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stevie-petey · 2 months

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episode six: the spy

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows. “Shit…” “You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.” Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.”

Summary: dustin and steve haggle a butcher, you throw some meat at steve and then have a weird conversation about love, you stop dustin from becoming an incel, and then you wrestle some demodogs like any real woman would. side note: steve is hot protecting the kids.

Rating: general, violence and swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence and swearing, blood mention and ptsd mention, weapons, fire, probably more

Words: 17.1k (i fear how much longer these next few chapters become)

Before you swing in: its here !!! god, this chapter was ROUGH. the conversations between bug and steve took many rewrites and editing. i wanted to get it just right, and finally i think im satisfied with where they landed. bug and steve aside, i absolutely loved writing this chapter with the kids. i sincerely hope you guys enjoy, this chapter took blood, sweat, n tears lmao

You’re the first to break the silence as you all stare at the hole Dart created in the wall in shock.

An obnoxiously loud yawn escapes your lips, and Dustin and Steve shoot you simultaneous weird glances. You feel your face heat up in embarrassment. “Sorry… It’s been a long day.”

Steve huffs. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Dustin clears his throat before standing up. He wipes off some dirt that got on his jeans and then offers you his hand so that he can pull you up as well. You accept it and stand, your bones a deep, weary type of heavy that only comes from pure exhaustion.

“Okay,” Dustin begins, and you can already see a plan forming in his mind. “Steve, you’ll spend the night here so that way we can all get up bright and early to start our search for Dart.”

Steve attempts to argue, but Dustin puts his hand up to shush him and continues with his speech. The older boy throws his hands up in the air and gives you a look of disbelief over your brother’s antics. You stifle a laugh, which he only rolls his eyes at. Steve, whether he likes it or not, will have to get used to Dustin’s… Dustin-ness.

“If he escaped through the tunnel, then we have to assume that there’s an opening somewhere above ground.” Dustin finishes.

You nod your head slowly, still unconvinced. “Okay, but how do we find him? Better yet, what happens when we do? It took Nancy with a shotgun, my knives, Steve’s batting skills, a ton of fire, and almost dying a bunch of times to take down the Demogorgon.”

Dustin lets out a tired sigh. “I’ll figure it all out, alright? For now, let’s just get some sleep. Maybe it’ll come to me in a dream or something.”

“A dream? Seriously?” Steve looks at the two of you as if you guys will start laughing and tell him it’s all a giant joke. Unfortunately, it isn’t.

Steve spent all last year and most of the summer getting to know you. He’s used to your quips and soft spoken teasing, but Dustin? He’s uncharted territory and you’re secretly relishing in seeing Steve fumble around him. You’ve never had anyone else interact with your brother before, only Jonathan, so this change is odd, but welcomed.

Dustin pays no attention to you and Steve as he begins heading up the steps, back to your home. Once he disappears, you nudge your shoulder against Steve’s. “You know you don’t actually have to spend the night, right?”

“Ya know, I can’t quite tell if the kid will let me leave or not.”

You laugh. “He’s harmless… Mostly. I promise I won’t let him bite, but I also understand if you want to leave.”

Steve looks away, sensing the undertones of what you’re saying. You’re giving him another out, one last chance to leave and go back to pretending like everything's okay. You wouldn’t blame him, and you get a sense of deja-vu from that night at Jonathan’s. When you tried coaxing Steve to leave, to spare himself from everything he inevitably ended up suffering from.

After a minute or so, Steve shakes his head. “I’ll stay. You need my help.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say need–”

“Shut up and let me help you, Y/N.”

You sigh. There’s no arguing with him, he’s made up his mind and your truce that you shook on ten minutes ago burns your hand. He’s staying.

“A ‘please’ would’ve sufficed, but fine.” You link your arm around Steve’s and make your way up the cellar steps. “C’mon, Dustin is probably waiting for us with some new insane plan for where you’ll sleep.”

–

You know that your mom is safe, off at the other side of town, searching for your dead cat, but it’s still lonely walking into your empty home. Dustin is standing in the living room waiting, but you can see that it makes him uneasy as well.

Steve follows behind you and takes a look around. When he spots the lumpy, old, sagging couch in front of the window, he frowns. It’s barely bigger than he is, his feet would definitely hang over the edge. “This my bed for tonight?”

“It’ll have to be, unless you want to come snuggle with me in my bed.” Dustin says.

“I wouldn’t, he kicks in his sleep,” you tell Steve, attempting to make light of the situation.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he snorts. Then, as if he’s done this a million times before, Steve flings himself onto your couch and his feet do indeed hang over the edge. “Oh, yeah. This will definitely be cozy.”

You wince. “I’m sorry, you’re still free to go home. I completely understand and–”

“Unless…” Dustin begins to brighten up and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Pure horror washes over you; you know that look on his face. He’s scheming.

“Dustin, whatever is about to come out of your mouth–”

“Y/N has this giant bean bag in her room. Practically takes up the whole space, and, luckily for you, my new friend, it’s Steve-sized.”

Steve whips his head to face you, a curious look on his face. “You don’t say, Little Henderson?”

Both boys look at you, a matching glint of evil in their eyes, and you realize you’re trapped. When did they manage to sync up to make you miserable?

You weigh your options against your morals. On one hand, it’s your room and you and Steve are still warming back up to each other. However, on the other hand, Jonathan has spent countless nights on that bean bag himself.

Dustin’s right. Steve would fit perfectly.

Damn him.

You shuffle your feet, averting Steve’s eyes. “I mean, I guess you’d fit.”

“You guess? Steve, she’s had Jonathan sleep on that thing like a bajillion times.” Dustin waves his arms out, gleeful that he’s won. “In fact, I think our mom specifically bought it just for him.”

He now steps closer to Steve and eyes him up and down. “I’d bet money that you two are about the same size, so as I stated earlier: it’s Steve-sized.”

“I’m actually taller than him, so…” Steve mumbles to no one in particular, but quickly clears his throat and changes the subject. “And I’d finally be able to see Y/N Henderson’s room? Count me in.”

You blush furiously. He’s getting a kick out of all of this and he’s such a little shit, honestly. You’re not sure why the thought of having Steve Harrington in your room, eager to be in your room, makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks burn painfully.

Steve sees your blush and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, Y/N. It’ll be like a sleepover.”

“You’re far too pleased about all of this.”

“We can pretend to be back at Bookstrordinary. I’ll even stack some books that you definitely have in your room.”

Dustin stands between you and Steve, his face alight with joy and curiosity. “Can I please know when you two became best friends?”

“No, you hid Dart from me.”

“I’m not gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Steve clears his throat, clearly amused by your banter with Dustin but still unsure about everything going on. “So… What do ya say, Y/N?”

You bite your lip and look at him. He’s pathetically too large for the couch, it wouldn’t be fair to just force him to sleep there because of the weird way he makes you feel as if you’re floating yet falling all at the same time.

Exhaling, you give in. “Fine, but do not touch any of my books in the room.”

“Yes!” Steve high fives Dustin and you roll your eyes at them both.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. It’s late, can we please just go to bed now?”

Dustin sends you a wink, which thankfully Steve doesn’t see. “Sure, sis. Have a good night.”

And with that, probably because he senses you’re about to throw a shoe at him, Dustin flees the living room and runs to his room. As soon as he’s gone, Steve bats his eyelashes at you and playfully teases, “Take me to bed, Y/N.”

You snort, despite how exhausted you are. “Never say those words to me again.”

He laughs and stands up, following behind you as you guide him towards your own room. A part of you feels like you should give him a house tour, but logistically it’d be useless. You can’t imagine that Steve would be over at your house again once the Dart situation is handled.

You have to remind yourself that there are still roses for Nancy, currently wilting, in the backseat of Steve’s car.

They’ll work things out eventually, or maybe they won’t, but Nancy Wheeler still has Steve Harrington’s heart. He is her’s entirely.

Lost in thought, you almost miss the turn to your room and have to grab the back of Steve’s jacket and yank him towards your bedroom door.

“Hey–”

“Sorry, my room is here.”

“You Hendersons are just a delightful bunch, ya know that?”

“Be thankful you don’t have to meet our mother, honestly.” You fling your bedroom door open and gently push Steve inside.

As soon as he’s in your room, you watch as he takes it all in. His eyes scan every corner of the room, and you hold your breath as you wait for them to land on the Spider-Man poster he gave you for Christmas last year.

When Steve sees it, he smiles shyly at you. “I see you kept the gift.”

“Duh,” you walk over to your bed and sit down. “Still one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given.”

“One of?” He asks, tone light but curious.

Unconsciously, your fingers go to your bee necklace from Jonathan. You play with the pendant and smile softly. “Sorry, Jonathan kinda beat you to it.”

“I figured,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable. “I noticed the necklace the day I gave you the poster. Didn’t want to, uh, assume. I guess. But the necklace was from him?”

“It was,” you clear your throat, talking about Jonathan with Steve has always been such a foreign feeling for you.

Steve seems to be thinking the same thing and starts to wander around your room instead. You silently thank whatever god is up there for giving you the motivation to clean your room earlier that week. Normally you’re a neat person, but ever since Will started showing signs of post-traumatic stress, you’ve spent more time obsessively researching rather than tidying up.

Therefore, there’s still books strewn across your desk alongside some comics. Steve sees a Spidey one and holds it up with a laugh. “He’s everywhere.”

“He is.” You say proudly, now getting up to go into your closet to pull out the blankets and pillows usually reserved for Jonathan.

Steve wanders around some more as you dig through your closet. He lingers in front of your dresser, which holds photos of you, Dustin, and Jonathan.

“Here,” you hand the bedding to Steve and motion to where the bean bag is.

He looks up from a photo of you and Jonathan from last year. It’s your favorite of the two of you, he stands behind you in the picture with his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. You’re both smiling widely at the camera, the moment captured by Will because he wanted to try out the camera Jonathan had gotten that summer.

“You guys are really close, huh?” Steve asks.

You nod, although confused by his question. He spent half the summer with you and Jonathan at your job. You had conversations about your friendship together, but you suppose it’s different seeing the excess of love you have for the boy within your room. Jonathan is everywhere, if you look hard enough, you’ll find him.

Steve pauses for a second, as if he wants to say something else, but shakes his head and turns towards the bean bag. He arranges the pillows so that they’re flush against the wall facing your bed, which you think is an odd choice, but say nothing. Once he’s arranged the pillows and blankets, Steve turns to you and clears his throat.

“I hate to ask this, I really do, but I also don’t want to sleep in these jeans,” he waves his hands over his pants, which have always been a bit together than you thought was necessary. “Any chance I could wear something of Jonathan’s?”

You think for a moment and dig through your dresser. “I’m not sure, but if I can’t find anything of his then I think my old camp t-shirt can fit. As for pants, won’t your boxers work fine?”

Steve’s face turns red and he clears his throat once more, speaking in a slightly squeaky voice, “Y–yeah, I guess so.”

He’s stumbling over his words, which makes you pause. There’s no possible way that he’s nervous right now. He’s usually so confident and comfortable around you. Hell, last summer he offered to be your first kiss (by kissing his fingers and pressing them against your lips, but still).

“Are you shy right now, Steve?”

“What? No!” He scrambles to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between the two of you as he can.

You raise your eyebrows at him, but your cheeks are flushed as well. “Okay then, whatever you say.”

It’s painfully quiet after that as you continue looking for something for Steve to wear. You swear that Jonathan has left behind some of his things, and right before you lose hope, you spot a pair of gray sweats and an old The Clash t-shirt of his.

“Here,” you toss the clothes to Steve without even checking if he’s looking. You hear a crash and know that he, in fact, had not been looking.

“Gee, thanks.” He says sarcastically, but you giggle.

“No problem,” you begin to gather your own pajamas before pointing towards your door. “There’s a bathroom to the left, down the hall. You can change there.”

“Then our sleepover can commence?”

You wave him off, but you smile anyway at his question. You missed his boyish charms. “Sure, buddy. Go change.”

Steve salutes you and then leaves the room, softly closing the door behind him. You change while he’s gone and tie your hair up. After a few minutes, you assume Steve has had enough time to change and make your way over to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth. You’re so excited to go to bed.

However, the door is closed when you approach, meaning Steve is still changing. You knock on the door, “Are you almost done in there?”

“I’m having… problems.”

Your hand hovers over the door, mid knock. “Problems?”

There’s only silence for a moment, almost as if Steve is contemplating elaborating. Finally, after several seconds, he says “I’m definitely taller than Byers.”

You roll your eyes and begin knocking again, just to annoy Steve, until he finally swings the door open. Before you can even stop it, a loud laugh escapes you. The sweats are at least five inches too short on him, while Jonathan’s shirt is a size too small. He looks absolutely ridiculous.

“It’s not funny!” Steve whines, his face once again red. “I thought you gave me Jonathan’s clothes, Y/N!”

More laughter escapes you, making your ribs begin to hurt. Every time you try to speak, you laugh even harder, and it’s impossible for you to get any words out. Steve watches, not amused in the slightest, and crosses his arms as if to appear more dignified.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to gasp out, more laughs threatening to spill from you. “I guess they’re clothes from when he was fourteen.”

“I’m reconsidering our truce from earlier.”

This gets you to stop laughing, and you gasp and smack Steve’s chest. “You wouldn’t dare!”

He sighs, hanging his head low. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly,” his admission makes you giddy. “Now, either make yourself cozy in the bean bag or watch as I brush my teeth. Your choice.”

Steve shrugs and steps to the side so that there’s room for you to enter the bathroom. It’s a tight fit, but he ends up sitting on the edge of the tub and just watches as you begin the process of brushing your teeth. “I didn’t actually think you’d stay, ya know.”

“I know, but I’m bored and you’re here.”

You spit into the sink. “Fair, I guess.”

“Plus,” he picks at his nails, trying to look disinterested while wearing Jonathan’s too small clothes. “We still need to have that talk.”

You pause, toothbrush hanging from your lips as you stare at Steve, wide eyed, in the mirror. Honestly, you were hoping he would’ve forgotten about that. It’s not that you don’t want to know whatever he has to tell you, but you’re tired and still reeling over the fact that he’s spending the entire night in your room.

“Oh, right.” Turning the faucet off, you finish brushing your teeth and awkwardly wipe your face. Steve watches quietly, and once you’re done, you motion for him to follow you back towards your room.

As soon as you’re back in your room, Steve immediately curls himself upon the bean bag and brings the blanket all the way up to his chin. Dustin, as always, is right: the bean bag truly is Steve-sized. “Cozy.”

You laugh at him as you crawl into your own bed. “Yeah, I’d hope so. Jonathan has slept in it for years now.”

“Well, uh. Speaking of Jonathan…” Steve sits up a bit so that he can properly look at you. “I wanted to talk. Ya know… About you and him. Nancy, too.”

He pauses, furrows his brows, and then adds. “Actually, I want to talk about what really happened this summer. Everything. I want to know everything.”

“Everything is a lot,” you dodge, turning away from the boy.

Steve sighs. “Y/N… I missed you.”

Missed.

“I want to be friends again, be how we were before, but… I don’t know. There was a lot unsaid between us. Even from the start. I mean, I understand. I do.” His eyes never leave yours, despite how much you try not to look back at him. “You’re, well–If we’re going to be friends again, I want to start from the beginning.”

“The beginning?”

Now Steve is the one who looks away. “I don’t know, it’s stupid, I guess–”

“It’s not stupid, Steve.” You reassure him. He’s trying, he’s inviting you in after everything you did to him, and it’s all you could’ve asked for.

But you’re fucking terrified.

You and Steve became close before, sure, but it was something more surface level. An act between the two of you. While Steve was able to read you over time, learning and asking and paying attention to you, there was still so much you never let him in on. What you haven’t let anyone in on, besides Jonathan.

If you start from the beginning with Steve, someone you know has come to view you as this selfless and kind person, you’re scared that it’ll change the way he sees you.

But Steve is looking at you from the bean bag, looking ridiculously cozy with the blanket wrapped around him and his usually carefully curated hair has fallen in his eyes; his gaze is open and trusting. There isn’t a pressure behind it, he would understand if you backed down, but you promised him you’d try.

To try is to be human.

And you really, really missed Steve.

“I moved here when I was twelve. My family and I had moved all the way from Virginia after the divorce. I remember being really mean, back then. An angry kid with all this hurt within her that she perpetually displaced upon everyone else.”

“Angry?” Steve asks, his voice soft.

You shift uncomfortably in bed, but you remind yourself that you agreed to this. If you’re going to begin again with Steve, then he deserves to know the true person he’s befriending. “Angry. I didn’t take the divorce well. At all. I acted out a lot, closed myself off, and was just a fucking awful person.”

Shifting again, you take a deep breath. “My anger got to the point where Dustin, who was nine, had to practically plead with me to be nicer to him. He was a kid.”

“So were you,” Steve gently chimes in, but you roll your eyes at him.

“Being a kid didn’t give me an excuse to abandon my loved ones like I did. Like my father did. It wasn’t until Dustin called me out on my bullshit that I realized the irony of the situation. There I was, blaming everyone else for my own problems and running away, because I was so hurt by my father doing the same to me.”

Steve clenches his jaw, and you know he wants to say more, but you watch as he exhales deeply and decides against it. “Okay, so you were mean and then you became kind again after something traumatic… So what?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean,” the boy sighs. “I was a dick for like, ten consecutive years. It took losing a fight to Jonathan, embarrassing myself in front of Nancy at least five times, losing my bullshit ‘friends’ Tommy and Carol, and some blonde guy with a fucking mullet before I was even able to become a decent person.”

You frown. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that you came back.” Steve shrugs. “The second someone you loved asked you to, you came back to being the selfless angel that you are. Which, by the way, is an impressive feat in itself.”

He says this as if it’s obvious and that the months you spent hurting everyone around you can be redeemed. As if you haven’t spent every waking hour tirelessly devoting every piece of yourself to those around you to make up for them. To repent for your anger.

Steve takes your silence as more defiance, and he runs a tired hand through his hair. He’s merely a few feet from you, at the foot of your bed on the bean bag, and yet it feels as if he’s inches yet yards away. “I know I can’t change your mind, but… I think that’s what matters the most in the end, ya know? You became kind.”

“So did you,” you finally say, not quite ready to accept what he’s saying.

Now it’s Steve who looks away. “Still working on the whole ‘kind’ thing.”

“Isn’t that what matters in the end?” You tease, feeling yourself warm with pride when you get him to laugh.

“Touche.”

Silence falls over the two of you, letting the tension lazily slip away for now. Your body hums with energy; the only other person you’ve told about your father to is Jonathan. You both have long since bonded over shitty father figures. However, even when you had whispered these truths to Jonathan back when you were thirteen, you don’t remember feeling quite so saw and vulnerable as you do right now with Steve.

“I meant it, you know,” you catch Steve’s eye. “Back when you first drove me home last year. You’re alright. Not too shabby, honestly.”

This time a full body laugh cascades through the boy, He clutches at his stomach as he doubles over, breathless with joy. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Steve is still laughing and this is the happiest you think you’ve seen him in months. The realization makes all the warmth you’ve felt earlier, vanish. You remember the hurt on his face earlier this week on Halloween, the tears in his eyes when he confessed that Nancy didn’t love him.

You know how plagued Steve is about never being good enough, and for the first time since you’ve truly gotten to know him: you understand him in that very moment.

Your eye catches on Steve’s adam’s apple as he swallows. It’s a tragedy, really, how attractive he is. You suppose it’s what caused his downfall, in the end. A pretty boy, rich and popular yet easily able to be taken down; it must be a lonely life with all that vulnerability.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whisper, voice cutting through the darkness of your room as Steve seems to remember where he is, why and how the conversation started in the first place.

“Always,”

“I’m scared of the compulsive need I feel to take care of everyone. It’s like… I don’t know, this debt that I feel I owe for existing, for the fear I feel because of my father leaving. I overcompensate for this fear now, terrified I’ll become mean again.”

Steve stares at your ceiling. “The whole ‘debt’ thing, I understand. Believe me. Rather than being a perfect angel, however, I just try my fucking hardest not to disappoint everyone around me and make them leave.”

Nancy, as she always seems to do, lingers between you and Steve now; you both can feel her presence without him having to say her name. He told you what she did to him, you tried to reassure him that it hadn’t been his fault, but Steve isn’t an idiot.

Nancy never loved him. He knows this, now.

You don’t say anything, you don’t think he’d want you to. Giving him some time, you allow Steve a few minutes to collect his thoughts, sensing he has more to say. Then, softly, he whispers back to you, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always,” you echo.

“I just want to be loved.”

With just one confession, a string of six words in succession, Steve Harrington crushes you.

The words come crashing upon your chest and you wish you could tell him how easily you see yourself falling for him. How, even if you can’t admit it just yet, you’re already falling for him. You think you have been for some time now.

Somewhere, in between him driving you home last year and the way the summer sun kissed his face months later, you began to fall in love with him.

While you’re thinking this, Steve is laying in the bean bag, absolutely terrified of the words that have come out of his mouth. He’s always had the fear, deep down, that he was unlovable, but to admit the fear out loud… He’s never felt so weak before.

You’re silent and Steve thinks he’s finally done it. His pathetic need to be liked and loved by everyone around him has finally scared you away. How couldn’t it scare you away? You so naturally are loved by everyone while Steve compulsively demands it because he’s still that scared ten year old boy with a father who never showed him love.

Then, because you’re an angel, you give Steve the response he hadn’t even known he needed to hear. “It’s natural to want to be loved. We all do. It’s human.”

He exhales at your words, still staring at the ceiling as if to somehow lessen the impact of what you’re telling him. There’s something there, hanging in the air after your words have disappeared, that Steve can’t quite understand.

It almost sounded like you were trying to reassure yourself, as well.

“What’s the deal with you and Jonathan?” Though Steve’s voice is steady, you can tell that he’s trying not to sound too interested.

The question is a simple one, but it’s the hardest question you’ve ever had to answer. Everyone asks you, sooner or later, if you and Jonathan are together. You never blame them for asking, because ultimately the two of you are closer than the average friends, regardless of gender.

It doesn’t make the question any less painful to answer, though. It doesn’t make hearing Jonathan’s laugh cut any less deeper.

As for Steve, he’s asked this question before, albeit with teasing and disbelief whenever you’ve told him there’s nothing there. Despite the numerous times you’ve corrected him, he’s never quite believed you.

This time, it feels different. There’s a weight behind Steve’s question, and your silence is all the answer that he needs. “You love him.”

The words aren’t a question, and they harbor no malice. He says them as if they are a fact; you suppose that it is. You don’t say anything, but you do nod your head at him. “I do… I think I’ve always loved him, honestly.”

You’ve never, ever said those words out loud. Not to anyone.

And now, you’re confessing them to Steve, who doesn’t have to ask you why your voice now holds melancholy within it. He knows, he’s always somehow known. Jonathan doesn’t love you, a fact in which Steve has never been able to wrap his head around. He’s watched the two of you for years, how easily you love one another, and yet somehow the love never blossomed into something more.

Everything stills between you and Steve, allowing both your confessions to surround the two of you. “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s apology only causes you to shrug. “He’s still mine, at least for now. Is that so bad?”

“I mean, I guess not, but… Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

“God,” you squeeze your eyes shut, finally able to voice all you’ve been feeling to someone who can understand. “It feels like this crushing weight upon me every time I see him smile, like it’s a burden, carrying all this love within me without being able to express it freely. I just… I never thought that love could be so exhausting. ”

As the words start to come out, you find that you’re unable to stop. “I grew up with Jonathan, I learned the way he breathes and the way his hands feel pressed against my skin, but so much has changed and…” Your breath hitches. “He’s not someone I reach out to first anymore. It almost feels like I can’t. I love him, I do, but I also miss how it used to be before I realized everything.”

The pressure of tears builds behind your eyes and forces you to stop talking. If you say anything else, you’re afraid you’ll start crying. While Steve has been so lovely tonight, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to console you so pathetically.

Steve seems to hear the tears lacing your voice and speaks for you, having finally pieced together everything he’s been unable to articulate since November of last year. “With Nance, it feels like I’m always somehow two steps behind her and her feelings. Constantly playing catch up while the rules keep changing on me… I get the whole ‘love is exhausting’ thing.”

Though you know Steve means well, his words fucking terrify you. If he feels the same way towards Nancy, a girl who never ended up loving him despite how much he poured his heart out for her, what does that mean for you and Jonathan?

For the first time, you question if the exhaustion you feel surrounding your love for the boy is really something else. Something different, disguised as exhaustion.

You wonder, deep down, if you’ve started to fall out of love with Jonathan.

Who are you if you have?

The boy has become so intertwined within your life, the threads and strings and lines have tied you to him indefinitely. He’s the reason behind your everything. If you no longer love Jonathan, then who are you, really?

The realization washes over you like cold rain in the middle of winter. It spills over you and pricks at your skin and you suddenly want the conversation to end. While you’re so relieved to be talking to Steve again, the conversation has left you with more realizations than resolutions.

“It’s late,” you fake a yawn, desperate to cut the conversation short. “We should go to bed. Knowing Dustin, he’ll have us up at the crack of dawn to start looking for Dart.”

Steve sees right through you, he knows he’s somehow crossed a line and that you’re once again retreating. You’re closing yourself off from him again, but he’ll take whatever he can get from you. You’ve told him more than he ever thought you would, so for now he’ll play along.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says, watching as you reach for your lamp and turn the light off. Then, as soon as you’ve rolled over and closed your eyes, you faintly hear his final words. “Don’t we make a pathetic pair?”

You remember, before drifting off to sleep, feeling relief wash over you that Steve once again considers the two of you a pair.

–

You wake up the next morning to the faint sounds of Dustin getting ready. His shower can be heard from your room, and through the years it's become your morning alarm. Yawning, you roll over and rub your eyes and take a few minutes to let your brain wake up.

Bits of yesterday’s events come back to you.

Dustin confessing about Dart.

Locking the Demodog in your cellar.

Radioing everyone in the party for help and getting no response.

Going to the Wheelers for Mike and coming back with Steve.

Dart going missing.

And, most importantly, your bizarre conversation with Steve last night.

The boy in question lets out a loud snore from the bean bag, blankets haphazardly twisted around his legs, and you stifle a laugh. Even in his sleep, Steve Harrington somehow catches all the attention in the room.

You throw your blanket off and get out of bed, tiptoeing so as to not wake up the sleeping beauty, and head outside to your kitchen. If yesterday was any indication of how long today will be, then you need all the coffee in the world to get through it.

The coffee has just finished brewing when you hear Steve stumble into the kitchen. His eyes are bleary and his hair is the worst it’s ever looked. “I guess even Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington can’t escape bed head, huh?”

Steve acknowledges your quip only by grunting, still stumbling around through your home. So he isn’t a morning person, you think with a smile while bringing your coffee mug to your lips and taking a careful sip.

Eventually Steve makes it to your kitchen table and plops down, letting out a loud yawn and smacking his lips. He looks pathetically endearing, really, especially given his outfit that looks even worse after sleeping in it. The shirt has ridden further up, exposing a bit of his stomach (which you divert your gaze from, feeling yourself blush), and one of his too-short pant legs has ridden up to his knee.

“You really are a natural beauty in the morning, Steve.”

“Ha,” he says boredly, looking around the kitchen. “Do you guys have any food? I’m starving.”

You toss him an apple from the fruit basket on the counter, and Steve only just manages to catch it in time to avoid it hitting his face.

“Christ!” He exclaims, glaring at you when you chuckle at his reaction. Maybe it was a little mean, but you see the small smile he tries to hide.

“Is this all I get? An apple thrown at my face?”

You walk over to the table and set your mug down. “Were you expecting a home cooked meal?”

“You’ll have to earn a Y/N Henderson breakfast,” Dustin says as he enters the kitchen and joins the two of you. His hair is still wet from his shower and he drips onto the counter, which makes you cringe. He’s such a boy, sometimes.

He makes his way over to the fridge and rustles around, looking for something to eat. Truthfully, the reason you threw the apple at Steve is because there’s no food in your house at the moment. Your mom normally goes to the grocery store on Saturdays, and in her frantic rush to find Mews she hadn't left any money for you to go to the store.

“There’s no food,” you inform your brother.

He sighs dejectedly, grabbing a banana and then plopping himself next to Steve at the table. “All right, are you two awake enough to discuss the plan?”

You nod immediately at Dustin’s question while Steve slumps further into his seat, groaning. You run a hand through his hair to try and settle down his theatrics. Dustin sees this and raises an eyebrow at you, but you shake your head and motion for him to keep quiet.

“So,” he takes a bite from his banana and begins speaking with his mouth full, which you make a face at. “I was thinking we lure Dart with bait to a secure area that we can catch him in.”

“Wait,” Steve sits up a bit in his seat, careful to not knock your hand off his head. “That’s all you got? That’s the entire plan?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he begins eating as well, his mouth also full and disgusting to look at, “Do you know how we’ll lure him? Or where? Better yet, how will we even catch him?”

Dustin narrows his eyes. “Okay, so it’s a working idea. You got anything better?”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He pauses for a second before seemingly drawing a blank and closing his mouth; he sinks back into his seat in defeat.

“That’s what I thought.” Dustin says smugly.

You take another sip of coffee, enjoying the mug’s warmth around your fingers. “Well, we at least know what Dart likes to eat.”

“We do?” Steve questions, looking up at you.

“Oh, just wait until you hear this,” you motion over to Dustin. “Go on, tell Steve what you’ve been feeding Dart.”

Now it’s your brother’s turn to sink into his seat, embarrassed. He mumbles something that Steve can’t quite hear.

“What?”

He mumbles again, only a tiny bit louder this time.

“Little Henderson, I can’t understand you.” Steve says, smirking when he feels you laugh against him.

“I said he eats Musketeers Bars!” Dustin shouts, now incredibly defensive.

In sync, you and Steve share a look. While you have an exasperated fondness on your face, Steve looks like he’s questioning every choice he’s made in his life. It’s cute that he thinks this is the weirdest things will get.

“Okay…” Steve looks over at your brother. “Unless you plan on buying out an entire candy store, we need something else for bait.”

In the corner of your eye you see Mews’ cat bed laying against the window, and an idea pops into your head. “Dustin, did Dart only eat the candy bars before he killed our cat?”

“Yeah, why?”

As you walk over to the kitchen sink to place your mug in it, you begin explaining. “Then clearly he’s outgrown his sugar needs and would probably eat just about anything with flesh on it.”

Steve wrinkles his face with displeasure, not enjoying the thought of going after this monster that craves meat. He’s already done that, and call him crazy, but he really doesn’t want to experience anything like that ever again.

Dustin’s eyes light up, following along with what you’re saying. “Raw meat! You’re a genius, Y/N!”

“And then we can follow the train tracks to that old junkyard, the one that El brought you guys to last year. It’s a straight shot, Dart won’t get lost, and then we catch him.”

Dustin squeals. “That’s perfect!”

He stands up to hug you, which you gladly accept. “Yeah, yeah. We Hendersons are known for our genius,” you gently push your brother away and start exiting the kitchen. “I’m going to go shower and get ready. Steve, you’ll take Dustin to the butcher and see if you can haggle some raw meat out of him.”

“Uh… can I change first?” He asks, running a hand through his hair with displeasure.

Only now does Dustin notice Steve’s appearance and he lets out a loud cackle. “Oh, I think you look great!”

You shoot your brother a warning look, not wanting to upset Steve too much. He’s the only one with a car, and the party still hasn’t responded to Dustin’s calls, so he’s all you have right now. Plus, after last night’s conversation, you’re sure he’s feeling just as wound up and tense as you are.

“We can swing by your place on our way to the train tracks. Your house is right next to it, anyways, and Dustin and I can scout the parameters while you shower and get yourself all pretty. For now, just go to the butcher's shop, please.”

“But–”

“Please, Steve?” You pout, daring him to argue with you again. Steve is only able to stand his ground for about five seconds before he groans and nods his head.

“Fine–” You quickly hug him before running towards the bathroom to get ready.

Once you’re gone, Steve searches for his keys while Dustin stands in the kitchen, shocked. “I so need to know when you two became such good pals.”

“Go wait by the car, Little Henderson.” Steve waves him off, though he’s secretly pleased with how the morning is turning out so far.

–

“C’mon, man. It’s just chunks of raw meat, it doesn’t even matter what, uh, body parts they are, I guess.” Steve argues with the butcher, having no idea why you’ve sent him on this journey with Dustin. Neither of them have any idea about butchers and meat, so they’ve been arguing back and forth for a solid ten minutes with the guy.

“And I already told you, it’ll be $15. Take it or leave it, pretty boy.” Pat, the butcher, says.

Steve scowles at the name, “That’s insane for five pounds, you realize that? It’s just a bunch of meat chunks from god knows where, it’s not like we want prime rib you dirty sack of–”

Dustin cuts him off, snatching the boy’s wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a twenty. “Ignore him, please! Here, thank you so much for your lovely service, good sir.”

Pat narrows his eyes at the boy, and for a split second Dustin is afraid that he’s trying to figure out the best way to skin them alive, before he simply grunts and takes the money.

Relief washes over Dustin and he scrambles to grab the bags of meat, tugging at Steve’s sleeve in urgence until he gives in and begins to help as well. Within a few seconds, they’ve gathered all they need and head towards the car.

“Keep the change!” Dustin calls out behind him.

As soon as they’re in the car, he yells at Steve to step on it. It’s already been twenty minutes since they left the house, and he knows from experience to never keep you waiting.

“Okay, okay, god.” Steve complies, pushing down on the gas and speeding away from the butcher’s shop.

The smell of raw meat immediately infiltrates the car, so Steve rolls down the windows and sighs. This is definitely not the weekend he had in mind. He thought he’d apologize to Nancy, kiss and hopefully make up, and maybe even swing by your place to tell you the good news.

Instead, he has buckets of raw meat in his car and his head is swimming from his conversation with you from last night. While he’s happy it happened, there’s still so much Steve feels like you aren’t telling him. To top it all off, he hadn’t been able to sleep in his own bed, but rather a bean bag that Jonathan apparently has slept in a million times before.

As Steve is moping, he realizes that there actually wasn’t even a real need to spend the night.

“Hey, Little Henderson,” Steve gently hits Dustin’s shoulder to get his attention. “Why did I have to spend the night at your place?”

“Oh, you didn’t.” Dustin says as if it’s no big deal.

Steve turns his head towards him, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d actually spend the night if we’re being honest. I just thought it’d be funny to mess with you.”

“I tried arguing with you, but you shushed me!” Steve exclaims, putting both hands back on the steering wheel aggressively.

The younger boy shrugs, “What are you, seventeen? Eighteen? Why would you listen to a thirteen year old?”

“Well, I–” As much as he wants to, Steve really can’t defend himself on this one. Shit. It’s not like he can tell Dustin that he mostly stayed because his sister is pretty and makes him feel safe.

Dustin smiles, happy to have won the conversation at hand, and decides to really rub it in as they pull up to the house. “I also thought it’d be hilarious to pair you up with my sister. Hope you two made smart choices last night.”

And with those words, Dustin springs out the car, leaving a speechless Steve behind. He turns the car off and sits there for a moment, completely at a loss for words. He’s only spent a total of sixteen hours with the kid, and already he knows he’s in for a world more of trouble.

If you’re Hawkins’ sweetheart, then Dustin is the town’s horribly terrifying weasel.

Meanwhile, you’ve just finished lacing up your shoes when Dustin walks in.

“Where are the rubber gloves that mom likes?” He asks in lieu of greeting you.

“In the closet, second shelf, next to her cat figurines. Where’s Steve?”

Dustin rustles around the closet and pulls out three sets of gloves, “In the car, moping.”

There’s a crash and then he tosses two buckets onto the carpet. You crouch down and grab the buckets, placing them on the table. “Why is he moping?”

“Why is who moping?” The man in question walks in, throwing himself on the couch and narrowly dodging the third bucket that Dustin throws out. “Why do you guys keep throwing shit at me, jesus!”

“Language! There’s kids around,” You snap your fingers at Steve, who quickly cowers in shame. “And if it makes any difference, the bucket wasn’t intentional. The rest were, though.”

Just as Dustin is finishing up in the closet, you spot a can of gasoline and an idea sparks in your head. If you learned anything at Jonathan’s house last year, it’s that these Demogorgon things really hate fire. “Hey, grab the gasoline as well.”

He does as he’s told, no questions asked, and then hands it to you. You add it to the pile on the table, along with two backpacks from your brother and your beloved switchblade.

Steve gets up from the couch to investigate your stash, nodding approvingly. “Not bad, guys. What are we going to put in the backpacks, though?”

Dustin goes into the kitchen and begins grabbing the few items within it. The remaining fruits in the basket, a few pieces of bread, a bag of chips, and some water bottles. “One bag will have our food, the other will have our weapons.”

And with that, you guys are all set to head out. While Dustin is distracted with grabbing his backpack, you run towards Steve’s car and throw yourself into the passenger seat. Every man for himself.

“What– Y/N!” He calls after you, but he’s too late. You’ve already buckled yourself up by the time he and Steve get into the car themselves.

“She beat ya, buddy.” Steve teases, flashing you a proud smile.

Dustin grumbles in the backseat, unamused, and for a moment you think he’ll leave it at that. However, because he’s Dustin, you see from the rearview mirror as his eyes spark with revenge. “So, Steve.”

The tone in his voice terrifies you.

You place your head in your hands and sigh, mentally preparing for whatever your brother is about to say.

“Yes, Dustin?”

“How long have you been friendly with my sister?”

“Dustin!” You whip your head around, lunging towards the back seat to swat at the boy, but he quickly scoots over to Steve’s side and avoids your hands.

Steve, however, surprises you by simply shrugging and taking the question in stride. There’s no embarrassment on his face, no ounce of hesitation in his voice. “About a year now.”

“A year?” Dustin exclaims, having completely not expected such a response. “Y/N, how could you keep this from me?”

“She didn’t hide anything from you, buddy.” Steve defends you, eyes focused on the road. “I convinced her to be my friend after I saved her life–”

“You saved her life?”

“And then bought you boys snacks at the hospital afterwards. Then, because I really wanted to be her friend, I basically stalked her at work every day and annoyed my way into her life. We’ve been pretty close ever since.”

Dustin’s jaw is practically on the ground after Steve’s quick explanation, left speechless for the first time in his life. As for you, you’re admiring the way the early morning sun causes Steve to glow. You’ll never be over how often his beauty distracts you; you wonder how Nancy, or really anyone, could deny him love.

If you didn’t know Steve, if you passed by him on the street one day as complete strangers, you’re sure that a part of you would fall in love with him.

Even with pieces of his hair standing all over the place, his shirt still being too small, he was a delicate kind of handsome that made you feel a certain warmth.

“Did I forget anything, Y/N?” Steve’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, and you quickly divert your eyes away from the way his arms look while holding the steering wheel.

“No, uh.” You clear your throat, still recovering. Steve seems to be in good spirits for once, it’s a breath of fresh air seeing him so content, and yet it also serves as a stark reminder that you made the right choice when you first distanced yourself from him. He’s just too easy to love. “I think you pretty much covered everything. Unless Dustin has any questions?”

“Give me three to five business days to process this, please.” Your brother mumbles from the backseat, which you and Steve laugh at.

The rest of the ride is relatively peaceful after that, and a few minutes later you arrive at Steve’s house. It’s different in the daylight, only ever having seen it late one night driving the boy home from the Halloween party.

It’s a beautiful home, the smell of chlorine fills your nose. The pool, you remember Nancy mentioning his pool when she explained what happened to Barb. You shiver, now aware that you’re in the same place that your friend took her last breaths at, just a year ago.

“The tracks are just over on the other side of the street, and I shouldn’t be too long, so you Hendersons can start figuring out the plan in the meantime.” Steve instructs you and Dustin, getting out of the car and entering his house.

Dustin begins getting out as well, so you unbuckle your seatbelt and follow. Thankfully you decided to wear jeans today with a simple tank top and cardigan with your knit socks; though it was late October, it’s unusually sunny outside and the walk from Steve’s to the junkyard was easily four to five miles.

The two of you walk over to the tracks and you survey the area. You’re not sure what exactly you’re looking for, but you figure it’s best to look focused in case Dustin yells at you.

“We’ll need to go that way,” Dustin points in front of you, and you nod as you follow along. “We can drop the meat chunks every few sleepers so we don’t waste any of it.”

“Sleepers?”

“These.” Dustin’s shoe scrapes against the bottom wooden planks.

“You would know what they’re called.”

“Ha ha, any more quips or can I continue?”

You put your hands up in surrender and Dustin begins to speak again.

“Then once we get to the junkyard, we can dump whatever meat is left in a pile and put the gasoline on it. Once Dart is distracted and eating, we’ll light it on fire.” His words catch a bit at the end, and you suddenly feel bad for him. He clearly still cares about Dart, but you know your brother understands the risks of letting the Demodog live.

Without saying anything, you reach over and pull Dustin in for a hug. He fights it at first, but after a couple seconds he gives in and hugs you back. You aren’t the most affectionate pair of siblings, but you love your younger brother fiercely. Not for the first time, you wish you could’ve done more to prevent him from discovering the Upside Down.

You know it’s irrational to blame yourself and feel guilty, but maybe if you’d been more involved last year, then maybe he wouldn’t have so many nightmares.

“I’m sorry about Dart,” you say softly against his hat.

Dustin breaks away, shrugging his shoulders. “Gotta protect the party, right?”

“Right.” You flick his hat. “C’mon, let’s go back to the car and start putting the meat in the buckets.”

True to his word, Steve is ready to go after about twenty minutes. He walks out of his house, freshly clean and put together, right as you and Dustin finish preparing the bait. He approaches from behind you, and you can smell his cologne. Memories from when he’d have his arms around you and you’d smell the familiar scent now wash over you.

Clearing your throat, you turn to hand him gloves and a bucket, but almost drop it when you see him.

He looks good. Like, frustratingly good. His hair is back in its usual style, but he’s wearing a dark blue polo and a gray jacket that fits him criminally well. You almost feel underdressed standing next to him with your ratty old cardigan, which you know is ridiculous to be concerned about. Plus, you’ve always known that Steve was attractive, so it’s stupid to be affected by it suddenly now.

You guys had one emotional conversation.

“Y/N?”

Steve’s staring at you quizzically, and you quickly snap out of your thoughts and hand him the bucket full of bait and instruct him to put the gloves on. He listens, dutifully putting them on and placing the bucket on the ground and starts searching for one of the backpacks in the trunk. He’s seemingly in a much better mood now, which you’re thankful for.

“Dustin! This is Lucas. Do you copy? Dustin?”

Lucas’ voice rings out from Dustin’s walkie, and you perk your head up, relieved that he’s okay. The radio silence from the party was something that unnerved you immensely. With Dart on the loose, Will’s increasing episodes, who knows what else is happening in Hawkins at the moment?

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” Dustin responds, placing his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. You chuckle at him and continue helping Steve unload the trunk.

You hear Lucas sigh into the walkie. “Sorry, man. My stupid sister turned it off.”

“Tell Erica I say hi!” You call out, knowing Lucas will hear you. He always resented the fact that his sister is so nice to you. You’re the only living person who didn’t receive Erica’s insane insults, which is something you’re very proud of.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Lucas!”

Dustin shoos you away and continues to speak. “Well, when you were having sister problems, which really aren’t that hard to handle–”

“Says you,” you butt in.

“Dart grew again, he escaped, and I’m pretty sure he’s a baby Demogorgon.” Your brother finishes. By this point, you and Steve have pretty much unpacked everything in the car.

“Wait, what?” You’d kill to see the look on Lucas’ face right now.

“I’ll explain later, just meet me, Y/N, and Steve at the old junkyard.” As Dustin wraps up the conversation, Steve shoves his bat into the bag and you watch him with disappointment. He’s trying really hard to make it fit, and you almost pity the boy. Bless him.

There’s a pause before Lucas asks, “Steve?”

Dustin doesn’t elaborate, instead instructing his friend to bring his binoculars and wrist rocket. You suppose it’s a good idea to add more weapons to your arsenal. Better safe than sorry.

“Steve Harrington?” Lucas asks again, this time even more confused.

“He’s a friend,” you say, shoving your own weapons into the bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

Steve closes the trunk and says, “Damn straight I am. Alright, let’s go.”

You follow after him, saying goodbye to Lucas as Dustin tells him to be at the junkyard stat.

Dustin stashes his walkie in his own bag and then the three of you are off. Your brother and Steve walk a bit ahead of you as you all throw the meat chunks onto the ground, doing as Dustin instructed. It’s slow work, but you’re happy to have some time to yourself while the boys are distracted with each other. Their friendship wasn’t something you’d expect, but you’re incredibly happy about it.

You love the party, you’d do anything for them given all that you’ve been through together. However, as they grow older, you can’t help but notice how much they’re changing. Mike hasn’t been himself since El disappeared, Dustin is now hyper focused on science, Lucas is becoming his own person, and poor Will is just trying to recover from the trauma of last year.

It’s been hard watching them grow apart, in a way. Nothing will ever be the same after the Upside Down, you know that, but watching the party slowly drift makes you sad for your brother. You’re glad he’s seemingly found someone like Steve to bounce jokes off of and feel appreciated by. You know that someday the kids will all come together again, it’d be impossible not to with how strong of a connection they all have, so you try not to worry too much.

You shove the thoughts down, you need to keep focused on Dart and contacting the rest of the party. So, you dutifully place the bait down and follow behind the boys and feel the time pass by. After about an hour of nonsensical conversation between Steve and Dustin, you hear the older boy finally ask the question of why your brother even hid Dart in the first place.

“It’s complicated, okay?” Dustin defects, clearly uncomfortable with the change in conversation.

You keep your distance from them, but you keep an ear out just in case you need to intervene.

“You claim you wanted to get famous off of it or whatever,” Steve drops meat onto the tracks and kicks his foot. “Call me crazy, but you don’t hide something that supposedly makes you famous.”

He has a point, and Dustin scrunches his face up. He casts a glance your way and you do your best to appear distracted by the job at hand. You know Dustin’s guilty face well, so whatever he’s about to tell Steve will be good. When Dustin shuffles closer to Steve and lowers his voice, you get closer as well so you can listen.

You’re his older sister. It’s your damn job to be nosy.

“It was for this girl.”

Simultaneously you and Steve react. He hums in approval, almost proud, while you scoff. “I knew it.”

Dustin turns around, horrified. “You knew?”

“Duh, you’re awful at hiding things from me. After Max was just conveniently outside the AV room when Dart originally escaped, I pieced it together immediately. Also, side note: you’re too young to be impressing girls. I told you to just be yourself, dummy.”

Steve lets out a snort. “Pretty ironic coming from you, Y/N.”

Suddenly you feel uncomfortable with his attention on you.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is steady, but you can feel your hands shaking as you continue throwing the bait.

“Ya know, your massive crush on Jonathan ever since you were twelve.” He laughs, as if it’s the funniest joke in the world.

Dustin clears his throat aggressively, pointing to your hands. Steve sees the way that they shake, the tension you now carry in your shoulders, and he’s become familiar enough with you to know your anger cues. The teasing smile that had been on his face drops. He runs towards you so he’s now by your side, and Dustin sighs in disappointment.

“I didn’t, like, mean anything by that, you know. I–uh, I was kidding, Y/N.” Steve tries to catch your gaze, but you pointedly stare straight ahead and clench your jaw. He’s stumbling over both his words and the tracks beneath his feet, trying desperately to appease you. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.”

“Y/N, please, I said I was sorry–”

You finally face him, grabbing his elbow to ensure he doesn’t move. “I told you that stuff about Jonathan in confidence. You don’t get to throw it back in my face, joking or not.”

It doesn’t help that you’re already confused enough as it is about the boy and your feelings towards him. To have Steve tease you about it, especially because he knows how painful jabs about Nancy are… It really fucking hurts.

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows.

“Shit…”

“You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.”

Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.”

They walk in silence for a little while, Steve hanging his head in shame and Dustin leading the way, frustrated by being stuck with two overly emotional teens.

After a while the silence eats at Steve, so he decides to continue the conversation from earlier. “So, this girl… is she someone you’ve known a while?”

Dustin shakes his head, “No, she’s new at our school. She’s super cool, though.”

“I remember back when I based my attraction to girls on their coolness.” Steve mumbles.

“And look where basing it off their hotness has gotten you.”

“Ouch,” Steve rubs at his chest, wounded.

Dustin laughs and flings some bait at him. “I thought that if I showed her Dart, she’d think I was cool, too, and like me.”

Steve sidesteps the thrown bait and tries to comprehend what the younger boy is saying. “So, you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl who… you just met?”

“Alright, that’s grossly oversimplifying things. And anyways, who are you to give me girl advice? My sister is literally three hundred feet ahead of us because you pissed her off with one singular sentence.” Then, almost as if as an afterthought, Dustin adds, “congrats, by the way. I’ve never seen someone piss her off so quickly.”

“Look, this isn’t about me, okay? Sure, I messed up with Y/N, but it isn’t like I was hitting on her to begin with,” Dustin makes a disgusted face as Steve quickly continues, panicked. “So she doesn’t count. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard, man.”

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?” Dustin grumbles.

Steve shakes his head, slightly amused by the boy’s antics. He’s so much like you, and yet so different, and Steve is realizing it’ll take a lot to keep up with the kid. “It’s not about the hair, dude. Chicks dig more than just a good hairstyle.”

“You’re literally known as Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

“Hey, ‘King Steve’ is also there.”

Dustin flings even more bait at Steve, now annoyed with him. “Whatever man, it’s not like you’d be any help anyways.”

“Oh really? Well, Little Henderson, I’m about to blow your mind: the key to girls is just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Steve now brightens up, happy to finally be getting through to the boy. For Steve, he’s long since learned that the best way to avoid getting hurt is to pretend that he doesn’t care. “It drives them nuts.”

“Then what?”

“You just wait,” Steve looks ahead, watching you and feeling like a complete dick. He really hadn’t meant to hurt you, hell the two of you were finally starting to get somewhere and yet… Steve fucked it up. As always.

He can see that your shoulders are still tensed up, you’re walking faster than you need to be. He feels a heavy weight in his stomach, one that he’s never felt before; he doesn’t like it. “You wait… until you feel it.”

Dustin furrows his brows. “Feel what?”

Steve tears his gaze away from you and turns back to Dustin, beginning to explain the electricity between someone you’re interested in. Being the geek that he is, Dustin turns it into a scientific discussion and Steve does his best to steer the conversation back.

“No, like sexual electricity.” He explains.

As soon as the words leave Steve’s lips, you whip around and shout, “Are you seriously talking to my little brother about sexual electricity?”

Both Dustin and Steve freeze in place, dumbfounded. You let out a loud groan and continue stomping away, now even more aggressively throwing the chunks at the train tracks.

“How did she even hear me?” Steve whispers, terrified.

“I don’t know,” Your brother whispers back, also equally frightened. “Sometimes I think she has powers like El.”

Once you’re a safe enough distance away from them, Dustin hesitantly brings the girl conversation back up. “Hypothetically, what do girls like?”

Steve takes a second to answer, carefully rolling the question around in his mind. “It depends on the girl. Some girls want you to be aggressive, ya know? Go in for the kiss, make them feel protected. Strong, hot and heavy. Like a lion.”

Dustin hums to indicate he’s following along, but ‘like a lion’ has him a little worried about the reliability of the conversation. He knows that Steve is a lady’s man, but he’s also never seen him with any girl besides Nancy, and the one time he saw him with you, he had immediately pissed you off.

So for all Dustin knows, it could be lies.

Steve continues his confusing explanation. “But others? You gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy… like a ninja!”

“Okay, what type is Nancy?” Dustin asks, hoping to get the teen to stop making stupid analogies. Lions, ninjas… maybe it was all lies.

The question catches Steve off guard and he stumbles a bit, feeling the familiar sense of protectiveness, insecurity, over the girl as well as a new sense of loss. What type is Nancy? If he had been asked this a week ago, Steve would’ve told Dustin that she’s a nice girl, a girl he could happily bring home to his parents and proudly wrap around his arms. Now? He’s not so sure.

Not when he can still see the anger and disgust in Nancy’s eyes that night at the party.

“Nancy’s different,” he recalls his conversation with you from last night, how he’d confessed to always feeling two steps behind the girl and how exhausting it all is. “She’s just different. Let’s move on to the next question.”

Dustin notices Steve’s change in demeanor but doesn’t say anything. He supposes that you and him have a lot in common, then. “Okay, what type would you say Y/N is?”

Once again Steve isn’t expecting the question Dustin asks. “What–” he trips over a twig and just barely manages to catch himself. “Why would you ask me that? She’s your sister, and I don’t even like her–”

“Relax, Romeo. She’s just similar to Nancy and the girl I like, and I figured you’d know Y/N well enough by now considering you guys slept together–”

“I slept on her bean bag–”

“And have been friends for like, a year. Plus, she’s in love with Jonathan, you’re in love with Nancy, and coincidentally they’re in love with each other. Figures that there’s some type intermingling between the four of you.”

How the hell does everyone know about Nancy and Jonathan? Steve thinks bitterly.

He’s silent for multiple seconds, absolutely at a loss for what to say. He doesn’t know where to begin or what to even deny. Technically the boy is right, as much as it hurts Steve to admit. He’s all but lost Nancy to Jonathan, and you’ve lost Jonathan to Nancy.

In an extremely messed up way, you and Nancy do have the same type. On top of that, both you and Nancy are close to Jonathan, so it’s safe to assume there’s similarities to the both of you that Steve doesn’t even want to touch on right now.

Even more importantly, Steve has yet to really decipher why your presence alone can make or break his entire day. Why, after months of not talking, it now feels like he’s finally come home again with you back in his life.

He looks at you again, still angrily throwing your bait, and he supposes that you’re a lot like Nancy in certain aspects, and yet completely different from her. “Y/N is also different, I guess. She’s incredibly intelligent both emotionally and academically. Isn’t she like the top of her class?”

Dustin nods, proud of the Henderson intelligence, and Steve continues.

“Right. I’d say she’s like Nancy, except she’s softer?” Steve cringes at his own words, suddenly uncomfortable with comparing the two of you. In his mind, you’re both your own separate entities that infatuate him in different ways.

You both burn Steve; Nancy is like a shot of whiskey, the thrill that follows the burn. But you? You’re a fireplace after hours of being out in the cold, the burn of it warming his bones.

“Y/N is just… she’s special, but everyone knows that. Your sister is the most caring person I’ve ever met, and I know I’m a lucky son of a bitch to be someone she trusts.”

Dustin snorts. “Yeah you are.”

Up ahead, you finally slow down and face the boys, now waiting for them to catch up and call out, “C’mon, ladies! The sun sets soon, I don’t want Lucas waiting in the cold all alone.”

“Looks like I’ve been forgiven.” Steve says, relief evident in his voice, something that your brother doesn’t miss.

Dustin lets out another loud snort, patting him on the chest, “Oh, my sister may be forgiving, but she never forgets.” With that, he walks away to catch up with you.

“Well, isn’t that ominous.”

You greet the boys with a tired smile, knowing there’s no use holding resentment towards Steve. He couldn’t have known about your mixed feelings towards Jonathan, you know he had only been trying to get along with Dustin.

Things are still weird between you two, despite the conversation from last night, but it’s hard to stay mad at Steve and honestly, you don’t really want to be mad at him. It’s been so lovely having him around again, and your own confusing feelings can wait.

Steve leans in close to you, gently grabbing at your hand so that you don’t walk away. “Hey, we okay?”

His eyes are full of concern and his voice is sickly sweet like honey. With the honey, the remaining bits of anger vanishes. “Of course we’re okay.”

Steve exhales deeply and you giggle at him before remembering that Dustin is quite literally a few feet away from you two. Coughing, you hold up your bucket to point out how it’s almost empty. “I guess in my rage, I flung more than I intended. How are your buckets holding up?”

The two boys hold their buckets up, giving you a mock solute to indicate that all is good. You laugh, impressed by how synched they’ve become in such a short time.

“Alright, then. Let’s get going.” As you all begin to walk in line again, you ask, “What were you guys even talking about, anyways?”

The boys glance at each other in a conspiring way, which causes you to roll your eyes. They’re acting like you asked for their deepest and darkest secrets. They seem to have a silent conversation for a couple seconds before Steve finally speaks up.

“I was just giving Little Henderson some girl advice. Nothing serious.”

You raise your eyebrows, your heart swelling a bit at the idea of Steve giving your brother advice. It’s sweet, really. “Girl advice, huh?”

“Yeah, why do you sound so skeptical?”

“Because you’re terrible with girls.”

Dustin now butts in, “He told me to be aggressive.”

“I did not!”

“He also said that you’re softer than Nancy.”

You make a face. “Thank you? I think?”

Steve tugs at his hair in frustration. “You two are the worst people I’ve ever met. You know that, right?”

In unison, you and Dustin reply, “We get that a lot.”

Steve stares at the two of you with slight horror in his eyes. “Yeah, alright. I’m out.”

You grab at his sleeve, gently stopping him from storming away. You give him an apologetic look and pull him close so that your chest bumps against his. “You’ve gotta get used to the Henderson humor, Steve.”

He looks surprised by your tugging at his sleeve before he lets a smile cross his face. He doesn’t do anything else, but he also doesn’t back away, either, and you find yourself blushing a bit under his gaze.

You clear your throat and let go of his sleeve, stepping back a bit. “Anyways, why don’t you tell me what wise advice you have for my brother.”

The smile that was just on Steve’s face vanishes as he looks away from you. “I was just telling the kid to not fall in love with his little crush. He’s too young for heartbreak and all that other shit.”

“I’m not in love with her!” Dustin exclaims in disgust, but you’re too distracted by Steve’s words to assure your brother that you believe him.

“Well, I believe that love is something beautiful.” You say, your words only meeting Steve’s turned back. He doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know his indifference holds no malice. He’s still hurting, still in love with Nancy Wheeler. “Dustin, you may be too young to be in love, but don’t listen to Steve. To love and be loved is the luckiest thing we can ever do, regardless of how it ends.”

Dustin blanches at your words, grossed out now. “Okay, okay, stop! Love is gross. I get it.”

You softly mumble sorry to him, now suddenly remembering that he’s only thirteen. When you were his age, the idea of love also grossed you out. Now, love is a concept that you’ve found a comforting warmth in, even if it's burned you a few times and has left you more exhausted than exhilarated. One day he’ll understand (in the far off future, hopefully).

For now, you flick your brother’s hat and follow after Steve, finishing the rest of the bait journey in silence.

–

By the time the three of you get to the junkyard, it’s already about midday.

It’s different from how you imagined it, filled with old cars and a giant school bus. It’s more open, too, not as “junkyard” as you assumed.

You, Steve, and Dustin stand at the top of the hill, surveying the area. Your feet ache from the walk and the sun is hurting your eyes. Seeing you squinting, Steve wordlessly hands you his signature Raybans and motions for you to put them on.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, this will do. It’ll do just fine,” He says, satisfied as he begins to walk down the hill. Then, as an afterthought, he says to Dustin, “Good call, dude.”

Dustin beams with pride and you fill with so much happiness, seeing the boy getting along so well with Steve, that you almost regret not having them meet sooner. However, there’s no time to wallow in what-if’s and you put Steve’s sunglasses on to follow after the boys.

Immediately you and Steve get to work, working seamlessly together side by side, months of him joining you in Bookstrordinary finally being put to use. While you and Steve silently scatter more meat and grab supplies, Dustin surveys the area.

Just as you’ve dumped the remaining meat in the middle of the field, you hear Lucas’ voice call from a few yards away, “I said medium well!”

The boy is with Max, who looks slightly displeased, yet curious, to be here. Despite her still obvious hesitation, you still feel excited seeing the girl. You’ve been meaning to talk more to her, she seems like such a lovely girl.

“Who’s that?” Steve asks you.

“Max! She’s great, and–” You start gushing about the girl, eager to go and say hi, before you see the crestfallen look on Dustin’s face when he realizes why she’s with Lucas. You remember, then, the weird tug-of-war between the boys over her. Shit.

You grab at Steve’s hand and pull him aside. “Actually, Steve, why don’t we start finding some panels to cover the bus?”

Steve gives you a questioning look, but when you silently motion towards Dustin and he sees his despair as well, he catches on and just nods, following along. Without having to tell him, he understands that you want to leave Dustin alone so he can talk to Lucas.

As always, you’re forever thankful that he can read you so well.

After guiding Steve away, you and him begin to prep the junkyard alongside Max. While the boys are talking, you take this as an opportunity to get to know the girl better.

“So,” you begin, helping Max carry a large piece of wood over to the bus. “I see you’re back again.”

“Looks like it,” she shrugs, not really feeling like talking. Seems like she’s still mad at you for yesterday, taking Lucas’ side over hers.

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“That’s a first.” Again she deflects, but you know she’s doing it out of hurt rather than maliciousness.

“I know you don’t really like me right now, which I totally understand, I just wanted to let you know that while I don’t like that you’ve been dragged into this mess, I’m happy you’re here.”

Max frowns at you. “You guys act like I’m going to like, die or something.”

A scrap of metal that you’d been carrying slips from your hands. Steve hears this and comes rushing over to help, but you gently wave him away and focus on Max. “I don’t know what Lucas told you, but it’s all true. It’s dangerous, being here, and I just… If you ever get hurt, any of you kids, then it’d be on me and I’d never forgive myself.”

“Way to be a buzzkill, Y/N.” Steve nudges you, trying to get you to smile before your ever-present guilt bears down upon you.

Max bites her lip, still disbelieving, but she recognizes the pained look of protectiveness on your face. It’s not something that someone can easily fake, and from what she’s heard about you, your kindness is one of the few genuine things in Hawkins.

Before she can say anything else, Steve lets out a huff and grabs a chair to bang on the car that Lucas and Dustin are talking behind. “Hey! Dickheads! How come it’s only Y/N and some random girl helping me?”

“Language!” You chastise.

Steve sends you a thumbs up, not really listening. “We lose light in forty minutes. Let’s go!”

Dustin and Lucas reluctantly start helping, both calling Steve an asshole and throwing him dirty looks, which you can’t help but laugh at.

Lucas sees you laughing and points at you. “Are you the reason Harrington is here?”

“Mhm,” you respond, nailing another piece of wood to the bus. “He’s done more to help than you have, so either pick up some metal and help or go sit in a corner and sulk. Up to you.”

Steve high fives you. “Yeah! What she said!”

Lucas’ shoulders sag, completely at a loss as to how any of this has happened. “This is so weird.”

“Dude, I’ve spent all day with them. Imagine how I feel,” Dustin groans. “I think I died a little when I found out they’ve been friends for like, a year.”

“A year?” Lucas gasps.

“Guys!” You throw pebbles at the two boys to break up their little gossip session. “One, I’m incredibly hurt you two didn’t think I had any friends besides Jonathan. Two, start helping before I throw more rocks.”

“Yes ma’am,” both boys grumble in unison, which Max finds pretty impressive.

After that, the five of you get to work. You guys use every item available in the junkyard to secure the bus, hoping that with enough stacked against it, you’ll be safe from Dart once he’s lured. Barrels are rolled, more sheets of metal are placed against the bus, and within the next hour or so you’ve successfully managed to build a decent base.

All that’s left is to pour the gasoline trail, which you help Steve with as the kids watch from inside the bus.

“I’m getting major deja-vu right now,” you mumble as Steve pours.

“Gasoline at Jonathan’s?”

“Mhm. God, he wouldn’t believe what we’re doing right now.” You know he would’ve loved this bizarre interaction. You, Steve, and the kids all in a junkyard trying to lure a baby Demogorgon.

You’ve definitely had better babysitting days, and Jonathan would have a field day with this one.

Once you’re done with the gasoline, you and Steve return to the bus. He waits behind you, making sure you’re securely in the car, before he heaves the old bus door closed. As soon as the door is closed, you and Steve exhale together.

You share a look, both in silent agreement to keep the kids safe no matter what. It’s your guys’ job to keep them safe, to fight for and protect them.

Deja-vu again. You’re back in Jonathan’s house, holding a switchblade while Steve wields his bat.

“Ready?” He asks you, extending his hand out for you to grab.

You interlock your fingers through his. “When am I ever?”

Steve laughs, dispelling away any remaining uncertainty and fear. You know, that no matter what, that he’ll be by your side to help. With this in mind, you join the kids further into the bus.

Lucas climbs the ladder up to the top, something you’re not fully okay with, but he’s the one with the binoculars and you the switchblade, so it makes the most sense. As the boy climbs, you sit down next to Steve as he flicks his lighter on and off. You’re pressed shoulder to shoulder, his presence grounding you.

Dustin paces, and all you can do is watch him as you try to settle your own nerves. Max has seated herself at the other end of the bus, her arms crossed as usual.

After a few moments of silence, she finally speaks. “So, you really fought one of these things before?”

Steve nods and you hum in agreement. “Unfortunately.”

“And you’re, like, totally, 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“I mean, to be fair I also had that same thought last year–”

Dustin cuts you off. “Shit, don’t be an idiot, okay? It wasn’t a bear.”

You roughly grab at your brother, yanking him towards you to shut him up. “Dustin–”

“Why are you even here if you don’t believe us?” He sneers at Max, something you’ve never, ever seen your sweet brother do. “Just go home.”

Max clenches her jaw and you send her an apologetic look, but she rolls her eyes at you. “Geesh, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?”

“Max, wait–” She ignores you and climbs up the ladder to join Lucas. You groan once she’s gone, now more than ever wanting to strangle your brother. “Dustin, what the hell was that?”

“That was good, Y/N!” Steve says, a proud smirk on his face. “He showed her he didn’t care, just like I told him to.”

“Oh, so it’s your fault my sweet, innocent baby brother is now some woman hating misogynistic piece of–”

“I don’t hate women, Y/N.” Dustin tiredly says, before directing his next words to Steve. “And I don’t care.”

Steve winks at the boy, but immediately flinches back when you raise your hand to smack him. “Yeah, cower away, you idiotic and moronic–”

“Y/N, stop overreacting and Steve, stop winking at me.”

You raise your eyebrows at Dustin’s tone and he quickly clears his throat and steps away from you. Steve puts some distance between you two as well, scooting away a bit so that he’s out of hitting range.

It’s quiet again, both boys now scared of your anger, and you anxiously wait for Dart to show up.

Steve goes back to flicking the lighter, Dustin paces again, and you tap your foot nervously. The silence is killing you, it’s always been your least favorite part of the Upside Down. The waiting, hoping you’re prepared for when all hell inevitably breaks loose.

You flick your own blades out, admiring the way the blades catch in the moonlight, when you hear a loud growl come from outside. Instinctively you raise your blades to your face while Steve and Dusin scramble to peek through the metal sheets to look out the window.

“You guys see him?” Dustin asks as he crouches next to you.

You shake your head. “No,”

There’s nothing outside, only a thick haze of fog that has settled over the junkyard.

“Lucas, what’s going on?” Your brother calls up to his friend.

“Hold on!” The boy responds.

Your heart begins to beat faster, your blades never straying away from your face, poised for a fight. Steve sees the way your knuckles whiten over your weapon and he grabs your spare hand, gently coaxing you to calm down.

Your fingers tighten around Steve’s and you remember his words from last night, promising you that he’ll be there, and you believe him.

From the bus’ roof, you hear Lucas call down, “I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock–ten o’clock!”

There, in the haze of fog, you see a hunched figure stalk its way towards the bus. Seeing Dart, you’re filled with complete dread. He’s grown again, much bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

He’s practically the size of the Demogorgon from last year, the same one that almost killed you and Steve.

“What’s he doing?” Dustin asks, as if anyone else would have any more information than he does.

“I don’t know,” Steve sighs, his eyes never leaving Dart.

You squeeze his hand again and hold your breath as you watch the Demodog. He slowly approaches the bait, inspects the area, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in it. You send a silent prayer to whatever god is above that your plan will work.

It has to work.

However, Dart starts to back away from the bait and Steve leans even closer to the window. “He’s not taking the bait. Why isn’t he taking the bait?”

“I don’t know,” you want to cry from exhaustion and fear and defeat.

Dustin looks over at you. “Maybe he’s not hungry?”

Something seems to click, then, for Steve. His eyes light up with an idea, and before he can even get his words out, you grasp at Steve’s arm and try to talk him out of it. “No, absolutely not. You’re not going out there.”

“Maybe he’s sick of cow.” Steve tries to make you let go of him, but you quickly tighten your hold on him and fight back. “Y/N, let me go, I can run fast and–”

“You can’t just use yourself as bait!” You plead, but Steve has always been stronger than you and he drags you behind him as he makes his way towards the bus door. “Steve, listen to me!”

“Steve? Steve!” Dustin finally catches on to what’s happening and he grabs at the teen as well. “What are you doing?”

Steve ignores you both and with a quick jerk of his arm, he frees himself from you. As soon as you’ve let go, he runs towards the door and snatches his bat from the ground. You curse, knowing there’s no way in hell he’s going out there alone, so you follow after him.

Dustin sees this and panics. “Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re going–”

“Stay put!” You command, scrambling after Steve, who has now begun to open the door. He tosses you the lighter, which you toss to your brother. “Just get ready, Dustin!”

“Y/N!”

“I love you!”

Dustin continues to shout, his pleas laced with more fear than you’ve ever heard from him, but you force yourself to leave. Just as you’ve stepped outside and re-closed the bus door, Dustin pounds against the glass that you’ve locked, tears in his eyes.

You look away, despite how fucking hard it is, and it takes everythin within you to leave.

Steve saved your life last year.

Now it’s your turn.

It’s tense outside as you and Steve walk back to back, weapons out. He twirls his bat a few times, a move that you find yourself smiling at due to its familiarity. With your back against his, you whisper to Steve, “You look for Dart, I keep an eye for anything else?”

He nods, and together the two of you slowly follow the sound of Dart’s chittering.

“C’mon buddy,” Steve taunts, beginning to whistle.

“I know we named it a Demodog, but I don’t think whistling will help.”

“We could be about to die, and you’re seriously questioning what I’m doing?”

You shrug, eyes now on the skyline as the fog slowly thickens. “Habit.”

Steve chuckles, which brings some comfort to the fucking awful situation at hand. He whistles some more, continuing to taunt Dart. “C’mon. Dinner time.”

“Again with offering Dart meals while we’re near him,” you shake your head, not at all liking where any of this is going.

“What? At least human tastes better than cat.” Steve responds, now at the pile of raw meat.

You both stop here, Steve facing the bait and you facing the bus, still scanning for literally anything else that could possibly go wrong. Because you’re Y/N Henderson and nothing can ever, ever go right for you.

Dart lets out another growl, now having spotted Steve, and the teen swings his bat around. You spare a quick glance behind you and see Dart, who has placed all his focus on you and Steve.

Well, at least the live bait plan is working.

You turn away again, and as soon as you do, you see the other Demodogs now suddenly appear. Your blood runs cold when you see the two up ahead, one directly in front of you and one on top of the cars.

For a moment, your words seem to fail you and no sound comes out when you try to speak. All you can do is stare at them, overcome with fear. You’re back in Jonathan’s once more, the fear strangling you as the memories paralyze you.

From the top of the bus, Lucas yells, “Steve! Y/N! Watch out!”

“We’re a little busy here!” Steve yells back, eyes still on Dart.

The Demodog in front of you starts to approach, which finally seems to break you from your spell. Shakily, you tell Steve, “There’s more.”

“What?” He tries to turn around, but you shove at him to not lose sight of Dart. You can’t distract him now. Another Demodog has joined.

“Three o’clock! Right in front of Y/N!” Lucas screams, his voice cracking with fear.

“Y/N?” Steve fully turns around now when he realizes that you’re also in danger, and when he sees the three other Demodogs, he lets out a curse. “Shit.”

Suddenly, you and Steve are surrounded by Demodogs, more than you ever could’ve imagined. More than the two of you can even fight on your own.

Back at Jonathan’s, it had taken guns, fire, knives, and bats to kill a grown Demogorgon.

You don’t think your knives and Steve’s bat will be enough for Demodogs.

“Steve! Y/N! Abort!” Dustin has flung the bus door open, screeching for the two of you to get out of there.

It’s too late. Dart has opened his mouth and is running towards you two, his friends joining as well.

“I go left, you go right!” Steve has just enough time to direct you before Dart lunges.

You dodge, going right as instructed while Steve flings himself on top of a car to avoid the monsters. As Steve hits Dart with his bat, crouched against the car, you narrowly avoid the other Demodog and drop to the ground as it jumps over your head. “Shit!”

Steve swings his bat again and tries to make his way over to you, but you’re off the ground in a heartbeat and run to him instead. Two of the Demodogs are on him now, and there’s only so much damage his bat can do. Breathless, you run over and stab at their backs, doing everything you can to give Steve an opening to run.

Faintly, you hear the kids in the background cheering you guys on, urging you two to come home.

One of the Demodogs lets out a harsh screech as your blade pierces its skin. It crumbles to the ground, giving Steve just enough of an opening to begin running towards the bus. When he goes to run, you notice one of the Demodogs eying him, and before you can even process what’s happening, you’re throwing yourself in front of him and you feel nails tear at your ribs.

You scream, clutching at your side in agony, feeling blood quickly beginning to spill from your wound. “Fuck!”

“Y/N!” Steve starts to run toward you, pale with fear.

“No!” You shove him back towards the bus; you can’t let him get hurt because of you. “Go, I’ll be fine!”

He tries to argue, but you take a deep breath and grip his jacket tightly, practically flinging him inside the bus just before Dart lunges again. Together, the two of you stumble up the steps and barricade the door.

As soon as it’s closed, Dart begins slamming against it with his entire body.

Steve uses his legs to hold the door closed while you lay sprawled on the ground, trying to steady your breathing as more blood spills from you. The room is spinning and you’re pretty sure you can taste blood in your mouth.

Awesome. Cool.

The kids are screaming and Dart’s body causes the entire bus to rock as his friends now join, throwing their own bodies against the bus as well.

“Are they rabid or something?” Max screams, but everyone ignores her.

Steve, quick as ever, finds a spare piece of metal and wedges it against the door and uses his legs again to hold it in place. He looks over at you on the ground and feels his heart jump to his throat. You’re pale, a sheen of sweat now dotted across your forehead, and there’s now a concerningly large pool of blood where you lay. “Dustin, go help your sister!”

Dustin looks up and finally notices your injury and almost faints at the sight. In a daze, he runs over to you and kneels down, terrified of how much blood there is. “Oh my god.”

“I’m fine,” you wince, trying to clench your teeth and bear through the pain. “Honestly, this is like a paper cut.”

“Y/N–” The sound of glass shattering cuts Dustin off as a Demodog breaks through the window. Everyone screams, and your brother grabs your arms and drags you further towards the back of the bus to avoid any glass getting on you.

Wearily, you watch as Steve does whatever he can with his bat, and a part of you wants to laugh. He looks like he’s playing the hardest game of wack-a-mole ever.

Meanwhile, Lucas and Max have joined you and Dustin. When they see you, Lucas lets out a choked scream while Max covers her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Lucas kneels over you as well, and you find his sincerity endearing. He’s always been the sweetest in the group, the most comforting.

“Never been better,” you wheeze out.

Dustin instructs Lucas to stay with you while he tries to radio for help. “Is anyone there? Mike? Will? God? Anyone!”

“God would be pretty nice to have.” You remark, pain making you even more delirious than usual.

Max looks at Lucas. “She’s losing it.”

“I think I’m doing great, all things considered.”

Dustin continues to scream into his walkie for help while Lucas tries to stop your bleeding. Max is running around, looking for anything to help, and Steve is still stuck at the front of the bus playing wack-a-mole with Demodogs.

The situation is so fucking grim, and you’ve never wanted to laugh more.

Then, to make matters even worse, the ceiling of the bus starts to creak. You see the faint outlines of what suspiciously looks like Demodog footprints on the roof. In slow, agonizing footsteps, Dart makes his way over to the emergency exit on top.

He leers over, and Max, who is at the bottom of the ladder, screams.

Steve shoves the kids back and you try to get up, but Lucas pushes you down and shakes his head at you.

“You want some? Come get this!” Steve places himself between Dart and you and the kids, screaming at the thing and waving his bat around, and you’ve never been more attracted to him.

Dart lets out a blood curdling screech, his mouth full of rows of razor sharp teeth that killed your cat just the other day, and you cling onto Lucas’ hand. Another screech, and just before Dart strikes at Steve, it jumps off the bus and runs away.

Everyone freezes, unsure what to do, as more distant growls and howls can be heard from outside. Steve and the rest stand up, and you notice Lucas holding Max’s hand, and at least something good came out of this hellhole of a day.

“Any help here?” You finally ask after a minute or so, still lying helplessly on the ground as you bleed.

“Shit!” Steve drops his bat. “Where did it get you, where’s the bleeding? Dustin, did we pack any bandages, or–or an EMT stretcher or–”

“Steve,” you grab his hand, urging him to calm down. “It scratched the fuck out of my ribcage, but I’m not dying. I promise.”

“You’re not?” Dustin asks, tears in his eyes.

“I’m not. I just…” you shift, wincing at the pain. “I just really need a bandage and I’ll be good as new.”

Steve swallows, a frenzied look in his eyes, and nods. Without thinking, he tears a piece of your bloodied cardigan off and gently lifts your body up so that he can wrap the shred of cloth around you. He weaves it tight, his movements slow and delicate, his eyes never leave yours.

You can feel his hands shaking as he tends to your wound and ties the cloth with a knot. When he’s done, even though you’re aware of the kids’ eyes on you two, you bring his hands to your lips and kiss them. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” He whispers, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Dustin coughs, which seems to make Steve remember where he is, and he clears his throat. “Right, well. Try not to lose any more blood, yeah?”

“I’ll try,”

Steve nods and stands back up, knowing Dustin and Lucas will want a moment with you, and makes his way back outside. He knows that they’re all still in danger, even if for some reason the Demdogs seem to have left.

Once Steve is gone, Dustin and Lucas help you stand, and as soon as you’re up, both boys try their best to give you a hug without hurting you.

“Don’t do that ever again,” Dustin sniffs, squeezing your uninjured side tightly.

“What he said,” Lucas sniffs as well, though he tries to hide his tears from you.

You laugh, your own tears evident as you hold the boys tight. “I promise.”

“You saved Steve,” Max notes, though her tone is neutral, you can see she’s impressed.

“I had to even out a debt.”

“Guys,” Steve calls from outside. “The coast is clear.”

Slowly, you and the kids make your way out of the bus. It takes some help from both Dustin and Lucas, but eventually you’re able to walk on your own, holding your side, and walk down the steps.

“You okay?” Steve is by your side as soon as you’ve stepped down, holding you so that he’s not touching your cut. You’re thankful for his support, the pain still making you feel woozy.

“We’ll talk later,” you motion towards the kids, not wanting to worry them any further.

He nods, although he hates that you feel like you can’t focus on your own safety.

“What happened?” Lucas asks the group.

“I don’t know.” Max looks around, and you think she’s finally starting to understand what she’s gotten herself into.

Dustin points to you and Steve. “Maybe they scared ‘em off?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head. It couldn’t have been that easy. “No way.”

“They’re going somewhere.” You finish for him, confirming your worst fears. Suddenly, more pain shoots through you and you wince again, squeezing your eyes shut.

Steve bends his head down, guiding you a bit away from the kids so that they won’t hear. “Hey, we don’t have to follow them. We can go home, you know.”

“We can’t.” You clench your jaw as pain rings throughout your body. The goddamn Demodog got you good. “We have to follow. It’s all connected, Will and his episodes, Nancy and Jonathan with the detective, and I’ll be damned if I back down now.”

“So we follow?” Steve asks, trusting whatever call you make.

You nod, knowing you have to do this. While you guys are safe for now, you know that everyone else has to be in danger; you have to protect them. “Unfortunately.”

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

wibta if i straight up told my s/o they can’t bring their dog when they move in with me?

i (early 20s ftm) and my partner (late 20s nb) are moving in together next year. we’ve been planning this for a couple of years now, but it’s been taking a while to plan out because we live on different continents and we needed to sort out visas, travel, work situation, and getting an apartment for us for when they arrive.

importantly to this story, my s/o has a dog. this dog is large and VERY loud - barking 24/7 at everything, crashing into furniture, loud whining, pushing people over, and growling at people who get too close to s/o.; this has included me whenever i visit.

the apartment we got has a one pet policy and all of our neighbours are elderly people as the building used to be assisted living (basically housing for the elderly where they have direct lines to nurses and disability accommodations). it’s a pretty small block, it’ll just be us, one guy across the hall, one woman directly below us, and one across the hall from her.

because of this, as soon as we got the apartment we realised we wouldn’t be able to feasibly take s/o’s dog. she’s too big for the apartment, she’s loud enough that all of the neighbours will be hearing her at all hours, and there is nowhere nearby she’ll get enough exercise for her size. on top of that, she’d have to be in quarantine for 6 months once she’s here as is my country’s policy for pets travelling which doesn’t seem fair to her, and this is AFTER a 15 hour long plane ride where she’ll be alone.

i will admit that i have kind of selfish reasons for this as well. i’m autistic and i have both anxiety and c-ptsd on top of that, and all of those things are set off by loud noise, especially loud noise that is constant or repeated. even when i’m on the phone with them, their dog is always barking and hurting my ears and sending me into sensory overload, as is how loud they have to speak over her and when they shout at her to quiet down etc. when i visit i have to make excuses to leave or go somewhere else for a breather because within minutes i’m so drained and overwhelmed and upset just because of the dog’s insanely loud barking. i was also attacked by a large dog when i was very little and ever since then i’ve been wary around Big dogs, so although i want to work on it and i’ve been trying to (i love dogs), having one so big and jumpy be aggressive and growling at me makes me incredibly on edge.

s/o was sad because they really love their dog but ultimately agreed, on the condition we can get a cat instead as they’ve always wanted one but were never allowed. i agreed to that, i’m much more of a dog person and i’m a little sad we won’t be able to get one but a cat seems a fair compromise for them having to leave their dog and i don’t mind cats either, it will be easier to care for and hopefully just as cuddly!

so i thought that was all agreed on and done with

months later i mention looking into cats and they go “but wait! that means i cant bring my dog!” like this was the first time it had occurred to them. i was kind of caught off guard and was just like “…yeah, but we can get you your cat instead!” and the conversation kind of died out and moved on quickly

but ever since then they’ve been making little comments about bringing their dog and what we’ll do with her when we live together and it just… doesn’t seem to be sinking in that they cannot bring their dog.

i feel awful because like. i can’t emphasise enough how much they love this dog. they cuddle up together in bed, they’re always calling for her, always talking about her, always taking pictures of her. when they visit me they talk about missing her.

i know when it comes down to it they’ll choose to move in with me over staying to keep her, but i worry that i’m being selfish by making them choose in the first place. i feel like i need to make it clear once and for all that the dog absolutely cannot come with them and make sure it sticks, but i honestly don’t know how to do it in a way that will make them realise while not hurting their feelings because we’ve already gone over the reasons and they initially agreed.

AITA for making my s/o give up their beloved dog?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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jupitercomet · 7 months

Text

Hidden in the Shadows

summary - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw was ruthless, a stone cold killer both in and outside of the ring—with the belts and trophies to prove it. When a miscalculation results in a target being put on the back of his trainer's daughter, Bradley finds himself facing responsibility he never signed up for. You're a whole new challenge. And Bradley doesn't think you're one he can fight his way out of.

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, language, mentions of unhealthy relationships (Natasha and Razor), drugs, mentions of needles, stalking, smoking, ptsd episode, self injury, mentions of blood, no use of y/n

this series is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 3.9k

monsters in the dark masterlist

“I need you to tell me everything you know about the shady shit Razor was getting involved in.”

Natasha’s eyes widen in surprise when Bradley sits himself down on a bar stool without so much as a greeting. It’s afternoon so the Hard Deck is fairly empty—aside from the regulars—but it’s because it’s afternoon that it’s unusual for Bradley to be here when he could be at Mav’s.

Bradley knows this and he also knows that, logically, this could have waited until later, but you’ve been living with him for a little over two weeks and still your situation has yet to make any sense. Bradley’s not impatient, but he does want you out of his apartment. Your nightmares have also increased, which Bradley can only assume are now triggered by the reality of being actively stalked. But the fact that he’s stayed up most nights silently comforting you, in a way he still doesn’t fully understand, has nothing to do with why he can’t wait any later than midday to talk to Natasha.

The woman herself though doesn’t seem too interested in whatever Bradley has to say, her mouth only twitching slightly as she turns away from him. “I’m working, Rooster.”

Bradley crosses his arms, not moving from the bar stool. He’s not stupid, he knows she’s hiding something. The two stare at each other and it must become clear to Natasha that he’s not leaving until he knows what that thing is because she sighs in defeat.

“You have to promise you won’t get mad.”

“I’m not promising shit,” Bradley grunts.

“Right,” Natasha kisses her teeth with her tongue, almost as if she expected nothing more from him. “Look I don’t know a lot, okay? And I didn’t exactly stick around to figure out, but—” She glances around the bar before dropping her voice. “A couple months ago, Isaac started talking all this shit about how he was making it big, and not in boxing. I didn’t really know what it meant, but he was acting so weird I honestly didn’t have the time to think about it.”

“Acting weird how?” Bradley narrows his eyes.

Natasha crosses her arms defensively, as if, even in name, Isaac was something to keep herself safe from. “He’d ghost me for days sometimes, come back like nothing happened. I called him out on it one night and he kept saying something about ‘special friends’. At first, I thought he was talking about other girls, to spite me or something, but… I don’t know. I don’t think he was.”

Bradley pauses, the weight of her words catching him off guard. “What do you mean?”

“He was… He was using, Rooster—I think he still is. He was fucking erratic, telling me that we don’t have to worry about anything anymore, that he made it big, bigger than any of us thought he could.”

Bradley shakes his head. “That’s impossible. Abnesti’s got him in fights, we get tested every other week.”

“I think I’m smart enough to know when Isaac’s on drugs,” Natasha snaps, before taking a deep breath. “Besides, I know he is, Rooster, because he tried to get me to pick them up for him once.”

“What?”

“I think he forgot we’d broken up or something. I don’t know what the fuck he’s putting in his system, but it’s messing him up bad.” Natasha grabs a cup suddenly, like the conversation is suddenly too much to have without something to keep her hands busy. “He was begging me, sent me an address and everything,” Natasha bites her lip, tightening her grip on her bar towel as her cleaning of the glass gets more rushed. “I ignored it, but he called me, like, seven times.”

Bradley purses his lips.

What Natasha’s telling him is impossible. Razor fights almost more than he does, and even illegal boxing rings have some sense of order—fighters can’t just pump themselves full of steroids and go buck wild. Instead, both Maverick and Abnesti agreed to have a third party come in biweekly for drug tests. If Razor was putting anything in his system, everyone would know, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to get away with it for months. So if it was a drug that somehow wasn’t getting picked up, what was it?

Bradley meets Natasha’s eye again. “Do you still have the address?”

The way you absentmindedly slam his car door as you hop into the passenger seat has Bradley cringing internally, but he bites his tongue before he can snap at you about it. You’re too excited anyway—not like you aren’t always—and Bradley doesn’t need you crying to Adler about his temper. That’s what he tells himself anyway.

Bradley isn’t entirely sure what he thinks about you. You’re overwhelming and, on paper, everything he finds annoying in a person. Logically he should have a constant migraine around you. You’re loud, and talkative, and almost always smiling, why wouldn’t he? But, for some inexplicable reason, he doesn’t.

“You can come inside, you know,” you gesture to the front door of the animal shelter and the words themselves should sound like a dig at Bradley, a reminder of how socially inept he is. But they come from your lips sweetly, like an honest invitation.

Bradley had taken to picking you up after work ever since you first started insisting on going. Given that your car had very clearly been photographed by whoever Razor was tangling himself up with, it made the most sense to him. He knows that a dark blue Bronco isn’t exactly inconspicuous, but given that you haven’t received any more pictures—and, notably no pictures of his car—Bradley thinks it’s the safest option.

And maybe there’s the reason why Bradley can’t seem to be annoyed with you the way he’s annoyed with everyone else. Because, on some level, it’s his fault you’re in genuine danger. You certainly didn’t set out to be stalked by his rival all on your own. Whether it was his intention or not, he took your safety from you. And that was something you did nothing to deserve. So maybe that’s why he’s able to overlook all your… questionable quirks.

“What movie do you want to watch tonight? It’s your turn to pick one,” you remind him after whatever topic you had been talking about before ran its course and Bradley bites back a sigh.

Regrettably, movie nights had become a nightly thing for the two of you and once you’d stopped watching Jason Bourne, the choice of what movie you watched alternated between you both. It wasn’t that Bradley even remotely enjoyed that time with you—you’d subjected him to La La Land and he might never forgive you for that—but it was a way to ensure you’d fall asleep on the couch without being weird about it.

Bradley had never brought up your nightmares to you. He wasn’t sure how to and he’s sure it’s not any of his business. All he knew was that, for whatever reason, knowing that someone was next to you as you slept helped. Bradley’s involvement in that was a secret kept between him and your subconscious and he planned to keep it that way.

“Drive.” He says the first movie that pops into his head.

You light up. “Ooh, a Ryan Gosling binge, I can get behind that— Oh! We should save the Barbie movie for last!”

Instead of saying his impulse reaction of “Absolutely fucking not”, Bradley lets out a snort of air. “Don’t think this arrangement’s gonna last that long, toots.”

“I hope not,” you agree and your smile doesn’t falter. “But we’ll still be friends. Oh! Maybe I could finally invite you over to my place and we could watch it there!”

Bradley doesn’t respond, but that doesn’t seem to deter you as you start rambling on about other Ryan Gosling movies you like.

You really are something else.

After a moment, a song comes on the radio and you must recognize it because you gasp, moving to turn it up slightly. You’re humming along contentedly, looking out the window with a smile, and Bradley physically has to rip his gaze away from you to focus on the road. His mind drifts back to his conversation with Natasha. Nothing is making sense to him right now, not you, not Razor, not a single part of it. He does know one thing though. This wasn’t some petty boxing rivalry anymore. And as he looks at you again, a warm smile on your face as you watch a dog pass on the sidewalk, he realizes that maybe it never was.

His jaw tenses slightly. Whatever it is, you had no business being in it. And Bradley would make sure of that. His phone feels heavy in his pocket, Natasha’s forwarded text weighing it down so much it feels like it’s going to rip through his joggers. Bradley swallows.

“You alright spending the night at Natasha’s tomorrow?”

You turn at the sudden sound of his voice. “Yeah, that should be fine. Are you busy?”

The light ahead turns green and Bradley uses that as an excuse not to answer you right away. Logically he knows that Adler wouldn’t want him telling you any part of this. Honestly, Bradley doesn’t want to either—you’d probably demand you go with him and then compare the two of you to Scooby-Doo or some shit and that is just a bit above Bradley pay grade. On the other hand, he feels bad leaving you in the dark. You’re clearly terrified enough as it is, you’ve probably pictured far worse in your head.

Something about that makes Bradley’s hands clench against the steering wheel. Bradley decides suddenly that you shouldn’t have to worry about anything because he’d take care of it. You can watch dumb movies and drink shitty milkshakes and he’ll take care of the rest. He owes Adler that much.

Maybe he owes you that much too.

“Bradley?” You try again softly and he suddenly realizes how long the two of you have been in silence for.

He blinks twice to clear his head. “What?”

“I was just, um,” you seem nervous, playing with your fingers. “I was just wondering where you were gonna be— Which is definitely none of my business! You don’t have to tell me or—”

“I’m taking care of something for your dad.” Technically, that’s true and Bradley thinks it’s enough of an answer to satisfy you. You seem to relax at it, at the very least, nodding along slowly. “I can pick you up tomorrow morning,” he continues.

Again, you only nod.

It’s quiet for several minutes, the two of you lost in your own thoughts. Suddenly you perk up a bit. “My movie choice still carries over to the next night, right?”

Bradley’s lips twitch up just slightly. There she is.

Bradley slows his car to a stop, fitting himself in one of the many empty parking spots on this seemingly abandoned street. He checks his phone again, just to make sure he’s got the address right. In front of him is a dingy looking dry cleaner and, though he checks twice, the peeling, white numbers stuck to the window are exactly where Razor had instructed Natasha to go in his text. Looking at the dimly lit interior, Bradley thinks that, at least, the rest of his instructions now make some sense.

The bell on the door twinkles lightly as he enters and Bradley takes a breath. It smells like mildew and soap, a dizzying combination that pulls Bradley into a sense of unease as he takes in the rest of his surroundings. The dry cleaners is entirely empty, aside from him and an older woman standing behind the counter.

Her hair is in a thick braid, strands of gray weaving in with the desaturated black. With deep blue eyes, she seems to be looking at him just as warily—no doubt due to the late hour and his daunting stature. Her lips are set in a small, crimson red frown, waxy and matte, and her hand, that was drumming red painted nails onto the desk when he walked in, has stilled. They seem to be alone, but Bradley doesn’t let that fact comfort him. His posture remains rigid and alert.

“How can I help you, sir?”

Bradley clears his throat, hesitating for just a blink before he continues. “I’m picking up dry cleaning for Steve.”

“Oh.” The woman seems to stutter, freezing almost microscopically, before regrouping quickly. “Steve?”

“I meant to pick it up earlier, but you know San Diego traffic,” Bradley recites, hoping he doesn’t sound too unnatural. The woman is already suspicious of him. It feels like the both of them are reading off of a script, more like two actors on a stage than two people in a dry cleaner.

An almost pained smile is forced onto the woman’s face and she nods. “Of course. Let me get that for you, sir. I’ll just be a moment.”

Unease dances in the air, like electric sparks that prickle at Bradley’s skin, but he doesn’t move. If he and the woman aren’t alone, he can’t show that that would make any difference. He belongs here. He knows what he’s doing. He knows what she’s coming back with. Bradley rolls his shoulders back, letting his belief in the mantra firm.

The woman returns just as quickly as she left, her lips a thin line and her hands almost shaking. What she sets on the counter isn’t anything close to dry cleaning, but instead a brown paper bag that’s held together with a single staple. She doesn’t quite meet his eye when she hands it to him and Bradley takes it from her grip carefully. One of the overhead lights flickers.

“Have a good night, sir.”

The bell rings again as he leaves, but Bradley doesn’t look back. He gets in his Bronco, puts the bag on the passenger seat, and pulls out of the parking spot easily. He belonged there. He knows what he’s doing. He knows what she came back with. He keeps that as a fact in his head until he’s no longer in view of the dry cleaner window.

When he’s a block or so away from the building, he pulls into a city parking lot, checking his surroundings before turning off the Bronco and ripping open the paper bag. A pack of needles falls into his open palm when he empties the bag and Bradley furrows his brows. Something heavy clinks in the bottom of the bag and Bradley sets the needles down to pull out two small glass bottles, both containing equal measurements of a clear liquid.

His thumb traces over the paper label. Most of the numbers and serial codes don’t make any sense, but what does catch his eye is the dark, bold GEPHORCE printed against the front.

Bradley can only stare at the substances in his hand, holding it up so that the light of a street lamp shines through the bottle. “What the fuck?”

“Will that be all for you today, sir?” The waitress hands him his bag of food with a polite smile.

The man with the scar nods. “That’s it, doll. Thank you.” He can’t help but eye the door, he’s been itching to smoke since he ordered.

“Alright then, have a nice night!”

The man with the scar lifts his hand up in a wave of goodbye, though he doesn’t match the waitress’s pep. He knows what his night entails—sitting in his car watching as he snacks on salty fries.

He throws the food into his passenger seat with little thought—it narrowly misses his Sony camera resting on the covered leather—and paws at the back pocket of his jeans. Leaning against the frame of his car, the man with the scar fishes for a cigarette.

“Stupid, fuckin’ brat,” he mutters, striking his lighter a few times to get a flame. With his free hand he shields the lighter from the wind, bringing the end of his cigarette to the light. “Got me watchin’ a bunch of nobodies because he got his feelings hurt. Bullshit.”

It is bullshit, the man with the scar thinks, that he’s playing hide and seek like a little kid for no reason that’s important. One more night of Knockouts and he’s going to get sick of it. And then what?

He takes a deep breath of his cigarette. “Bullshit.”

The fries he ordered are cold by the time he hides himself in the shadowy darkness blanketing the parking lot of a modest apartment complex and the juice of his burger is spotting the bag with grease—no doubt sullying the seat underneath. It’s bullshit, he thinks, but he doesn’t linger on the thought as an antimatter blue Bronco pulls into its usual parking spot.

“Hey, big, bad wolf,” the man with the scar grins, jagged pinkened skin lifting up one of his cheeks. He reaches for his Sony camera, zooming in the lens quickly to snap pictures of the tall man who exits the car. A noticeable, brown paper bag clenched in his grip. “Where’s Little Red?” The man with the scar wonders.

“Do you want trail mix? I love trail mix, but I never eat the almonds. You know, sometimes I think I should just get peanut M&Ms, but then I wouldn’t get the raisins…”

With how tired Natasha had looked when Bradley came to pick you up, he’d incorrectly assumed that maybe your social battery was low enough that going grocery shopping with you would be tolerable. It took only five minutes for Bradley to realize how wrong he was and, since then, he’s been halfheartedly listening to you ramble on about things he didn’t even know people could have an opinion about.

“—But what do you think?” You’re blinking up at him, alerting Bradley to the fact that it was time to tune back into the conversation and he shrugs.

“Trail mix is fine.”

You put a bag of it in the cart, hardly finding room between everything else you grabbed. The two of you had only come in for milk.

As if reading his mind, you giggle. “I probably got too much, huh?”

You did, you definitely did, but Bradley also kind of likes when you giggle, so maybe it was okay. And Bradley doesn’t know what it is about you, but at this point he’s accepted that you aren’t a person he’s quite capable of hating. And maybe he doesn’t want to hate you, and it’s not just because of your dad. And it’s not just because he feels guilty. So if you were anybody else, he’d roll his eyes. If you were anybody else, he wouldn’t be here at all.

Instead of saying any of that, Bradley grunts.

“Well, we shouldn’t have to go again for a while, at least.” And, again, the thought of you and him for a while should make Bradley’s skin crawl. It doesn’t.

You lead Bradley to the self checkout as he ponders. You never seem to mind the fact he isn’t talkative—most people did, even Natasha got fed up with him sometimes. But, clearly, you talked enough for the both of you. He scans each item while you bag them and you ramble on about some story that you got reminded of when you looked at one of those gossip magazines the grocery store kept by their checkout.

You’re still talking on your way to the car and Bradley’s not entirely sure he’s following because you talk quite fast. But he has plenty of trips from the cart to the Bronco’s trunk to figure it out.

“Oh, shit!”

A metal waste bin bounces off the asphalt, making a loud, sudden sound that has both you and Bradley looking for the source of the noise. It’s hardly a threat, Bradley deems quickly, eyes landing on the college aged boy scrambling after the rolling bin, and he moves back to start loading more groceries into the Bronco.

It takes two trips for him to realize that you still haven’t moved, that you’ve stopped talking completely, wide eyes staring at the spot where the waste bin dropped. “Toots? You okay?” He questions wearily.

If you’ve heard him, you don’t say so, not even acknowledging his presence as you grab one of your hands with the other. Your eyes bounce all over the parking lot, your breath increasing, and one turn of your head has your eyes catching the sunlight and Bradley can see tears wavering at your waterline.

“Hey,” he says your name, but that only seems to cause you more distress, your head shaking vigorously as your breath increases. “Hey—” He tries again, but stops himself quickly when his gaze darts down to your hands.

You’re scratching the back of your hand frantically, irritating the skin as though you’re trying to hurt yourself, but Bradley looks back at your face and you hardly seem to notice you’re doing it at all. Your nails dig in harshly, with a force that breaks skin. When Bradley notices beads of red starting to stain your nails, he snatches your hand quickly.

“Stop that. Why the hell are you doing that?”

You still can’t hear him. Or maybe you can and you just don’t care, but Bradley’s pretty sure you’re going to pass out if you don’t start breathing properly. But you aren’t breathing properly, you’re just hyperventilating, and looking around frantically, and bleeding.

“Toots—” From behind your head, Bradley can catch an older woman and her three kids wheeling their groceries to their car. And you’d managed to get directly in their line of passage. The little girl skipping around and talking to her mom animatedly pays you absolutely no mind. She also looks like she is about to bump into you—or if she doesn’t, their cart definitely will.

You aren’t listening to him and Bradley doesn’t feel like explaining a situation to strangers he isn’t even sure of himself, so without thinking, he takes your hand he’s still holding and tugs you into his chest. You collide with him just in time to miss the little girl galloping behind you and Bradley raises his hand to the side of your head to shield you from the family as they pass. The mother must take the whole thing as some public display of affection because all she does is smile at him gently and Bradley just gives her a polite nod.

As soon as they’re far enough away, Bradley makes the move to drop his hand and let go of you, but you’re catching it before he can, shaky fingers pushing his palm against your ear. Your other ear is pressed to his chest and Bradley watches as you squeeze your eyes closed, tears falling past your shut lids as you take choppy breaths.

Bradley moves his hand so it’s covering the entirety of your ear and you let your own hand drop. There’s too much noise for you, he realizes. He stays silent—it’s not like he even knows what to say—covering your ear with one of his hands and holding you to his chest as he watches around the parking lot for anything that looks remotely like a threat. If only to keep himself from focusing on how exactly he feels holding you against him, his index finger taps lightly in three tap successions on the back of your head.

Bradley doesn’t know how long the two of you stand like that, but his shoulders finally relax when he feels three weak taps on his chest in response.

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diomaster69 · 6 months

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Jotaro Kujo (Part 3) x Reader

Dating Jotaro Kujo would include:

- Boy I don’t even know how the hell you got him to fall for you. You probably didn’t bother him like his fangirls and just talked to him like a normal human being. I feel that’s all he wants

- It might take him a while to actually start liking you, he’ll slowly start falling though as he realizes you’re a pretty cool and chill person

- Chillin with him while he smokes whether you join him or not

- If you don’t like the smell of smoke (like me and my lungs fr) then he won’t smoke in front of you, though that doesn’t mean he might have the scent of cigarettes on him

- We established he’s a tsundere, he loves you a lot just doesn’t know how to show it straight up, especially in the beginning

- If you ask him out he’d accept, probably acting like he doesn’t care and pulls his hat down to hide his face and smile

- If he asks you out he’d keep it very straightforward, short, and simple. It’s just “Let’s go on a date.” And you BETTER accept, do not break this big guy’s heart :(

- The first date would also be simple, maybe a small picnic in the park or going out for food

- I feel a lot of the dates wouldn’t include a ton of talking, and if there is talking then you’d be doing a good amount of it. Jotaro comes off as the type of guy who enjoys just being in your presence

- So basically his love language is quality time

- He’ll give you small gifts like seashells and jewelry or have Star Platinum get things for you if you wanted

- As your relationship progresses his gifts will get bigger. Such as giant ocean animal plushies

- More dates like going to an arcade so he can win you prizes effortlessly and impress you

- There will be aquarium dates, might be the place where you first kiss. Picture it, standing under a tunnel of fish swimming all around you and he pulls you in for a kiss

- Will beat people up for you, no questions asked

- You got a girl from school picking on you? Don’t worry, his fists are rated E for everyone. Equal rights equal fights

- Will not let his fan girls bother you, like they will never even get close to you (don’t ask how)

- Listening to music together whether it’s blasting in his room, on the car while you guys watch the stars, or sharing ear buds

- Even though he holds up his bad boy personality around everyone including his mom, he has his moments where he just melts with you

- Please hold his face once in a while, he’ll love it

- Very minimal PDA, closest you get is you and him wrapping your pinky fingers (if his giant hands let him)

- His mom would love you so much oh my god, sweetest woman alive

- She’d invite you to come over so often and loves that someone got Jotaro to settle down with

- Jotaro’s friends would be so surprised if they found out he was dating someone, Kakyoin wouldn’t be as surprised but Polnareff? Polnareff would be so lost as to how Jotaro got a girlfriend before him

- Forehead kisses, he has to bend down all the time to kiss yours

- Probably has back problems because of you

- Despite his fists being brutally scarred and coarse, he’s so gentle whenever he touches you in any way. I feel his hugs are the best and he’ll try to be careful when you hold hands

- Will carry you

- Let’s you wear his hats and clothes (but not for too long cause he wants them back)

- If you ever go on any transport, plane, boat, train, you name it, he will let you rest on him. Just don’t bring Joseph, it’ll give Jotaro PTSD

- Carefully caresses your face and admires every part of it, even plays with your hair

- If you can see Star Platinum he would love you so much, they say that Stands are a reflection of one’s soul. So basically Star will be very excited to be out and to see you

- Jotaro will smile with you a lot more than others

- He’s not the best at communication but once you get to know him it’s very easy to tell how he’s feeling

There’s probably more stuff but that’s all I got for this one. I am currently going through a JJBA brain rot please let me know if you have any requests!

#jjba #jjba part 3 #Jotaro #jotaro kujo #kujo jotaro #star platinum #stardust crusaders #jojo #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo x reader #jotaro x reader #x reader #jjba x reader

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cultofdixon · 1 year

Text

I love you, please don’t push me away

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • “Can I see it…” “since when did you start to care about me again?” “I’ve lost too much. I ain’t gonna lose yea now” • ANGST/SFW • TW: Canon Violence [Mentioned] / Injuries / Messy Confessions / Anxiety Attacks / Nightmares / PTSD

Requested by: Anon

Nothing tears these two apart, well. Except that time with the Governor but every fiber of their being magnetized toward the other.

Y/N and Daryl, inseparable. But never an item even if there is a running bet between Rick and Carol over how long it’ll take.

The run down?

Daryl never saw himself relate with any of the other members in the quarry. Except for this other lone wolf type that would wander out of bounds to hunt, like him. And ignore Shane’s stupid rule, like him and Merle. And also have a short fuse just like him.

He stumbled across this person during his own hunt finding the woman bashing in the skull of a walker. She turned around when she noticed she was stumbled upon by a living being, her body relaxed when realizing who it was. Which was a new feeling to Daryl.

“Shane sent yea out or what”

“Nah fuck that pig. Was tracking a deer”

“You mean that deer” The woman pointed to the hanging animal from the tree as Daryl gave the whole scene a concerned look. “Camping tips can help in the end of the world”

“Bear tactics”

“Exactly. Tie up your shit so bears don’t get it. But hell you’ve got sickos. Might as well apply those tactics to these fucks” She kicked the dead creature while pulling out her knife. “I’m uh. Y/N. By the way…you ain’t very talkative in the camp”

“Neither are yea.” He scoffs. “‘M Daryl”

“Welp. Now you’ve got a friend.” Y/N untied the deer letting it hit the ground by Daryl’s feet. “And if we’re gonna be friends. You can carry that for me, to avoid the Walker guts getting on everybody’s dinner”

“What do I get for doing this?”

“Mmm…I’m pretty good at making arrows” Y/N shrugs watching the pondering look grow on Daryl’s face before he knelt down and picked up the deer heading back to the camp while she happily follows behind.

That first moment brought an instant connection that Daryl didn’t realize. Until he got shitty news.

“You left my brother? On a fucking roof?” Daryl snaps and right before the archer got close to hitting the stranger, Y/N stepped between the two along with Shane’s help. Not that she needed it.

“Who do you think you are to make that decision?”

“Rick Grimes, deputy—-“

“Nah. I ain’t dealing with another pig thinking he can boss everybody around” Y/N cuts him off as she stood her ground even if it didn’t entirely involve her. “How would you feel if you were left behind? Left for dead” She knew her words struck a few in the crowd, specifically Shane and Lori.

“I was left behind” Rick suddenly got up in Y/N’s face not liking her attitude but right as he did, Daryl didn’t hesitate to loom from behind her making him back up.

“And how the fuck did that make you feel?”

That brought a lot of her character out to Daryl and everyone else. She was defensive and it was clear, when she gets close to someone…she has to protect them in some way.

When the invasion happened on the camp, Daryl never been more driven by his anxiety and his fear until he thought he’d lose the closest person he’s liked in the longest time. He took out a walker coming up behind Y/N when she wasn’t paying attention. The thankful look in her eyes spoke enough even if after taking care of the walkers, Daryl subtly scanned her person as he helped the others pile up the dead.

The plan to head to the CDC was a gamble, but the ride there brought more out of the two. Given Y/N loaded up in Daryl’s truck not wanting to be stuck in the RV.

“Why’d yea defend me back when we found out they left Merle?”

“Honest?”

“Mhm”

“He’s your family, whether he annoys you or not…you’d still want him in your life” Y/N leaned her head against the window fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. “And hell. I’m done letting others walk all over people. Just cuz they haven’t been in their shoes before”

Daryl felt himself grip the steering wheel wanting to ask a question but given the lighthearted feel going on between the two, he didn’t want to taint it full of uncomfortable tension.

“Who did yea lose”

“My baby brother” Y/N frowns reaching into her backpack taking out a journal that held a Polaroid of the two on a camping trip with their parents. “I…I don’t think he’s dead but, haven’t found him since outbreak day and Glenn took me back to that camp even when every fiber of my being didn’t want to stop looking”

“Do yea entirely trust these people?”

“I trust you. But that’s cuz you’re not keeping bullshit. Yea state yer mind if you have to. Hopefully the new world doesn’t beat that out of yea”

The CDC was a weird experience. A time to feel like they were in the old world once more. Just under a different roof and drowning out reality with alcohol.

Daryl was the last to shower even if it took him some time to get there given the man had drank a bit too much. But as he entered the room he was sharing with the other single in their group, which obviously was Y/N. She lifted her head to the sound of stumbling and saw the exhaustion rise in his expression as he stumbles onto the couch she sat on. She tossed her book on her bag giving Daryl an opportunity to use her lap as a pillow turning toward her and laying there in silence for a moment. Closing his eyes and doing the best he could to fall asleep even when a part of him fought to stay awake to spend this time with Y/N. Y/N on the other hand, pulled the blanket from her shoulders and covered the man laying on her…resting a hand on his side feeling him shift to get comfortable mumbling a bit to himself.

“Don’t ever wanna lose yea…”

Those words struck a bit to Y/N and even if he didn’t remember saying that last night, she knew by the way he covered her when Rick tossed the grenade to escape the CDC…

That he meant it.

Their bond was growing to others in a beautiful way but to the pair it was weird…confusing…and a bit beautiful in its own way. But it brought certain anxiety that the other never wanted to feel in a world like this.

The farm became a temporary safe haven, and the word temporary was definitely engraved in few’s minds because of how Hershel felt toward them. At first it was to save Carl’s life and thankfully he did…next was to fix what Andrea did.

“Oh my god. Is he alive—-“

“Step the fuck back” Y/N snaps at the poor girl who kept her distance from the situation. And Y/N. The bitch scared her.

“At least we have some idea of where Sophia can be. Now we can retrace Daryl’s steps”

“Nah, I’m comin’ with yea”

“You won’t be doing much activity at least for a few days.” Hershel reminds him of his injuries only for the archer to grow annoyed but his frustration grew slightly when he noticed Y/N glaring at him.

Once he was left alone after Carol gave him his dinner and a thanks for never giving up on her daughter, Y/N came in about an hour later with clothes for him and before she even made it to the door…Daryl grabbed her wrist.

“What’s up yours? Yea been quiet since I came back or well until after yea scared the shit out of Andrea. Yeah fucking Rick told me what happened the—-“ Daryl stopped speaking when he saw the tears in her eyes making him let go and her freeze like a deer in headlights.

“You shouldn’t have gone out by yourself”

“Y/N, I did what I had to. Others given up”

“Don’t. Go. By. Yourself.” Y/N hissed wiping away the tears that started to burn. “Yea ain’t alone anymore. Ain’t needing to do this shit by yourself and get yourself killed. Yea may think nobody would care if you were gone but somebody does. So watch it.” She frowns leaving on that note.

Daryl didn’t know that she felt that way toward him and there were plenty of other moments like that. For either of them.

The reunion on the freeway after the farm went up in flames. Daryl got Carol out of there on his bike, feeling his anxiety get the best of him when he didn’t find Y/N until she came running through the woods and he didn’t hesitate for a second to run at her. Bringing the tired girl into his embrace thankful she didn’t die in the flames or in the mouths of the undead.

The time the group raided Woodbury to save their own and Daryl was shoved out of the way of a bullet that embedded into Y/N’s shoulder. Thank god Hershel got it out. When he came back after leaving the first time with his brother, he couldn’t get that mental image of the disappointment written all over her face. But that was all forgiven, given she would’ve left too if it was her problematic brother.

Once the fight of Woodbury was done and people were flooding into the prison, making itself its own community…Daryl felt a sense of jealousy when watching others outside of their original group talk to Y/N who seem to be expanding their social circle. He was brewing and it was obvious to Carol.

“You’re gonna blow a fuse”

“What?” Daryl brought his attention back to reality and noticed Carol joining him beside him. “Shit.”

“What? Got spotted? We all know how much you like’er. Why didn’t yea do anything sooner?”

“It’s the end of the world.”

“Okay. Stating the obvious. So?” Carol elbows him to be told more as Daryl kept his eyes on Y/N watching her turn to him shooting him a smile.

“If I act on my feelings, and worry about another…on that level, I’ll lose her”

Carol knew Daryl felt a bit at fault for Sophia dying, including his own brother. But Y/N is a strong person. Hell she’s the one that saved them back at the outbreak in the quarry, she knows that girl can hold her ground…and she knows, how much he means to her.

“You won’t lose her…Don’t push her away”

Those words rang through his head as he found himself smoking outside the prison walls and Y/N joining him after her shift in the watchtower. The silence grew between the two even if they spent most of their time together in comfortable silence. But this was different and Y/N knew this.

“Did I do somethin’?”

“Nah” Daryl tosses the cigarette on the floor putting it out with his foot. “This ain’t worth it”

“What’s not?” She furrowed her brows confused at first as Daryl got up from his spot. “Daryl—“

“This!” He gestures to the two of them with a growing frown on his face. “It ain’t fucking worth worrying about. I can’t live like this for the rest of my life. Stressin’ over what might happen” and it clicked to Y/N as her eyes met his only for him to turn away. “Don’t. I can’t.”

“Daryl but—-“

“No. We can’t”

Another word was said because Daryl went back inside leaving Y/N outside to think about what the hell just happened. But more importantly…just…break.

The two haven’t really talked since then. Or hung around the other. The only time they would interact is when Rick asked them to go on a run, or for the council meetings for their small community. Daryl expanded and got close with other people while Y/N found herself back in the same mindset at the quarry before she extended herself to Daryl.

In the end you’re on your own.

But that never lasted because of the connection she had with him and with the others. The sickness, her angry feelings were pushed aside so that she could work with him on getting the medicine. Then when it got to their people, Y/N distanced herself from Daryl once more. This time his regret settled in in its entirety and wasn’t expressed until after the attack.

“Aren’t you and Y/N supposed to be close?”

“Why’re you bringing that up…”

“Getting to know you I guess” Beth frowns sitting across from the archer fiddling with some thread around his wrist.

“She was my best friend, that I love…and pushed away”

Beth watched as the pain when saying such brought its expression in his frown and the tears that he tried desperately not to fall.

…

“And I don’t think I’ll ever get him back” Y/N frowns sitting with Michonne in front of the fire she made for them.

“Daryl’s strong. He’ll come back to you. Even if…you two aren’t anything but friends. You two just. Gravitate toward each other naturally”

Y/N shot Michonne a smile when she said such, but during her watch while the swordsman slept, she couldn’t help the tears that fell off her face.

Michonne was right about the two gravitating toward each other. They always found the other in whatever situation they were in. Even if the most recent was the incident with the claimers, then the other with the general hospital, and finally reaching Alexandria.

And Y/N needed a minute.

“Y/N. Deanna only agreed to yea going out if it’s—-“

“I’m just sticking close. Won’t even need a goddamn car. I just. I need a minute. And I can’t get that in another confined area” Y/N frowns already geared up to head out of Alexandria. “I’ll be back before it’s too late in the day, and if I’m not. Then you can come and get me…”

Rick gave the girl a worried look, but agreed to let her go. He didn’t trust it there either and was surprised by how others are settling in.

When the sherif headed back to his group’s houses, he found Daryl standing outside of the one Carol took up with Y/N. He looked anxious from what he got first spotting the archer.

“Hey”

Daryl quickly turned toward his brother seeing the confused look. “What”

“What are you waitin’ for?”

“Courage. Fuck if I know”

“Courage for what?” Rick brought himself closer as Daryl stepped away from the door to sit on the steps.

“To talk to Y/N again. Repair what I fucking tore apart back at the prison…Before Beth and I got separated, she told me not to let a good thing go. And Carol snapped at me one of the first nights here about the same thing”

“Well. I hate to break it to yea. But she ain’t home” Rick watches the archer shot up from his spot with a you serious? look on his face. “Yeah. She needed some air. Stepped out of Alexandria”

“And yea think she’s gonna come back? After all the shit I fuckin’ said”

“You said back at the prison. Some part of her wouldn’t leave from something that happened some time ago. And there will always be a part of her, connected to yea at all times.” Rick put his hands on his hips. “She doesn’t like it here just like you. So she needed a breather.”

“If she doesn’t come back before night fall—-“

“We’ll go get’er. Alright?” He reassures the man before going back on his patrol.

She made it before nightfall.

Emphasize on the “made it” part.

“Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to help in the infirmary” Spencer, one of Deanna’s sons, got up in Y/N’s face when she first stepped back in. More so caring about the fact that she wasn’t at her job compared to the amount of blood on her. “What the fuck did you do?”

Few residence, more so her group coming close to listen to someone they didn’t know go off on one of their own.

“Why did you ignore Dean—-“

“Your mother’s.”

“Fine. My mother’s orders. You had a job to do and instead you went out doing who knows what outside the walls. Don’t you like it here? Don’t you like being safe here for once? Clearly yea—-“

“Step away from her now.” Michonne cuts in once she noticed the fists Y/N formed and the shaking her body was undergoing. “Some of us are still adjusting. You need to understand that and if you don’t, talk to your mother or I’ll let her hurt you” she states watching him stand his ground one last time.

“Turn in the weapons you took out, then I’ll—“ Spencer stops to the sound of Y/N’s bag dropping to the ground and watching her unclip the magazine of her gun and unloaded the one in the chamber before handing it to Michonne and walking past.

Y/N avoided everyone’s looks and focused on getting back to Carol’s. Even if every fiber of her being wanted to collapse in the middle of Alexandria and let the darkness settle in. But none of them knew what was happening. She just continued on her way.

“Where the hell have you been?” Carol asks when she heard the door open ignoring the rest of what Daryl was saying. Granted it was about the girl that entered.

“Needed air. Got too much of it” Y/N chokes up a bit gripping onto the stairs’ railing with one hand as the other went straight for her side taking her hand off to see the blood soaking through. “I’m gonna shower. Too much Walker blood…but uh. Is the first aid kit in the bathroom?”

Carol pulled herself away from the kitchen counter heading toward Y/N who had her back turned to her on the steps. While Daryl slide off the bar stool bringing himself within earshot.

“What happened?”

“I just cut my hand…”

“You’re covered in blood. Is it—-“

“It’s not mine. Just walkers I got stuck dealing with”

“Are you bit?”

“I wouldn’t have come back if I was” She felt a lot of the pain return to her body in that moment as she continued on the way to the bathroom leaving both confused.

You’ve always been a disappointment Y/N.

Hell. Look at me. Finally proving to this world that I’m worth something

Y/N couldn’t stand and found herself sitting in the shower letting the water wash off the dried blood but also the running. She held onto the edge of the tub feeling everything as she tried her best not to stream in pain.

Her body flinched to the sound of knocking and that resulted in the pain induced tears to finally shed.

“What.”

“Got you clothes” Daryl states from the other side of the door with clothes in hand but he couldn’t help his eyes from wandering around the room to see the blood soaked clothes and the hand print on the door. “Y/N. What happened?”

“Please…go away, Daryl”

“Nah…not this time” Daryl pressed his forehead against the door. “I ain’t leaving and I know you’re hurt…”

“I-I…” Y/N sobbed gripping harder onto the ceramic trying not to focus on the pain in her side.

“Can I see it…” He felt his heart clench hearing her wince from the other side of the door followed by choked off sobs.

“since when did you start to care about me again?”

Daryl sighs tossing the clothes on the dresser by the door and resting his hands on it. “I’ve lost too much. I ain’t gonna lose yea now” he frowns not hearing any sound come out from the other side. “Y/N?”

Something’s wrong…

There’s always been something wrong and he knew there was more to it. She just wanted to take care of it without anyone realizing. But of course she couldn’t get past the person who holds her heart.

The door was suddenly kicked open and Y/N had no strength to react except for bringing her eyes to follow his movements. Daryl gently took a hold of her face seeing the damage there along with what was happening to the rest of her body. He quickly turns off the water and as his lips moved, she didn’t register a single thing. All she did was close her eyes.

“You…were always their favorite” The youngest L/N shook in his sister’s embrace feeling the end draw near as Y/N couldn’t help the tears that spilled. “I never…got to show’em up…”

“I should have never stopped looking…I shouldn’t have left home…left you”

“Mm…” He coughs a bit as the blood splattered on Y/N’s face. “It don’t matter anymore…T-This is what I d-deserve…”

“No…no you didn’t. I should’ve found you…you would’ve loved the people I’m with…this is my fault” Y/N sobbed holding her brother tighter as he gave her one last smile.

“Yea survived…just keep doing so”

As the breath faded from his lungs and more of his group surrounded the house they were held up in. Y/N had to pull it together long enough to take care of the rest, even on her last legs. Because she would’ve found a way to bring her brother in, but as for the others?

No one is following her back to her family.

A soft groan escapes her lips, alerting the archer sitting beside her bed. He brought his chair closer carefully taking her hand into his thinking she would reject it, but instead she gave it a firm squeeze indicating some of her strength is back and that she didn’t want him to go.

“Yea lost a lot of blood…and I got mad at the surgeon here”

“Mm. Typical Daryl behavior” Y/N sighs gently grazing her thumb against his knuckles. “Last I remember…was being in the shower”

“You were in the bath as the shower ran. I don’t know how Imma explain the blood bath, literally, to Carol. But she did help me get yea here” Daryl frowns seeing the exhaustion in her expression but more focused on the black eye and bruised cheek on her left side when she turned to him. “Carried yea out in a blanket. Got bitchy when he lingered too close”

“Please tell me I got dressed after…that someone helped me. And the strange man that stared at me when we first met didn’t see my goods long”

“Imma kill him next time he does, but nah. Maggie came in with clothes”

“Everybody knows?”

“Doesn’t know why. But yeah…I…I did come running out, Y/N. Yelling for somebody. Felt…lost.” He frowns, straightening up when Y/N started to sit up. The grimace growing on her face made Daryl feel as if an ice pick went straight for his heart.

Y/N watches as Daryl got up from his seat he went to grab another blanket when he felt her grip tighten and a wince escape her lips from him pulling.

“Sorry—-I’m sorry. Fuck. I just—-“

“I can do without another…please just sit with me” She begged and she had the same look on her face like she did at the time of their fight in the prison. Something he’ll never forget. “I don’t…I can’t stand another second without you. Even if it’s just a few feet away…”

Instead of sitting in the chair, Daryl brought himself to sit on the edge of the bed holding her hand seeing the bruises on her knuckles. He kept finding more of what happened…and it upset him not knowing.

“Daryl…”

“Yeah?”

“Just ask”

Daryl didn’t want to. He didn’t want to know the pain she endured and how it happened. But he wanted to know who he had to fuck up.

“I got ambushed…by raiders in masks. I took out like…four of them…got the shiner and knocked down by the fifth…only to shoot him right in the ribs and as he dropped..” She squeezed her eyes shut biting the inside of her cheek trying to stop the tears. “I found out…it was my brother…” the tears fell stating such as Daryl soften squeezing her hand with the one she held while the other carefully wiped them away. “Then when he died…I couldn’t risk the others following…and took them out…even if it almost killed me”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s…well, it’s not fine. But that’s keeping me going. Just saying it is…that he’s not in this hell of a world anymore…”

“never looked at it like that…when Merle died. Took the blame and ran with it”

“You carry too much of the blame for things…when a good chunk of it was never your fault” Y/N frowns tugging him forward enough for her to lean comfortably forward pressing her forehead against his. “This is one of’em. You blame yourself. I break your knee caps. This wasn’t your fault…”

“I should’ve never hurt yea back at the prison…I missed you. I miss you and you’re right here”

“Daryl…” Y/N brought her soft, tiny hands to hold the archer’s face feeling him relax in her touch. “I love you…so please, don’t push me away”

The tears that fell between the two was found in comfortable silence. Only a comfort the two share with each other. Daryl moved her hands so that he could gently bring her into his embrace holding her.

“I won’t…I promise”

#cultofdixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

Text

5 + 1 Times Buck’s GF was the crybaby and the one time she wasn’t

Rating: Regular, smut only in one part

Word Count: 4,037

Tags: FLUFFY FLUFF, smut in one part, pnv!sex, soft tender luvin, Bucky is Vry Vry sweet, but he do be laughing at the reader, reader is oversensitive, and also a journalist for the Bugle aka How?, bucks haters get flamed, crying over spilt milk literally, some angst, TW: ptsd, J.Jonah Jameson is out there somewhere shaking his head at his employee

1. In the arms of the angels- FLY AWAYYYY

Bucky could safely say that his precious, precious girl could be somewhat oversensitive. He liked that about her, having someone around who was extremely caring and kind. The former Winter Soldier would be lying if he claimed that he knew how to handle her spells every time.

Although Bucky gotten better over the time they had been together.

They were cuddled on his new, much bigger couch on a lazy Sunday. His girlfriend wore one of Bucky’s t-shirts, the cloth hanging down to her soft thighs. She was spooned against the brunette, head padded on his flesh bicep. The random movie they had been watching went to a commercial. Bucky’s eyes widened when he realized what exactly kind of commercial it was.

The depressing ass ASPCA advertisement. His girlfriend donated to the local humane society and multiple non-profits but would lose her ever loving shit over the poor pets. Bucky instinctively curled his other arm around her waist when the sad song came on. His girl sniffled, “Oh god, I hate this!”

He murmured, “C’mon just look at your phone baby.”

Her sniffles turned into sobs, bemoaning, “I don’t understand how people could do that to the poor animals! It’s ah-ah-awful!” Bucky frowned, vibranium thumb rubbing circles into her hip. He reassured her, “Sweetheart, we about donate to the entirety of Brooklyn. You’re doing good.”

One of her fists banged on his thigh. She cried, “I need to donate to the entirety of the United States!” Bucky’s lips curled up in slight amusement. As much as he hated to see his best girl cry, it was entertaining to see her fit. He shushed her, “Okay we will, s’not like I’m a broke fugitive anymore.” The girl’s watery eyes flicked up to his smirk.

She poked him at an awkward angle, croaking, “Don’t say that about yourself!”

He tried to keep a calm face but ended up snickering. To which Bucky received another annoyed poke and a scoff. Thankfully the ad was done by the time she turned back to the TV. Bucky kissed her hairline and said, “Okay then, no more waterworks and I won’t trash my name. We’ll go buy another damn pound out later.” She seemed to relax, snuggling tight into Bucky’s larger frame.

2. On the floor

A shriek and a crash echoed from the kitchen. Bucky threw down his tattered book and hopped up. He hoped his girlfriend didn’t injure herself, again. The super soldier slid into the kitchen, blue eyes surveying the scene. He half-shouted, “You okay?“

“NO!,” came the distressed reply.

Bucky’s poor girl was half soaked and milk covered the floor, the gallon leaking onto the tile. His brows raised at the mess, hand rubbing at his neck. She threw her hands up and squalled, but made no move to escape the flood.

“I just wanted to make some cereal and the stupid damn jug slipped from my hands!,” she cried.

Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes. This would be the second time she had cried over spilt milk, literally. He strode across the kitchen and picked the sobbing woman up, her arms wrapping around his neck, assuming koala protocol. Or at least that’s what the loon called it.

The brunette rubbed her heaving back, cooing, “Oh poor baby, s’no big deal. I’ll go get another gallon from down the street, okay?” She looked up at him and began crying harder. The distraught woman whined, “No! I screwed it up being a klutz I’ll go get it!”

Bucky lowered them onto a dining room chair, wiping her tears away. He shook his head, eyeing her adorably blotchy cheeks. She pouted, tears lessening in time. The brunette hummed, “Jus’ let me go get the damn milk. You had an accident, I can’t have my pitiful girl crying over actual spilt milk.”

She laid her head in the crook of Bucky’s shoulder, grumbling, “It’s so damn sticky. This is gonna take forever to clean!” Bucky nuzzled her sweet smelling hair, smiling softly. She was too soft for her own good. But that’s why he was here, of course.

Her achingly wide eyes were back peering at Buck. He raised a thick brow, waiting for a response. Slim hands grabbed his stubbled cheeks, asking in a deadpan, “You don’t think I’m the most worthless girl ever right?” She averted her eyes as she continued, “Idiot who can’t make cereal.”

Bucky leaned into her sullen face to capture trembling lips into a kiss. It was chaste and sweet, Bucky murmuring into her lips, “I don’t care if you grew into a hulk monster and crashed the place. Why don’t we clean up and go grab the milk, make it a date huh?”

The brunette bit back a laugh as she hugged him tighter and sobbed out how much she loved him. Bucky tucked her hair back and grinned down at his pretty, crybaby, best girl.

3. Feline fail

Bucky and his girlfriend were cooking dinner together. They were laughing and sharing sweet pecks, bumping hips and slinging sauce. Bucky had remembered an old lasagna recipe and wanted to try it. She obliged with glee.

She changed the song to one of those strange ‘rap’ songs. Bucky was still getting accustomed to the 80’s power music so this was out of his league. She talked along to the lyrics, using a spoon as her microphone. Bucky leaned against the counter, helplessly grinning, hopelessly in love. She did a twist and some weird footwork.

MREOOOWWWW

“Alpine!,” they simultaneously shouted.

The poor cat had run off heavily limping. Bucky cursed, “Ah, shit.” The woman dropped the spatula and went after the fluffy white cat. She frantically apologized, “Alpine! Alpie! I’m so sorry baby! Oh god I didn’t mean to step on your paw babygirl!” Bucky wanted to point out the feline did not understand but held his tongue.

He followed his girlfriend into a back bedroom, then to the walk-in closet. Poor doll was in hysterics now. She wailed, “I’m the worst! What if I broke her paw? Just kill me n-n-nOWWWW!”

Bucky grabbed the sweet thing and hushed her, “Stop howling, Alpine is probably overwhelmed. Let’s be quiet and calmly approach.”

She nodded with a sniffle, mascara running down reddened cheeks. Bucky flicked the light on and softly called, “Alp, Alpine? Pspspsps c’mere baby.” He waggled his fingers at his shoe stand. Slowly the big blue eyes of Alpine came into view. The cat let out a sad ‘maaaoow’. She sucked in a wet sob behind Bucky, little hands fisted into his shirt.

Bucky crouched further down, keeping his palm extended. He cooed, “Over here psps Alpine.” Alpine unfurled from the shoe stand, limping over to the couple. Tears dripped down the young woman’s face as she let the sweet cat sniff her palm and nuzzle against it. She sniveled, “Ohhh- Alpine, m’so sorry,” Bucky was poked as she continued, “Buck? Can you check the paw out?”

Bucky grunted, “Yep. I’m sure she’ll be fine, just a smush and got startled. Bucky picked the white feline up, huge hands so tender with Alpine’s tiny paw. He gave it a few tentative presses and the cat squirmed in pain, making another sad noise. Bucky turned to look at his girlfriend and said, “Yeah I think she might be injured. We can take her to the vet in the morning. Probably just wants to lay down.”

After putting their pet back into the shoe stand, Bucky had stage three to do; console the distraught angel. She had already retreated to the bedroom, cocooning under her copious amounts of fluffy blankets. Bucky had bought them due to supersoldier heat and the ensuing thermostat on the coldest setting possible.

Bucky crawled onto the end of the bed, calling out, “Are you burrowing away from me?”

“Yes. I am the worst. Throw me into the snow already.”

Bucky crawled closer to the familiar lump and teased, “I don’t think paw stomping is equal to hypothermia.”

“It should be.”

His pink lips split into a grin as Buck yanked her blankets back and hopped on top. She squealed and batted at him, howling, “Not funny you jerk! Poor Alpine is hurt!” Bucky laughed, “Poor Alpine has been in shootouts, she’s a-okay.”

She stared up at his stupidly handsome face and pouted. Bucky’s big hands slid up her waist, commenting, “I’ll give you something to cry about if that’s what’cha want babydoll.” His dick never failed to throb at her cute little hitch in breath, pupils blowing wide.

“W-what about the lasagna?”

Bucky licked a hot stripe up her neck, promising, “Oh, this won’t be long. A little pick-me-up for my babydoll.” Her irritated huff quickly turned into a moan. Bucky grinned. So damn cute.

4. Never alone

Bucky had been having trouble sleeping recently, recurring nightmares plaguing any chance of shut eye. His girlfriend worried over him, offering any sort of help. He shook his head, eyes tired, explaining, “It comes in waves, certain times or seasons activate the trauma.”

“Okay, I just wish you didn’t have to sleep on the floor. But whatever will make you more comfortable.”

She wrung her hands nervously, pretty lips curled into a frown. Bucky sighed, patting his lap. He held her tightly and whispered, “I never wanna hurt you, so just for a little bit it’ll be like this okay? I promise, it hurts me too.” She wiped away runny tears, nodding resolutely. His precious baby warbled, “I’m being selfish, don’t mind me prattling and whining. I want what’s best for you. I love you so much,” she pinched Bucky’s thigh, “Go back to therapy tomorrow or I’ll drag you there.”

“I will,” he pecked her lips, “I will.”

They went to their separate beds, well their bed, and Bucky’s blanket and pillow on the floor. He managed to drift off before spinning cycling never ending loops of the Soldier killing and taking swamped his dreams. The asset shot upright with a painful howl, jerking his head around for the enemy.

He jumped up and grabbed a stashed knife, stalking across the floor. So confused on the lines between reality and fiction. He snarled at the sound of a high voice. It was his girl. Bucky was Bucky. Not the asset, soldier, fist of Hydra. He dropped the knife and apologized, “Oh Christ. Are you okay?” He was scared to come closer upon the fear etched into her looks. Fucking monster.

She ran to him and wrapped warm arms around his sweaty torso, crying softly. Bucky couldn’t find words to express his disgust and sorrow, holding her back tightly. His angel croaked, “I was worried about you! I’m s-sorry you had that awful nightmare. Oh Buck, let me sit with you for the rest of the night.”

Bucky peered down with resigned blue eyes. He was more exhausted now after that mind fuck. The brunette needed to get his poor baby to stop crying then maybe he could sleep. Even the cat nervously peered from behind a chair.

They migrated to the couch, her firm on top of him, gently scratching his scalp. Bucky pled, “Please know I would never hurt you. As soon as I heard your voice I knew where I was again.” She pressed her forehead to his and replied, “Then let’s just try this. You don’t have to go through this alone, ever.” She cried in little aborted huffs, trying to hold it together.

Bucky felt his heart swell at her sweet words. She was right, he didn’t have to be alone again. He had friends and his best girl who loved him, hell even the cat. Bucky squeezed her soft waist and gushed, “I love you, so, so, so much. Sweet girl.” He got a couple more tears but soon she became sleepy and winded down.

He managed to fall back into slumber, no dreams this time. Her scent and puffs of soft breath kept him grounded. Bucky hoped he deserved this, praying to whoever granted him this boon.

5. Honey I’m Home! - Smut

Sam hollered out of his big ass truck, “Get ready for the waterworks lover boy!” Bucky held up his middle finger and unlocked the front door. Sam drove away with that annoying guffaw of his. Bucky dropped his bags at the door, Alpine’s blue eyes peering up. He grinned and picked up the kitty, cooing and petting her white fluff. Bucky asked, “Hey, sweet Alp. Where’s mama hm? I know she’s all excited.”

“BABY!,” came the familiar cry. Bucky had to owe it to his supersoldier serum for managing to gently let down Alpine and pick up his girlfriend within 10 seconds. Bucky laughed and picked the woman up, happily swinging them around with a goofy grin. His heart felt so full. She spoke through hefty sobs, “I- Oh gah-ah-ah some pi-pizz-za!” Bucky chuckled and tapped her on the ass.

“The waterworks already angel? So soon?”

“YOU KNOW I MISS-SS-SED YOU!,” she caterwauled, loading Bucky’s face down with kisses. He used a big hand to stabilize her head, sealing his full lips over her shaky ones. She sighed into the lip lock, rambling about how much she missed Bucky between kisses.

Bucky pulled back and hummed, “I missed your pretty face, even the tears.” She nipped his lower lip at the jab, retorting, “Very fu-funny!”

The former assassin chuckled, “No really, I get to hug you.”

She narrowed her eyes, wiping her wet cheeks, “Uh-huh.”

Bucky lowered his lids and gave his best charming half smirk to her, purring, “Y’know what I really miss?” He groped at the globes of her ass gently, eating up her reaction. She gasped, minutely squirming, lashes fluttering. Bucky leant into her ear, humming, “Hm baby? Not gonna ask me?”

She murmured sulkily, “What is it Buck?”

He drew his words out, fanning hot breath across her ear, “I miss the way you cry and rake my back bloody when I’m between those damn thighs.”

“Mmfuck, oh, yeah?,” she squeaked, face heating up. Bucky nodded, long fingers massaging the giving flesh of her cheeks. He rumbled, “Yep sweet baby, couldn’t help myself. So pretty when you come on me. Pizza can wait, I want my girl.” The woman nodded profusely, babbling, “Pleaseplease yes wan’ it Bucky. Missed you!”

In a frenzy she lapped into his plump mouth, kissing like a madwoman. Bucky’s best kept secret is the needy little slut he only gets to have in bed. He stopped to push her against the wall, nosing around at her tits. Bucky’s Henley she wore had slipped down, displaying the soft skin. He lapped at a swollen bud and suckled on her tit, earning a high whine and fingers in his steadily growing hair.

Bucky rutted against her barely clothed pussy, feeling it already damp. He rumbled, “Must’ve been real needy dolly, so wet for me.” She shoved her breasts into his face, gasping out, “Not the same w’out you- ah!” Bucky’s eyes rolled back in his head, her words stoking the fires of that possessive place in his heart.

She pulled at his brown hair, urging Bucky along desperately, hips canting against his need. The super soldier panted, “Yeah, yeah, right m’bad.” He stomped to their bedroom, grinning and kissing her hotly. Bucky laid his girlfriend down and frantically began to untie his boots, throwing them against the wall. His eyes flickered up to her yanking off the shirt.

A punched out groan left his throat when her glistening pussy was revealed to him, panties tossed carelessly to the side. Bucky shucked down his briefs and climbed between her thighs, muttering, “Fuckin’ hell— thought about you every night. Pretty pussy,” he pressed his lips to her thighs, “Legs, all of you. Damn.”

Her wide eyes softened, the girl simpering, “Thought ‘bout you too babe, most handsome guy in the world.” Bucky snorted as he pressed himself flush to her smaller body, “I don’t know about that, I do know that I’m yours though.” She smiled against his cheek, wrapping arms around his wide shoulders. Bucky sighed at the feeling of his baby’s gentle kisses to his scruffy skin.

“You want to wear a condom, me stretch you out?,” Bucky asked, eyes searching her own.

She shook her head and whispered, “Got an IUD, I’ll explain later but we don’t have to wear any condoms,” lips grew wider, “So go on and fuck me Buck.” Bucky groaned in ecstasy, situating himself flush to giving flesh. He pumped his leaking cock a couple of times before rubbing the tip against her slick entrance.

She whined and scrabbled at his back, spreading open wider, pleading, “Yeah, yeah, please Bucky, James, baby.” He replied, strained from how adorable and sexy that was, “I gotcha, hold on, fuck.”

They both cried out softly when Bucky slid in to her warm core, the noise filling the room. The brunette braced a hand beside her head, cursing lowly, “God-fucking-damn you feel so good sweets.” She whined his name, face scrunching up adorably, pussy pulsing around him.

Bucky’s flesh hand curled under the back of one of her knees, pushing the girl wider open with a grunt. He pecked her lips and began to piston into her. His blues fell closed, the rapture of being joined with his love was intense. Even more so when some asshole jacked him with the serum. She cooed softly, “Feels- ah, so good, my sweet Buck.”

He didn’t speed up, as much as the soldier wanted to jackhammer into tomorrow. He would enjoy this reunion, savor every pull of her sweet pussy around his cock. Bucky leaned into her forehead, panting into her mouth, soaking up her cries and whimpers. She gave desperate little kisses, pulling at the hair on Bucky’s nape.

“Ah! Love you!,” she moaned.

Bucky panted back, “Love you, so damn much, fffuck.”

He nuzzled into her neck, listening to himself spread her open with a groan. Selfishly, Bucky sped his hips up some, got his knees under him. That way he could fuck his baby’s g-spot, make her (really) cry. His girlfriend responded quickly, arching her back and jerking back onto Bucky’s cock. A slew up goosebumps lit up her skin, mouth hanging wide open. She scrunched her eyes shut, yelling, “Oh- oh that’s it!”

Bucky crooned, licking up her sweaty throat, “Yeah sweetheart? That’s your spot?” She nodded and babbled hitched ‘yesses’. The girl tightened around him, making the drag impossibly hotter. Bucky whined deep in his chest, strokes stuttering. He brought his vision up to look at his love, whining again at her flushed face and hooded eyes.

She whimpered, “M’so close James, oh god!” Tears pricked pretty eyes, clumping the long lashes. Bucky picked up the pace, relishing in her nails ripping his back to shreds. He would lying if he said the pain didn’t exacerbate the pleasure. The brunette gently nipped at her jaw, begging for his girl to come, hand rubbing at her chest and shoulders tenderly.

Bucky’s eyes about crossed when she tightened and howled around his swollen cock. His hand tore at the mattress while her pussy convulsed around him. She sobbed now, tears leaking down her darkened cheeks, “F-fuck Bucky! S-so good!” Her slick coated him, making the glide ever so messier.

Bucky was close now, listening to her pants and whiny cries of ‘come in me please’ was throttling any sort of longevity. His balls drew painfully close, the vein on the underside of his cock throbbing. He cried her name out, muscles seizing with a twitch, emptying into her tight cunt. Bucky’s fingers seemed to lose their motor function, arm careening with a whine. She heaved, “That’s it! Yes! Yes!”

The soldier sucked in a rough breath, finishing his climax with a soft whimper. Bucky rolled them to the side, softening cock still seating inside her. She pressed kisses to his cheeks and nose, smiling and crying per usual. Bucky wrapped his big arms around her waist and kept her flush to him. He murmured, “Perfect baby, jus’ perfect.” She responded with another stolen kiss.

+1. Public Menace!

They sat together at a restaurant, sipping some drinks. Bucky eyed his beautiful girlfriend, effortlessly styled and flawless. He told her so, earning a bashful smile and roll of the eyes. She countered, “Not as flawless as you, Winter Smolder.” Bucky narrowed his eyes, laughing, “Hey, you wanted me to do that photoshoot!”

The waiter came up with their appetizer. Bucky could tell his girlfriend was not a fan of the other man, lips turned down. She was a good judge of character though. The young man had been staring Bucky down for awhile now, even pointing at him from afar. The brunette furrowed his brows and asked, “Can I help or anything?”

The waiter replied, assuming a defensive stance, “Are you the Winter Soldier?”

Bucky felt his girl’s glare threatening to kill the boy. He offered a sheepish smile and elaborated, “Uh- at one point I was. Not anymore.” The man pressed harder, “Yeah but he’s still in there right?,” they motioned at their skull, “Just a couple of words and you snap right?”

Bucky blanched, but the knife didn’t stop digging in his chest, twisting and hot.

“How were you allowed to be pardoned? I mean The Avengers already are at death’s door, why not let a mass murderer join?,” they hissed. Bucky tried to look around for help, stammering an apology. Panic began to lace at his chest, pulling his throat tight. Their mouth was moving angrily, but all Buck could hear was ringing.

A familiar hand gripped at his, her voice clearing through the attack. His girlfriend calmly replied, “I should report your manager for harassing customers, sir.” She leaned in with a snarl, “What would you do if you were captured by a secret agency embedded within the United States for 75 years huh? Beaten, brainwashed, tortured, and forced to hurt others with no say?”

The waiter attempted to retort but she cut him off with a hand.

“Luckily Bucky here,” she poked the man’s chest, “Has a name! His name has been cleared and has worked very hard on amends. If you got your head out of your ass and looked around maybe you’d see the good work him and Cap have done around the globe!” Bucky’s girlfriend jerked into her purse and threw a bill at the dumbfounded man.

“C’mon sweetheart, we’ll go somewhere else,” she stood up and loudly announced, “I’ll make sure to give my nicest review in the DAILY BUGLE!!!”

The young waiter gasped and stared in a fog.

Bucky shuffled along, still gathering his wits. He’d never seen his girl so pissed. Once outside the restaurant she hugged him tightly, cursing, “Fucking asshole. Sorry I went a little crazy. Jameson would be proud, ha.” Meanwhile the brunette was blinking away tears, grateful for her swift save. He blurted, more of a croak, “Thank you angel.” Suddenly his eyes were blurry with hot tears.

Bucky sobbed in her arms, the panic, shame, and embarrassment from earlier breaking down. The woman soothed him with a shush, rubbing his muscular back. She cooed, “That’s okay, let it out, about time for you to be the crier.” Bucky smiled slightly, eyeing her with red rims. She swiped away his tear, stating, “Don’t ever let an idiot like that make you feel less than, you are good.”

Bucky shook his head, murmuring, “Does everybody still think I’m about to snap?”

She raised a brow, “Buck. The amount of good press you got from the GRC debacle has shown you in a different light,” she laughed, “I can write puff pieces of you napping with the cat if that makes you feel better baby?” He swatted her ass with a roll of teary eyes, thanking his girlfriend again.

Bucky asked, “D’ya just wanna order in instead? I’ll rub your feet.”

“Free of charge, no foot rubs, let’s go home big guy,” she shrugged. Bucky would be a little weepy for the rest of the night, but she made it bearable.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #fluff

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starrysnowdrop · 10 months

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Aymeric de Borel Headcanons

This is a list of the important headcanons that I personally hold for Aymeric and I have these in mind as I write him in my fics. I am not entirely certain how “popular” of an interpretation that I have of him, and quite frankly, I’m not here to have the “popular” interpretation, or to say that this is the “right” one either. This is simply how I have always seen him and I felt the need to share with you all.

If you hold a different view of Aymeric than myself, feel free to share your thoughts with me, but please be respectful of my views and those of others that you might see in the replies. I was inspired to write this post up because of @miqomischief, so thank you for sharing your thoughts!! Now, onto the headcanons!

Content warning: discussion of sensitive and potentially triggering topics, such as religious trauma, violence, and torture. Will also include discussion of mental health issues, such as clinical depression and PTSD. Under the cut below:

First, I must start with Aymeric’s birth. As of now in canon, we have zero knowledge about Aymeric’s mother, even the lorebooks have nothing to say about her. It also seems as though he was adopted right after he was born by the Borels. That all being said, it’s highly likely that Aymeric’s mother was a lowborn woman who either died in childbirth, or heaven forbid, Thordan and/or the church might’ve had her killed and the chirurgeons were able to save her baby but not her.

Either way, it must be hard on Aymeric to finally have the confirmation of who his birth father was, and must deal with everything his father had done, but still don’t know about his birth mother. I wonder if later on he will try to investigate the mystery and find out the truth about his mother. If we never get the canon account, I might expand on this in the future and come up with something myself.

I imagine the Borels were incredibly loving parents, always loving and treating Aymeric as their own child, and he never questioned how much his adoptive parents loved him. And yet they couldn’t shelter Aymeric from the constant bullying by other children about the rumors of him being the Archbishop’s bastard son.

Though I like to think that Aymeric got his insanely good looks from his mother, it’s still very noticeable that Thordan is his father, especially in the scene where Aymeric confronts Thordan, as Aymeric’s ice blue eyes are the same as Thordan’s. So even though Aymeric couldn’t prove his true lineage until that moment, everyone around him whispered that he was a bastard of the Archbishop, and he was scorned for this his whole life.

Because of this, Aymeric has struggled with his self-esteem, and he never had that many close friends. I imagine that outside of his family and their few servants whom the Borels treated like their family, Aymeric must’ve been pretty lonely, especially with finding friends his own age.

Another pressure on him was the fact that his loving adoptive parents, the only parents he has ever known, were elderly, and they would pass away long before others’ parents would. He would have to face adulthood and find his own place in the world without them, and that must’ve been devastating for him when they did pass away.

I assume that the Borels both died long before we meet Aymeric in the MSQ, so I think that it must’ve happened after Aymeric comes of age and joins the Temple Knights. This is because Aymeric is still using the bow and arrow when he meets Estinien in the short story Through Fire and Blood, but he was gifted Naegling, the Borel family sword, obviously before we meet him. So, sometime between the events of the short story and when Aymeric is promoted to Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, is likely when the Borels died.

I imagine that Aymeric joins the Temple Knights for multiple reasons, one being the obvious one of him wanting to protect his homeland and the Ishgardian people, but I think that he also wants to be included in something larger than himself, something that he will feel included, where he can be recognized and respected. The Temple Knights are where he can rise through the ranks and gain a better reputation, and not just be known for his suspected parentage.

I think that Aymeric did want the position of Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, as he had finally found a place where he felt he belonged; he would also be able to make a difference in the war effort and bring about change in Ishgard. But he had no plans on being the Lord Speaker of the House of Lords, and had to be talked into it, as is suggested in the ending scenes of Heavensward.

Stemming from the bullying in his childhood, as I mentioned before, I believe Aymeric has several mental health issues, including low self-esteem and bouts of self-loathing, clinical depression, and more recently PTSD due to the effects of the Dragonsong War, his time imprisoned in the Vault when he was tortured, and then his attempted assassination.

Though all of us Aymeric fans love to gush about how insanely gorgeous the man is, I doubt that Aymeric himself feels that he is that physically attractive. Perhaps he is aware that others find him attractive, but he probably thinks it’s due to his pretty face and nothing else.

Why is this? Well, I have always imagined that Aymeric has many scars on his body, from not only his years of fighting on the battlefield, but also the torture he endured while imprisoned in the Vault, and he also has a large stab wound from the attempted assassination. I think he must have marks around his neck, wrists, and ankles from being shackled, and potentially many cuts and burns all over his torso, especially if someone like Charibert was the one who was torturing him for information. I don’t believe Aymeric is going to find his body attractive after all of this has happened to him.

Without going into too much detail about the torture, Aymeric was imprisoned and Thordan had told the Heavens’ Ward to “question him thoroughly”. Then we see Aymeric limping as he attempts to talk Thordan out of his plans. He clearly has suffered physically and mentally due to his imprisonment. As Aymeric himself says, “Some scars do not heal.” That’s all the evidence we have of what happened in the Vault from the MSQ, and the rest I have inferred from reading about Charibert’s background.

Another factor that has affected Aymeric greatly is the Ishgardian Orthodox Church, and it’s strict teachings. The religious trauma he has experienced just adds another layer onto him trying to gain a better reputation for himself. In doing so, I surmise that Aymeric has made sure not to have any casual sexual relationships, as he would want to properly court a partner in accordance with Ishgardian tradition. On that note, I personally see Aymeric as demisexual/demiromantic and can be attracted to any gender.

To elaborate on my last point, I do not think Aymeric would ever have a casual sexual encounter. This is not only because of the church’s teachings that he would’ve grown up with, but because he is a bastard and has been shunned his whole life because of what his parents did, so I don’t think he would ever put himself in a position for such a situation to happen again, regardless of the gender of his partner. I think he would just take his time in getting to know someone and not jump into bed with someone without a serious commitment, and he would want to court a partner properly.

Overall, I think that Aymeric tries his best to make himself seem perfect, and though he truly is kind, compassionate, brave, and dutiful, that is certainly not an act, but I do think he is much less confident than he lets on. He is good at looking calm, collected, and seemingly put together. Aymeric has true leadership qualities that make him have the image of the perfect leader that Ishgard needs, but deep inside, I believe he is very hard on himself and doesn’t see himself how others do.

I also believe Aymeric is really lonely. He still seems to not have many friends, and he longs for companionship, which is evident when he asks after his friend Estinien and whenever he sees the Warrior of Light. He drops his Lord Commander mask and he genuinely smiles and even seems giddy when he’s around the Warrior of Light.

The dinner with Aymeric is also evidence that he wants more in his life than just his duty, as he seems to genuinely be interested in the Warrior of Light and their adventures—he is extremely happy if you invite him to come with you on an adventure sometime. No, Aymeric would never shirk his duty just to run away with the WoL, I can never see him ever doing such a thing. However, he clearly is lonely and some part of him likely wants to go adventuring when his duties as Lord Speaker are complete.

Overall, I do think Aymeric has the background and the qualities that could make him a great villain—savvy at politics, manipulating people to get them onto his side, persuading others to do as he bids, all of which he seems to do when he’s Lord Commander and Lord Speaker. But he only has good intentions, and he uses his abilities as a force for good in the world, and not for personal gain. And that is what makes all of the difference. He is a hero because he chooses to be, and he chooses to rise above the circumstances of his birth and what Thordan had wanted for him. That’s why Aymeric is a hero.

Well, that’s about it! Thank you very much for taking your time to read through all of this! Let me know if this lines up with what your headcanons for Aymeric are, if you wish to of course.

#ffxiv headcanons #ffxiv heavensward #aymeric de borel #ser aymeric #this took me much longer than expected #mainly because I can’t shut up about him #i love this man too much #anyway hope yall enjoy the read!

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kitthepurplepotato · 4 months

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Chapter 16 - Fight!

Summary: Y/N fights Midoriya and Shouto in front of an audience. Is she able to win against the two top heroes and go back to being a hero? We shall see.

Feat. Present Mic and Aizawa!

Warnings: Swear words, Katsuki makes a few horny comments here and there, mentions of Shouto’s PTSD, one broken rib. Or two. Or three.

First Chapter Master List

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“Ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between, welcome to the battle of the year!” Present Mic yells into his speaker with utter enthusiasm. Why is Present Mic here? You have no idea, but you can’t wait to get a signature because you freaking love his talk show. “Y/N versus Midoriya and Todoroki! Yeaaaaaah!”

The whole building cheers.

You heard it right. The whole building. It’s a fucking full house.

The whole agency is here except a few who decided to stay behind to keep the business going (Katsuki had to give them a double hourly wage to make them stay at work, by the way.), which doesn’t surprise you as Katsuki’s team is quite known for being overly enthusiastic when it comes to mock battles and hero stuff, then there’s Mina, Kaminari, and a shit load of people from the wedding, possibly Katsuki’s old classmates and friends, all sitting in one corner and cheering for both teams which doesn’t make any fucking sense, but okay. Next to the famous Present Mic there is a grouchy black haired man with a massive white scarf thingy around his neck; he has a camera by this left side and a notebook on his lap.

“Why. Just why.” The man mutters under his nose; thankfully you are amazing at lip reading, so you don’t actually need to hear him to know what’s up. His face is contorted into a frown as he stares at the blond with nothing but pure judgment.

“Oh come on, sensei! Have some fun!” The guy snickers but “sensei” only rolls his eyes at that.

“I’m here to take notes and to film the fight for Midoriya for analytical purposes. I’m not here to have fun.”

“We are here to have fun, let’s go, Mic sensei wooohooo!” Kaminari yells and the whole audience cheers at that.

Dang. You’ve never had a stage fright before. Needless to say, now you do.

“Deku, what the actual fuck, do you want to die, you idiot?! This is not what we’ve discussed!” Katsuki clearly felt the nervous vibes coming from you and is absolutely fucking livid right now.

“Kacchan, I swear it wasn’t me. I only asked Aizawa-sensei! No one else!”

“Why is Auntie Inko hiding behind the pillar then?!” Katsuki tries his best to look less aggravated as he waves to the shy, green haired woman with a forced smile on his face. Midoriya then stares at his Kacchan with nothing but gratefulness, tears prickling his eyes from seeing his childhood rival being nice to his one and only mother he loves so much.

“Mum doesn’t count, does she? She’s family.” Deku mutters, ready to have his face blasted off.

“Do you see my shitty family here, Deku?! Huh?!” Kacchan yells at the poor guy; Midoriya points right where his mum is with a barely concealed smile.

“Yeah, they are right behind my mum.”

“The fuck?!”

Katsuki is having a brain fart moment. He’s so fucking confused it’s kinda hilarious.

“It’s my fault, Katsuki.” Kirishima comes over with guilt deeply etched into his face. “I accidentally told Denki about it and then… well, you know him. I’m sorry.”

“Fucking hell.”

“My family isn’t here.” Todoroki adds. The guy didn’t make a single noise until now so you kinda forgot he’s also here.

“Shouto, you are not helping, but thank you for trying.” Izuku, who’s clearly used to Todoroki’s miserable attempts to save the day, leaves a tiny kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

“10 minutes until show time, are you guys ready?!” Present Mic’s voice comes through the speaker again as the light around the outer edges of the building dramatically go down.

“If you hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you, you fucking overpowered energizer bunny.” Katsuki grabs the green head’s shirt by the neck and pulls him closer with a sneer. “One fucking bruise and…”

“Kacchan… I respect you but I’m here to win. You wouldn’t want me to go easy on her, would you?”

Katsuki only contemplates for a few seconds, the tips of his ears coated pink as he lets go of the poor guy, completely defeated.

“I can cauterize wounds if things get out of hand.”

You’ve never seen Katsuki so terrified in your whole life. His face is pale like a sheet and he looks five seconds away from throwing up all over the floor.

“Nope. We are not doing this. We are going home. Nope. Fuck this.” Katsuki is about to pull you towards the exit but Izuku jumps between the two of you.

“Shouto, you were doing so well...” Midoriya sighs and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, Katsuki. I swear I won’t do any serious harm to your girlfriend. I also think she can protect herself and she’ll be able to keep up with us with no problems. Please, sit down and enjoy the show.” Midoriya pushes you to the side slowly, but Katsuki’s grasp on your hand is relentless.

“Come on, bro! I heard Auntie Inko brought you some muffins!” Kirishima chimes in, pulling him towards the seats, his hands massaging the blond’s shoulders. “Come on now!”

“Just one minute and I’m going.” Katsuki tears himself out of Kirishima’s grasp. Todoroki and Midoriya make their way towards the other end of the battlefield while Kirishima takes a few steps back to give you some privacy. “Kick their asses, baby. I fucking… I fucking believe in you. I love you and shit. Fuck.”

The whole audience gawks as Katsuki snuggles into the crook of your neck like a little kitten looking for attention. You rake your fingers through his messy hair out of habit, playing with the strands and leaving tiny kisses on the top of his head until he finally looks up and lets you kiss him properly, right in front of the whole fucking building.

“Oh my god! What a day to be alive! Bakugou Katsuki aka Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight just got a kiss from the mysterious hero! You go, lover boy, good for you!”

“That’s his girlfriend!” Kaminari yells into the air helpfully. “He’s in love, sensei!”

“Oh my god, dear listeners! The beast has been tamed! I’m so proud!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Katsuki mutters into your neck, his whole face probably the color of a ripe tomato.

“He said shut the fuck up!” You yell to the interpreter with a shit eating grin on your face.

“Ahh, well, there is a lot of things I can do but that ain’t one of ‘em!” Mic giggles and the whole audience roars.

“That’s true.” Sensei mutters with a nod and Mic makes an offended face at that.

“Five minutes to go. Are we are ready, dear listeners?!” Present Mic yells again and the audience cheers. Loudly. Dang, they are really fucking excited for this shit.

“Keep your eyes on me, loverboy.” You wink at your boyfriend; he visibly shivers under your confident gaze.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off you even if I’d try.”

… damn, you two won’t sleep a wink tonight, that’s for sure.

~•💥•~

“Three, two, one… go!”

The two heroes charge at you right away, their movements completely synchronized and clearly planned out; needless to say having two heroes that are so used to each other fight against you should be a huge disadvantage for you but here’s the thing; you can do whatever you want. And by whatever, you mean you can literally just…

“Goldfish.”

Deku’s movements halt right away, his face contorted into a confused frown as he looks at his partner in pure terror.

“Goldfish is a quirk that makes the other person forget what they were about to do a few minutes prior. It’s quite harmless unless used… well… in cases like this. Well done.” The “sensei” steals the speaker from Present Mic who’s completely bamboozled by seeing the number one hero so lost on the battlefield. This would be the perfect time to counterattack but seeing how many people have gathered here today you decide to give them a little show instead; Todoroki comes out of his own stupor and charges towards you while Midoriya slowly tries to put himself back into the present but suddenly, his quirk changes sides in the most literal sense; his right side becomes his hot side while his left side starts to frost over rapidly; having such a change is already quite a pain in the ass but here’s the thing - to be honest this was a bluff but it clearly worked -; while his quirk swapped sides, his body didn’t, hence why his body is now affected by the effects of the quirk.

“Fuck!” Shouto yells as the flames start to burn his heat-sensitive skin…

“Y/N, stop! Anything but that. Please.” Izuku begs and he looks so horrified you cancel the quirk right away. There is something in his eyes, something painful and deep and you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to see that you somehow managed to touch a sensitive topic here. You look at Katsuki who’s standing by the side of the battlefield; he looks at his friend apologetically, his eyes somehow regretful.

“This is good practice.” Shouto’s sudden grin surprises the whole audience. “Sometimes, you need to face your biggest fears and if this would be a real fight, there wouldn’t be a pause. On the battlefield, there is no time to dwell on the past.”

“Is pro hero Shouto giving a speech in the middle of the battle?!” Present Mic screeches. “Also, how many quirks…?”

“All of them. Her quirk is called ‘quirk manifestation’. It’s the strongest quirk in the whole world as she can use several different quirks at the same time for as long as she wants to. Until she can stay focused, she’s unstoppable.” Sensei answers with a deadpanned face.

“Wow, you did your research.” You yell back to him with a grin. Thankfully, the mood is slowly shifting back to relatively normal now.

“I’m Eraserhead. I work underground. Gaining intel is my virtue.” He mutters smugly. “But for this intel I must thank my former student, Midoriya. His notes on you were quite… detailed.”

“Quirk me again.” Shouto suddenly yells, completely ignoring his old teacher. Midoriya looks at the guy like he just lost his mind and by the absolute manic grin on his face, he might be right about that.

Also, can we stop for a moment and talk about the fact that Todoroki Shouto is wearing his emotions on his face? You are a taken woman, but damn, he should do this more often.

“Are we going berserk? Plus fucking ultra then.” Midoriya grins back and by the random eye fucking those two just did a few seconds prior you are quite sure they’ll also have a long night after this.

“Come at me you gay disasters.” You give the two a manic grin and… well… they do.

First, Todoroki somehow finds a way to use his quirk even with the disadvantage. You manage to slip on the tiny, almost invisible ice he manages to sneak under your legs; the ice travels further up, pinning you to the ground but not for long; with your quick thinking you manage to counterattack with pink flames, because why the fuck not, melting the ice on your legs then charge forward towards the half and half hero but you change your stance last minute; you attack Midoriya instead, your emotions concealed with a quirk you just came up with to not trigger his danger sense; he catches your hand with black whip but you make your body intangible and slip out of the grasp; he tries to save himself by using his Smoke Ray but it’s all in vein as your favorite quirk is X-Ray Vision; Midoriya also made a massive mistake with using this quirk of his as he also made it impossible for his partner to see you, basically rendering him useless for the next few minutes until the smoke dissolves.

“I really want to gossip about the sexual tension between the two boys on the battlefield but… what a mistake! Todoroki’s lost in the smoke and Midoriya is just about to get hit by… uuuuh, that must have hurt!”

You just landed a massive hit right at Midoriya’s ribs using a mixture of Kirishima’s hardening and super strength while Todoroki is still wandering in the smoke, trapped and probably extremely frustrated.

Something cracked. Fuck.

“Izuku!” Todoroki finally emerges from the smoke, putting on a massive ice wall right between you two.

“She broke my fucking rib, Shouto.”

Suddenly, a furious Todoroki jumps through the wall, shattering it into pieces as he lands a massive hit on your shoulder and you fall to the ground.

“Midoriya is OUT! Nothing is as strong as a fury of a wounded lover, though! Get her, Todoroki!” Present Mic yells, exhilarated.

Katsuki looks like he’s about to pass out which is quite understandable to be honest. This fight is fucking intense.

“Was that really necessary?!” Todoroki yanks your wounded arm and pushes you down.

What he doesn’t know is that you are not actually in pain anymore; you already healed yourself but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You know I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Ten more seconds and Todoroki wins!”

“What kind of monster are you?!”

“The one on the good side. The one who really fucking wants to go back to work and save people.”

It all happens really quickly. You use a slime quirk to get out of Todoroki’s intense grasp and blast his face using your own version of your boyfriend’s quirk; the pink, cotton candy scented one you used to bully Katsuki with. You make sure to not use too much power this time and mostly just blind the hero for long enough to use your own version of Midoriya’s black whip - it’s quite a useful quirk as it’s heat and frost-resistant, basically indestructible. In only a few seconds, the half and half hero is rolled up like a little burrito, surrounded by black whip everywhere but his face.

“Sorry about triggering your PTSD in the beginning. I’m also sorry for hurting your boyfriend. I’ll heal him as soon as this is over.”

“Ten…”

“It’s fine, it has been ages since I’ve been challenged by someone. Felt fucking nice.” Todoroki tries to wiggle himself out but it’s all in vain. It’s game over for him.

“Five…”

“You guys are amazing. If this would have been an actual life or death situation I’m quite sure you would’ve won.”

“Three.”

“Stop flattering me, you literally took that hit on your shoulder just to be even.”

“One.”

“Anyway… it was a great fight. Thank you.”

“Todoroki is out, Y/N wins! WHAT A FIGHT! Congratulations!” Present Mic yells while the whole audience whistles. Midoriya’s mother is crying so you make a note to yourself to apologize to her later.

Todoroki is by Midoriya’s side the moment he’s free. You are just about to go over to heal him and say sorry when Katsuki jumps on you from behind, turns you over to him and kisses you with so much fervor your legs almost give up under you.

“You fucking madman.” Katsuki grins, his worried eyes long gone in exchange for pure exhilaration. “You don’t know how to hold back, do you?” Suddenly, Katsuki’s lips skim your ears. “Why don’t you go all unhinged in bed with me tonight? I want to see what else you can do…”

“Katsuki, this is not the time.” You reprimand with a little giggle. “I need to take care of your broken friend first.”

“You can take care of my…”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you horny weirdo.” You put your palm on his face and push him away playfully in the middle of his sentence. The shit eating grin on Katsuki’s face is so fucking adorable you kinda want to kiss him but this is really not time for it.

“Y/N!” Todoroki yells, frustrated. By the look of it, it isn’t just Midoriya’s rib that’s broken but his mind as well; he’s mumbling to himself, still sitting on the floor, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the facility. Needles to say, he’s crying.

“Let me reboot the crybaby.” You grin at the big lump on the floor while most of the audience goes back to work. Katsuki’s friend group and the two senseis are still seated, probably waiting for you guys to wrap up and listen to their feedback.

This will be a long fucking day.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- I know. This is fucking late. Honestly, I had the busiest two weeks of my whole life and I only had one day off which was the 25th and that was all. I don’t remember the last three days. Like I actually don’t think my soul was in my body. I have no recollection of the days either so yeah, I’m sorry folks who always tell me to chill the fuck out, I definitely did not listen this time. 😂

- Midoriya’s grave mistake and the whole drama around his behavior will be explained in the next chapter. Aizawa will give him a harsh feedback. 😂

- I’m really excited about the last chapter because it will have Steven in it. I fucking love Steven. I will miss him so much.

- The next chapter will be the last official chapter, then there will be one extra part and that’s probably it! BUT! If you guys have any ideas for possible extra chapters I’m more than keen to listen and maybe one day I’ll come back to this and write some cute extra chapters for you guys! So even if you read this months after I posted this, feel free to leave a comment about what would you like to see and stuff!

- Also, I’ll will start posting the Kirishima spin-off a few weeks after this one ends so if you want to be on the tag list, leave me a comment!

- I got myself a really aggressive looking cactus today. He has MASSIVE spikes all over and he looks like he could literally kill a person. His first thing after I bought him was to prick my finger. So obviously I named him Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight because he’s a prickly little fuck like him.

- I’ll shut up now. Happy new year and all that jazz. 💜💥💜

TL: @sixxze @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat @therealpotatobish @qardasngan @canarystwin @unofficialmuilover @nanamomo1 @mikestuffffs @p4ndawrites @yao-ai @porusuniverse

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x self insert #bakugo x you #shenanigansbypurplepotato #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki

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testingthewatersss · 4 months

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I never lost him Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture, etc. Just unapologetic cuddling and comfort ft. Steve Rodgers. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 1 2400 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Post TWS Steve realises that he's not the only one looking for Sargent Barnes. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

“I don’t really know what you want me to say”

“Y/N” Tony says, exasperated, “I want you to say that you’ll be more careful”

“That’s a bit rich, comin’ from you”

Natasha scoffs at the young woman’s reply, quickly shrugging at Steve, who is positioned directly across from her in the quinn-jet.

“I” Stark continues, “Didn’t just ransack an entire underground base-“

“No, you were just waiting outside said base, with a shit-tone of explosives”

This time, Romanoff doesn’t even bother to disguise her laughter, much to the dismay of the other, more uncomfortable passengers.

“I also have a billion-dollar suit-”

“I can make myself one, if us matching would make you feel any better”

The offer silences Tony, who rubs at his goatee, screwing his eyes shut for a moment as he considers his sister.

“I’m sorry me doing my job makes you nervous” she offers calmly, standing up from her spot to pace towards the main console, “but, look on the bright side, we got all the tech we wanted, and, it’s one less HYDRA lair for SHIELD to worry about bringing down”

“She’s right, Tony” Steve inserts, speaking for the first time since their departure, “I’m not gonna say I agree with her method-”

“Oh good” Stark counters, still clearly irritated, “Because for a second there, it sounded like you were going to praise my little sister for jumping head on into a fight without backup”

“I had back up” Y/N mutters, keying something into the computer

“Like who?” Tony bristles,

“You” she answers, turning to face him.

It’s clear from the silence that follows, that that is something she was expecting him to have known already.

It’s also clear that her having that level of unwavering faith in him, is something he didn’t consider as a possibility.

He’s suddenly very flattered. It shows.

Y/N rolls her eyes, and everyone notices how identical the expression looks when it’s her who’s wearing it.

Tony smiles the rest of the way back to New York. Not even Fury chastising them for their ‘rash actions’ does much to temper his new found elation. In fact, when he tries to scold Y/N, by saying that ‘Reckless impulsivity’ must be a genetic trait they share, he only seems to get happier.

Steve looks somewhat satisfied with the days events, and Natasha is boarder line chipper considering her usual blank facade.

“What did you go back for?” she whispers, when Y/N eventually takes her seat, back at her side, “i pochemu ty pryachesh' eto ot svoyego brata?” and why are you hiding it from your brother?

“because it’s not any of his business” she answers calmly, ignoring the quirk in Steve’s brow, “Eto to, chto ya dumayu, prinadlezhit Sardzhentu Barnsu”

“Sargent Barnes?” Natasha echos, shock making her forget her place for once.

Rodgers snaps up in his seat, eyes suddenly trained in on the women-

“Don’t pretend you don’t know who he is” Y/N chides, “I know damn well you’ve both been tracking him for months-”

“You know Bucky?!” Steve demands in a hushed tone, acutely aware of their lack of privacy.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” she quotes, not bothering to hide her smirk.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Language” the women tease in unison.

Natasha has taken the minute of distraction to compose herself.

It’s hardly surprising Y/N has caught on to their lame attempts at locating the former assassin. They’ve been hacking into her tech after all-

“No offence” she chides, “but did either of you really think nobody was going to notice a bunch of Stark drones being deployed covertly with no authorisation? ”

It’s clear from Steve’s expression that that’s exactly what he’d thought.

“You’re lucky it was me who caught on” she says, “Tony would have put a stop to it pretty fast, y’know, he’s still a little sour about the whole he murdered our parents thing”

“Y/N/N” Steve begins, clearly desperate, “He didn’t know- there is no way Bucky would’ve-”

She raises a hand to silence him, nodding over at her brother who is still blissfully focused on the navigation software.

“You’ve been keeping him off our tracks” Natasha realises, blinking between the siblings, “You are the one that’s been helping me decrypt the security codes-”

Y/N just shrugs.

“You’re actually quite good” she comments, “for a field agent”

Natasha rolls her eyes, bumping her shoulder playfully.

Steve shifts anxiously on his seat clearly trying to process the information he’s just been hit with.

“If you” he begins, “If you’ve already been doin’ that, would- would you help us? I’m sure with you runnin’ some of the kit we track him down in-”

“I don’t need to track him down” Y/N says pleasantly, shutting her eyes, “I know exactly where he is”

Before either of the others could formulate a response, she’d put her headphones in, and was leaning back against the wall, seemingly serene.

Steve had festered for the entire journey back, sharing strained looks at Natasha who seemed to be utterly unwilling to share in his urgent need to do something.

Once they’d landed, Tony had rushed his sister down to their lab to run some tests on the things they’d brought back, and to update Banner who’d been staying behind with Clint.

Much to his continued dismay, Black Widow had only cautioned him against doing anything stupid where the Starks were concerned. Warning him that he was on thin ice with Tony already, and reminding him of the older man’s protective nature, when it came to his sister.

“But she knows Nat” he’d insisted, “she knows his name, she knew about the bridge, about what he said-”

“maybe” Natasha allows

“-How?! How the hell does she know about that” he half demands, “and how, has does she know ‘exactly where he is!?”

“I don’t kn-”

“Shocking” Y/N says, pushing the door to the room open with a smile on her face, “You’re in the dark about’ somethin’ Red? I’d never have believed it-“

Before the spy can react the teasing, Steve has reacted, he’s turned, jaw locked as he reaches out to grip her arm, hard enough to leave a bruise.

She stiffens at the sudden contact, and Natasha takes a step towards the pair.

Their eyes are locked together, Y/N looks almost curious by the boldness of the mans actions, but she can tell that he’s hurting her, even though she knows him well enough to be certain it’s not deliberate.

“Steve…” she cautions, astutely aware of the way that the other woman is assessing the scenario “let her go”

“Unless you want you and your old buddy to have a matching set” Y/N says, flicking a glance at his hand, “then I’d do what she says.”

Steve releases her instantly, ashamed of the way he’d acted on instinct, without considering how he much have hurt her in the process.

“I’m sorry” he says sincerely, taking a step back, “I didn’t mean to-”

“I know” Y/N accepts, damp hair falling in front of her face as she offers him an amused smile, “Don’t worry about it”

“Y/N/N” Nat begins, hopeful that if she can do the talking, they might stand a chance of leaving this interaction with more information then they’d started with, “You said you know where Barnes is located”

“I did” she agrees, leaning on the counter, “I do”

Steve watches her, body thrumming with adrenaline.

“How?” Nat presses, “we’ve been running drones-”

“I know what you’ve been doin’” she replies, “and don’t get me wrong, I love a satellite controlled drone as much as the next girl, but I’ve been takin’ a different approach in terms of gettin’ an updated location-”

“-and that is?”

“I called him a couple of days ago.”

Steve’s jaw drops open, Natasha’s locks shut.

Y/N looks at the duo, and her amusement visible shifts to something more akin to sympathy, when she sees how earnestly Steve wants information about his friend.

“He’s alright…” she offers, “… safe”

“He has a cell phone?” Nat mumbles, more annoyed at herself for not figuring that out, than she is absorbed in the nuance of the conversation

“He takes your calls?”

“Well yeah” Y/N replies to both of them, “I check in every now and then”

“You… check in, on the winter soldier?”

“Are we still calling him that?” she quips, turning to look at Natasha, “I mean, we can I guess, but it sounds a little formal don't you think? I usually stick with Bucky"

Steve is still speechless. He just blinks dumbly at the women for a second, thoughts racing.

“What?” Y/N chides, “You’re the only one allowed to make new friends?”

He runs a hand through his hair, starring at her again.

“Is that what you are? His friend?”

She thinks his tone is awfully protective, if a little suspicious. It doesn’t take her long to decide that it’s endearing, rather than offensive, so she offers him a smile before shrugging, and murmuring a “somethin’ like that” that makes Natasha scoff.

Another, longer silence fills the room. Nobody seems keen on breaking it, and the mutual air of acceptance that has come with it.

Steve isn’t sure why he trusts the woman’s intentions, but that doesn’t change the fact that he does.

Natasha has always loved Y/N. Their bond goes deeper and further back then any of the others know, so there was never any part of her that was going to risk upsetting her over a man she’s never spoken to.

“He’s expecting a call tonight” Y/N says finally, “I'll tell him you say hello”

The hope that flairs behind Steve’s eyes is sweet. He grins and takes a step towards her, he catches himself though, and slows his movements, feeling absurdly guilty about the way he’d greeted her earlier.

“I’m not giving you his number” she tells him firmly, with no hint of apology

“Please” he asks, feeling the optimism he’d been experiencing a moment ago dissipate like smoke, “Y/N-”

“I can’t” she replies, looking at the other woman for support, “He knows you’re looking for him, Steve, he knows where I live, I-”

“is he angry at me?”

“What?” both girls say in unison

“Why would he be angry at you?” Y/N asks, as Natasha offers her a confused glance.

“I- I left him, I-“

“You nearly died” Black Widow inserts, “He nearly killed you”

“That doesn’t matter Nat, I-”

“No” Y/N says calmly, “No Steve, he’s not angry with you- He’s-” she sighs, “He’s not angry at anybody”

“So why-”

“He’s scared, Steve” Natasha says, as if that answer had been obvious, “I mean can you blame the guy?”

Y/N averts her eyes, but it’s obvious from her expression that she agrees.

“I don’t-”

“God, Steve” the red head continues, "He's clearly running from something, and right now, my money's on us-”

“-Oh, god…”

Y/N looks up seeing, hearing the remorse in their voices.

“He’s fine” she repeats, “but he’s not ready for a reunion”

It looks like he might cry. She can barely handle it, so she moves in, closing the few steps between them, and pulls him into a hug.

He laughs into her shoulder, shocked at the contact, but not displeased. He holds onto her, before nodding when she pulls away.

“Would-” he sighs, clearly emotional, “Would’ya tell him, I’m- I’m sorry, I’ll- I’ll give him space, and I- I swear I never meant to make it any harder on him I just- I just miss him-”

“I’ll tell him, I promise”

He nods again, and reigns himself back in, the best he can, pawing at his face to stop tears from filling his eyes.

“So…” Nat begins, “…what did you bring back for him?”

Steve turns to face the spy, and then the Stark.

Y/N is grinning, as she pulls a silver chain from her pocket.

“What’s that?” Romanoff asks, looking at the dog tag that’s hanging from it almost suspiciously, “and why do you think it’s his?”

“Because it is” Y/N answers calmly, “Isn’t it?”

She hands it to Steve, who holds it like it’s fragile, like it’s precious, or like he’s worried it might disappear.

He turns the tag over in his fingers, looking at the familiar engraving with awe.

“It… that… that’s not possible”

“Clearly, it is” Y/N teases, taking it back from his hands, “He told me about it once, said he’d never taken it off before he fell- when I saw it in that drawer I figured I should probably get it back to him”

“We had them made” Rodgers says, “when we got him out of that camp, everyone was jokin’, said it was so if one of us got lost, we’d get brought back to the other”

“Where’s yours?” she asks, eying his baron neck,

“Somewhere at the bottom of the ocean.”

The sadness in his tone is heavy. It pulls at Y/N’s heart strings until one almost snaps in her chest.

“Well, maybe it’ll come back to you one day” is all she says, even though she feels like she owes him more than that.

He forces a chuckle and nods.

“How are you gonna get it to him?” he asks, clearly nervous, “it could get-”

“I’m going to hand it to him” she says, “I’m not going to risk sending it in the mail, Steve, I promise”

His curiosity is clearly sparked again, but this time, he bites his tongue.

The trust he’s putting in her is tangible. She offers him a smile, and tucks the necklace away.

“I’m gonna get back to T-” she announces, pressing a peck against Natasha’s cheek, “I’ll let you know how he’s getting on”

“We’ll stop the drones” the other woman offers,

“You don’t have to” Y/N replies over her shoulder, “they’re way off track”

Steve shakes his head, dismayed- earlier that week they’d been sure they’d gotten a lead in Budapest.

“We really weren’t ever close?” Nat asks, almost irritated

“No” she replies apologetically, “But if it helps, you were up against me, so you never really stood a chance”

“Careful, darlin” Steve cuts in, “you’re startin’ to sound-”

“Like an arrogant douche bag” Natasha finishes for him,

Y/N laughs, loud and hearty like her brother.

“Maybe it’s genetic” she suggests playfully, “Recklessness, Impulsivity, Arrogance, I’m sure Fury’s puttin’ a list together-”

x | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #the winter soldier x you #fluff #x reader #drabble #series #BBneverlosthim

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herdemonspeaking · 9 days

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Women don’t care anymore… A lengthy blog

Women have been suffering a lot since the beginning all because of these shitty men which caused them to end up in depressed state, having PTSDs, feeling suicidal and literally becoming the victims of femicide.

But there had never been a podcast or a youtube channel created by these so called alpha males discussing that issue and warning women of the consequences they would have to face if they end up marrying a toxic man. Instead, all these men would make memes and laugh at women being oppressed for centuries.

Now suddenly when women are choosing to be single and childfree, there are numerous podcasts with illiterate empty-heads sitting behind mics they probably bought with the money they stole from their mom’s purse, desperately trying to convince us how we’re gonna end up miserable and lonely with cats if we don’t settle.

Not just that! They’re also paying a shit load of money to these hypocrite girls with no dignity and self-respect for making benevolently sexist content like how being an independent woman is toxic, capitalist and a life full of struggle to scare this new generation of girls away from being self-reliant.

Every time women stepped one foot ahead. Men came up with new cunning strategies to push them ten feet behind. They always try so hard to keep the patriarchy safe and unimpaired. However, this time none of their tactics are working.

Women are no more believing their crap. Not just because we’re tired of constantly being manipulated by these satanic creatures but also because we are highly educated now and we understand men and their nature unlike the majority of women who came before us. Even the young trad-wife influencers they’re using to spread their propaganda are self-dependent lol.

We are not dumb. We know that if living as a celibate would make us depressed, men would be making lame jokes about it on reddit and twitter and jerking off on the thought of a woman with no husband, children and sexual relations. Just think about it! Since when did men care so much about us that they’re hopping on podcast channels every hour of every day crying because of OUR depression????

It’s not because we’re gonna be lonely and miserable with cats. It’s because they’re ending up in that situation. They’re ending up taking their own lives. Their energies are so negative that even cats are running away from them. That’s how bad it’s getting for them. And they’re scared. Men, by nature, cannot survive without women. They had constantly been feeding their egos by being evil misogynists.

When you feed your ego, you starve your soul. A soulless creature is, spiritually, vibrating on such a low frequency that they start dwelling in disgustingly negative energy which makes them mentally sick and emotionally unstable. This is why these men need women as we tend to have higher levels of spiritual maturity which makes our energy positive. Men crave that energy.

When you interact with somebody with negative energy; verbally, sexually or even just through social media, you exchange energies with them. Their negative energy comes to you and your positive energy gets taken away by them. That’s what men want from women. It’s not just because they want domestic slaves that they need us so bad. They need us to feed their souls so they could feel alive and fulfilled.

But the thing is, we don’t need men. Because unlike them we didn’t waste our energies being complete egoistic retards. We have been taking care of our souls, consciously and subconsciously. We are women. We can live without men. Even if they all would disappear from this world all of a sudden, we would live — we would be living much better lives.

And most of us know that! This is why we don’t give a flying fuck about male loneliness epidemic. It’s the karma hitting them back for being evil creatures all their lives. Marriage rates and birth rates are falling rapidly and divorce rates are rising. And with that male depression rate is increasing as well.

But we don’t have to care! We girlies are happy being single, independent, enjoying our own company and having no burden of dusty men-kids on our shoulder. It makes us more successful and fulfilled. And no way in hell we would ever waste our energy on healing these cartoons. They can stay miserable.

And girls, don’t think that men will surrender after this. They’re men. They’re gonna go above and beyond to save the patriarchy and to save themselves. Just yesterday they started this red pill content. Today they have started this lame ass men’s rights’ movement blaming women for their misery. Tomorrow they could be protesting on streets, barking at women for not healing their wounded energies. Day after tomorrow, someone would start another religion saying he received a revelation in his dream from the lord that single women will burn in hell.

But let them whine and complain as much as they want. Just do not ever take them seriously. Ignore and do your own thing. Nothing had ever been seem to weaken the patriarchy like how female separatism seems to do. Men are crying for their so called rights now and we are literally not giving a damn about it.

Oh look how the tables have turned!

#radblr #radical feminism #radical feminist community #radical feminist safe #feminism #radical feminist #women #spirituality

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whateverisbeautiful · 3 months

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♥️ Ranking Richonne

#21: Rules Keep Changing (S5E11)

This scene right here - so beautiful and also very telling. I love this heart-to-heart that shows how much they can reach each other. Scenes like this remind me that we really watched two characters so wholly fall in love with everything the other is. And not only fall in deep love, but deep respect, appreciation, and trust. They really saw each other, understood each other, and changed the game for each other. And of all their bonds in the show, Rick and Michonne were always the most emotionally vulnerable with each other too. The way they became each other’s best friend plays an important part in the way they became each other’s other half...

I love the staging of this scene with Grimes 2.0 staying by their car from a distance while team family fix the RV. Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Judith are so clearly a four-person family right here and now. Like Michonne is Rick’s best friend at this time, but she's his future wife too, make no mistake. And I just appreciate that when their group got bigger upon reuniting with the rest of tf in s5, Rick and Michonne still kept super close to each other.

I love that Michonne shares some wisdom with Rick. She tells him the fight is over, and it’s so vital that Rick has someone in his life like Michonne who sees him so clearly and can breathe life into him and remind him that while the fight keeps you warm and fed it can turn on you if you don’t learn to let it go.

Rick needed to hear that because, as we see, he still was in that Terminus train car mindset which was making him go a bit mad. It’s precious the way Michonne softly says she knows it’s hard cuz Rick needs someone to be this gentle, compassionate, and understanding with him.

And the way that Rick, even in this PTSD state, really tries to hear her out. The best. Rick and Michonne always communicate from a place of vulnerability, leveling with each other and sharing their own experience to resonate and relate with the other. It’s a beautiful thing.

Michonne looks at him so sweetly in this scene. And when she says the fight turns on you - Rick will learn how true that is because not releasing the fight in ASZ leads to some messy situations.

Rick tells Michonne that the concept of letting go is similar to what Bob was trying to tell him back at the church. "What to risk. When it’s safe." Rick will always pull my heartstrings because, at the end of the day, he’s a family man who just wants to keep his family safe at all costs, and that can lead him to be on high alert, which is stressful.

You can just feel how much he carries the weight of the world in this scene. But having Michonne here to offer a refreshing reminder that it’s okay to let go, shows he does not have to carry the weight alone. Rick and Michonne now have a true partner and someone they can be fully human with.

And then y’all, it gets quite interesting when Rick says, “When to let someone in.” I’ve always liked that he says "someone" and not "people." It’s like Rick's been pondering a more intimate level of letting someone in. Even the way he pauses, it’s like he deep down knows that “let someone in” means something more personal than just letting strangers like Aaron into the group. And right now, he’s confiding this to someone he has let in and wants to let in even more.

And again, Rick is the type of guy who seems to really value a soul-level connection, and he seems to be the type who wouldn’t act thoughtlessly when letting someone into his heart (unless suffering from extreme PTSD). Letting someone in would need to have a deeper meaningfulness for him, and I know that at this point, Rick is slowly but surely coming around to the fact that it’s the woman right here on this car with him that he most needs to let in.

Then Rick says, "The rules keep changing." And it made me think about how I've always felt that because Rick is such a dutiful guy, it seemed to be such a stirring rule change for him when he was so captivated by Michonne in their early days of meeting each other. I really think that was a part of Rick's s3 hostility with Michonne at times because he was shaken that he had this draw and attraction to her so soon after losing Lori when the "rules" would suggest he should just be grieving.

All that to say, rule changes aren’t always easy for him, but it’s sweet how he acknowledges they’re changing and is coming around to being more open to it.

And then Michonne just puts the ultimate cherry on top of the scene by saying, “It did for me.”

Now, y’all, watching this back rn um…I’m surprised Richonne didn't become official the very next episode. Like what? I’m sorry, but there was nothing platonic about this exchange...

The way she says that and smiles at him. The way he stays looking directly at her after and then stays quiet and looks away cuz you know he had some thoughts that weren't platonic. This was giving 'I’m in love with you' energy from both of them. Can’t tell me any different. 😌

I just need to take a moment to unpack what this could mean. R: The rules keep changing. M: It did for me. Like wow. I guess if I had to be completely un-Richonne-minded (which admittedly ain't easy) then Michonne could just mean, 'I never thought I’d learn to let go and let people in but the rules changed and I’ve took the risk to let all of you in and embrace team family as her family.'

Sure. But like come on, I feel it’s not pushing it too far to say that there’s an element of this being about the two of them specifically. Rick changed the rules for her and opened her heart up in a way she didn’t think would happen again, and Michonne absolutely did the same for Rick. There's an intentional reason this exchange is between the two of them and not anyone else from the group.

Plus, while I'm always unsure of exactly how much time has passed during any given season in TWD, I'd venture to say that this moment occurs less than two months before Richonne becomes canon so it feels like this scene does want to start setting up that these two are coming closer to fully realizing their feelings for each other.

This really felt like one of the closest Rick and Michonne ever came pre-canon to acknowledging the love they’ve developed for each other. It was a beautiful scene, and to this day when I hear their moment interrupted by that RV starting to work I’m just looking over at the RV like...

Lol just cuz I wanted Rick and Michonne to get to stay in this very telling private moment a little longer and elaborate. But I understand their precious slow burn had to continue its steadily rising flicker before the wildfire could truly ignite in season 6. So this scene instead concludes with Rick excusing himself. He says he needs a moment as Michonne watches him with this loving compassionate expression.

Rick then goes to hide weapons before they take the leap that Michonne motivated and go to ASZ. Rick hiding the weapons shows that he clearly still doesn't know if this Alexandria stuff is legit, but even still they pull up to those ASZ gates (oh we're gonna talk about it 😋) And why do they still pull up? Because Rick trusts Michonne. Even over his own hesitancies. Love it.

And I adore the lingering shot of Michonne watching Rick as he goes. It’s so evident that he means so much to her, and I love that she is the one who most gets to see Rick the human being. And Michonne is so equipped to love and support him in all his humanness, just as Rick is with her.

This scene is just gold and genuinely meaningful to Richonne and their soulmate connection if you ask me. Rick and Michonne changed each others' rules and each other's lives. Oh, and changed mine too. 😌👌🏽

#richonne #top 30 #number 21 #rick x michonne #reveling in richonne #twd 5.11 #twd towl #the ones who live

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strawbeerossi · 8 months

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Salt In Open Wounds

This is for @tobias-hankel’s pre-whumptober collection!

Bad Thing: Torture

Bad Person: Ex-Partner

Content/Warnings: Cursing, unnamed abusive ex. bounces between therapy appointment and past abduction, past trauma, mention of guns and knives, mentions of Tobias Hankel, physical abuse, torture, branding (with a cattle iron), hopelessness, general angst, PTSD, depression, murder, blood, psychological torture, mild gore.

Word Count: 5.5K

Find it on AO3 || Masterlist || Requests

I’m no better than the CM writers for this. Also I got a little carried away with writing this.

“Spencer, I’d like to talk about what you’ve been through, if that’s alright.” The woman across from Spencer spoke up. This was his sixth session since the incident, however it was like he could never fully open up. Traumatic events were capable of taking someone’s voice, in his case it was severe. He’d been digging his nails into his hands just discussing the outer details, not wanting to dive straight into the cesspool of darkness he’d been exposed to. He wanted to avoid it for as long as he could. It wouldn’t be that easy though, he had nothing else to use as a shield. He’d explained all the details surrounding his pain, now he had to talk about it.

“I know it’s going to be very hard.” Marianne, his therapist, spoke. “I just want you to know that we can take this as slow as you’d like. There will be future sessions.” She gently reminded me. The once bright and cheerful doctor had been chipped away over his fifteen year career with the BAU, his year of hell broke him further. “No, no.. I uh, I need to talk about it at some point.” Therapy was mandatory, so it wasn’t like he’d gotten any other choice but to sit there. “I just, I uh, I don’t know how to begin..”

“Why don’t you start with the first night?”

***

Spencer was excited, taking a much needed break from his job at the FBI to go on sabbatical.There was a lecture circuit for Criminal Justice related classes, he was excited to take over the course for Criminology. Marbury University had recommended him for the job due to his exceeding pass rate for his class. He didn’t have the confidence to tell them it was because of the fact he was an attractive older male and he captured attention from young women and men alike.

It was silly, really. As a younger man, he was more used to people looking at him like he was an alien. He was socially awkward, his demeanor being one like a skittish cat. The years passed and he gained confidence, little by little. With that confidence, he began to lose the innocence that he once had. Tobias Hankel chipped away at him, getting him addicted to dilaudid as well as subjecting him to torture. After him, Spencer’s life was never the same.

Prison was the boiling point. Even being there for a few months, it began to eat away at him. He’d watched a friend die who he worked so hard to protect, he’d been subjected to beatings, as well as stabbing himself with a shiv to get himself locked into solitary confinement due to the fact the inmates knew of his status of a federal agent. The day JJ told him he was going home, he was relieved.

Until he had to deal with Cat Adams yet again, the woman using Lindsey Vaughn to abduct his mother, which sent them on a wild goose chase. It ended with Diana safe and sound, yet he never thought that he could experience that much anger and hatred. He’d planned on choking Cat to death in the interrogation room. Thank God for JJ, the one who managed to bring him out of his intense fit of rage.

He was trying to fix his life again, bring back the past version of himself that he yearned to be. A young man in the world who had so much promise, so much dedication. Now he was older, he was aware that he had so much to lose.

It was Friday morning when he left the office after giving Emily his paperwork for sabbatical, requesting a year of leave to pour himself into his passion of teaching the future of the bureau as well as law enforcement as a whole. The drive was gonna be an hour, so he felt like he’d been prepared enough, not being someone who was particularly fond of driving.

The convention center reminded him of the places that he and Penelope would go to for their numerous conventions. Just the memories made him smile, enjoying the parts of his past that he loved to relive in his mind. Eidetic memory was a blessing and a curse, that was the bottom line of it all. Grabbing his suitcases from the trunk of his car, he was heading into the hotel where he’d be staying for the time being. The circuit was only for a few weeks, however he was preparing to go back to Marbury for the rest of his time off.

Spencer had checked into his room, going up the stairs to the second floor to get settled in. “Excuse me,” A familiar voice was causing Spencer’s attention to turn towards the sound. “Wait what are you-” There was no way he could’ve predicted the way he was feeling something heavy hitting the back of his head, his body crashing onto the ground.

***

“Do you know how they brought you back to where you ended up?” Marianne asked, keeping a calm demeanor even though Spencer had been digging his nails into his palm, eyes squeezed shut from the fear of the vivid memories coming back to haunt him, almost smelling the hotel hallway. “I, uh, no. I can’t remember. I woke up there, I uh, I remembered the pain in my head. It was a headache that felt like it gave me a brain hemorrhage. Obviously it didn’t.” He spoke softly, eyes now opening as his gaze was fixed down at his lap.

“There’s no logical way that she got me out by herself, it makes no sense. I just can’t figure out who was there to help her and I don’t know why anyone would help her.” Unbeknownst to Spencer, his hands were tangling in his tousled curls as he roughly pulled at the roots from frustration. Pain was a way he could kickstart his hell, knowing that the familiarity of his wincing would bring back something. It had to. The sounds of Marianne trying to snap Spencer out of his actions had fallen on deaf ears, tears now streaming down Spencer’s face as he was fully throwing himself back into a world he so desperately wanted to get away from.

***

He placed himself back in the dank basement, the smell of mildew and mold assaulting Spencer’s nose. He could feel the sweat pouring down his face and back, the panic setting in from the coarse and rough rope cutting into the flesh of his wrists, daring to cut his skin from his thrashing.

Due to being abducted before by the likes of Tobias Hankel, he knew to examine his surroundings, that was how he got himself out the first time, how he saved himself and began to slip away into a never ending pit of trauma and despair. The dim light in the room revealed a cement floor, droplets of a crimson substance covering the floor. Blood. There was an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. He shouldn’t have been here, he should’ve been getting ready for his lecture delving into the psychology of serial killers. Instead, he was locked away in a kill room, a place where he could be reduced to nothing but a pile of flesh and bone.

His ears were ringing, the head injury from before causing a migraine that made him want to slam his head onto the cement floor, to put an end to the splitting headache. It was good he was tied up, the idea of ending this suffering so early on and robbing whoever this person was of their chance to kill him was so satisfying. Eidetic memory didn’t serve him any purpose here though, each time he tried to remember the face of the woman in the hallway, he was left with a blurry outline. This was all too reminiscent of when he was arrested in Mexico. Maybe he was drugged again? That would explain how he couldn’t bring himself to remember his captor. The trauma response of the brain would surely be shutting things out, as if it were any help shielding him of the pure hell he was going to face.

His thoughts stopped entirely when he heard the heavy sound of the metal door being pushed open, his head snapping over immediately. With double vision from the concussion, he felt even more hopeless. “W-why am I here?” He asked slowly, blinking his eyes slowly to try and focus them on the face of the person in front of him. The pain of a sharp slap to his face had his head flying to the side, a groan of pain falling from his lips.

“You’re here because this is the place you need to be.” The voice was soft, almost sickeningly sweet. It was also very familiar. The woman from the hallway, the woman who haunted his thoughts from her unknown, blurred face. There was a burn in Spencer’s throat. He felt ill.

Her.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked immediately after, the woman sighing as she brought a hand to gently stroke his cheek. It was a complete 180. “You’re here because we never got to talk about our relationship, honey. You decided that you were better off alone, I’m showing you that you’re safer here with me.” She offered a smile. “You will not leave me this time, Spencer. We can be happy!”

Despite his survival instincts telling him to play along, he couldn’t. “W-we broke up for a reason.” There was a waiver to his voice, fear. “Right. Then I got arrested for domestic abuse. I just think you’re dramatic.” She stated in a simple tone, her hand dropping from his cheek. Obsessive Love Disorder was a dangerous thing, something that if left untreated, would cause nothing but pain.

“I mean, what kind of man lets his girlfriend hit him without fighting back? A weak man. It’s sad. Don’t worry though, we are gonna have a lot of fun!” She mused while moving to brush her hair back from her face. Her nonchalant behavior was chilling, how heartless she could be.

Spencer was young when they’d initially gotten together, that being his first serious relationship. Things started normal, they got along and went on dates. She essentially love bombed him from the beginning, he was just too naive to notice what was going on. It was a year of joy and peace, the two enjoying each other's presence enough to the point where Spencer felt prepared to take the next step. He moved in with her.

That was when the hell started. The psychological torment, the physical abuse, and emotional manipulation was that of a cinder block tied to his ankles, ready to be thrown overboard and left without a trace. The weight of the relationship almost killed him. She would put loaded guns to his head, sadistically laughing and taunting him by acting as if she would really shoot him. There were some nights where he wished that she did. It would be his only shot at peace.

When he left the first time, he got extremely lucky. He got to use the excuse that the BAU needed him after he’d spent so much time planning for his escape. He elicited in JJ’s help, his best friend at work who he’d broken down to on a particularly stressful case. He thought that getting arrested would set her straight, get her checked out by a psychologist or something and calmed down with proper medication.

Naivety. He knew that someone couldn’t be helped unless they wanted it.

That was abundantly clear now that he was in this predicament.

All he could think of was that he’d never go home, nor would he ever be able to see his mom, JJ, Emily, or any of his beloved team again. It brought tears to his eyes, thinking that nobody knew where he was. He was supposed to be in a classroom with promising students that would change the world. What if they didn’t even notice that he was gone? By the time his year's sabbatical was over, it would be far too late. He’d be a rotting corpse buried in a random backyard.

“You’re crying.. Oh, sweetheart..” The sudden movement of her body inching closer caused the man to flinch, eyes widening as he leaned back against the chair he was bound to. “You really don’t trust me?” She had the audacity to sound hurt, as if she didn’t have him tied to a chair. “This is ridiculous, Spencer. You are just as weak as I could remember. I thought being in your forties, you would be stronger.” She sighed while her hand was roughly grabbing his hair to pull it back, the male being forced to meet her gaze.

“We are going to fix that. I’m going to train you into being better.” She spat as a frown spread across her face. Spencer knew his body was tense, his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest. “Since you don’t listen..” She began, a sad sigh falling from her lips. “I need to go through our first lesson.” She stated as she walked away. For a moment, Spencer could feel a blind hope that things would be okay. That her punishment would just be her leaving.

Spencer could only hear the rapid beat of his heart, the blood in his veins running cold. There was no way out. When she came back over, he inspected the object in her hand. The shiny metal of the scissors had his body shuddering in fear, eyes trained on her every movement. He made an effort to try and weasel away from her touch, however the rough hold on his shirt was keeping him in place. Was she going to plunge the tool deep into his chest cavity? She could stab him in the heart with enough force or a lung even. She caught him by surprise.

The blade ran over the shirt covering the male’s lanky torso before she offered a smile. “Relax. I’m not gonna stab you with scissors, that would be too easy.” She giggled, as if the idea was humorous. Instead of stabbing him, she was using the utensil to cut off the sweater from his torso, her idea of taking away his dignity seemed to be undressing him. Of course, she wanted him to be uncomfortable, embarrassed. It was the only way to break him and force him into submission. She would feed off of fear and he felt like he sustained her enough.

Like an eagle stalking its next prey, Spencer kept his eyes on her, watching every movement she made while mentally preparing himself for the worst. When she’d reached on a nearby table and picked up what looked to be a taser, it was enough for Spencer to let his eyes fall shut tightly. She was planning on torturing him by shocking him, that had to be it.

The crackle of electricity coming from the device had her smiling, holding it up to proudly display it. “First rule, you need to learn how to take everything the world will give you. Let’s see if that old man's heart can handle a few shocks, hmm?” It looked like a law enforcement level weapon, one that had stronger shockwaves than the typical ones that could be purchased in a store. Before Spencer could try to plead, he was feeling the watts of electricity surge through his veins, the violence of it causing his body to thrash. With his eyes rolled to the back of his head, he tried thinking of his mom. How happy she’d be when he got home, how excited she’d be to tell him about how her life was going.

His body was convulsing as the taser was pulled away from his neck, the male breathing hard as he was doing his damndest to keep himself together. A deep groan emerged from his throat as he slowly lifted his tired head, glossed over eyes facing the woman who was planning on making him miserable. “I’m.. Really shocked that you went through that without passing out. I mean, I had it pressed there for three minutes. The pain typically would elicit more reaction. At least, that’s what I’ve learned from other friends down here..” She was letting her head tilt to the side, reminiscent of a puppy who had so much curiosity. “Let’s see if you can last longer! This will be great research!”

The lesson went on for an hour, off and on subjecting the male to enough electricity to make his heart burst in his chest. By the grace of God and fighting for his life, he made it. The devil reincarnate was satisfied, feeding off the pure agony displayed in Spencer’s pupils. He could hide fear but he couldn’t hide excruciating pain. The way his eyes were tightly squeezed shut, he was shaking slightly in his spot. There was amusement in her eyes, a grin on her face as she was bringing her hands to his cheeks.

In his weak state, he didn’t flinch.

“So that’s where the scars come from. Oh, Spencer..” Marianne was frowning while looking at the male, the man looking visibly distressed by having to tap into those memories that he so desperately tried to forget. The pain and torture he’d went through was enough to break even the strongest of people.

“That’s where those scars come from, right. She repeatedly used the taser against my neck and chest.” His voice was shaky as he was giving an explanation, the purple scarf draped around his neck slowly being removed to show off the marks the prongs left behind.

“There was more. She burned my skin with the taser but she had something else. She called it a toy, something she had joy in using on me. She claimed.. She claimed it marked me as hers.” He explained, fingers slowly messing with a loose thread on his cardigan.

“Would you like to discuss it or should we hold off until another session?” The woman asked, a sympathetic look etched on her face as she studied Spencer’s mannerisms. “Because I don’t expect to know about it today if you aren’t ready. You’ve opened up a lot today.”

“No, I can, uh, explain it to you. I just.. I’m a little nervous to relive it.”

Anyone would be.

Spencer was sitting in the chair, his back in an unbelievable amount of pain for sitting upright for six days now. The lessons that they had in that basement consisted of a taser being pushed roughly into flesh, Spencer’s body weak and exhausted after what felt like hours of being shocked. His body could only take so much more before he was rendered fully weak, unable to help himself. His eyelids were heavy, so tired yet he couldn’t sleep.

The sleep deprivation had been settling in, sanity slowly beginning to disappear while the male fought the urge to sleep. He had to be awake, aware. However in his delirious state, he was going down the path of madness.

“Gideon, I just wanna get out of here but I’m slowly losing faith.” The genius’ voice slurred, looking over at the man who was standing in front of him. The man who he knew was dead, yet.. Here he was, right in front of him. “You’re going to get out of here, Reid. Just put yourself in her shoes. What is she gaining?”

The words had the male slowly letting his head lull to the side, heavy eyes slowly closing. “She wants to break me psychologically. To make me a slave.” He responded to the ghost of his mentor. “Right. Do not let her break you. Fight. Your team will be here. Garcia has always known where to find people. Between you and I, I’m pretty sure she has a tracker inside everyone on earth.” The words made Spencer laugh tiredly, keeping his eyes shut. “She probably does.. I could see it.” He spoke softly, shifting in his chair.

The lighter ceased as soon as he could hear the heavy door being shoved open, the metal door hitting the wall was enough to make his head shoot up. Jason was gone, yet she was here.

“You’re awake! That’s so good. We have spent so much time together that I’ve been thinking of something special to give you.” She offered a wide smile as she was going to the wall behind him, a furnace being there this whole time that he just couldn’t see. “I got this whenever I had the farm. Do you remember that?” The words made his heart nearly stop as she stepped in front of him while holding the object to show off. A cattle iron. “I figured that I’d show you my most prized toy. Not many people have ever seen it!” She offered a wide smile.

“Since we have been having so much fun together, I want to give you something to definitely remember. You’ll never forget.” She cooed, finger tapping his nose while she hummed in satisfaction. The fear in his eyes thoroughly satisfied her. “Alright. Let’s get this heated up, shall we?” As it was placed in the flame across the room though, the male was quiet while trying to keep himself calm and collected. The tears running down his face didn’t quite get the memo.

“Don’t look so scared. I promise that it’s not that big, it’s just got my name and a nice little heart. It’ll be like a tattoo!” He offered a wide smile while taking the metal out of the fire while approaching the shirtless mail. “W-wait! Let’s talk about this! You don’t need to do this!” The burn would be severe enough to never heal, to haunt him forever.

His body was shaking the minute she spared no mercy, the burning metal being pushed into his skin with force. It was enough to make Spencer scream in pain, the sickening sound of his skin sizzling and the putrid smell of burning flesh and hair filling the small room. His hands were shaking, the rope now cutting deep into the skin to draw blood as he tried to thrash in place to make it stop.

The movements made the chair give way, the man falling back and his head roughly slamming into the cement floor. The pain was enough to make it feel like his brain had fallen from his head, the brain matter decorating the floor and this being his last few minutes. It wasn’t physically possible and he knew that.

His head was bleeding, the blood pooling on the floor behind his head. Thankfully not a cracked skull. She’d pulled him to sit up in the chair once more before she was using her first aid knowledge to stop the bleeding and patch him up.

“You definitely have a concussion.” She scolded, noticing his blown out pupils and his general dizziness.

“She burned you?”

“She branded me.”

The words came out slowly as Spencer’s shaking hands were slowly pulling up the top he had on while showing off the scarred skin that was scabbed over, the man having a horrible habit of picking at it. Even if it was a year old, he felt like it was fresh. He could remember the way his skin bubbled, the way he could feel the indention singe into his chest.The woman’s eyes were wide, seeing the damage done. In addition to the branded flesh, there were numerous puncture-like wounds. She assumed it came from more ‘toys’ that this sick bitch collected.

“Do you feel comfortable talking about after?” Her words were soft, ignoring the clock on the wall signaling their session was over and she could go home for the day. She’d never had Spencer open up like this in this capacity. He explained in such graphic and gory detail that she could understand the dark descent of madness that he felt himself slipping into. The depression of knowing that there was always someone just like her out there. Some other helpless victim being trapped and not being lucky enough to get help like he did.

“Everything was pretty much a repeat after that night, honestly Up until I made her think that she broke me completely.”

It had been nearly a year, Spencer being subjected to being damn near electrocuted on a daily basis, the sharp blade of a steak knife puncturing his skin in non-fatal areas, even the times where she would hold a gun to his head, making him promise that he was hers. That he wasn’t leaving her again.

Spencer felt no pain anymore. His body was numb, even the deep cuts puncturing his flesh feeling like the average bee-sting from him having it done so much. He had no tears left to cry, his emotions disappearing about a month after his captivation. He was brutally beaten, stabbed, scratched, even burned with lighters to a point where he couldn’t feel.

The wounds would heal over then be reopened for more sadistic pleasure of rubbing things like salt, dirt, lemon juice, among other things.

Infection hadn’t killed him yet, so he took it as some sign of faith that he wasn’t meant to die here.

“You know, kid. I’m really worried about you.” Derek was talking to him today, the male looking up at the ceiling while sucking in a breath. “I know. I’m starting to worry about myself too.. What if the team isn't looking for me? They surely expect me to be completely radio silent to work on my life outside of the team.” His throat was sore, surely from the nights where he’d just scream, scream to get every ounce of pain and hurt built up over the year out.

“They are looking. You think Garcia would ever give up on you? Come on, kid.” The scolding made Spencer offer a small smile. “You’re right. I mean, P-Penelope would never give up on me.”

Spencer had faced death about a million times before, however this was different. After a year of conditioning and brutality, he never felt so close to death. It seemed inviting, the thought of just.. Maybe drifting off and ending all the suffering there.

“Kid. I know you are weak but don’t you die on me. On us. What will Hank do without his favorite uncle? Or what about Henry and Michael? Do you really want to make them face losing you? Or your mama, man. Think about her!” Not-Derek was probably the last piece of rationality that Spencer had left.

“Look. It’s self defense if you kill her now. Think about it, you have proof she subjected you to pain and suffering. Why not get her back? You haven’t slept in weeks, man. Weeks.” The sleep came in small doses, mainly because he had no idea what would happen when he was asleep, unconscious to the vile nature of what she did to him. Best to be awake when a knife is shoved so deep in his shoulder, it hits the bone.

“W-what?” Was he telling himself to kill her? No, no. Spencer couldn’t do that! He was a good man, just troubled. However the more he thought about it, the more the festering rage built inside of him. Why should he die here?

That was when the plan was in motion. The next time she came down was a full day later, having water and food along with the knife that she loved to use all too much on the helpless man. “Have you actually gotten sleep?! Spence!” The woman smiled widely while clasping her hands together, eventually grabbing the glass to let him sip from the straw. Spencer was weak, his head slowly bobbing as he looked up at her through his tired eyes. Even with the exhaustion, he knew that he was going to get out of there. Alive or dead, he’d leave that god damn basement. He’d contemplated all his options. If he was weak enough, she’d untie him to accompany him to the bathroom. “Can I uh, go pee?” He asked, voice still hoarse and low.

Seemingly, his plan was working because she was grabbing the knife. “I trust you, Spence, so I’ll let you up.” She mused while offering a smile. “Do you think that you will be good enough to be let up permanently? You’re honestly such a good boy now, I have to grant you some sort of luxury.”

Yeah. Fucking luxury. So much luxury that he would be able to feel her blood seep into his bruised and battered skin, akin to a hand moisturizer. She made him like this. She created the monster inside of him that was bursting from its confinements. Prison hurt him in ways indescribable but this experience completely ripped out any form of compassion or empathy. There was rage, the burning inside of his chest from the overwhelming emotion.

The minute the ropes were cut, Spencer examined his wrists briefly, waiting for her to cut the ropes on his ankles. The rope burn was deep, dried blood from his violent thrashing decorating the tan restraint and leaving deep marks on his flesh.

The freedom to move felt so fucking good. However his legs were dreadfully asleep. He didn’t realize that until he tried to stand to ambush his captor, only falling directly on top of her while letting out a yelp. The blade had gone deep into his side from the fall, however the adrenaline coursing through his veins made it tolerable. Rolling off of her body, he was taking in a deep breath before the blade was being torn from his side by his right hand, rolling on top of the stunned woman.

There was darkness in his eyes, an unfathomable amount of rage that made him look no better than the likes of George Foyet. “Lesson one, don’t trust people.” His words were low, his pupils being blown out as he brought the blade down to slam into her chest. The sounds of agonizing screams filling the room brought a twisted smile to his face. “What? You’re too weak to handle it?! It’s okay! We will fix that!” The past year of pain and suffering was being unleashed back onto the woman who came far too close to killing him. The knife plunged deep into her chest cavity a whopping total of sixty times. There was crimson red all over his hands, face and chest along with the pool on the floor. He’d stabbed her lungs first, making her last few moments agonizing as she drowned in her own blood from the inside. The cries and gurgles had Spencer laughing with glee, continuing to mumble the same twisted phrases he’d heard after being shocked, burned, stabbed, and threatened with a firearm.

By the time the team had actually gotten there, he’d continued stabbing the lifeless corpse while muttering and laughing. Emily couldn’t even go near him from the fear he’d turn on her. With Luke and Matt pulling him off of her, the male was spitting up blood, the wound from earlier worsening the more the adrenaline wore off. “We need a medic!” Luke was the one yelling, him and Matt carrying Spencer out.

The final pieces of the story had Marianne in shock. She’d heard bits and pieces but seeing Spencer smile while retelling the end of his journey, it was chilling. This wasn’t the sweet man who had entered the room two hours ago. This was a man who lived in perpetual darkness. A man who let a monster consume him in that basement.

“Is that all? Do I need to tell you more details?” The male asked, sitting up straighter.This part he had no problem discussing, making the woman slowly reach under her desk to hit a button. That was when the doors were opening and one of the nurses were coming in. “Alright Dr. Reid, let’s take you back to your room!” She said in a cheery voice, hand gently grabbing his arm to urge him to stand. He didn’t fight back. “I’ll be seeing you next week, Marianne. Maybe we can talk about Cat there too. Wouldn’t you like to know the last victim?”

“Dr. Reid.” The nurse scolded while leading him out.

“It’s obvious that Mr. Reid is not well, a year full of torture has left him mentally unstable to the point he is lashing out on everyone he sees. We can’t have this behavior continue. I’m sending him to the Western State Psychiatric Hospital indefinitely.” The judge’s decision had the BAU team gasping from their seats, Penelope’s eyes welling up with tears at the thought of the team losing their best agents and closest friends.

Spencer however had no feelings, instead stone faced as he stared at the woman giving her verdict.

They’d lost him a long time ago. So long that he had no desire to look back at his team. If they loved him, they would have found him sooner, they would have fought harder to find him.

He was alone.

He’d always be alone.

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