best bet.”

“Fire?” Jonathan exclaims, but Nancy shushes him.

“I think you’re right.”

“Y/N, I know you’re mad at me but do we really have to set fire to my house–”

Now it’s your turn to shush Jonathan. “This isn’t about that. I wouldn’t burn your house down, I already told you I’d just pour tar on your car whenever I get the chance. For now, I really do think the best thing to do is burn the monster alive. In every horror movie and book, fire always gets the job done.”

Despite herself, Nancy lets out a soft chuckle as Jonathan parks the car, now at his house. “She’s right, Jonathan. And who burns down houses these days? Tar really is the best form of revenge.”

“I’m flattered, Wheeler. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be off my shitlist in no time.” You tell her, patting her on the shoulder before getting out of the car. You quickly open up the trunk and gather the monster hunting supplies while Jonathan and Nancy take their time getting out.

You let yourself into the Byers home using your own key to the place. It’s been nestled in between the key to your house and the spare key to Jonathan’s car on your keychain for a few years now.

The first thing you get started on are the lights. There’s hundreds of them to get through, but you drop your supplies and begin screwing them in one by one. Nancy and Jonathan come in soon after and silently begin to help.

No conversation is made besides the necessary comments about the prep work. You’re all too focused on the possibility of what could happen next; the danger of the situation has finally set in. After the lights have all been fixed, you instruct Jonathan to begin nailing the bear trap down while you and Nancy discuss where to pour the gasoline. You both agree to make a path from the living room to Will’s room.

As Nancy pours the gasoline, you follow behind her and pick up any flammables. You weren't lying to Jonathan earlier, you really don’t want to burn his house down. While the house is wrecked, it’s still a home despite everything that’s happened in it. You practically grew up within its walls, you’d do anything to keep it as protected as possible.

When you’re done, you watch Nancy load her gun. A shiver runs down our spine; she looks at ease with it, which you figure should be reassuring, but the gravity of everything leaves you feeling on edge. You leave her alone and walk into the kitchen where Jonathan is, now hammering a ton of nails into his bat.

You begin to sharpen your blades next to him, still finding that you only feel secure by his side. The rhythmic sound of his hammering calms you, in a sense. It serves as a distraction. You know you insisted on coming, you don’t regret it and you know you’re stronger than everyone seems to give you credit for, but you’re also terrified. This isn’t just some adventure in the woods; this could kill the ones you love dearly.

Once you’re both done preparing your weapons, the two of you walk to Will’s room and rig up a simple snare. Jonathan grabs a yo-yo and you pull up a chair to set it on. The idea is that when the string gets pulled, it’ll alert you that the monster has sprung the bear trap. It’s not the most efficient warning system, but it’ll have to do.

The last thing to do is set the bear trap, which takes all three of you to achieve. Jonathan and Nancy hold down the edges with their body weight and you very carefully set the trap with your hand. You shake a bit as you do so, but you force your nerves down. You remind yourself that Jonathan thinks you’re too weak, too cowardly, you have to prove him wrong.

When the bear trap clicks into place, you let out a harsh exhale and sink against the wall, your heart still pounding. Jonathan and Nancy copy you and the three of you sit in silence. You’re still shaking a bit, and Jonathan is next to you just as tense, but for the first time since you’ve met him you can’t reach out to grab his hand to steady yourself. He’s too far, both literally and figuratively. Even with him next to you, you couldn’t be more far apart.

In the back of your mind, you hope the kids are alright. Hopefully they’re having a better night than you currently are.

“C’mon,” you say after a few minutes, getting up to walk over to the living room. “We’ve done all we can, now we just have to draw some blood and be the prettiest bait in Hawkins.”

–

Nancy and Jonathan decide to cut the palm of their hands, but you respectfully would rather die than have a matching scar with them. The idea makes you so uncomfortable you visibly cringe when Jonathan tells you the idea. “Yeah, no thanks. I think I’ll find somewhere else to cut.”

He looks hurt by what you’ve said but doesn’t voice it. Instead, the three of you stand in the living room in a triangle facing each other and he begins reciting the plan. “Remember…”

Nancy goes first. “Straight into Will’s room and–”

“Don’t step on the trap.” You finish.

Jonathan nods. “And then?”

“Wait for the yo-yo to move.” The girl says.

“Then…” Jonathan flicks the lighter on.

You whistle low. “Let there be light…”

“Right. Light.” The boy nods again. “Alright, we ready?”

“Ready.”

“Scar time.”

Jonathan and Nancy bring their hands up and place their knives flat against their palms. You roll up your sleeve and place your own knife against the upper part of your arm, just below your shoulder, and take a deep breath.

“On three,” Jonathan says. He begins counting and you all can’t seem to stop shaking. He senses your unease and looks up at you and Nancy. “You guys don’t have to do this.”

Nancy glares at him, her own voice shaky. “Jonathan, stop talking.”

You nod. “Yeah, what she said.”

Jonathan tries to argue, but Nancy squeezes her eyes shut and yells, “Three!”

You close your own eyes and slice at your arm, the pain immediate. You gasp out, never having been good with pain, but you know you have to do this for Will. The blood trails down your arm, dripping from your elbow onto the ground, and you watch as blood from Jonathan’s and Nancy’s own cuts falls onto the ground too.

Well, at least it’ll be an easy scar to hide compared to theirs.

“Fuck, that stings.” You say to break the silence, and Nancy nods her head in agreement.

“Not the most pleasant feeling.”

Jonathan guides the two of you over to the couch and grabs the first aid kit that you had prepared on the coffee table. He sits in the middle, leaving room for both you and Nancy on each side of him, but you’re still pissed at him and opt to sit on the floor in front of the couch.

Nancy begins to patch up his wound, and it takes everything within you not to reach over and help him yourself. It feels unnatural to watch someone else taking care of him, but the space between you still feels too vast to cross.

You patch up your own cut while the two of them talk quietly. You wind a bandage tight around your arm, ensuring you won’t bleed through, and Jonathan watches above you with guilt in his eyes. Nancy is trying to reassure him that everything will be okay, but as he watches you struggle to tie the bandage he wonders if he’s fucked up more than just your friendship.

“Bug, let me help with that.” He leans down and ties your bandage before you can stop him.

You glare at him, still having not said anything to Jonathan besides what was needed for preparation. Nancy distracts herself by cleaning up around his cut and your stomach twists into knots. This is all so miserable.

“Y/N, I know you’re upset with me and you can go whenever. I won’t blame you, you’ve done enough for me.” Jonathan says, trying to catch your eye.

You turn away and inspect your bandage, still reeling over the fact that he tied it for you. “I’m here for Will, and only Will.”

“Y/N…” There’s a hurt in his voice that almost makes you turn around to throw your arms around his neck and whisper a million apologies to him. To tell him everything, that you love him and that you’d do anything for him and that’s why you’re so terrified of how you feel. You know you’d burn yourself up if it meant he’d be taken care of, if it meant he was safe and happy and far away from anything that could harm him. You know you’d use up everything within you to love him.

Instead, you remain silent.

After getting no response from you, Jonathan clears his throat and begins to say something about how the lights will serve as an alarm for the monster, trying to pretend that everything is okay, but he’s cut off by a sudden pounding on the door.

You all jump and your fingers tighten around your switchblade, ready to open it. As your heart pounds you think of all the possible ways the plan could go wrong. When you’re on possibility number twelve, a voice calls through the door.

“Jonathan?”

“Is that… Steve?” You say out loud, in complete disbelief.

Steve continues to pound on the door. “Are you there, man? It’s… It’s Steve! Listen, I just wanna talk!”

You’re the first to react, standing up to run over to the door. You fling it open and step outside, making sure Steve won’t be able to see inside the house. When he sees you, he stumbles back a bit. “Henderson?”

His face is still bleeding from earlier and his hair is a mess, and yet there’s a softness to him that you haven’t seen before with him. “Steve, now isn’t really a good time.”

“Can I just talk to Jonathan real quick? I just… I want to apologize about what happened earlier, see if we can maybe–” His eyes land on your bandaged arm. You curse and roll down your sleeve, feeling like an idiot for forgetting to hide the wound before going outside.

Steve reaches out to touch it, a hint of worry on his face and his voice is now full of concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

You shiver at his touch, it’s gentle as he skims along the bandage and inspects it for any other problems. You pull away, now hiding the wound. “It’s nothing, but you should really go.”

“I want to help you, Y/N. Do you need me to get you anything?” His face is so full of worry for you that it makes you ache. Then a thought occurs to him. “Wait, where’s Byers? Why isn’t he here to help you?”

You’re about to make up a lie, but Nancy flings the door open. “Steve, listen to me.”

He looks between the two of you in complete shock. “Okay, what–”

“You need to leave.” Nancy orders.

Steve looks at you. “I’m not trying to start anything, okay?”

“I know, but–” You get cut off by Nancy.

“I don’t care about that. You need to leave.”

Steve begins to plead with the girl and you step away a bit, not wanting to intrude. You feel bad for him, he looks so beat down by what’s happened today and you suppose that you can’t really blame him. After spending maybe a total of ten hours with Nancy and Jonathan, you also have come close to losing your mind.

If you were with Jonathan, if you truly had him, you’d react the same as Steve. Begging for the girl he loves to listen to him, to give him another chance with the promise of him changing.

“I just want to make things right.” Steve says, impressing you with his vulnerability. He’s openly admitting to his mistakes and taking accountability mere hours after the situation has occurred, leaving you both in awe of him and also saddened for him. He loves Nancy more than anything, you can hear it in his voice.

He deserves better.

As you’re thinking this, you see his eyes flicker down towards Nancy’s bandaged hand and his brows furrow. “What happened to your hand? Is that blood?” His eyes now flicker over to you again. “Why are you both hurt?”

“We’re clumsy?” You say as Nancy yanks her hand away from Steve.

“It was an accident.” She agrees.

Steve looks between the two of you, now sensing that something else is wrong. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Nancy insists, but something in Steve’s demeanor shifts.

“Wait a second, did he do this to you? To Y/N?” His once soft voice is now filled with anger and you step in front of him.

“Steve, it wasn’t Jonathan. You need to go, I promise I’ll explain everything later–”

He grabs you by your side and gently moves you so that he can get past and shove through the door. Nancy yells at him to stop and tries to push him out, but she’s useless against his strength. When he manages to break in, he stumbles inside and scans over the house.

“Shit!” You follow after him, your brain running a million miles a second trying to figure out how to explain everything to him.

“What the fuck?” Steve mumbles, eyeing the bat with nails in it. “Y/N, what’s going on here?”

He’s looking to you for reassurance and you guess he assumes that the two of you are allies in this Jonathan and Nancy situation. You really wish you could explain, but Jonathan has grabbed him by the shoulders and is trying to push him outside. The two stumble around for a few seconds and you just helplessly watch.

“Steve, there’s no time to explain, please just listen to Jonathan and get out of here!” You’re helping Jonathan now, trying to get Steve out the door and away from harm’s reach, but he’s still fighting back confused and lost as ever and you pity him.

You hear a click and turn around, gasping when you see Nancy holding her gun up to Steve. “Woah, what the fuck Nancy?”

“What! What is going on?” Steve yells, now more panicked than anything else.

While Jonathan has stepped away, you find yourself standing in front of Steve as if to somehow block the bullet. You can’t let him get hurt, he doesn’t have any part of this, he can still have a normal and happy life if he just leaves now. “Nancy, put the fucking gun down, this isn’t helping!”

Steve pleads with her as well and the two of you scream at the girl to just listen and not swing around loaded weapons, but Nancy remains firm in her stance. “You have five seconds to get out of here. I’m doing this for you.”

“Because holding a gun to his head is any better than telling him the truth?” You exclaim, entirely over the situation.

As the four of you are arguing, the lights begin to flicker. Steve and Nancy don’t seem to notice, but you do. You look at Jonathan and say your first real words to him in hours. “Jonathan…”

He hears you and he runs over to your side, grabbing your hand as the two of you stand shoulder to shoulder. You feel your heartbeat race and you can feel him shaking beside you. He’s terrified, so are you, but his hand around yours manages to steady you.

“Nancy!” Jonathan tries to get the girl’s attention, but she’s too busy counting down to hear him.

He shouts at her again and the lights start to flicker more wildly and you draw your switchblade out, adrenaline coursing through you. It’s time.

Jonathan yells once more and finally catches Nancy’s attention. “The lights!”

She whips her head around and curses, Jonathan, still tightly holding your hand, tugs you along so that you follow him as he secures his weapons and grabs the bat. “It’s here.”

“What’s here?” Steve is flailing around, utterly lost.

You all ignore him and now stand back to back in a triangle. Nancy holds up her gun, Jonathan wields his bat, and you flick your wrist to bring out your knives. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know!”

The lights flicker rapidly and you feel overwhelmed. They were supposed to serve as a guide towards the monster, but there's no possible way to see which direction it’ll come from and for a fleeting moment you think you’ve made a huge mistake.

Steve is still screaming, demanding answers, but you’re too busy scanning your surroundings to offer him some information. “Hello? Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going–”

The roof opens up, cutting Steve off, and you scream as the monster attempts to come down right above you. Jonathan shields you from the fallen debris and you cling onto him in utter fear. This isn’t real. This cannot be happening.

Nancy begins to shoot at the thing while Jonathan guides you to safety. He brings you to the edge of the living room and holds your face in his hands, forcing you to really look at him for the first time all night. “Listen to me, stay here while I get Nancy.”

He kisses your forehead and then leaves, rushing over to Nancy to pull her away and guide her towards Will’s room. Steve stands next to you, frozen, and it forces you back to reality. The plan, you have to stick to the plan.

You grab Steve’s hand and yank him so that he follows. The monster has dropped down now, a horrible creature on all fours that opens its gaping mouth to let out a horrible screech that you feel deep within your bones. This is what killed Barb.

The four of you run to Will’s room and you only just barely have enough time to warn Steve about the bear trap. You look over your shoulder and shout, “Jump!” right as your ankle catches on its chains.

You fall. Hard.

Pain sears through your ankle and you try to get up, but any pressure on it sends flames through your entire body and you let out another scream. The monster catches up, looming over you, and you brace for your death. There’s no fucking way you’re getting out of this.

You squeeze your eyes as the monster stalks close to you, its ugly mouth open and ready to kill you. Jonathan is screaming at you to get up, but Nancy is holding him back from helping. You’re relieved by this, knowing that someone has to be there for Will once this is all done. He’ll need his brother, and Nancy seems to understand this. You catch her eye and nod at her, sending a silent thank you.

“Bug! No, let go of me! I have to help her, Nancy!” Jonathan’s voice becomes hoarse by how loud he screams, his voice breaking with fear and desperation.

Then, right before the monster lunges at you, you feel a familiar pair of arms slide underneath your legs and pick you up. “What–”

Steve Harrington has swooped in to save you, picking you up as if you weigh nothing, ever the athlete, and swiftly jumps over the bear trap while screaming his head off. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

You’re so delirious from the pain in your ankle and the adrenaline pumping through your veins that you can’t help but let a laugh escape you. No fucking way is any of this real. Steve Harrington is carrying you bridal style into Will’s bedroom with Jonathan and Nancy as witnesses.

What a life.

Once you’re both secured in the room, Steve sets you down gently right as Nancy yells at him to shut up. As soon as Steve lets go of you, Jonathan is at your side and pulls you into a crushing hug.

“Bug.” He breathes out against your ear, relief heavy.

“I’m okay.” You tell him, threading your fingers through his hair. He’s shaking harder than ever, and holding onto you as if he’s scared he’ll lose you again. “I’m okay, bee.”

He pulls away and his hands are all over you, checking everywhere for any other injuries. “Did it hurt you, are you bleeding? There should be a first aid kit–”

You grab his hands and kiss his knuckles, which seems to calm him down a bit. “I’m fine, just twisted my ankle. If you help me up, I’m sure I’ll be able to stand again.”

Jonathan quickly helps you to your feet and you lean against him for the extra support. While you put on a brave face for Jonathan, you’re terrified out of your fucking mind. You almost died. Jonathan is still holding your hand and he’s looking at you as if seeing you for the first time and you force yourself to look away. It’s the same look from the field days ago, when you thought he’d kiss you.

You have to focus on what’s at stake.

How the hell are you guys supposed to kill this thing?

The monster screeches, breaking the moment between you and Jonathan, and he flicks his lighter on and forces you to stand behind him. Nancy holds up her gun and you bring your knives closer to your face, Steve standing weaponless behind you.

You all wait, tense, for the monster. It stalks closer to the room, its awful growls alerting you of its proximity, but it doesn’t appear.

“What’s it doing?” Nancy asks, frustrated.

“I don’t know.” You respond, equally as frustrated and scared.

Another few agonizing seconds pass, and you stare at the yo-yo and hope that it remains still. Then, the lights stop flickering and it becomes quiet. All you can hear is your blood roaring in your ears.

Nancy looks around. “Do you hear anything?”

“No,” Jonathan shakes his head, inching closer to the door.

“Wait!” You tug at your still interlocked hands. You pick up his bat that had been thrown on the ground and hand it to him. “Be careful. Please.”

He gives your hand one last squeeze before letting go, accepting the bat.

As Jonathan pokes his head out to see if the monster is outside, Steve bends his head down and whispers in your ear, “Romantic.”

“Shut. Up.” You hit him in the chest, fearfully watching your best friend to make sure he doesn't die. When he motions an all clear, Nancy follows him outside, then you, then Steve.

The house is silent and your heart sinks when you see that the bear trap has been left untouched. You realize with a horrible gut wrench that the monster is smarter than the three of you had anticipated.

So much for your plan, then.

“It’s smarter than we thought.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan agrees with dismay.

He stalks against the wall towards the living room and you all follow in a single file line. You do your best to stick close to the wall but you limp with every step. Your ankle is definitely out of commission for now. Great.

All of you are on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It couldn’t have been that easy, there’s no possible way that the monster simply up and left. You enter the living room, which has gotten even more wrecked due the monster. The wallpaper has been torn off of some parts of the wall and you see papers scattered everywhere.

“Shit…” you mumble, kicking at a shredded wallpaper strip.

In the corner, Steve has started to hyperventilate and mumble to himself. “This is crazy, this is so crazy, this is fucking crazy.”

You limp over to him and grab his shoulders, making him face you. “Steve, hey. It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Y/N, what the hell just happened?”

“It’s… complicated. For now, can you trust me that everything will be okay?”

“Of course I trust you, it’s just…” He nods, his eyes softening. You lessen your hold on him and give him a smile, he seems to be calming down. Then, he looks around the room and seemingly remembers where he is. “This is crazy!”

Steve lunges for the phone on the wall and tries to call for help.

You stumble after him, the pain in your ankle slowing you down. “Steve, wait–”

Nancy gets to him first, grabbing the phone out of his hand and throwing it across the room. He looks at her, shocked. “What are you doing? Are you insane?”

“It’s going to come back!” Nancy yells at him, and you wince at the way she treats him. You know Steve will only listen to her, but she could at least be nicer about the whole situation. The three of you have had some time to process everything happening, Steve was thrown into the deep end.

“You could be a little nicer,” you mumble, and Nancy sends you a glare. You raise your hands up in surrender. “Sorry.”

“Steve, you need to leave. Right now.”

He looks so overwhelmed and you give him a pitying look. He stares at you, reminiscent of the way he looked at you earlier in the alley, silently begging you to say something, anything, but again you can only shake your head at him. You won’t force him to stay, it wouldn’t be fair.

“Y/N, please…” He tries one more time to get you on his side, but you can’t. Frustrated by your lack of response, Steve groans. “Fuck it!”

He runs out the door.

You’ll admit that you’re a bit disappointed, but you also understand. Who in their right mind would stay?

You and Nancy share a look before the lights begin to flicker again. Dread fills you. “Fuck…”

Jonathan is back by your side and he and Nancy again form a triangle with you, all your backs pressed together as you desperately try to locate the monster. You all stumble in a circle, searching for any sign of the thing, but there’s nothing.

“Where is it?” Nancy gasps out.

“Just fucking show yourself!” You shout, just wanting this all to be over with. Your body is drained from living in a state of fear for so long.

“Come on you son of a bitch!” Jonathan echoes your taunts.

Suddenly the lights turn off and you’re left alone in complete darkness. Faintly you can hear the monster’s familiar growl approaching from behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, the air stands still. It’s back. Before you can react, it pounces on Jonathan.

“Jonathan!” You scream alongside Nancy. Desperation takes over you and before you can even process what’s happening, you ignore the pain in your ankle and jump onto its back, stabbing repeatedly at it.

Your blades only bounce off of its thick skin and the monster struggles to get you off. You hold on as tight as you can, shouting and kicking at it so that it can’t hurt him, but then it opens its mouth and for a horrifying moment you’re afraid that Jonathan will die.

“No!” You scream even louder than before and double down on your effort, stabbing and slashing as much as you possibly can to try and create some damage, but your arms are starting to ache and your ankle now feels like it’s on fire.

“Nancy, its skin is too thick!” You sob out, nearing complete exhaustion. Then, just as you’re about to collapse from exhaustion, gunshots fill the room.

Nancy begins to shoot at the monster and with the help of your blades, the two of you manage to pierce its skin, but even then the damage is minimal. It’s not enough, it won’t be enough. Tears stream down your face and the monster only gets closer to Jonathan, so you do the only thing you can think of: you crawl onto the top of its body and stab at its mouth.

The monster lets out a blood curdling scream and flings you off of its back. You go flying across the room and land against the wall with a groan. All the air has been knocked out of you and your ribs are definitely going to be bruised tomorrow. Every part of you aches, but you manage to lift your head up and blearily process the monster now approaching Nancy as she continues to shoot at it, but it remains unphased.

You crawl over to Jonathan, who is still laying on the ground. He’s motionless, and you fight everything within you not to break down and sob. You have to keep going, he has to be alive. As you reach Jonathan and frantically check for a pulse, the monster has now cornered Nancy and her gun seems to be out of bullets.

It’s over. You know it is.

Right as you’ve accepted your fate, a screaming Steve Harrington wielding Jonathan’s bat once again manages to save the day.

He hits the monster with the bat, effectively saving Nancy and you’re so impressed with his batting skills that you almost find him attractive with how easily he hits and dodges the monster. However, you file those thoughts away for later and finally manage to wake Jonathan up. He startles with a gasp and you check over his chest, scared he may have gotten pierced by the monster’s claws.

“I’m fine, we need to help.”

You help each other up and you have to lean heavily against him due to your ankle. You bull riding the monster has only made the sprain worse; you’re too afraid to look down and see the damage that’s been done.

As the two of you hobble over to Nancy, Jonathan looks at you. “Is Harrington really here right now?”

“Yes.”

“Lovely.”

Steve manages to lure the monster closer and closer to the bear trap and you watch him in awe. He’s quick footed and so sure of himself, the complete opposite of the boy from only ten minutes ago who had run out of the house screaming his head off. Now, Steve is swift with his hits and even twirls the bat in his hand to show off. The small act causes you to smile despite the horrible circumstances.

By the time you and Jonathan are up and recovered, Steve has successfully led the monster straight into the trap. It clamps around the monster’s foot and it screeches, flailing around in the trap. Steve still has his bat held up, now frantically looking over to everyone else. “He’s in the trap! He’s stuck!”

“Jonathan, now!” Nancy screams, motioning over at him to use his lighter.

Jonathan listens, using his free hand to flick the lighter on and then drops it onto the ground, right into the trail of gasoline. Immediately the monster goes up in flames, letting out horrible noises. You all shield your faces from the flames and Jonathan pulls you closer into him, still having yet to let go of you; you feel yourself sink into his side as you watch the monster wither away.

“Bug, I have to get the fire extinguisher, do you think you can stand on your own?” Jonathan asks you, his voice soft but urgent.

You quickly nod and brace yourself for his departure. “Yeah, go.”

He lets go of you as gently as possible before running to grab the extinguisher. When he has it, he orders everyone to get back and then smothers the flames. It takes a couple seconds, but eventually the fire gets put out, leaving behind an awful stench that makes everyone cough and gag.

“Holy fuck,” you wheeze out, hunched over. “Burnt monster smells horrible.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve coughs out.

Nancy covers her face with her jacket. “Where did it go?”

“It has to be dead.” Jonathan pants against the wall, looking like he’s three seconds away from passing out. “It has to be.”

“It fucking better be dead.” You mumble, hobbling closer to see what exactly was left behind. When you get closer and see the giant lump of melted skin all over the bear trap, you gag. “Oh god. Yeah, okay. It’s dead.”

Everyone sighs with relief.

Then, you notice a Christmas light above you flicker on. Your heart stops, terrified that the monster has somehow survived, but then a second one turns on, then a third, until a path seems to be guiding you towards the living room.

You all follow, cautious but curious, but these lights don’t feel threatening. There’s an energy to them, a comforting one that leaves you breathless. When you get to the living room, tears form in your eyes, now understanding what this all is. You look at Jonathan, who also seems to be thinking what you are.

It’s Joyce, you know it is.

“Mom,” he breathes out.

You limp over to him and grab his hand. He turns to you, his eyes shining with an appreciation that he only ever has for you. He seems to be drinking you in, as if now realizing just how close the two of you came to dying tonight. You’re doing the same, thankful that he’s alive and standing next to you despite everything. There’s so much the two of you want to say, but as always the words aren’t needed. You understand each other perfectly, the balance between you centered once more.

You put your head on Jonathan’s shoulder and he brings his hand to your hair to softly stroke it. The two of you stand like that for a second, breathing each other in and enjoying the tenderness after such a miserable day, before you slowly break apart and follow the lights going outside.

The porch light flickers and Nancy stands next to you, watching it with uncertainty. “Where’s it going?”

“I don’t think it’s the monster.” Jonathan tells her.

“It’s Will.” You don’t know how you know this, or what makes you feel so certain that you’re right, but somehow you know that you are. Somewhere deep within you, you feel the faint outline of hope flicker.

A new silence surrounds the four of you at your words, and for once there’s hope between you all. Then, after a minute or so of silence, everyone begins to head back inside. Steve first, then Nancy, and finally Jonathan, leaving you alone with the crisp early winter air.

You take a deep breath, the cold air serving as a reminder that you’re alive. You let it fill your lungs until you can’t breathe in anymore, then you release the air through an exhale and feel your body settle into its exhaustion. This is the first time you’ve had a moment to yourself, so you let the exhaustion weigh upon you like a warm blanket.

Will is safe, you can feel it. Despite everything, he’s safe and alive. Jonathan is too, still your best friend regardless of all the unspoken words between the two of you. Dustin is at the school with the kids, away from danger. Everything is okay, it’ll be okay.

You let the moment wash over you, incredibly grateful to be lucky enough to have survived it all. Everyone you love and hold close to you is safe. You didn’t fuck up this time. God, you did it.

Jonathan comes running out after a while, his face alight with joy and he crashes into you and picks you up to twirl you around. You laugh, loud and freely, and bury your face in his hair as he continues. “Bee, stop! Put me down, you dummy!”

He does as he’s told, but doesn’t let go of you once your feet are on the ground. “My mom just called, they saved Will. He–he’s in the hospital, he’s okay.”

You squeal and throw your arms around Jonathan again, squeezing him so hard that you’re afraid you'll hurt him, but he simply laughs and squeezes you just as tight. Tears come again, but this time they’re happy ones, and if it weren’t for your ankle you’d be jumping up and down right now.

Jonathan’s laughter dies down and he cups your chin around his fingers so that you look up at him. “You did it.”

“We did it, bug.” You softly push against him. You can’t take all the credit.

His eyes are shining again, you haven’t seen him this happy in so long, you get lost in it. His face is lit up and his smile is back and you’re so in love with him that it claws against your throat and threatens to spill out in excess.

A beat of silence passes and Jonathan just soaks your presence in. You can’t quite read his face, but for once this doesn’t frighten you. You enjoy it, you relish in the fact that he’s still yours yet now forming into someone new and lovely and wonderful.

“You never gave up.” He whispers at last, adoration in his voice.

“Never.”

“You never left me.”

“Never.” You breathe out, the word so simple with such heavy weight behind it.

The moment is so raw, so tender, and Jonathan is giving you that look again, the one that leaves you feeling like the sun itself has settled upon you and kissed your cheek. His eyes flick down to your lips and you smile, taunting him to lean in. He seems to understand, giving you his own teasing smile before leaning in. You lean in as well, every part of you buzzing, and right before your lips touch his, Steve bursts through the door.

“Jonathan, dude, do you have like, any food in the house?” He asks, completely oblivious to what he’s just interrupted.

You and Jonathan break apart, laughing the tension away. He ducks his head down, clears his throat, and turns to Steve. “Sorry, man. Been a little busy this week for grocery shopping.”

Steve’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Oh shit, right. Sorry, okay. Uh… Well, I’ll be inside, I guess.”

“We’ll be in shortly.” You tell Steve. You want to be frustrated by his timing, but something tells you that you’ll have all the time in the world to tell Jonathan how you feel. Now just isn’t the time.

–

The moment you arrive at the hospital, Jonathan sprints out of the car and straight towards the front desk to find out where Will is. You and Nancy follow behind, figuring you won’t be able to see Will for a while since you’re not blood related, so the two of you wish Jonathan goodbye and head towards the waiting room.

Steve lags behind, obviously unsure where to go. Nancy immediately walks inside, but you notice his hesitation and nudge his shoulder. “I’m sure that the cut on your eyebrow needs to be looked out. Let’s go sit, okay?”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah, sure. Totally. Let’s go sit in a room full of people who probably hate me. No biggie.”

“Either come or don’t.” You shrug. “But the way I see it, you can start mending some metaphorical wounds while you wait in there.”

You don’t wait for Steve to figure out what to do, you know that Dustin is somewhere inside the waiting room and you’re buzzing to see him and the rest of the kids. You hobble inside, still very much in pain due to your injuries, but the moment you see your brother it all fades away.

He runs into your arms and almost knocks you down with the force. Dustin clings onto you, mumbling over and over again how sorry he is.

“Hey, wait a second,” you pull him away and crouch down, groaning a bit at the pain. “What are you sorry about? What happened?”

You look around the room and see everyone there. Nancy, Hopper, the kids, Steve, even Nancy’s parents, but there’s someone missing…

“El,” you breathe out.

Dustin’s lip trembles and he begins to cry. You soothe him, grabbing his hand to bring him over to the seats and sit between him and Mike. Lucas is to the left of Dustin and you can’t help but notice how all the boys have dried tears in their eyes.

When they’re ready, you have the kids explain what happened, and the more they tell you, the more guilty you feel. You should’ve been there for them, you left them all alone with that monster. You got Will back, and yet you’ve lost El as a result. It seems that no matter what you do, it’ll never quite be enough in the end.

“It’s not your fault.” You tell Dustin, who still keeps apologizing. It was you who had left him in charge, you’re why El ended up vanquished by the monster. “You did everything you could. I shouldn’t have left you guys all alone, but I’m proud that you all took care of one another, okay?”

He sniffs and nods his head, but you know he doesn’t believe you. All the boys are somber; you know it’ll take time for them to recover. So, you do what you do best, you console them. You hold their hands and rub their backs and offer your spare comics in your bag. You do whatever you can to comfort them, to reassure them that they’re safe now and that no one will hurt them, but the light in their eyes has dimmed.

They’ll never be the same again.

And El… she had been so young, you don’t think you’ll ever not feel the heavy weight of guilt whenever you think of her. She had been so sweet and had trusted you.

You should’ve been there, you wish you could’ve saved her.

Steve watches from his seat across from you. He listens in as you comfort the boys, taking care of them in such a natural way. He admires this softer side of you, one he hasn’t quite seen before. Sure, you’ve always been gentle and sincere, but watching you with the kids is something special in itself. You manage to get them to laugh, you offer them your shoulder to cry or sleep on, and you read aloud to them stories from your comics and Steve finds himself drawn towards your interactions with the kids.

It’s sweet, something delicate and lovely, and Steve admires everything that you are. When he sees you awkwardly stand up and stumble over to the vending machines in the hall, Steve finds himself following after you.

“Bitch!” You slam the palm of your hand against the vending machine in vain. The bag of chips hangs by the little spiral, taunting you.

“That’s not a very nice word, Henderson.”

You turn and see Steve, leaning against the wall with a fond expression. “You stalking me?”

“Nah, just wanted to watch you fight against a vending machine.”

“Ha,” you snort, turning back to the machine. “Unless you can help me get this last chip bag, you’re free to go sit back down.”

You mean it to be a joke, not expecting Steve to actually listen, but he’s at your side within a second. “Step back, let Steve handle her.”

“What–”

Steve motions for you to move, so you reluctantly do as you’re told. Once you’re out of the way, Steve claps his hands, stretches out his neck, and then begins to aggressively shake the vending machine.

“That is so not what you’re supposed to do–”

Suddenly the bag drops down from the hook and into the retrieval slot. Steve reaches inside, grabs the bag, and then dangles it in the air. “Tada!”

You laugh and grab the bag from him. “Okay, I’ll admit, that was impressive.”

“What can I say? I’m charming like that.”

“Sure,” you smile at him, neither of you have moved yet. He’s still standing in front of you with that cocky smile on his face that’s slowly started to warm on you. You truly do understand why so many girls have fallen for him. If you ever saw Steve on the street, a stranger passing by, you’d fall a little bit in love with him yourself.

The thought startles you. “Well, uh…”

“Yes?” Steve raises his eyebrows at you, smiling.

“Thank you for the chips. The kids haven’t eaten anything in hours, so…” You wave the three bags in your arms. “Gotta keep 'em fed.”

“Wait a second, there’s only three bags there. Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

“I only had enough money for the boy’s chips.” You say, feeling suddenly sheepish. “It’s fine, though. I’ll just eat a few pieces from them and wait until we get home.”

Steve scoffs. “Yeah, no.”

You frown at him, confused as he rustles through his jean pocket and pulls out his wallet. “I don’t want your money–”

He doesn’t listen and simply puts the cash into the vending machine and punches in a few numbers. Slowly, one by one, multiple different bags of sweets and chips come falling down within the machine. Once the last one has dropped, Steve bends down and offers the huge stash to you.

“A feast, on me.” He winks at you and you can’t help but blush.

“T–thanks, I guess.” You now carefully balance the rest of the snacks in your arms, the mound almost blocking your view. You’re not sure how much Steve just paid, but with all these snacks you and the kids will surely be well fed.

Steve shrugs, and if you weren’t so tired you’d think the blush on his face was a real one. “It’s the least I can do, all things considered.”

His words give you pause. You know he’s referencing earlier today, back in the alley where fists slammed against skin and he had dragged you away from your best friend, but the memory feels like years ago. So much has happened since then, Steve has saved your life since then.

“Steve…” Your ankle is starting to sting again from standing for so long, so you adjust your footing and try to figure out what you want to say. “I never got to thank you back at Jonathan’s.”

“Thank me?” His face scrunches in confusion in a sickeningly cute way that it almost distracts you.

“Yes. You saved my life tonight, Steve. I won’t ever forget that.”

“Oh…There’s no need to thank me. I mean, what are friends for?” Steve freezes and clears his throat. “I mean, shit. We aren’t friends, you keep saying that. Sorry. You know what I mean.”

You know you shouldn’t, but you laugh. Honestly, after everything you’ve been through tonight with Steve, how can he possibly think the two of you aren’t friends?

“Why are you laughing?” Steve mumbles, confused.

“Sorry,” you wheeze out, still uncontrollably laughing. “It’s just–I mean, dude! We almost died together, of course we’re friends now!”

“We are?” He looks like a little kid on Christmas day being given the gift he’s always wanted.

Your heart warms. “Yes, idiot.”

Steve starts moving around in what you can only guess is a happy dance. “Sweet! Does this mean I get a cool nickname, too?”

“A nickname?” A bag of chips threatens to fall from your arms, but Steve catches it before it can land on the ground and takes a few more snacks off of your hands.

He readjusts the snacks he now has so that he can carry them easier. “Yeah, I mean. Byers has one, why can’t I?”

You don’t think you’ll ever stop feeling so thrown every time Steve mentions a small detail about you that he’s somehow come to notice. He has a habit of doing that, surprising you by how much he seems to pay attention to you. You thought that no one ever had before, but Steve continues to prove you wrong.

“I’ll tell ya what,” you begin to walk back towards the waiting room, careful to step carefully to not drop anything or upset your ankle. “Let’s see how this ‘friends’ thing works out, then I’ll decide what nickname fits you best. Deal?”

Steve thinks for a moment and follows. “Hmm. I don’t know, I think I’ll need some type of precaution to make sure you give me a nickname in the end. I want one, Y/N. I’m so serious right now.”

You laugh at his pleading tone. “I can add you to my baking list. Whatever I bake, you’ll get a piece of it. Is that better?”

“God, yes!” Steve punches the air and cheers.

You’re smiling so much that your face aches. You haven’t felt this light and carefree in so long, you’d almost forgotten what it’s like. The two of you don’t say anything else as you walk back to the waiting room, though Steve seems to slow down so that you don’t hurt your ankle keeping up, though you still let out a few winces and groans.

When you’ve arrived back at your seat, Steve sets down the snacks and runs off without another word. You’re confused by his sudden departure but don’t think much of it. Instead, you wake the boys up and show them your array of snacks, which wakes them up immediately.

You’re mediating a fight between Mike and Lucas over who gets the bag of Chips Ahoy when a nurse interrupts. “Excuse me, ma’am. This young man over here told me I should come over and check out your ankle?”

The woman smiles and you look past her and see Steve sheepishly waving from his seat across from you. You’re stunned. Had he really gone out of his way to ensure your ankle gets treated?

You shake the thoughts out of your head and inform the woman all she needs to know. You tell her how you’d fallen and what type of pain you feel when you stand up. She inspects the ankle, her fingers cold but kind, and within a few minutes has diagnosed you with a sprained ankle.

“All you can really do is stay off of it for a few weeks while it heals. I can go and get you some crutches, if you’d like?” She asks, rolling her gloves off and tucking them back into her pocket.

You nod. “If you wouldn’t mind, that’d be great.”

The nurse leaves with the promise of being back soon. In the meantime she instructs you to keep your ankle elevated, so you prop it against the coffee table and wait. You’re annoyed that you even have to have crutches, but then you think of Barb, of El. You’re luckier than you should be.

–

After an hour or so, Jonathan opens the door to the waiting room. He spots you and Mike talking softly with each other and whistles over to catch your attention. When Mike looks up, Jonathan nods at him and the boy scrambles out of his seat.

“Guys! Guys! He’s up, Will is up!” Mike shakes awake Lucas and Dustin, who had been cuddling on the seats fast asleep. “Will’s up!”

Once they’re awake, they quickly follow after Mike and the three boys are gone in an instant, sprinting down the hall towards Will’s room. Clearly they’re eager to see their friend.

You do your best to get up as fast as possible, but your new crutches serve more as a nuisance rather than an aid. As you struggle to get up, somehow knocking over the mountain of snacks, Steve rushes over.

He grabs the crutches and offers you his hand. “Here, careful.”

“Thanks,” you awkwardly accept his hand and get up. Jonathan watches from the doorway, a curious look on his face. Nancy does the same from her seat, not saying a word as she watches Steve gently help you navigate the waiting room with your injury.

Jonathan holds the door open for you and takes over once you’re out the door. He grabs the crutches from Steve and is now the one to hold your hand, balancing you. “I can take it from here, Harrington.”

“Right, yeah.” Steve scratches the back of his head and coughs. “I’ll just… yeah.”

He heads back inside and you and Jonathan watch as he leaves. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Jonathan turns to you. “Are you two friends now or something?”

“We almost died tonight, bee. I think it’s safe to call Steve a friend now.”

Jonathan bites his lip, though there’s a far off look in his eye that leaves you feeling like you’ve missed something in the conversation. “Guess that’s true. Anyways, let’s get you to Will.”

By the time you make it to the room, the boys have swarmed around Will and are telling him everything he’s missed this week. He’s listening eagerly as they’re telling him about El, but when he sees you enter the room, his eyes light up and he tries to sit up.

“Y/N!” Will calls out, pure excitement in his voice.

You practically fall over in your haste to get to him. The second you’re close enough, you collapse onto his bed and give him the tightest hug you possibly can without hurting him. He feels so small against you, smaller than he’s ever felt before, and his sunken eyes and pale skin make you want to cry.

But he’s alive and here and in your arms once again, happy and wonderful and safe.

“Little bee,” you try not to cry, but tears are thick in your voice. “I missed you.”

Will manages a weak smile and shrugs, trying to play off the gravity of the situation. “Took a little detour home.”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. “At least you came home, that’s all that matters.”

“Ahem,” Mike obnoxiously clears his throat, effectively ending your moment with Will. “You’re hogging Will, move over.”

You laugh again and move away, allowing the boys to resume their millions of updates. You maneuver your crutches and walk over to Jonathan, who is standing by the door. He’s looking at the boys and Will with a soft smile on his face and you join him, standing side by side as you watch your boys finally come together again.

Then, you feel a pair of eyes on you and you turn around. Nancy is leaning against the doorway behind you; she looks frail and distraught. There’s a sadness in her eyes as she watches the kids. You know that watching the boys reunite with their friend must remind her of Barb. She never got her happy reunion.

You feel awful for the girl, so when her bittersweet smile drops and she turns to leave the room, you nudge Jonathan to make him aware of the situation. He sees her fleeing and begins to follow after her, but he stops.

“What are you waiting for? Go.” You tell him, knowing it’s for the best.

He shifts his weight, uncertain. “Are you sure?”

You’re not sure how to decipher the hidden meanings underneath those three words, but you find that you’re exhausted trying to keep reading between the lines. The feelings you’ve kept buried bubble to the surface, but you remind yourself that he loves Nancy, despite your weird moments of almost with him. There’s something there between you and Jonathan, you both can feel it, but it feels too raw and fragile to bring into the light.

Without having to ask, you know that Jonathan will choose her.

It breaks your heart, but you look over at Dustin and Will, who are laughing about some joke while Joyce gazes at them fondly, and you know that you can’t lose this. Maybe Jonathan knows this, too. The small family you’ve built together, it’s too precious to ruin.

Joyce and your boys, you can’t lose them. They’re yours, and Jonathan is yours in a way that you can’t quite keep to yourself forever, but for now it’s enough. You approach Joyce, grab her hand and give her a tired smile, and the smile she returns to you reminds you that this is more than enough for you.

You turn to Jonathan, pushing down your feelings once more in favor of appreciating the fact that Will is looking at you again, alive. “Go, bee.”

Jonathan gives you one last look. You study his face for a moment, watching as it shifts from confusion, to hurt, then finally into acceptance. You’ll never be sure of what exactly he’d been thinking in that moment, but it seemed to have been enough for him, too.

He smiles, lets out a deep breath, and then leaves.

The door closes softly behind him.

–

A month later you find yourself in the passenger seat of Jonathan's car, tired from your shift at Bookstrordinary but excited to pick up your brothers. Somehow, even after missing three consecutive shifts last month, Mrs. Waters refused to fire you.

But Jonathan? He hadn’t been so lucky. His boss fired him from the Hawk, but he hadn’t been too upset. He still drives you to and from work, so you suppose things could be worse.

It’s late, but the two of you take your time driving to the Wheeler’s. Nothing much has changed between you two following Will’s reappearance. Sure, maybe you’re at his house more just to make sure Will is adapting well, but besides that everything seemed to go back to normal.

Well, almost normal.

Steve appeared at your job a few days after your conversation in the hospital. He had surprised you when you walked in, and when you asked what he was doing in a bookstore, Steve simply shrugged and said, “You can’t figure out my nickname if we don’t hang out, right? So, I’m here.”

He had become a regular at the store, stopping by whenever he could, and slowly the two of you became good friends. You’ve come to enjoy Steve’s presence, something that you never thought would ever happen. But he keeps you company as you work, he wanders around and explores the comics and books you recommend to him, and it’s nice having someone to goof off with.

Plus, you did promise to add him to your baking list, so he’s also become your taste tester who happily eats any creation you bring in for him.

As for Nancy…

That was more of a sore subject for Jonathan.

There was a few weeks following Will’s reappearance that you thought Jonathan and Nancy would get together, but it never happened. You’re not quite sure why, maybe it had something to do with Jonathan’s hesitation of approaching her, but it had crushed him when you and he saw Nancy and Steve making out in the hall as if nothing bad had ever happened.

The way Jonathan’s face crumbled when he saw the couple only solidified that he’d never be yours, but you comforted him anyways. You told him he deserved better and then dragged him away. It’d taken him a few days, but eventually Jonathan was able to fake a smile again.

You haven’t spoken about it since that day, but you leave your window open most nights for him to crawl in. The nightmares from that night fighting the monster plague you both, and the loneliness feels a little heavier than usual, but at least you have each other.

“Jonathan! Y/N! Come in, the boys are downstairs.” Mrs. Wheeler answers the door, letting the two of you in. “And Y/N, I love that sweater on you.”

You thank the woman. “It was a gift from my mom. She claims I need to up my wardrobe, whatever that means.”

“Well, I think she has lovely taste.”

“I’ll let you know you think so!” You open the basement door and motion for Jonathan to go down first.

When he reaches the bottom of the steps, Jonathan makes a face. “Woah, what’s that smell? Have you guys been playing games all day, or just farting?”

“My vote is farting.” You say, hopping down the last step. Your ankle has mostly healed by now, but sometimes if you land on it wrong it makes a weird clicking noise followed by some pain, but you choose to pretend that it’s normal.

The boys laugh and Lucas points at your brother. “Oh, that’s just Dustin. He farted.”

He begins making fart noises with his mouth and you and Dustin share a look. “Very mature, Lucas.”

The boy continues to sing and make fart noises and you can’t believe that this is your life. You’re standing in a smelly basement while picking up your stubborn brother all while simultaneously enjoying the fact that you get to call this your life.

Jonathan calls over to Will to grab his things, so you follow suit and gently berate Lucas. “Alright, that’s enough. I gotta get Dustin home.”

“What, I thought I got to stay–”

“Jonathan is our ride and I made cookies, so let’s go.”

The moment the word “cookies” leaves your mouth, Dustin hops up and collects his things without any further argument.

Once he’s ready, he and Lucas play wrestle as they say goodbye. While they’re distracted, you walk over to Mike and discreetly hand him a container full of double fudge brownies. You’d specifically made them for him, knowing they were his favorite, because you noticed how hard it’s been for him to adjust to El being gone. He really cared about her, anyone could see that.

Mike’s eyes widen and he throws his arms around you. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You pat his back. “Anytime, Wheeler.”

Dustin breaks away from Lucas and runs up the stairs, so you take that as your cue to leave.

Upstairs, Jonathan and Will are talking to Mrs. Wheeler. When they see you enter, the woman turns to you and asks if you’ll be bringing over your usual round of holiday treats. “Of course, I’ll get started on them tomorrow. You guys still like the sugarbread cookies?”

“If you make them, I think I’ll die of happiness.” Mrs. Wheeler informs you, and you laugh and tell her that you’ll have them ready as soon as possible.

You bid her goodbye, Dustin now by your side, and you follow Jonathan and Will to the front door. Right before you open the door, Nancy calls Jonathan’s name from the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Jonathan, wait up!”

You, Dustin, and Will stand awkwardly in the back while Nancy hands Jonathan a wrapped gift and wishes him a merry Christmas. They share an awkward exchange since Jonathan hadn’t gotten her anything, but Nancy assures him that it’s fine. The interaction is painful to watch as Nancy doesn’t spare you a single glance. Dustin and Will look at you uncertainly when she kisses Jonathan’s cheek, but you ignore them and pretend to be interested in a Christmas decoration on the table.

This will never get any easier.

“You ready?” Jonathan turns back to you guys, a blush on his face, and all you can do is silently nod.

In the car you sit in the back with Dustin, who squeezes your arm in reassurance. He’s come to understand your complex feelings for Jonathan and has pieced together Nancy’s involvement. While he’s never outright consoled you, he’s shown his support in other small and wonderful ways.

“Thanks,” you whisper, and Dustin smiles.

“We all buckled up?” Jonathan asks as he starts up the car.

“Yes, captain.” You mock salute.

Will giggles at you before he sees the gift and looks up at Jonathan. “Can I open it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You and Dustin lean forward so you can see what’s in the box. When Will unwraps a beautiful, and no doubt expensive, camera, you gasp. The bitterness and hurt from moments ago vanishes. This gift is from Steve, you know it is, and something warm settles deep within your bones.

You think about last month, how you’d told him not everyone can just afford a camera.

Seems like Steve listened.

Maybe he isn’t so bad after all.

–

A week later you knock on the Byers’ door, a giant container of your annual holiday cookies in your arms.

“Bug!” Jonathan answers the door with an excited smile on his face. His new camera is in his hands and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s already taken a photo of you with your crooked earmuffs and oversized box of cookies.

He’s been using the camera ever since he got it. There’s now multiple pictures of you, always unaware or caught off guard, now hanging in the kitchen. It makes you blush to think about.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to smile.” You complain, shoving your way inside. It’s snowing and you’re freezing.

Joyce grabs the container to help you as soon as she sees you. “Here, honey. I’ve got it.”

You thank her and walk over to Will, who is drawing at the kitchen table. “Hey little bee. Whatcha drawing?”

“Hi, Y/N.” He slides over his picture and you’re shown a quick sketch of you and the party, this time fighting what appears to be a misshapen dog. “It’s a Dire Wolf, we’re fighting it in our latest campaign.”

“Ah, I see. Looks fluffy, though. Can’t possibly be a dangerous creature.”

Will rolls his eyes at you. “This is why you don’t play with us.”

“Careful, you’re sassing the girl who has just bravely ridden her bike through the snow to deliver her famous Christmas cookies.”

Will is out of his seat in an instant, running over to his mom, who has just placed the container on the counter. “Did you make the oatmeal raisin cookies?”

“Duh,” you snort.

“And the chocolate chip?”

“I sure did.” You stand next to him and point at a new cookie you’re trying out this year. “This batch is a caramel banana one. Steve seemed to like it and I think it’s pretty good, so I hope you do too.”

Jonathan swoops over and kisses your head. “Of course we’ll like it, bug.”

“He’s right, you know. We always love whatever you make us, honey.” Joyce informs you, her mouth now full of cookies.

“I’d hope so, this is like my fifth year making these for you guys. It’d be awkward if you hated my baking.” You say, now securing your earmuffs back on your head. “Anyways, I should get going. It’s Christmas, my mom won’t want me out too long.”

Joyce looks out the window and frowns. “Did you really bike here in this weather?”

“It wasn’t too bad, I’ll be fine–”

“No. Jonathan, grab your keys and drive Y/N home.” She stares you down, daring you to argue with her, but you don’t. You know better than to argue with Joyce Byers.

Once Jonathan has his keys, you say goodbye to everyone and wish them a merry Christmas. Jonathan throws your bike in his trunk and soon you’re off on the road. The drive is quiet but cozy. The snowflakes fall in a pretty spiral and there’s a soft song playing on the radio.

Sometimes, if you close your eyes, you can pretend that the events from last month never happened. Will never disappeared. You never discovered that you love Jonathan. Nancy Wheeler never became friends with Jonathan, possibly something more had there been more time. When you close your eyes and sit still, you can imagine that your brother never has nightmares that wake him up screaming. That your heart doesn’t hurt when you make your best friend laugh.

For a moment, you can forget.

“Can we always stay like this?” You ask Jonathan softly, almost as if you’ll disturb the peace that winter has brought with its quiet snow.

“Like what?”

You’re not sure how to express what you’re feeling. “This, us. Together.”

“Of course we’ll always stay like this.” He grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. He says this like it’s a fact, the most obvious thing in the world.

“Pinky promise me.” You hold your pinky up. You know it’s silly, but you need him to hear you, to understand what you’re saying.

Jonathan looks over at you. “Y/N–”

“Please, promise me, bee.”

He’s silent for a moment, seeming to understand the weight of everything between, around, and within the two of you. Then, he extends his pinky finger and wraps it around yours. “I promise, bug.”

And you believe him.

[END OF SEASON 1]

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you'd like to be added/removed from my taglist, please just left me know !

taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @myeclispedsun @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #im so tired n happy and full of love for u all #cannot believe its done :')#pls pls pls enjoy <333

312 notes · View notes

babyyoda234 · 4 months

Text

Tea Time with Alfred

Context: Alfred has always been a close family friend of your Grandma. After her death both of you haven't been dealing with the grief very well, so you decide to start hanging out more to ease the pain. (Y/G/N: your grandma’s name)

Knocking on the door to Wayne Manor, I fumble with the basket of muffins in my left hand. A very confused Jason opens the door.

"Look Y/N..." He begins awkwardly shifting his balance. Guilt spreads across his sculpted features.

"With love, I'm not here for you." I interrupt putting my hand up to silence him, "Whatever you have to say, save it for another time."

Brushing past him, I wander down the hallway past a dozen or so portraits of the Wayne family. With the high ceilings and shelves filled with books older than my great Grandma, I narrowly get lost in the grandeur. One of the glass shelves catches my attention. A much younger looking Alfred beams up at me while a soaked brunette angrily swats at his shoulder with a shoe. My heart contracts when I recognize the woman. Years before she got sick, Y/G/N was radiant. Although the photo is in black and white, I know for certain she is wearing her faithful orange sweater that was in rags by the time I came around. The photo reads: Alfred's revenge London 1965. My eyes well up with tears at the thought of her being so healthy. The image of how frail she looked in that hospice bed will forever be burned in my heart.

The next photo over shows Alfred, Grandma, and I at my first visit to Gotham. Freshly nine, Gotham was such an adventure. Driving into the city was... nothing short of magical. There may have been crime in every corner, but her stories brought much needed light into the city. My 9 year old self hadn't yet grown into herself. With cracked glasses I had broken moments prior and aggressively neon braces, my fashion had a long way to go. I was probably too big to go on Alfred's shoulders at that point, but he picked me up anyway for the walk around the city. The crowded boardwalk behind us sold the best deep fried oreos in Gotham city. A teenager at the time, Dick had convinced me that the secret ingredient was cocaine... As an adult looking at Gotham city, that joke may not be too far off.

The infamous smell of Alfred's baking grounds me to the present. Dickie isn't stealing my gameboy anymore. He's happily living in Bludhaven revamping their police force. Shit, I really need to call him back. How do you tell someone that if you talk about it there is no guarantee that the crying will ever stop?

It doesn't matter what he’s been saying. It's better to not burden him with this. I take a deep breath to avoid a breakdown. Cookies. Tea time. Glancing at my watch, I realize I'm five minutes late. Classic y/n.

Alfred's back is to me when I finally stumble into the kitchen. A mischievous grin emerges on my face as I creep closer making a conscious effort to silence my footsteps. Jason used to say that watching the two of us sneak up on each other was like watching a cheetah stalking its prey. Of course, Alfred always made it look so easy though. Halfway there....

Stirring a bowl of brownie batter by hand, he calls out to me.

"You've got to do a lot better than that if you want to sneak up on me."

I stifle a laugh throwing my hands up in surrender.

"Sorry Alfie.... Old habits die hard. You would not believe what happened to me today..."

Conversing with the older man fills a void, I have been missing. Telling him about life made everything less scary. If I can spin these horrifying events into a joke during tea time.. well I guess I can survive it.

Alfred isn't one to diverge intense grief, yet I will never forget how heartbroken he was when he explained how painful it was to talk to me. Although our features may be completely different, it was the mannerisms that hurt the most to see: the way I held my hands when I was nervous, the anxious laughter in stressful situations, the silly regency romance novels that sat on my bedside table, the intense hatred of the barren winter... My entire being has been shrouded by her love. For better or worse.

The first couple months, I could almost pretend she wasn't gone. Working two jobs while attending school doesn't give me much time to reflect. However, the holidays left an unspoken hollow void. The empty seat at dinner. The contact I would instinctively dial. The horrible sinking in my chest when I remembered the phone would ring forever.

At the beginning, I think we both pretended we were talking to her. Now as I cackle over his photo collection of Tim falling asleep in public places, I realize how much I love the man who was so important to her. This pain may always stay with me, but what is grief if not love persevering?

239 notes · View notes

ineffectualdemon · 3 months

Text

It didn't feel right to add it to the post I just reblogged but one of the many things that sticks with me is that no only is Frodo distinctly NOT a "Chosen One" he instead is the one who chooses his quest despite not really wanting to...but no one else wants him to choose this either

Gandalf, Elrond, Aragorn, his fellow hobbits and so on do not want this small, gentle, already gravely injured hobbit, to take on this dangerous journey that will almost certainly end in death

They see him dying on this quest as the tragedy it should be seen

But once he has made this choice they all also choose to take on the quest with him

They do not try to take it off him. They understand why he made the choice and they know he's right, but they would not have made him go.

Aragorn is the closest thing to a Chosen One and he still had to make the Choice to go on his side quest, but ultimately he did it to help Frodo

Sam and Frodo finish physically carrying the ring to Mount Doom and they absolutely are the heart of the quest. The One Who Chose and the One Who Chose Him

But the others, though seperate and dispersed, are also helping them carrying this burden and aiding their quest

Their moves are calculated and accidental in keeping Sauron's eye away from Frodo

And each time it's a choice

The closest we get to a prophecy is:

1. a dream Boromir or Faramir had (I cant remember which rn. I am sick, haven't been able to sleep, and currently have a mild fever) which only says that a hobbit and the ring are at Elrond's house. Not what to do about that.

2. "No man can kill me" referring to the witch king but that wasn't supposed to be solved by gender fuckery with Eowyn. Gandalf was supposed to do it! He says so! But he chooses to save Faramir and Eowyn and Merry choose to attack and successfully take down the Witch King

Everything that happens. Every heroic and brave and significant happening was not a matter of prophecy or "chosen ones" or "fate"

It was a choice

People choosing to do things they do not want and do not like and cause them to suffer...because they believe they put things right. And they succeed because it's a community, in different parts, doing different things, but all making choices that support their shared goal

And I'm a little feverish but I have a lot of feelings about that rn

#lotr #lord of the rings

106 notes · View notes

thefallennightmare · 7 months

Text

Miracle-seven

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: fuck, it's almost one in the morning but here's the next part! I wanted things to be more spicey but I'm so tired so it lacks luster, my apologies.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl @iamdesolate @lma1986 @jessitpwk @themodern-daywednesday @writethrough

Bringing the blanket closer to my chin, I wrapped it tighter around me as I dug myself deeper into bed. The morning rays of the sun broke through the windows of the bus showing it was well into the morning. We'd been driving for almost eight hours now, me just waking up a while ago. Last night after leaving the venue, Folio showed me around the bus before letting me get settled. Compared to the crew's bus, the guy's bus was decently bigger with six bunks, a kitchen with living space up front, and a room in the back that they used to their gaming space. I was surprised at how spacious the bunks were but figured they had to be with how tall Jolly and Noah were.

Thinking of Noah, my eyes darted to the bunk directly across from me and saw he was awake browsing his phone, earbuds in both ears. Even though we finally got past what happened that night in Chicago, there still was this weird tension between us and the only reason that could be was because what happened that night at the Airbnb.

I leaned over the edge of my bunk and patted his arm to get his attention.

"Need something?" Noah questioned while taking out an ear bud.

"Do you think we can talk about what happened the other night? At the Airbnb."

This made him drop his phone to his bed and turned on his side to fully face me, one of his arms to burry underneath his pillow.

"I thought we didn't need to talk about it. You said it was a onetime thing," Noah reminded me.

"I know," I sighed. "And I meant it. But I don't want things to get awkward between us because of it."

Noah gave me a warm smile. "It's only awkward if one of us makes it and I don't plan too."

"Me either," I matched his smile.

We watched each other for a few more beats before Jolly popped his head through the door that closed off the bunks to the front of the bus.

"Oh, good. You're awake," he motioned towards Noah. "We've got a problem."

Those words made me sit up in my bunk while Noah stood to his feet, running a hand through his sleep tousled hair to fix it.

"What's up?"

Jolly told him to follow which he did but curiosity also weighed heavily on me so I did as well, seeing that both of the Nick's were awake, sitting on the couches. Noah sat down at the table in the kitchen while I sat across from him.

"Breakfast?" Nick asked while holding up a box of cereal.

"Please," I said with a smile.

With the bowl of cereal in front of me, I listened as Jolly explained what their problem was.

"They canceled the festival tomorrow. I guess Ohio was hit with some nasty storms so they thought better to be safe."

Noah's shoulders fell in disappointment.

"Damn. We're almost there, aren't we?" He asked.

Folio nodded. "The rest of the crew arrived about two hours ago. Matt's trying to figure out what to do."

"Should we head to the next city?" Nick suggested.

"Maybe we should meet up with the others and we can all leave together," Jolly said.

Noah rubbed at the faint stubble that covered his chin. "I feel bad for the fans."

Just then, as I was sitting there quietly eating my cereal, an idea sprouted in my mind but I thought it would be best to keep it to myself. This seemed like a Bad Omens meeting, yet they were willingly talking about any possible plans in front of me.

I took my bowl to the sink in the small kitchen to wash it and once finished; I turned on my heels and grabbed the edge of the counter behind me.

"I may have an idea," I muttered.

Four sets of eyes fell on me and Noah raised a brow at me.

"About?"

I took a deep breath, gaining the courage to tell them about this grand idea.

"So you guys feel terrible about the festival being canceled because you want to play for the fans, right?"

When they nodded, I felt stronger so stood up straighter. "What if you guys do this pop up event?"

"Pop up event?" Jolly repeated.

"Yeah," I nodded this time. "I've seen a few bands do this, and it was really popular with their fans. We can rent out a place to set up a table where fans can come get autographs and set up the merch booth so they can buy merch; that way they can still see you guys. We'll sell a certain amount of tickets for this."

Noah and Jolly shared a look while Folio gave me a huge smile, clearly loving the idea.

"Do you think it's sort of last minute?" Nick asked.

I scoffed lightly. "You guys seem to forget about much your fans love you. If we announce this, I guarantee tickets will sell out in a few hours."

"I like it," Jolly admitted. "But what about the people that already bought tickets to see a concert?"

My bottom lip caught between my teeth as I thought of something else they could do. Just because they couldn't play at the festival didn't mean they couldn't play somewhere else.

"What if you guys play somewhere else?" I asked.

Noah hesitated with apprehension as he leaned his arm over the back of his seat and I did my best not to gawk at the tattoos that rippled against the muscles of his arms. I needed to stay focused so I can prove to them that my crazy, last-minute idea wasn't that; crazy.

"I don't know, Y/N. It might be hard to book something so last minute," Folio spoke next.

My arms crossed over my chest, and I tapped my foot in agitation. "You're supposed to be on my side, Folio."

He held up his hands. "Trust me, I am. I like the idea of the pop up event but the last minute show might be harder to pull off."

"Please," I waved him off. "Someone in Ohio owes me a favor, a huge one at that. Give me some time and I'll get it all handled."

"Who do you know in Ohio?" Nick wondered.

"Some guy," I shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.

Noah, however, thought it was because a muscle in his jaw ticked as his shoulders went rigid.

"An ex?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"Aw, are you jealous, Noah?" I leaned over the table closer to him. "That's cute, but no. Someone I met while I was in college. I've never had a boyfriend."

"Really?" Noah asked.

I didn't miss the surprise in his voice.

"Yeah. I've had hook ups during college but nothing ever turned serious. None of them were worth to have a future with."

He shifted in his seat and I worried I might have said something wrong but when he pulled me down into the seat next to him, Noah slid over his laptop in front of me.

"You want to prove to us you can do this, better get started," he smirked.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You can have a little faith in me."

Noah bumped his shoulder with mine and stayed leaning into me. "I have the upmost faith in you, angel. That you won't pull this off."

Now my eyes buldged almost out of my head as a squeak of disbelieve fell from my lips.

"What do I get when I pull this off?" I debated with him.

The rest of the guys looked on amused, waiting to see what Noah would say.

"What do you want?" He shrugged.

I thought about it for a long moment, making a show of tapping my head with a finger, like how Winnie the Pooh did in the movie. Although, I put some thought to it because Noah Sebastian was asking what I wanted.

So many fucking things if they were coming from you.

Instead of something risqué, I chose something tamer and when the thought graced my mind, a large grin pulled at my lips.

"If I'm able to book the pop up and show successfully, I get to design your next tattoo."

Expecting him to say no, Noah simply leaned back into his seat to show his covered arms in tattoos then lifted his legs, not showing much space of skin.

"I have little space left but for you, angel. I'd find even a sliver of skin. You've got yourself a deal."

With that, I cracked my fingers and went to work finding not only a place to host their pop up event but also a concert. They were supposed to be playing in Cleveland so I started looking for smaller halls that could house the pop up event.

While I worked, Jolly went off to fill in Matt about my idea. Both of the Nicks retreated to the back area of the bus to play some kind of video game, and Noah moved from his spot next to me to the couch so he could stretch his long body. We didn't speak, letting the silence fall around us like a blanket, but I felt his gaze on my often. At one point, I looked over the laptop at him and noticed he was watching me with a smile.

"What? Is there something on my face?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"No," he shook his head. "You look beautiful, angel."

I blushed, the warmth vibrating throughout my entire existence.

"Right."

Noah sat up straighter on the couch so he could see me better.

"You don't believe me?" He asked.

I shrugged. "For someone who barley talked to me last tour and when this one started, you're getting pretty cheeky with me."

"You're also not as closed off as you were last time," Noah noted.

"Well, I thought you hated me," I grumbled, eyes scanning the screen in front of me.

Noah came to sit in front of me and shut the laptop so we had to look at each other. There was a dull look of hurt in his brown iris'.

"You thought I hated you?" His voice was quiet, almost broken.

I shrugged one shoulder while pulling at a loose fabric on my sweatpants. "You didn't talk to me much so I thought I'd done something."

"Angel," Noah sighed.

"Don't say it's because of what happened in Chicago," I interrupted. "I felt this way long before then."

He fell back into the bench seat behind him, a low noise crawling its way through his throat, my confession taking him by surprise.

"I never hated you, Y/N. Even what happened after Chicago. And let me set the record straight; I never hated you because of what happened that night. I was upset that you could of seriously been hurt and never realized it."

My eyes cast down to my hands that were now folded together on the table in front of me.

"I know," I whispered.

Noah reached over and linked our hands together. "I'm sorry for the hurtful things I've said and how I've been towards you. Please know I never hated you."

I swallowed thickly at his apology; it was sincere. Probably the first time I'd ever hear something so truthful from Noah. I gave his hand a tight squeeze, letting him know I accepted his apology.

Feeling better about our conversation, Noah put the laptop back in front of me and now watched me from right across of the table. My phone was set on the table next to it and it began flashing with notifications from Only Fans so I quickly flipped it over so Noah didn't notice.

It's been a few days since I posted anything and my subscriber count went up a few but still not enough to be making a lot of money. I knew it was because the things I posted were tame compared to what was already on the sight from others but I wasn't willing to change my rules. This was only a temporary thing so I could pay Lana until I was back home. Then I would deactivate my account.

"Hiding something?" Noah questioned with a knowing smug smile as he peered over the laptop.

"Nope, just stupid emails," I lied and forced my eyes to look back at the screen in front of me.

I had a message up to my old college lab partner, wondering if he still had that hook up with someone from the local mall in Cleveland. There was a decent sized space that was used to be rented out for meetings or parties. It would be perfect for the pop up event.

A notification of a new email popped up on the corner of the screen and seeing who it was from, I clicked on it.

Dear MS. Y/L/N,

I'm glad that you reached out. We heard about the cancelation of the festival because of the weather. We here at House of Blues would love to have Bad Omens play here tomorrow night. Attached is a copy of the contact that can be signed then sent over. I hope you understand that with it being a last-minute booking, extra fee's apply. Please let me know if you'd like to proceed.

Dan Sorenson

House of Blues.

"Ha!" I yelled, turning the screen to face Noah.

His eyes darted back and forth as he read the screen, his face not changing from the smug smile he wore.

"Well, looks like the show is booked but you still have to deal with the pop up event," He reminded me.

I stuck my tongue out at him while turning the laptop back to me. "Yes, I know that."

Noah groaned while griping my chin between his thumb and pointer finger. "If you stick that pretty little tongue out at me one more time, angel, I'm going to bite his so hard it bleeds."

My skin ignited with a blaze so hot it surprised me Noah didn't rear back in hissing pain. There was a slickness between my legs from his promise and I almost did it again so he could act on it. But Folio walked from the back of the bus and with a curious gaze at us, he sat down on the couch in the living area.

"What's going on here?" He asked.

Noah's eyes flashed before he let my face go and went over to sit next to Folio. As their conversation faded to the background of my subconscious, I blinked a few times to center myself and noticed a new message appeared on the screen in front of me.

Y/N! It's been awhile? How're things?

I can definitely book our event space for your friend's band tomorrow. There's a lot of us that are familiar with Bad Omens so we'd be happy to host your pop up event. What time did you need?

By now, Jolly and Nick came to join the others, and I grabbed the laptop to walk over to them, showing the message.

"I'll be damned," Folio whistled low.

"I'm impressed," Jolly said with a chuckle.

Nick smacked Noah against his shoulder. "Looks like I'll be tattooing whatever design she comes up with."

"I guess so," he winked at me. "I'll admit when I'm wrong and I was. Thanks for doing that, Y/N."

I smiled while setting the laptop on the table before falling into the couch between Folio and Jolly. "I've already posted it all to the Bad Omens social media and sent the details over to Matt so he can get his end tied up."

"You should be our social media ambassador," Folio said.

Immediately I shook my head. "No, that seems like a lot of work I'm not qualified for."

Nick snorted. "You booked two huge events on last-minute notice and got it spread like wildfire online. Tickets are already being bought."

I peered over at his phone that he titled towards me and sure enough, ticket sales were already booming for both events. But I still wasn't convinced.

"Don't you guys switch off posting on the Bad Omens social medias?" I asked.

"Yeah but it'll be easier if you took it over. We forget sometimes and it gets messy who was supposed to post something," Folio said.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, really thinking about his offer. It's not like it was a hard job, it was something I did on my own social media.

"Does it come with a pay raise?"

It was supposed to be a joke, but Noah responded right away.

"Of course. It's a lot more work than being the merch girl, which you won't be anymore. We can find someone to replace you."

This was not something I expected to happen when I woke up this morning, but I wasn't complaining. The pay raise would be significant and maybe I could deactivate my only fans page sooner than expected.

"Okay. I'll do it."

For the next while, the guys told me what my new position would entail and what I was in charge of. While Byran took professional photos and videos of them, I would still take some and post to their tik tok page or Instagram stories. When Bryan finished editing whatever photos he took, he would send them over to me and I would post them. I would also be in charge of dealing with messages that came through any platform.

By the time we ironed everything out, I excuse myself to my bunk, exhaustion overtaking my body. It was well into the afternoon and knowing we would be in Cleveland soon, I desperately wanted to nap before then.

As I lay in my bunk, I ended up staring at my Only Fans page and thought about ways I could revamp it to get a few more subscribers. Even with my new job title and pay, I couldn't give it up yet. Lana's paycheck was due tomorrow and while I had enough for it, it would clear out my bank account.

I pulled tight the curtain to my bunk as best as I could and stripped out of my shirt, pants, and bra. I wouldn't be able to record a video right now so a picture was the best option. Instead of covering my breasts, I kept them on display as I held up my phone, snapping a few different angles making sure my face was covered. Once satisfied with how I looked, I got dressed again and uploaded a few of the pictures to my page.

By the time that was finished, my eyes were heavy with slumber so I curled into the corner of the bunk, letting sleep encase around me. I was so deep in sleep that I barely heard Noah's phone go off and a loud groan of pleasure echoed from his bunk.

"You've got to be kidding me, angel. Right next to me."

"I can't believe how well everything turned out," I smiled as I walked alongside Folio in the mall.

The pop up event ended a few minutes ago and as mentioned, everything went smoothly. Fans were ecstatic to meet the guys and get their autographs. Merch sold like crazy and thankfully, Matt and Davis could cover my old job until they could find a replacement. Matt thought my new job was a great idea, mentioning that I was always made for more than just selling merch.

"You did that," Folio bumped his shoulder into mine, a proud smile on his face.

Jolly and Nick were in front of our group, leading us to a restaurant so we could get something to eat before the show tonight. Another event I threw together. To say I was proud of myself was an understatement. I wanted to so badly call my mom to tell her but knew that she would only respond with three words.

"Who are you?"

I hadn't heard from either my mom or Lana today which made me worry because with how the last phone call conversation went, I could only think of the worst.

Noah made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat and I looked up to him as he walked next to me. From the second he stepped off looking like that, I was so wound up and turned on that I kept squeezing my aching core between my legs to curb that itch. Noah had the top half of his hair up in a bun and wore a baggy shirt with an anime logo and name across it and a pair of black shorts.

I wanted to lick every inch of muscles on his thighs; he looked that delicious.

But something was different with him today. Noah made sure that he never strayed far from me and during the event, his eyes were almost always on me. He refused to let me out of his sight. The brown of his eyes drank in every inch of me as well and if I didn't find a corner to rub one out, I would explode.

We found a restaurant inside the mall and all slide into a corner booth at the back of the large room. With how we sat, Noah and I were seated alone on one side, kind of away from Jolly, Nick, and Folio. The three of them chatted about what they were going to get and as I was about to ask Noah what he wanted, I felt his hand grasp the inside of my thigh and I sucked in a breath.

"Angel," he breathed in my ear.

I hummed when his fingers slowly moved higher between my legs. Our actions were underneath the table so no one could see.

"I can't stop thinking about your face when you cum," he admitted. "Can you do that for me again, please?"

I shouldn't do this. It was only supposed to be a onetime thing. But I was also so fucking horny, I needed this so bad. And he asked nicely.

My eyes fluttered shut when his finger slipped between the waistband of my leggings and without thinking, I spread my legs wider for him. If he didn't understand that, I gave a firm nod while keeping up the facade of looking over the menu.

Noah did the same, his eyes scanning his menu all while his finger slipped between my panties and pussy.

I bit down hard on my lip to keep the moan quiet when his finger brushed along my folds, knowing he felt how wet I'd been all day. He turned his face slightly towards me, his eyes sparkling with arousal.

"So wet already," he mouthed.

Not trusting myself to be quiet, I nodded as his finger pushed inside of me, pumping slow at first to work me open. Then another finger joined, and I nearly dropped my head on the table. Noah's fingers were long where they could reach that spot with ease.

Noah leaned closer to me making it look like he was talking about something so normal. "You're so tight, angel. Are you going to cum already?"

"Yes," I whined.

"Have you been wet all day for me?"

Always.

I nodded which made Noah smirk. "Be a good girl and don't make a noise. I can't have the guys knowing what I'm doing to you underneath the table."

Fuck; Noah Sebastian was going to kill me.

As he talked to Folio, giving nothing away, his fingers worked inside of me fast and when his thumb pressed against my clit, I nearly came with a scream. My hips bucked up into his hand and I ended up setting the menu up to it could cover my face as my lips fell open in a silent moan. The orgasm was so close, a bright white light brushing over my vision and heat spread at the base of my spine to my scalp. I shook in Noah's grasp as my pussy walls clenched around his fingers.

"Noah," I breathed when the orgasm washed over me in a tidal wave.

I shamelessly dry humped his hand to ride over the last little of the aftershocks and almost whined when Noah turned to look at me. He pulled out his fingers, the sudden loss of warmth making me go slack against the booth, and brought them to his mouth. I watched in my post orgasmic haze as he licked them clean, his eyes blown wide with blackness of his own desires.

"What do you guys think of this place? We tried it back in Iowa, figured it was a good choice," Nick said.

The three of them were still oblivious to what happened.

"Best meal I've ever fucking had," Noah hummed, my arousal glistening his lips.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #forced proximity #enemies to lovers #slow burn

281 notes · View notes

tinycheesecakedetective · 2 months

Text

...I'm baaaack.

I mean, I made one post about Swap!PV and then got distracted for months, so I wouldn't really call this a comeback. The moment I did come back though, apparently a bunch of lore just fell from the sky! Beast Yeast is upon us and all of a sudden I remember making an alt. version of this goober.

Turns out there were a few things I wasn't satisfied with in the first one, so here I am with my Swap!Vanilla 2.0 human edition! Even after all this time I still don't have a name for him. There's more white in his design, he has four horns instead of two and they form a crown on his head(that might be a bit hard to see), he also has a halo, his staff changed drastically, and he lost his soul gem. Instead he has two new smaller gems on his "ribcage".

This time around I tried to invoke more death themes, hence the ribcage, more wrappings, the halo, and the burn marks from, y'know, being re-baked and essentially reborn. The halo also makes for a nice double meaning, showing his somewhat good intentions behind the violence and spreading chaos gig.

Speaking of intentions, I maybe or maybe not have mentioned the only swaps happening in this proposed AU are between PV and WL and [possibly] Black Raisin and Red Velvet. I say maybe because if I checked, all the writing would disappear and I would have to start over again. However, I have wondered if those two swapped, how would PV handled the kingdoms? Would it be the same as DE or would the fates of each kingdom end up being swapped as well? It's something I definitely need to think on and develop.

Anyways, ramble break, here's a few doodles I did for Swap!PV!

Yeah, I had a lot of fun doing this. SO! A few changes not mentioned prior. Eyes! There are more eyes, especially on his coat. I took a bit of inspiration from a certain blue jester and his realm of nightmares. It also plays nicely with the whole "truth revealed" theme. Why not give the holder of the light of truth a bunch of opened eyes to represent his awakening? Also they looked good and his cape-coat was too plain without it.

Fun Head Canons: He's always floating, even when he's relaxing his feet never touch the floor. This PV still has a lily garden, it's just hidden away because while he still misses WL despite everything, he refuses to show weakness in front of others. His coat can take the shape of angel wings when angry and multiple eyes can appear when furious or in distress. Speaking of eyes, the ones on his coat glow. Those gems on him are pieces of moonstone that got corrupted after saving him.

As for the story behind him, I had to make a few adjustments. For one, DE and WL are two halves of the same whole, and the only reason either of them exists is thanks to precautions taken by Elder Faerie. Which means Pure Vanilla somehow has to get the stuff from Lily, who came to Beast Yeast without saying much of anything to anyone beforehand. Secondly, it means the Pure Vanilla Kingdom can't be the last kingdom explored. Pre Beast Yeast, the order in which the kingdoms would be explored would change, where White Lily's area would be explored first instead and the Vanilla Kingdom would be last. I'll address the second issue on a different post related to White Lily, but first things first. Fair warning, I wrote quite a bit.

~~~

After forming the seal, White Lily falls ill due to the immense amount of power used. She's not used to using so much of her soul gem, much less creating a seal to lock away ancient evils. Seeing her faltering state, Elder Faerie takes her away to his palace to help her recover. During her time in the palace, White Lily becomes distressed because not only does she feel like she's being a burden, but she won't be able to continue her research on how cookies were made. That was the whole point of coming here, after all. She left her friends and home behind to find the truth and ended up sick and bed ridden instead. The least she could do to redeem herself was to find the truth.

Racked with guilt and regret, she asks Elder Faerie for two favors; she wishes to know the secret behind cookies' creation, and she requests a pen and paper to write with. Before long, White Lily gains a messenger(Silverbell) who gives her books from the library to read, and a way to reach the one other person she understands. Someone who should've known where she was most of all. Pure Vanilla Cookie.

From there the two keep exchanging letters as White Lily brushes up on fae and beast lore. But eventually White Lily would learn about the Night of the Witches in a similar enough way to canon, i.e. finding the book about it. While she's recovered enough, she's still not well enough to go, and Elder Faerie isn't risking her well being and safety for a banquet. She's devastated that her questions may never be answered. If only she could go, if only there was some way to witness it while being in the Fairy Kingdom. And then... she realizes something. Perhaps there is a way for her to know after all...

White Lily, in the discomfort of her hospital bed, writes a letter to Pure Vanilla and asks him to go to the Witch's Banquet in her place. She knows that this is a huge ask, and he has every reason to refuse the favor, but it would mean the world to her if he did. Elder Faerie hears about this and is rightfully worried, telling her about the dangers, and any cookie that goes doesn't come back the same, if at all. He sends his own letter to Pure Vanilla to warn him of the dangers that lie ahead. A few more letters come in from WL apologizing for her request, saying it was out of line and inappropriate. "What a selfish request," she thinks, "after leaving him in the dark for so long, I have the nerve to ask him for anything at all?"

However, despite everything, he eventually decides to go. He knows that this means everything to her, and a part of Pure Vanilla secretly wondered about it as well. White Lily searched heaven and earth to find the truth so she could help others. Why would he keep avoiding it for so long? If he knew the truth as well, perhaps he could use these secrets to help the people of Earthbread alongside her. Maybe now he would finally understand White Lily more.

He wrote a letter addressed to both WL and EF about his final decision. White Lily is surprised at his decision, and is eternally grateful, while Elder Faerie is more resigned and concerned, knowing that he won't be able to change his mind but still wanting to help. He asks her to help write her next letter, and the two send a package to Pure Vanilla. Inside was another letter with the faint smell of lilies, as well as a map to the location of the banquet and a moonstone from Elder Faerie as a show of goodwill and for protection. He in turn sends what would become his final letter to her, unbeknownst to the two reading. He expresses his gratefulness to both WL and EF and declares his determination to find answers both for her and for the sake of everyone, stating, "Let me be your hope when you have none, and you my guiding light in shadows..."

Pure Vanilla proceeds to head to the Witch's Banquet, discovers the bitter truth, and in his attempts to save the other cookies falls into the ultimate dough. The fleeting scent of lilies is the last thing he grasps in his final moments, and the faint glow of a moonstone ensures his survival. His soul gem shatters under the weight of the truth and is scattered across the world, longing to be made whole once again.

~~~

Well! I think I have said everything I can say about him for now. I'm sure I can come up with more things later, but if you read this far, thanks for reading! I did not know I was going to say this much, so yeah. Next post is for White Lily specifically, I hope. I'm also taking suggestions for ideas about the other kingdoms and ways this could go, so if you have anything to suggest, let me know. Y'all have a good evening!

#crk au #crk art #cookie run kingdom #pure vanilla cookie #white lily cookie #elder faerie cookie #cookie run fanart #pure vanilla crk #cookie run au #why did i make this so damn long #fadinglettersau

99 notes · View notes

nomoreusername · 2 months

Text

In My Heart

Pairing:Newt x gender neutral reader

Summary:When survivors guilt hits you extra hard one night Newt comforts you.

By the time I realized it was happening I couldn't do anything to stop it. What seemed to be a million tears poured from my eyes.

Even though it was late I didn't want to be here. I don't cry so doing it near people feels wrong. I'm the optimist.

How can I be optimistic now though? Every time I close my eyes I remember those I've lost, and it takes everything inside me not to scream. Sometimes I am filled with nothing but guilt that I get to live, and my friends are dead. It's nothing more than the luck of the draw. If Gally hadn't gotten stung Chuck would have lived, and he might have. If Winston was immune he could be able to wake up tomorrow. If Minho wasn't in danger Jeff wouldn't have saved him, and so on.

So what did I do differently to deserve to live?

As these dark thoughts overwhelmed my head I started pacing. Despite it being dangerous I needed to be alone. I was just sick of being around everyone breathing right now.

Because I am one of those people. I am alive, and almost everyone else I knew is dead.

I found a small rock and leaned against it. As I did I let it all out. Every single emotion I hid was finally here, and there was no stopping it.

My heart felt heavy as I sat there below the stars. Were my friends stars now? Were they in the sky watching me? Did they hate me for living or were they looking after me?

"Hey,"Someone whispered, tapping my shoulder. I wiped my eyes and turned around to see Newt with a solum look on his face.

"Hi,"I managed to say.

"Can I sit?"He asked quietly. I just nodded before staring at the ground. My friends could be in the ground right now, rotting and on their way to becoming skeletons.

"Survivors guilt,"He whispered. I hesitantly nodded.

"How did you know?"I mumbled.

"It comes to everyone sooner or later,"He whispered, closing his eyes.

"I just-don't know what I did to deserve to live. They fought just as hard to live. What sets us apart?"I mumbled, pulling my knees to my chest and wiping my eyes.

"Do you really want to know what makes us different than them?"He asked slowly, sitting beside me.

"If you have an answer then please,"I murmured, feeling more and more drained each second.

"Nothing,"He stated.

"What do you mean?"I whispered, glancing up at him and looking at him through my blurred tears.

"It was luck and circumstance. It's sort of a messed up circle. Gally getting stung killed Chuck which killed him. Minho being in danger killed Jeff. If Winston was immune he'd be here. The people who stayed v.s the people who ran, both options were unclear. It's dumb luck and the different reactions. Nothing more. Nothing less,"He answered, his voice gentle yet firm and sure of himself.

Hearing him say what I had always been thinking seemed to pull just an inch of pressure off of my chest. I had feared that there was something wrong with me. Still, there was another thing I needed and answer for.

"Do you think they hate us for it?"I asked.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he placed his arms around me and pulled me into his chest.

"I can't answer that, but I can tell you this. They're our friends. Some of them gave their lives for us. That's the way we want to remember them. Not their death but who they were. Strong, loving, and kind,"He whispered, rubbing my back. I couldn't help but tremble as I was unable to respond.

"They haven't left us, Y/N. They never will."

"How could you be sure of that?"I asked, not moving away from him.

"Because as long as we carry them in our hearts we carry them with us."

"I always will,"I swore, seeming to run out of tears.

"I know, love. I know,"He whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I leaned against him and felt exhaustion start to overcome me.

"Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up,"He promised. I took his word for it and allowed my eyes to flutter shut.

Only months later I would have to keep his words with me more than ever. Because unfortunately the only way I ended up being able to hold him was in my heart.

#newt x y/n #newt x reader #the maze runner #one shot #tmr #tmr newt #newt tmr #light angst #light fluff #hurt/comfort

58 notes · View notes

ashcal99 · 1 year

Text

Collarbones : Jasper Whitlock Hale~

Prologue

"I can see your collarbones and baby I'm scared, Never thought I'd be so unprepared"

Summary: Camila Johnson was only 16 when she was diagnosed with leukemia. By the time she had turned 17, the doctors had tried everything to save her. Her family is close to giving up hope when they hear of a doctor who may be able to help her. The only problem is, he lives on the opposite side of the country. The small family soon decides to move to the small town in Washington, in efforts to prolong her life. In doing so, her life changes forever.

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, descriptions of disease and weight loss, general angst, slow burn

Words: 1.8k

A/N: Not sure how many parts this will be but yahhhh. Comment if I missed any warning or anything plz thnx.

Soundtrack

Series Masterlist

——————

January 22nd, 2005

Snow had always amazed Camila. The way that each flake was so diverse in size in shape. It was quite like people she had thought. All beautiful is their own unique way. As her eyes focused on a particularly tattered looking flake she thought that must be how she looked. Fragile and so ready to melt away from this world. Just teetering on the edge of existing.

She wasn't used to snow, had only seen it a couple of times in her entire life. You didn't get much snow in Orlando. None to be exact. But her world was going to be different now. Everything in her life had been uprooted because her body couldn't do the most simple thing in the world; live. The majority of the world's population had so much life to live, years to make mistakes and find their purpose, to find their happiness. She didn't get that privilege, however, not since she got sick.

So there she was, in the back seat of her mother's mini van staring at snow falling on her window for the past ten minutes. It had been just the year prior Camila had found that her body was failing her. Leukemia. A disease she had known little about before all of this. So many doctors, so many tests. She often wondered if this was all worth it. Moving their entire lives across the country for her health, when she most likely would never recover. Cancer was expensive and the odds of her survival weren't looking too good. She practically had one foot in the grave as it was. What was the point of dragging on another year of her life if it meant piling on medical debt?

She knew her parents would never see it this way, so she had always kept those thoughts to herself. In reality, she had come to term with dying not long after being diagnosed. It was too mentally exhausting dreading the inevitable.

Of course she had to put on a brave face for her mother and father. Dying was simple for the dead, you take your last breath and you're done, you're free. The real tragedy was with the people who were left to mourn the dead. To have someone you love so dearly be ripped away before your eyes, the pain was unimaginable.

So she endured the treatments, the testing, although she knew in the end, it wouldn't work. She would get another year at best. Most likely less. She had low expectations for her life now. She knew, as much as it hurt her to her core, she would never get to go to college, get drunk, get married. Her whole dream of a life had dissolved with her diagnosis.

Her parents seemed to think otherwise, hence the move. They had heard of a doctor in a small town in Washington. They had hoped that he could help. Naive wishes, but Camila wasn't about to take that away from them, no mater how much it hurt to see them waste so much money on her deteriorating health.

She could see it, her body starting to wither away. Her once curvy stature had began to whither away to skin and bone. Her eyes, once bright and joyful had turned dull, filled with pain. In fact everything had turned dull, her eyes, her skin, hell, her life. She had a future before everything, and now she had nothing but a ticking clock on her life. Her bones constantly aches and she was always covered in bruises, sometimes it even hurt to breath.

A small sign blurred by her window, welcoming the small family to the town. Finally, signs of civilization were starting to appear as the drive further into town. They had been driving along empty road for what seemed like years, so she was relieved to see some life finally.

The van slowed to a stop in front of a house suddenly. The house was a small homey looking thing, painted a dull yellow. Ugly, but still cute in a weird way? They had to size down from their house previously, having so many medical bills to pay off. Luckily, they weren't a huge family. Just her mother and father besides herself.

Her parents had wanted more kids, having Camila at a young age, but after years of trying, they were met with no success. Who knows, maybe they would try more after Camila died. A second chance at being parents. She hoped they would, they were good parents. The best she could have ever asked for. She was truly lucky to have them.

Ignoring the aches in her joints, Camila stood slowly from her seat onto the cracked pavement of their new driveway. She circled around the car to meet her father at the trunk. They had left most of everything behind to make the move easier, deciding to buy cheap used furniture instead. "What can I help bring in?" Her voice croaked, groggy with fatigue.

"Nonsense, sweetheart. Your mother and I have got it." Her father tutted shooing the teen away. She huffed, laying her hand out in front of her.

Her father looked questionably at his daughter's palm. "Well, I at least need the keys. Don't I?" She laughed, rolling her eyes sarcastically. Receiving a low chuckle in response, he dropped a small silver key in her hand.

"This one can be your copy." He smiled down to her.

She made her way into small house, floorboards creaking beneath her feet as she walked into the family room. The house was only one story, this having been a selling point to her parents as their last house had been two floors. After being diagnosed, it had become too difficult for her to walk up the stairs to her bedroom on a daily basis. There were only two bedrooms in the house, the master, and her own room, so it was easy enough to avoid getting lost. She swung the door open to her own, the hinges whining in protest.

It was small, but freshly cleaned. She could smell the faint scent of pinesol in the air. The wooden floors were bare except for full sized mattress that sat against the far left wall. Her mother had already made a deal with their realtor, making sure that she had acquired a bed before they got there, so Camila could go to sleep early like she often did as of late.

Fatigue often riddled her withering body, but at that moment she was more alert than usual, ready to set her room up and decorate to her liking. She walked to the small window that sat to the right of the mattress and drew the thin white curtains back. The ground outside was stark white with snow and bare besides the trees that lined the edge of the forest. At least she got a nice view.

Once her boxes were carried into her room for her, she began unpacking. She went through piles and piles of her clothing, most of it being many sizes too large. After losing so much weight, she had refused to go out and buy anything new. What was the use when the new clothes would stop fitting within a few months anyway? She did have to buy a few new items, like underwear and a few pairs of pants, but for the most part, she made the baggy shirts work and wore a belt when necessary. If anything, it would hide how unhealthily skinny she was becoming.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she finished hanging the remainder of her clothing in the cramped closet. She pushed the last few boxes aside, opening one to grab some clean bedding and a pillow. She struggled, bones starting to ache fervently and she stretched the last corner of the fitted sheet onto the mattress. She huffed as she threw the blankets and pillows in place and stepped back to look at the finished product. She shrugged, deciding that it looked comfortable enough.

She sluggishly pealed her clothing away from her body, exhaustion suddenly hitting her like a ton of bricks. Pulling on the old worn sweatpants and t-shirt she had set aside, she plopped down onto the plush mattress, already feeling her eyes droop with sleep. She decided she would push her shower off until morning, knowing it wouldn’t go well if she was so lethargic. The last thing she needed was to pass out in the middle of showering.

January 23rd, 2005

The warm stream of water poured over her fragile body, trailing down her thin frame. She let out a contented sigh, relishing in the comfort that it brought to her aching skin. She looked down at herself, taking the sight in. Her hands were becoming much bonier than before. Her old rings no longer fit her fingers, sliding and rotating anytime she tried to wear them. Her hip bones jutted out, no longer having a layer of fat to cover them.

She had used to be a little chubby, always wishing she could have a flat stomach. Now, she would do anything to get her old body back. It was odd how that worked. You really didn't appreciate what you had until you lost it.

Her thoughts were cut off, the once warm water turning to ice. Shit, she thought, jumping out and engulfing her rigid body in a fluffy towel. Guess the hot water ran out. She wrapped the towel snuggly around herself, walking swiftly to her room, locking the door behind her.

The sun peered through the crack in her curtains, leaving a beam of blinding light streaming through the mostly empty room. Rummaging through one of the boxes labeled with her name, she grabbed her hairdryer and plugged it into the outlet next to the one mirror she had brought from the move. She didn't like the way it made her hair frizzy, but she also didn't want to go to her first day of school with wet hair. She definitely didn’t need to get sick with a cold on top of everything else.

School. Forks High School. She didn't enjoy the fact that she would be entering halfway through her junior year, but she refused to let her parents keep her home any longer. She had begged them to let her go, her lack of a good immune system being the reason they had taken her out in the first place. She wanted to experience some kind of normal high school life before she died. She wanted friends again. So she had decided to try and conceal her sickness as long as possible. She didn't need people's sympathy, she'd gotten enough of that, she just wanted some sense of normalcy. Luckily, her hair hadn't started falling out from chemo yet, so for the time being she could act as if things were normal.

But in the end, it would be the farthest thing away from a normal high school experience.

Next Chapter

268 notes · View notes

eaglyn · 8 months

Text

When it rains in Fontaine

tw death, angst, major character death

(Not proofread, also English isn't my first language, beware of potential spelling or grammar mistakes. I might also upload this to AO3)

It was raining again. Granted, it's only been raining for a few minutes, but before that it was bright and sunny outside. The weather patterns of Fontaine are something you never fully got used to, even after almost a year of living here. You sometimes wished to see Inazuma again, but a new law, the Sakoku decree had been issued since you were gone. Going back would be very difficult.

'Has it really been a year already?' This question crosses your mind quite often. Time seems to just fly by these days, each day passes quicker than the one before. You can feel it too, you are running out of time.

It was almost a year ago when you came to this new nation all the way from Inazuma, all of the hope drained out of your body after miraculously surviving exposure to the Tatarigami, but battling its lasting effects. Healers in Inazuma could do nothing to save you, so they sent you to Sumeru, then to Fontaine, and it seemed that this place could at least ease your suffering even if they couldn't heal you.

One year, they said. In one year, it would be determined whether you will be completely healed, or your body will give up the fight and succumb to this accursed illness. It's still hard to breathe sometimes, although you've realized that it's not because of your illness, rather because of that Chief Justice, who had managed to completely steal your heart in the span of the last over eleven months.

It's still hard to breathe sometimes, but only when he's around.

That reminded you, where exactly is he? You are sitting on a bench in the Court of Fontaine as rain is pouring down upon you, washing away your makeup and your conscience alike, as you realize you'd probably been staring into the distance, just reminiscing for at least half an hour. The clock was ticking, you looked at the watch on your wrist. For you, every second meant getting closer to that critical moment, the fact of which was eating away at your thoughts every day, but now you couldn't help but think about something else.

The clock was ticking for Neuvillette too. After all, he promised to meet you today, and he was running late. It wasn't like him at all, especially not since he knew all too well that he'd be playing with a dying girl's time.

You looked up at the rainy sky, and it all seemed so bittersweet. The rain was somehow different today. On one hand it seemed fresh, youthful, but it also seemed to carry a deep sorrow within.

Nobody else was out on the streets at this time. It was just you in the rain, waiting for the man you love to arrive.

Soon he did. You wanted to question him for making you wait out in the rain for so long, but as soon as you heard his smooth voice greet you, you immediately forgot any grudge you might've harbored against him.

"Greetings, Y/n. I apologize for making you wait so long."

"It's alright. I was enjoying the peace and quiet out here." You smiled at him, not even caring that you probably look like a drenched cat.

"You should've gone inside while you waited. I don't want you to get sick." He said, looking deep into your eyes, and suddenly it was hard to breathe once again.

"But I am already sick. A little cold would make no difference if I'm destined to die." The rain started pouring down heavier after you said that, while the man in front of you took his jacket off and put it over your shoulders. He had a sour expression on his face.

"Don't say that. Your doctor said there is a fifty-fifty chance." His hand lingered on your shoulder as he said that.

"Heh, doesn't feel like it to me..." you looked down at your hand, which was covered in purple spots, some bigger, some smaller, with some of then having wounds in the middle. "These have been spreading increasingly fast in the last few months. My hands are always shaking, I'm loosing my strength, and it's becoming more and more common that I just randomly collapse. I've tried being optimistic, but I see no chance of living."

The rain was pouring down mercilessly at this point. It was as if the skies were crying as you spoke.

"Every day I wake up with less energy than what I had the day before. I know I'm dying, Neuvillette, there is no fifty-fifty." You looked into his eyes to see tears pouring out of them. But he wasn't looking at you, instead he was looking down at the ground, trying to blink them away.

"Sorry. I said I wouldn't elaborately rant about my condition." You muttered.

"You don't need to apologize, Y/n. I just asked you that because I couldn't bear thinking about the fact that I will lose you. There are so many things I wanted to tell you, so many things I wanted to do with you..." He said, and somehow the short distance between the two of you felt like a thousand miles.

"What do you mean?" You stepped closer to him.

"My heart burns for you, Y/n. I am in love with you." He said, and even though you've been waiting to hear this statement for the longest time, you were frozen in place.

"It's alright if you don't reciprocate my feelings, I just had to get that off my chest." He looked away from you, but you reached after his hands, taking them in your own.

"I'm in love with you too, Neuvillette. I have been for a long time." You brushed a strand of hair out of his face before the both of you leaned in. The whole world seemed to pause for a moment when your lips finally touched, and you melted against each other. For a few moments it felt like there were no problems in the world, it was just you and him alone, stranded in your own paradise with no Tatarigami, no sickness and no rain.

When you two eventually pulled apart, Neuvillette just felt the urge to embrace you. He held you close as he buried his face in your neck, whispering into your ear.

"Then for the little time you have left, will you please be mine?" He placed a small kiss on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"For you, always." You squeezed him to the best of your abilities in regards to your lack of strength.

***

One week later, everything felt like a dream. In fact, you weren't even sure if anything was real anymore. It all felt like you were out of your body, and the scene you chose to look at was your newly-wed husband standing among a small crowd of familiar faces, and they were all gathered around a casket decorated with flowers.

A few hours later, it was only Neuvillette kneeling at a fresh gravestone, and looking at it, the name written on it was unmistakably yours.

It had never rained so hard before.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #romance #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #confessions #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x you #fontaine #fanfic #oneshot #terminal illness #reader insert #female reader #angst #hurt/comfort #major character death #sad ending #tw death

163 notes · View notes

yournecessaryevil · 5 months

Text

💊 Sick From The Melt 💊

💀CHRIS MOTIONLESS X READER ONESHOT💀

Everyone knows he's got the voice of an absolute angel, some might even say a siren, perhaps. But what happens when Chris suddenly ends up sick and that voice can no longer be heard...?

• fluff; language; mentions of illness

"I'm telling you, there's something off about him today."

You heaved a sigh, trying hard to ignore the raised eyebrow you were currently receiving from Ricky, as the two of you sat across from each other at one of the tables in Starbucks.

"I mean, he didn't even move when I told him we were stopping here to grab some coffee. He almost never says no to Starbucks," the guitarist continued, throwing a glance over his shoulder towards the front windows, where you both could see the bus parked across the street.

"There's nothing off about him, maybe he just wanted to sleep in today, be lazy?" you argued. But you knew even as you said it that it was a lie. Ricky had made a fair point; in the short time you'd been touring with the band, you'd noticed a few things about each member.

Ricky refused to wait for late people, he couldn't stand them. He was also a bit of a perfectionist, not so unlike the band's lead vocalist, Chris. The two of them put together could be an absolute nightmare, sometimes. Justin had taken on sort of the "dad" role of the group occasionally, many a time without even realizing it.

Both Ryan and Vinny were pretty chill people to work with, and if you had to admit it, you found that Ryan wasn't actually as intimidating as you had first thought. And there had been many a night where Vinny's good sense of humor had helped save what would have otherwise been a very long, stressful road trip.

You had also learned within the first week that Chris did indeed love his coffee as much as the band's guitarist had implied. There were a few mornings where the two of you would be up and about much earlier than any of the other band members, so you and Chris would either stay in and make your own coffee, or go out and get coffee together.

It had become a sort of routine, a daily ritual of sorts, for the two of you.

Which was why you knew, deep down, that Ricky's suspicions might actually be correct.

Maybe there was indeed something off about Chris today.

"You know I'm right, I can see it," the guitarist pointed out, echoing your inner thoughts.

With another sigh, you nodded in agreement, your gaze drifting for a moment to rest behind Ricky's left shoulder, on the tour bus still parked and waiting across the street.

"I mean, you saw how he looked, right? He looks like he hasn't gotten any sleep since two days ago," Ricky continued quietly.

Your eyes shifted to meet his, before you let your gaze drop, staring down at the steaming paper cup of coffee clutched between your hands.

He was right again; the brief glimpse you had gotten of Chris before the two of you had left... there had been something different about him.

He did indeed look like he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep in a while. But you had assumed he'd be fine, nothing a long nap wouldn't cure, really.

"Maybe it's just the stress of touring, I don't know. I don't really want to think of anything worse right now, do you?" you answered softly.

Ricky offered you a rueful smile, nodding in agreement before taking a sip of his coffee and getting up from the table. "Here, come on, let's get back before they get on our asses, yeah? I think we've kept 'em waiting long enough," he spoke up, with another gentle smile.

With a nod, you got up, following him out of the coffee shop and across the street, towards the tour bus. Hopefully things would start looking up, and soon...

"You sure you're gonna be okay out there? You look like death warmed over," you remarked. Chris waved you off with a rather weak smile, shrugging in response. "I'll be fine," he replied, before closing his eyes and letting you finish with his stage makeup.

When you were done, you stood back, admiring your work before watching Chris as he struggled to get up from the chair. A gentle frown marred your features as you continued to watch him, wincing as Chris suddenly went into a brief coughing fit before he disappeared into the back room to retrieve something.

Ricky's suspicions had definitely proven correct; there was something wrong with Chris.

The vocalist seemed weaker than usual the past few days, and you might be mistaken, but you could swear that his voice was fading, too. He also didn't seem to have as much energy or enthusiasm for things as he usually did.

It was a drastic change from the Chris you'd grown to know and love over the past couple of months you'd spent touring with the band.

Something was definitely wrong.

His words almost an exact mirroring of your inner thoughts, you suddenly heard Vinny speak up.

"Dude, he's been in there for a while, it's too quiet, something's up."

"Like what was up with the laundry?" someone asked, earning a round of laughter from the group. Vinny waved them all off with a scoff, although even from here, you could see the poorly concealed grin on his face.

Still, maybe he was right, maybe someone should go check on the lead vocalist...

"Guys, I'll be right back, hold on," you spoke up, heading towards the back room. The trace of a smile you still wore from moments earlier now vanished the instant you stepped foot into the room.

Your eyes widened as you took in the unmoving figure lying prone on the floor, an unopened bottle of water resting a few feet away from his hand. Your heart thundering in your chest, you threw a panicked glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with Ricky, who frowned.

"Call the paramedics! Now!" you told him, your voice trembling. You didn't even wait to hear his response; turning back around, you dropped to your knees beside Chris, grabbing ahold of his wrist and checking for a pulse.

It was still there, sure, but it seemed weaker than normal, or perhaps that was just your imagination...?

"Chris?? Can you hear me??"

Your desperate cries went unanswered, the vocalist's eyes remaining closed and his breathing shallow. Growing more anxious with every second that ticked by, you reached out with both hands, grabbing ahold of one of Chris's shoulders and trying to shake him awake.

"Chris! Please! You can't-"

"Hey, stop, shh," Ricky's gentle voice suddenly interrupted from your left. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him kneel down next to you, taking one of Chris's wrists and checking for a pulse, much as you had done earlier.

A frown crossed his features, and he sat there, studying Chris for a moment, before releasing his friend's wrist and turning his attention towards you.

"Did he collapse when you walked in here, or was he already like this?" the guitarist asked softly. You felt hot tears forming at the corners of your eyes, making no effort to wipe them away as they slipped down your cheeks.

"He... he was like this when I came in here, I f-found him, he- he-" you couldn't even string a full sentence together anymore, your breath was coming out in quick, trembling gasps.

"Okay, hey, shh. Listen to me, Y/N. I want you to do me a favor. I want you to go and wait out there with the guys, yeah? Can you do that for me?" Ricky asked. You locked eyes with him then, giving him a minute shake of your head.

"No, what about Chris-" you began, but the guitarist shook his head at you, cutting you off with a gentle smile. "Don't worry about Chris. I want you to go wait for us, I'll take care of everything," he reassured you.

Taking your hand in his, he helped you up off the floor, leading you out of the room, but not before you threw one last worried glance over your shoulder at Chris.

"Paramedics are on their way, about ten minutes out," someone informed Ricky quietly. He nodded, leading you over to one of the couches in the room, giving you a gentle push on the shoulders to sit down.

"Here, just... stay here for me, okay? I'm gonna go check on Chris," he said softly, offering you a rueful smile, before turning around and heading towards the back room again.

The next few minutes seemed to drag on, each second slowly blurring into the next, the guys' voices becoming muffled and unintelligible as exhaustion eventually settled in.

Before you knew it, you were lying down on your side, letting your eyes fall closed, worried thoughts of Chris and what would happen to him drifting through your mind before darkness finally closed in...

Death.

Dying, death, dead...

Wait, he wasn't dead, was he??

It certainly felt as though he had.

Every part of him ached, his throat felt like shit, and what the ever loving fuck was that annoying sound he kept hearing?

Trying to open his eyes was an entirely different struggle in itself, and the minute he'd accomplished this, he instantly wished he hadn't.

Everything was... too bright, too clean and white and... wrong, somehow.

A low groan tore itself free from his raw, aching throat, followed by the softest of gasps from somewhere on his right.

"Chris?"

Wait a minute. He knew that voice.

He'd recognize it anywhere, she'd only been touring with them for a few months now, but he'd know the sound of her voice anywhere.

Y/N...

It seemed to take every ounce of energy he had left in him for Chris to turn his head to the right, just enough to see the figure sitting beside him.

"Y/N-" he began, struggling to get the words out. But he stopped short upon hearing the sound of his own voice. Or rather, the lack, thereof.

It was no more than a whisper, worse than he'd ever heard it.

Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

"Don't... don't talk. They said you need to be put on vocal rest..." Y/N told him quietly.

He could hear the worry in her voice, see it on her face.

"How long?" he breathed, unsure if she'd be able to hear him.

"The doctors said it could be days, maybe weeks, given the amount of shit your throat's been put through," came Ricky's voice, from somewhere near the foot of the bed.

Only then did it fully register with Chris just where exactly he was.

He'd been admitted to a hospital-?

What the fuck even happened??

"What hap-" he started, but he couldn't even get the rest of the words out, his throat was fucking killing him.

"Ricky, what was it they said he had?" Y/N asked, looking towards the foot of the bed.

His bandmate slowly came into view then, taking a seat beside Y/N and tiredly running a hand through his hair.

"You have what they called a bronchial infection. So... as far as any future shows go, we're gonna have to cancel," Ricky answered.

Almost immediately, Chris shook his head in protest, a frown marring his features.

"We can't-" he started, but his bandmate held up a finger to silence him.

"Chris, man. You can't sing. You can barely talk, what do you think's gonna happen if we put you out there on that stage? You're only gonna cause further damage to your throat. No, you need to rest, we'll figure something out," he said, exchanging a glance with Y/N.

She reached out then, taking one of his hands in hers.

"Chris, you... you collapsed in the back room of the venue. I thought- I thought maybe that was it," she whispered.

"Anyway, Ricky's right," she continued, her gaze dropping to stare down at their entwined hands, "you need some rest. The fans will understand, you know they will. Your health is more important right now."

"Look, Ryan and Justin have already reached out to the venue's manager and kinda told them what happened. We'll issue a refund for this part of the tour, and for the next few dates too. Right now, you just need to give your voice a break, man," Ricky added.

"We could always get Ashes to cover your guys' portion of the show, or the guys from Omens. You know they always draw a big crowd," Y/N quietly interjected. In his periphery, Chris saw his bandmate nod in agreement.

"Exactly, they'll cover us for the time being, I'm sure Noah's got no issues with it," he agreed.

So that was it, then?

They would just, what, decide all of this without hearing his input on things??

Ever observant, Y/N was quick to notice the expression on Chris's face.

"You know I'm right, please... you can't- I don't- I don't want you causing further damage, I don't want you hurting yourself more-" she said softly.

The pleading look in those eyes of hers, it could have broken him down right then and there.

This was really it, then. They were serious, she was serious about all of this...

A weary, broken sigh managed to slip through the cracks before he could stop it, and Y/N offered him a sympathetic smile in response.

"I know. But... it's only a few weeks, yeah? We can make it that long, right?"

We.

She really cared more than he thought she would, didn't she?

Something about the way she looked at him now, the determination in her eyes, the way her hand remained tightly clasped in his, like she was fighting to keep it together for everybody, for him-

It was something to be admired, really.

Another sigh, this time in weary resignation, as Chris finally nodded.

"Alright. Then it's done. You're on mandatory vacation for the next few weeks, along with the rest of us," Ricky spoke up, trying to lighten the mood a little.

By some miracle, it seemed to work, a faint smile flickering across Chris's face before it was gone.

"Do you want anything? Tea? Water?" Y/N asked softly, her brows furrowing in concern.

He answered her with a weak shake of his head, instead giving her hand the tightest squeeze he could manage at the moment.

"Stay."

That one word took every bit of effort he had, clawing its way out of his throat in a strangled half-whisper.

And yet, she still heard it, answering him with a silent nod and a reassuring (albeit faltering) smile.

Y/N did indeed stay, up until Chris found his eyes falling closed again, the physical and mental exhaustion becoming too much for him.

But before the welcoming waves of unconsciousness set in, he could have sworn he heard Y/N whisper something to him, something that sounded a lot like "I'll stay as long as you need me..."

Oh, if only she knew...

If only she knew just how much he needed her...

"Chris, I made you some- oh."

Startled, the lead vocalist cast a quick look over his shoulder at you, a somewhat guilty expression on his face.

Behind him, displayed on the still open screen of Ricky's laptop, was a video taken from a show Omens had put on two nights ago.

A show that Motionless was supposed to have played.

"It's only been a week, Chris. You... you can't keep doing this to yourself," you gently admonished him, crossing the room to bring him his cup of tea.

A rueful sort of smile etched itself onto his face, his eyes darting back to the screen for a minute before settling on yours again.

"I miss it," the words came out in a mumbled whisper.

You returned his rueful smile with one of your own, as you settled down on the seat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I know... I miss it too. I miss seeing you guys perform, I miss seeing the look in your eyes every time you take that stage," you murmured.

You knew he missed it, it was what he'd devoted most of his entire life to, it was one of the things he was most passionate about.

His music was a part of himself, and now that he didn't have it, Chris just seemed... at a complete loss.

It'd only been a week since he'd been released from the hospital, on the condition that he would take better care of himself and continue to be put on vocal rest until things were looking up again.

An entire week of staying in at an AirBnB you and the guys had taken the liberty of renting, an entire week of nothing but warm soup, hot tea, and lots of ice cold water.

It'd also been an entire week of Chris sneaking away with Ricky's laptop any chance he could get, practicing a sort of devotional commitment to watching any bit of media he could feed on, so long as it pertained to that week's tour.

A tour he should have been a part of...

On more than one occasion, you'd had to enlist Ricky's help with keeping Chris distracted, trying to keep his attention away from the source of both his joy and (unfortunately) current disappointment.

Today hadn't been one of those days; Ricky happened to be out when you needed him most.

But that was alright; maybe if this is what would help Chris feel like he was still a part of things, then... maybe it was for the best?

"Only a few more weeks, and then you'll be back up there, causing the crowd to go absolutely feral," you teased him, lightly nudging him with your elbow.

He gave you a look then, one perfect eyebrow raising, before he made a face at you.

"Oh, come on, you know I'm right," you grinned, trying not to laugh as you reached out towards Ricky's laptop, closing out the video and queuing up a new one.

This particular video was one that had quickly gone viral the minute it'd been posted, making the rounds on every popular social media site.

The video in question?

It was a video of Chris doing rather... suggestive... things with the microphone stand during a performance of their song "Werewolf".

You couldn't help but giggle as you nodded towards the screen.

"See? Only a few more weeks and then we can all enjoy that again," you teased him.

A quick glance up at him, and you just barely caught him giving you a roll of his eyes, although even he couldn't hide the smirk on his face.

"You people..." he whispered, shaking his head, though the smirk never left. As he took a sip of his tea, he reached forward and closed out the video still playing on the screen, a gentle sigh slipping past his parted lips.

"Only a few more weeks..." he repeated in a whisper. He took another small sip of tea, the silence between you two becoming almost something of a comfort- until he broke it.

"Can I ask you something?" Chris suddenly murmured, his voice still slightly hoarse from disuse.

You nodded, watching as he set his cup of tea down on the table in front of him, though his fingertips remained on its ceramic surface, toying with the rim of the cup as he gathered his thoughts.

"Rick- Rick said something to me the day after we had left the hospital, and it's been on my mind ever since. He told me that when I was admitted that night, when you found me like that- you refused to leave my side..."

He wouldn't look at you, his gaze instead fixed on that cup, his fingertips still lightly tracing the rim.

"He said that you hardly slept for those first few hours. And when we were getting ready to leave, he told me that he thinks you might be falling in love with me..." he continued.

Fuck... you'd had a feeling this moment was coming, and yet here you sat, completely unprepared for it.

You swallowed hard, the silence between you and Chris slowly growing more tense with each second that ticked by.

You could feel him watching you now, but you kept your eyes fixed in front of you, staring at the 'Esc' key on Ricky's laptop keyboard.

Ha... if only you could escape this conversation at the moment, wouldn't that be nice, right?

'Wishful thinking', your subconscious sneered at you.

You sighed, your eyes falling closed for a moment as you tried to gather your wits about you, until you felt Chris take one of your hands in his.

Your eyes flew open, meeting his, the solemn look on his face only making you more nervous.

"Tell me he's wrong...?" Chris prompted you in a whisper.

You took a deep breath in, letting it out in a sharp exhale, before answering him.

"Do you want him to be wrong?"

You could manage no more than a quiet murmur, your heart racing as you waited to hear his response.

There was a long beat of silence before Chris finally answered you, his gaze softening.

"No. I don't think I do."

Slowly, you nodded, your gaze dropping to land momentarily on your hand, still clasped within Chris's.

"He's right. I... I never meant for it to happen, I just- things became so easy, too easy. And these past few months, it just feels like it's been so much longer, but in a good way...? A very good way? And then you've been so nice to me, and I told myself I wouldn't fall for you, I can't, it's not right, I wouldn't do it..." you began to ramble.

"And then you did," Chris cut in softly.

"And then I did," you repeated, heaving a sigh.

"And now?" he breathed.

"And now I don't have a single fucking clue where it puts us," you answered.

"Chris, I'm scared. I- I don't know what comes next," you added in a solemn, trembling whisper, turning to stare up at him with wide eyes.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, before reaching out with his other hand to lightly brush his fingertips along your cheek.

"That's okay. Because I do," he spoke softly, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.

You waited anxiously, your heart thumping a steady, nervous staccato within the confines of your ribcage.

"You stayed. In the hospital, you stayed. These past few months, you never left, you stayed with me. Why?" he asked.

You kept your gaze steady on his, determined not to let him see just how badly he affected you, how nervous you were.

"You know why," you answered, your throat suddenly feeling dry.

He nodded, giving your hand another squeeze, his other hand now resting against the side of your face, keeping your attention on him.

"I do know. But I need to hear you say it."

Your heart thundered once, twice, in your chest, before you finally gathered up the courage to answer him.

"Why?" he repeated.

"Because I love you," you whispered.

And there it was.

The truth, the entirety of it, all encompassed within those four little words.

Because you loved him.

And you did... truly, madly, deeply.

You loved him more than you felt you ought to, more than you were probably supposed to.

Nothing would ever change that; nothing would change how close you and Chris had become the past few months, nothing would change the time you had spent by his side in that hospital room, waiting for him to recover.

"How long?" Chris suddenly spoke up.

You sighed in resignation, your brows furrowing as you offered him a rather rueful smile.

"A while. Since that first morning when you snuck me out of the bus with you to go and get coffee..." you admitted.

You took notice of the way one corner of Chris's mouth lifted in a smirk, his gaze growing soft.

"That long?" he teased.

You nodded, trying (and failing) to hide a faint grin.

"Always," you answered.

A moment of silence passed, before Chris suddenly pulled you into his warm embrace, circling his arms around you and holding you close to him.

You felt him rest his cheek against the top of your head, heard him loose a barely audible sigh of content.

"You could've told me sooner, you know. I think I sort of knew from the beginning," he murmured.

There was a brief pause before he continued.

"You were this little 5'-something with raw energy, no filter whatsoever, and you just... immediately fit right in. Everyone fucking loved you."

"Did you?" you couldn't stop yourself before it slipped out.

You could feel him smile against the top of your head, could hear it in his voice when he answered you.

"I did, yeah. Even tried to lie to myself and say that I wouldn't. But I did. It was just like you said, so easy. Weeks and months flew by, and then we had one of our first big headlining shows, and I think at that point... I knew.

"The way you fucking smiled at me before we went on, and then we came back after the show, and you were already standing there waiting for us, for me... I don't think I'll ever forget the way you looked at me that night."

"Looked at you... how?" you asked on a whisper.

"Like I was the only one in that break room. I've never seen you look at my bandmates the way you look at me. It's different, somehow. More... intimate, I guess?" Chris answered softly.

"Anyway, I think the guys noticed pretty quickly how much of my time I started spending with you. At least I think they noticed; they always seemed to come up with excuses and reasons for you and I to have time alone together," he continued.

Fuck. It all made sense now.

Why Ricky had been so calm that night, when you'd found Chris passed out on the floor.

Why anytime you and the guys were loading up or unpacking for a show, they'd ask you to see if Chris needed anything, to "go tell Chris everything's ready", "go find Chris".

They knew? All of them?

They knew, of course they did...

He knew.

Hell, he'd said it himself, he'd known from the beginning, he'd always known, that you loved him.

You shifted in Chris's embrace, and he lifted his head to meet your questioning gaze.

"If you knew from the beginning, then why...?" you trailed off in a confused murmur.

His answering smile made your insides flutter, made your heart stutter, the singular beats tripping over one another before they corrected themselves.

"Why'd I wait so long to tell you? I was hoping you'd pick up on it and say something before I did. But then months went by without you saying anything, and I guess I thought I'd been fucking hallucinating the entire thing all this time.

"And then that night in the hospital when Rick told me everything, I just... I knew I had to tell you, before someone better would come along and steal your heart like I wanted to, like I still want to..." Chris said softly.

You could feel the tears pricking behind your eyes, and you swallowed hard, fighting to keep them at bay, to hold yourself together in front of him.

It seemed a rather monumental task, one you failed miserably.

Chris reached out, gently brushing away the stray tear that had slipped free and spilled down your cheek.

"Y/N. I love you too," he whispered.

This was all suddenly too much, too fast- what were you supposed to do now, what-

"What do I-?" you started in a trembling gasp, Chris silencing you with a shake of the head and a gentle smile.

"All you have to do is say yes," he breathed.

It couldn't really be that easy...

Could it?

One little word is all it would take, and just like that, you'd be his, and-??

"Yes."

That one word, that singular syllable, came delivered on a trembling breath, your heart pounding furiously against your ribcage, as if fighting to work itself free.

The answering smile that lit up Chris's face, those warm brown eyes and the way they seemed to brighten a shade or two, it told you all you needed to know.

You'd made the right decision, an easy one.

Only... it had always been this easy, hadn't it?

All you or Chris would have needed was for one or the other to just... speak up.

Say something.

Say everything.

Whatever happened next would depend once again on you and Chris, but this time, it would be ever so simple.

Because he loved you as much as you loved him.

He always had....

"I'm telling you, we only have five minutes left before we go out there, are you sure you're ready for this?"

It was only the third time his bandmate and closest friend had asked him this, and as much as he wanted to be annoyed, Chris couldn't bring himself to feel anything beyond... thrilled.

This was it, what he'd wanted.

Things were finally back on track, those last remaining weeks had seemed to fly by, almost too fast.

Weeks he'd spent curled up by Y/N's side, refusing to leave her just as much as she'd refused to leave him that night.

Which meant, of course, that within the span of only one day, his bandmates and the rest of their crew had figured out he and Y/N were together.

'Fucking finally!' his subconscious shouted at him, rather smug.

Chris couldn't help the grin that found its way onto his face now, as he stood there with his bandmates, ready and waiting to go out and do what he loved, what he'd been born to do.

He cast one final look over his shoulder at Y/N, her eyes meeting his as she gave him that look, the one she reserved for him and only him.

As the seconds ticked by, the crowd waiting outside only grew louder, and he wasn't quite sure if she'd be able to hear his shout of "I love you!", but fuck, she had heard it-!

And when she mouthed the words back at him and waved him off to go up on stage-

He'd remember this night for a long fucking time, he knew it as much as she did.

That night, as he took the stage with a proud grin on his face, he cast another final look over his shoulder, at the girl waiting for him in the wings, his girl...

And he turned back to face the roar of the crowd, Y/N's earlier suggestion leaping to the forefront of his mind-

"How the fuck are we doing tonight, LA? Feels so fucking good to be back here! We have a great show for you guys tonight, and I wanna start it off with one that's been kind of close to me these past few weeks. This one's called... 'Sick From The Melt'"...

🎃 TAGLIST: @synthetic-wasp-570 @tearfallpixie @annateagan @nixwolfe @motionlessomens @veroxbarnes @wh0rrorxx @bangoversequence @nerdraging4point0 @gothictypewriter @thesazzb @circle-with-me

#SoundCloud #chris motionless #chris cerulli #motionless in white #miw things #chris motionless x reader #chris cerulli x reader #miw #motionless in white fanfiction #motionless in white fandom #chris motionless oneshot #chris motionless fluff

98 notes · View notes