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kana-daydreams · 9 months ago

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𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐙𝐨𝐫𝐨

summary: zoro decides just for your sake and his, for once, to allow himself to express a feeling he’d long buried inside him after Kuina’s death—and a feeling he’s only ever had for you. genre: mild angst, fluff cw: none wc: 3.2k

I love you.

Settled atop the crow’s nest dome- shaped roof of the Thousand Sunny, Zoro’s dark-brown eyes dart open to meet splotches of fluffy white painted across a canvas of endless blue.

A gentle breeze rustles his clothes and threads through his mint-green hair as he lays with his back pressed flat against the roof’s surface, head cushioned by his arms, while his gaze continues to follow the clouds lazily gliding across the sky.

I love you.

Zoro clicks his tongue when he hears the words teasing melody continue to play in his head.

Words that had repeated its haunting every daylight, and every nightfall.

Words you’d confessed to him weeks ago—and words he had thought would be your last.

Why did you do it?

Zoro still relives the moment when he watched your body go limp in his arms, crimson red trailing its way down in gushing streams from the wound in your torso.

Why did you risk your life to save his?

A question that lingered along with your confession deep within his mind during the couple of weeks you’d remained a victim of sleep.

A furrow lines Zoro’s brows, deepening as he unwillingly recalls the urgent scream of your voice calling his name, followed by the sound of steel tearing through flesh and then the painful sight of your body collapsing, motionless, in a pool of red.

After the tragic occurrence, day after day, Zoro would visit you inside the sick bay. It was a difficult task at first, seeing your comatose state, but he made it part of his daily routine to check up on you. And assisted Chopper where he could, sometimes spending the entire day by your side and wishing that you would just open your damn eyes.

And during that time he spent with you and without you, he prayed.

Zoro never believed there was a god but yet, for you—he did.

Like a devout believer, day in and day out, he prayed and hoped for a miracle.

Hoped that some god— any god—would hear his prayer and that you would awake from your seemingly endless sleep.

Though when a couple of weeks had flitted past and you showed no signs of waking up, the little faith he’d mustered started to wane.

Waned until like a flame drawn down to a single spark of light left with nothing to fuel its burn, it extinguished.

But today Zoro’s flame reignites.

At the sound of Chopper's crying voice, Zoro’s body bolts upright, his eyes drawing wide when he hears him announce in between sniffles and hiccups, that you’re awake.

And in an instant, he’s on his feet.

And in an instant, his legs carry him with desperate steps towards the direction of the sick bay, Zoro thinking to himself, despite his once wavering belief—for the first time—a god really just might exist.

“Nami, Robin— you guys are going to hurt her!” Chopper’s worried voice warns the two women hugging the life out of you—literally, Chopper thinks.

“Okay, just one more hug.” Nami snivels, long tears rolling down her cheeks as she gives you one last squeeze before she and Robin unwrap their arms from around you, moving to stand amongst the rest of the crew huddled around your bed.

Your eyes scan each of their tear-stained faces like your own, at the same time searching for the perpetual stone-cold expression of Zoro’s, your heart sinking when there’s no sight of it.

“I’m so happy to see everyone.” You manage a weak smile, brushing off the disappointed feeling at the swordsman’s absence, and instead focus on the wide smiles, happy tears and collective expressed words of happiness and relief of your long-awaited recovery.

For the next hour or so, the sick bay’s room is permeated with mirthful chatter and laughter until Chopper starts kicking everyone out, informing them of your much needed rest.

“I don’t understand? Why would she need more sleep?” Luffy who sits cross-legged at the foot of your bed asks with a genuinely confused expression. “She’s been sleeping for we—” he’s interrupted when Nami grabs a hold of one of his ears and forcefully starts dragging him out of the room, the scene making a small laughter bubble up your chest.

Luffy’s painful groans and complaining voice drowns out when the door clicks close behind them, and with solitude now your only company, your mind is left to idle.

To idle on the memory of Zoro.

To idle on the memory of his mortified features as he held your form, drenched in blood, close to his chest. And the prominent picture of hurt mixed in with other indiscernible emotions that crossed his face when you confessed your years-long harboured love for him, just before your vision turned dark.

You can’t help but wonder exactly what he thought during that moment of your untimely confession, as you absent-mindedly reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, smoothing it along the rough scar that lines across your stomach. A reminder of the small price you had to pay in exchange for the life of the one you’d always cherished with your whole heart, and the one your eyes longed to see the moment you’d opened your eyes.

A sudden rap at the door pulls you out of your thoughts and you rasp out a “You can come in!” wondering if Chopper had returned to check up on you.

However, when the door cracks open, instead of the doctor, it reveals the familiar figure of the man you’ve yearned to see.

You watch as he steps into the room, your eyes catching his steely expression which immediately melts at the sight of you.

Zoro closes the door behind him and wordlessly approaches your bedside, neither of your gazes unyielding from the other. That is until his eyes flicker down to your hand still settled on your exposed stomach, the muscles in his jaw becoming visibly tense.

There’s a silence that settles between you both. One that is equally tense and you can’t help but attempt to lighten the mood.

“Fell asleep again or forgot I existed?” You quirk a brow, a teasing lilt carried in your tone. “I’m placing my bet on the first one.” You chuckle.

“It’s none.”

Your laughter simmers down when you look up to see that Zoro’s features are void of any hint of amusement.

“Oh? Then…”

“I wanted us alone.” He explains and your head tilts in curiosity at his words.

“Alone?”

“Yeah. We need to talk.”

You ponder on what he says. On what the topic of discussion might entail that he didn’t want the others around. And in a second or two, when an answer suddenly dawns on you—that it might be about your declaration of love— you feel a faint touch of warmth caress your cheeks.

Shyly, you pat a hand beside you on the mattress. A motion for him to have a seat.

Zoro takes you up on your offer, joining you on the small bed after removing his swords which he settled in a nearby corner of the room.

“So, what you wanna talk about?” You ask as you feel the bed sink under you from his added weight.

Zoro takes his time to form an answer as his eyes examine you for a bit: the healthy gleam of your skin, the vibrant light in your eyes, and the way your lips curl into that beautiful smile he’d longed missed.

And the longer he takes to respond, the more your heart races in anticipation.

“How do you feel?” He finally asks.

You pout. It isn’t what you expected, but his concern for your well-being at the same time isn’t a surprise.

“A little woozy and tired. But Chopper said I’ll feel better with a little more rest.”

“Right…rest.” Zoro murmurs to himself.

He had been more than determined to see you as soon as he watched the others leave your room that he didn’t consider the toll their long visit had probably taken on you.

“Then you should get some.” He stands to his full height, ready to make his departure, only to be stopped by a sudden and gentle tug on his shirt.

He peers over his shoulder, looking down to see your fingers gripping onto its hem, your face creased with worry.

“Please Zo, don’t leave.” You plead. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You’d noticed it in his tense expression—that what he wanted to discuss carried a heavy weight on his shoulders, though you weren’t exactly sure what it might be if not your confession.

“You need to rest.” Zoro urges.

“I won’t be able to unless you tell me what’s bothering you.”

Your persistence and stubbornness is no surprise to Zoro. He knows all too well that your words are true, and stands there conflicted with your hand still glued to his shirt, before momentarily releasing a deep sigh as he relents to entertaining your request.

You watch as he seats himself near you once more. “Tell me Zo. What is it?” You prompt when a lull falls, lingering between you two.

Zoro’s eyes sweep down to where your hands lay before flitting up to meet your worried eyes. “Why…” He pauses for a beat as if gathering his thoughts, before he pieces together the rest of his words; finally asking the question, though not in full, that has been long weighing on his mind. “Why did you do it?”

Your brows wrinkle, confused. “Do what?”

When his gaze leaves your own and you notice it drops down to your stomach, you immediately come to comprehend the meaning behind his words.

“Because I wanted to.” A smile pulls at your lips.

A smile that makes Zoro’s hands, unnoticeably to you, ball into fists.

A couple of weeks ago, you were on the brink of death because of him and now you’re here, smiling warmly up at him, saying that you didn’t mind that you’d almost die!

Zoro’s fingers curl, digging deeper into the palm of his hands.

He’s happy—overjoyed, though his features mask the feeling—that you’re okay and that he gets the chance to see your smiling face again. But what if he had lost you?

What if he had lost you, just like he lost…

Zoro shoots up to his feet, your fingers hold on his shirt, ripping away.

“You’re leaving.”

His sudden burst of words leave you to stare dumbfoundedly at him as he walks over to the side of the room where his swords lay, propped up against the wall.

“What do you mean ‘you’re leaving’?”

Zoro faces your direction once he’s finished securing his swords to his hip. “As soon as we dock at the nearest town, you’re getting off.” The tone of his voice hints that there's no room for an argument.

You gape up at him. “You can’t be serious.”

This wasn’t the first time, the second nor the third, that Zoro had tried to get you to leave the ship—and to leave their crew.

He’d wanted you long gone since the day Luffy’d recruited you and tried his earnest to get the boy to throw you off the ship.

Figuratively of course.

“I thought we were past that phase. Aren’t you tired of trying to get rid of me?”

“Not, exactly.” Zoro says and you purse your lips, brows knitting into a frown at his curt and honest reply.

“Well like I’ve told you countless times, Roronoa. I'm not leaving.”

Zoro gives a subtle flinch when you refer to him by his family name instead of the nickname you’d called him since you were children. He then releases a deep sigh meeting your defiant gaze. “Being a pirate isn’t child’s play.” He ends with your name. “It’s dangerous.”

“And, what? You think I don’t know that.” You cross your arms, eyes narrowing.

You were aware that like the others, Zoro was worried about you. But you were here because of your own volition. Not his. A fact you verbally express.

“I’m not a little girl, Roronoa.” You say, voice stern. “I’m an adult. Meaning, I make my own choices.”

Zoro scoffs, almost mockingly at your words. “Yeah, choices that almost left you in a permanent coma, sleeping beauty.”

“I was only trying to protect you.” You feel yourself becoming more pissed, for lack of a better word, at his retort. “You could have died if I didn’t—”

“I ain’t no weakling. I could’ve taken it.” He argues back.

“You don't know that, you arrogant seaweed!”

Zoro was strong. Inhumanly strong. A verifiable truth you’d always known. But like any other human being, he was still mortal—and all mortals bleed. All mortals die.

Seaweed?! Zoro’s brows furrow, the muscles in his face twitching. He then heaves a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look…” he starts, voice much mellow than before. “You’re not a pirate. You’re not me and you’re not Luffy—you’re not like any of us.”

Zoro watches as your expression morphs into a reflection of hurt at his words—and it aches him. But his words are somewhat of the truth. You aren’t like any of them. You don’t have raw strength or devil fruit powers to protect yourself nor are you cautious when faced with life-threatening situations, choosing to tackle those situations head on without much of a drop of hesitation.

And that’s what scared him the most.

“It'd be best if you just go back home where it’s safe.” Zoro finishes, eyes meeting anywhere but your gaze.

“So that’s the real reason you don't want me around?” Your fingers clench around the sheet wrapped around you. “Because I’m weak?”

“That’s not what I mea–”

“Then what do you mean, huh! Zoro Roronoa.” Your eyes well with unshed tears and your voice cracks as you choke back a sob. “Why is it that you keep trying to get rid of me?”

Your question is only met with silence, as Zoro continues to keep his mouth sealed.

“Is it because I’m a burden?”

You weakly voice a thought that’d always remained rampant in your mind since the day Zoro vanished a few years later after Kuina’s death, leaving you only a single letter explaining his aspiration and his pursuit of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman along with a stern warning that you never attempt to search for him.

You’d adhere to his wishes which brought with it many sleepless nights, especially when you thought you would never see him again.

Fortunately, by a stroke of luck, you’d managed to cross paths when you stumbled upon him wandering around like a lost puppy back in one of the towns you usually frequented for selling your goods. And after your fateful reunion, spurred on by what’ve been years of friendship blossomed into unrequited love, you decided to join Zoro in his ambition—and the rest of the straw hats who’d unexpectedly and without a doubt become your home: your family.

“...It is. Isn’t it?” You say when you notice him tense at your assumption.

“No it is’n—”

“Then what is it!” Your voice consumed by a mixture of anger, sadness and disappointment bounces off the walls of the room. “At least tell me why?”

Zoro looks across at you and a pained expression shadows his face when he sees droplets of tears rain from your eyes, wetting your cheeks, falling and seeping into the white sheets clutched in your grasp.

“Why do you want me to leave?” You continue. “Why don't you want me to be a part of your life?” Some of your words get caught up in an uncontrollable storm of hiccups and sobs. “... and I promise Zoro. Tell me why and I promise I’ll leave.”

Zoro was never one to be emotionally transparent. You know that. But you wanted to know why…

Why is it that he was so determined—eager to make you leave?

Why is it that he was so eager to drive you away like you were never a part of his life? And him, never a part of yours.

Silence permeates the room as Zoro’s lips remain sealed shut like before, and as it prolongs so does your impatience.

“If you’re not gonna answer, then go.” You breathe out a weak sigh, feeling new tears starting to emerge. “I’ll leave just like you ask, so just get ou—.”

“‘Cause I love you.” Zoro mumbles out in a rush, that you barely register what he says.

You blink away the tears, directing your attention over at him, more precisely his back. “What…did you say?”

Zoro’s face contorts into a frown, heat burning at his cheeks. “I said…” He grits his teeth, finding it cruel that you were making him repeat such cloying words. “...I l-love you, you idiot.” He stammers out and you notice his ears tinge a dark red.

Your heart stutters at his unanticipated confession, words you’d been longing and hoping to hear for years—and words which render you speechless.

“S-say somethin’” Zoro practically begs, growing increasingly embarrassed by your lack of a reaction, still keeping his body pointed in the opposite direction.

You shake yourself out of your surprised state. “You love me?” You ask as heat fans across your face. “Then…why do you keep pushing me away?”

“..Because you’re reckless.”

Your face contorts into a slight grimace, feeling somewhat offended by his words. “I am not reckless.” You retort, regretting it when he starts to recount childhood memories and those of late, that bear witness to his claim.

Though those events couldn’t compare to the one that almost made him lose you.

The room descends into utter silence when Zoro finishes, leaving you with your head drooped down in embarrassment which had seeped in bit by bit during his narration of your every rash act.

“I can’t…”

You raise your head slowly to look across at Zoro whose voice punctuates the silence. And your heart sinks when you hear the subtle crack of his voice.

“I can’t...” He repeats, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I–we lost her. You—” Zoro grits his teeth, clenching his eyes tightly from the growing pain in his chest. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

To Zoro, you are his everything.

The woman who holds the entirety of his heart in the palm of her hands; all he has that reminds him of home—and a reason other than his promise with Kuina to become the world's greatest swordsman.

Zoro’s hands ball into fists as he feels a burning sensation settle behind his eyes. “I can’t lose you t—”

The words that pained to leave his lips are cut short, when Zoro feels arms wrap, snug around his torso, a soft and familiar body pressing against his back.

“I’m right here, Zo.” You reassure with tears and soft whimpers. “I’m here. And I’m alive.”

Zoro’s heart pounds violently against his chest when you hug him closer to your body, as if trying to prove to him you were real and not just a figment of his imagination.

To your surprise, Zoro turns around and captures you in a tight embrace. “I know…” He presses a light kiss to your hair, letting it linger for a second, before settling his chin atop the crown of your head. “And about what’ve said before. Forget about it.” He says, as your soft sobs continue to fill the room. “I…I don’t want you to leave.”

“You mean it?” You quiver out.

“Yeah.” He replies. “Just please, promise me you’ll be more careful.”

Your eyes flutter close as you snuggle closer into his warmth. “I will. I promise.” You say, both of you, unknown to the other, making a silent vow to become stronger.

Stronger for each other.

#𓇻 kana's op ddrms #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #op fluff #zoro x f!reader #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro x reader #op angst #one piece angst #one piece x you #zoro angst

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danny-doodles · 3 months ago

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Steve’s Hobby

This is a short 2k blurb about one of my Steve hcs, I am only really good at critical analysis writing so I’m sorry if this is bad!! Creative writing isn’t my strong suit but I felt like I couldn’t really explain this hc in a drawing as well as writing it could.

Growing up Steve was often taught the importance of words from his father, thinking it would be useful for his son’s future in the business. Steve was never the best reader, letters jumping around the page made it too difficult, so instead he listened to everyone around him. Teachers, his parent’s coworkers, older kids, all of them taught him the importance of the meaning of words.

How certain words would make someone a town pariah yet others a god among men. Steve was a more quiet kid but as he grew up he also grew confident in his words. He could tear someone down with one sentence, ensuring they knew he was not to be messed with. That’s why he was so confused when he struggled in his english class, he knew the power of words and the many meanings, but his teacher never understood. Sure he made grammar errors, how no one else struggled with the dancing letters he didn’t get, but how could the teachers not understand his connections? Steve shouldn’t have to explain why the red of the handmaid’s cloaks represented the ripping of humanity from the women, it was so clear to him. Obviously the boar head could be comparable to the church, how could his teachers not make the connection?

Even Nancy didn’t understand, someone he considered smarter than him. He knew she was trying to be nice when she critiqued his college paper but it still left him in the fog. Basketball was war to him, a fight that was pointless with one but possible with many. A challenge that called for leadership and a strict order. Everyone had the roles, knew where and when to shoot, needed the ability to think quickly on their feet and not struggle under the pressure. Uniforms to not only separate from the enemy but to show they are a unit reaching for a common goal. It was so clear leaving no need to explain, especially to Nancy.

But she didn’t get it, no one got it.

Maybe he wasn’t as good with words as he thought.

Steve from then on fumbled his words when he got nervous, scared he would say something that made him sound dumb and point out his weakness with words. The concussions didn’t help either, making him take longer to grasp concepts. Reading felt nearly impossible, the headaches were unbearable. Not to mention the kids' comments, judgmental and brutal as if Steve didn’t have a reason to struggle in the first place.

Everyone around him loved to put him in a sudden spotlight and when he didn’t say the right line he was booed off stage and dealt with the looks of disappointment from his co stars for messing up. So Steve stuck to what he knew, his quick remarks. Were they bitchy? Yes, but not coated in malice like they used to be. Piggybacking off others points with sarcastic comments so the other person kept talking, anything to get the attention off him.

But Steve had a secret hobby that he shared with no one, not even with his platonic soulmate with a capital P Robin.

Steve wrote poetry.

Years of horrors that by law he couldn’t share that caused vicious nightmares and a clammy grasp on reality at times tended to keep Steve up. Another gift bestowed by his father though was a feeling of shame when sharing his emotions. Didn’t help that those emotions were typically down played or outright ignored by others. Therefore a bottle filled with his emotions rested in Steve’s chest, which after Vecna he really realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. So Steve took to writing them down, but he did it for himself.

No need to explain everything, he knew what he meant, he knew every context of every word. He wrote on his experiences, his emotions. He wrote when he was happy, he wrote when he was sad. Steve wrote and wrote and found his love for words again. And god did it feel good, it felt like taking back his voice from a world that underappreciated it. In a weird way it felt like revisiting a relative he had last seen as a child, that sense of freedom and the loss of expectation because in their eyes he was still that little kid. All they wanted was to see someone they loved and to Steve the words welcomed him back with a hug that rivaled his Nonna Maria’s.

Steve would ponder over lines at random intervals of the day, biting his pencil between his teeth during the quiet hours at work or simply jotting down a line right before picking the kids up. Steve wrote so often he kept his small little notebook on him at all times, usually accompanied by a pencil bound to it with a rubber band. (Turns out having hearing aids and glasses made it really difficult to put pencils behind one's ears). At this point everyone had seen his notebook, pale blue with some star stickers because he never had a shortage of them. Everyone assumed it was for something different. Some thought it was grocery lists, to-do lists, something productive. Others thought it was like a pocket calendar with all his plans listed so he didn’t forget. Dustin insisted it was meant to hold the definitions of anything D&D related so Steve never forgot, meanwhile Robin argued it was to hold all the wonderfully obscure movie recommendations she loved to give. All of them were wrong though and Steve kind of adored it that way. He didn’t have to explain himself that way, he could continue to hide under the blankets. Steve no longer held his tongue out of fear of others but because he had an outlet he much rather prefer.

Listening now felt less like a pop quiz, waiting for him to mess up his response, it felt like an actual conversation. Steve may not speak up as much as he would have before the Upside Down but he fell back in love with his own voice and maybe one day he would feel confident enough to share it with the Party, but for now it was all his.

No matter how much they wanted to prove who was right, the kids and older teenagers never touched the book when it was rarely separated from Steve. Well...after someone tried to grab it and they learned they really shouldn’t touch it.

While at the Harrington house the Party were preparing for a campaign session when the argument about the pale binded pages was brought up again. Steve had left it on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, and Mike decided he was done with the bickering. He shot up and went to retrieve and open the book but before he could grab it the book flew through the air.

All the heads turned and landed on El holding it in her hand, “We are not Steve, this is his. It is rude to invade his privacy, would you like me to watch you without telling you,” everyone quietly shook their heads, “Then we do not watch Steve without him knowing.”

That’s exactly when Steve walked back in, it takes one look across the room at all the embarrassed faces and El holding his book with frustration painting her eyes to know what had occurred while he was gone. He walks up, kisses El on her head and softly thanks her while taking back his little literature.

After that incident no one dared touch the book or face the wrath of their favorite mage. They would find out when Steve was ready for them to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That damn little book haunted Eddie’s thoughts. He knew Steve was not what he assumed him to be so anything was on the table, he had been wrong about the guy before who's to say he won’t be this time?

Of course Eddie wanted to respect Steve’s privacy because Eddie personally would be mortified if Steve had seen any of his notebooks, mainly because of the pages of lyrics that not so subtly hinted at an itsy bitsy affection for the badass babysitter. If that didn’t give Eddie away the random ‘Eddie Harrington’ and ‘Steve Munson’ with hearts all over would finish the job. So yeah, Eddie was not crazy to offer up any of his notebooks to venture into Steve’s book. He just had no idea the universe would present him with a much more favorable offer.

Steve and Eddie started hanging out a lot more after Vecna, no shocker considering they shared a hospital room, and soon the bat buddies would spend their time together outside of the hospital. That’s why it wasn’t surprising for Steve to let Eddie venture into Steve’s room while he went to pick up their lunch.

Eddie was somewhat of a curious cat, so when he spotted the notebook and some papers scattered on Steve’s desk he was like a moth to a flame. He softly glided his fingers over the blue cover and exhaled some breath in a soft laugh over the star stickers Steve oh so loved. It was the paper though that caught his eye when he finished observing the book. It looked like lyrics at first but then he realized some of the lines were too short to be lines, if anything they looked more like stanzas from a poem. Steve had poetry on his desk, did Steve read poetry? Thee Steve Harrington likes poetry? God his whole doctrine was garbage huh. Eddie moved the paper towards him and started to read.

Watchful gaze

Setules on the glass.

Wishful gaze

Silent pleas of escaping rolling in the mouth

Fingertips slipping through the veil,

Grasping for warm hands,

Receiving lukewarm.

Hesitant to grab.

Dependency clasping the palms

Such a feverish feeling

Poking at the appendages,

A coldness that numbs.

Gently gripping for the heat,

The balmy yields.

Smoke and simmers,

Arms rushing to sides

Frozen.

Yearning for ardor,

Turn not yet given,

Waiting for the impossible,

Waiting for the unobtainable,

So understanding.

So relieving.

So desperate.

So alone.

Standing for the calling.

So patient.

So pathetic.

Empty Hands by Steve H.

Eddie was staring at the very last line on the paper, utterly flabbergasted. Steve wrote this? Steve writes poetry?! Is that what resides in the little book? Before Eddie could even find the power to turn to the book to look, Steve walked into his room. Again a quick look is all Steve needed to take before he knew what happened in his absence.

“Oh! Uh..I’m guessing you read it.”

Eddie slowly looked back up while caressing the paper, “Yeah, you..um..you really wrote this? Is that…uh..what’s in your notebook? Cause I will admit I never would have guessed that.”

Steve started scratching his neck, “I don’t blame you,” he huffs, “But yeah I write poetry, helps to let some of the thoughts out considering our lives y'know?”

“I totally get it dude! Lord knows my lyrics are infected with the whole spring break bullhonkey. So..totally cool if you don’t want to tell me but, why is this one out of the book? Were you gonna write it into the book?” Eddie picked up the paper to place it next to the notebook and turned to face Steve.

“Actually I copied it from the notebook, I’m gonna, okay wait, you can’t tell anyone this-”

“Even Robin?” Eddie exaggerated his smile to look wild.

“Even Robin.” Steve nodded with his eyes shut.

Eddie put his hands together and swayed while standing, “Wowww look at me, lil old Eddie Munson getting to learn the secrets of the mysterious writer Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie, you want to know or not?” Steve sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Yes please,” Eddie eagerly replied, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

“The last time I went to Indy with Robin to go shopping at their mall we went to a cafe. The bulletin board had a flier for a poetry night and I got curious I guess.”

“You gonna perform the poem there?”

“That’s the plan.”

Eddie could understand wanting a fresh slate when it came to having a reputation. “Craving anonymity? Must be tough considering you are Hawkin’s golden boy.”

Steve smiles brightly and Eddie sees his shoulders lose tension, tension Eddie didn’t even notice because he was so distracted by the fact that holy shit Steve is a poet. “Exactly.”

Honestly Eddie would give anything to hear more of Steve's hidden works, he grabs some of his hair and brings it to cover his mouth, “I know you don’t intend to tell the rest of the bunch, but uh..would you allow a humble bard to observe your lyrical performance?”

Eddie looks at Steve’s face for any hint of annoyance and finds none, instead he finds a look that he could hope to be correct in his guess is excitement.

“Really? You’d want to hear more, it's not confusing or stupid to you?” Steve softly smiled at Eddie, making him swoon inside.

“It's art! It doesn’t need to make sense, it just needs to make you feel good, who cares if others are confused. And for what its worth even if I’m not right on the money that poem made me feel Steve, I mean as the expert in self-expression it felt real and vulnerable, y’know.” Eddie had to shut himself up before he himself waxed poetry about just how much he is dying to hear more from Steve to learn more about him.

“Thanks Eddie.” Steve gazed at Eddie as if no one had ever told him that before. Which now that hes thinking about it that’s probably the truth. Guess Eddie needed to constantly remind him then.

Eddie smiled, mirroring Steves while bending at his waist, “Oh but of course my liege.”

“Oh my god okay Eddie cmon the food’s gonna get cold.”

Steve started to leave his room and Eddie rushed to follow him, “Now that I know what the book is filled with may I pretty please read it?” Rapidly blinking his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and pure but instead looking like a piece of dust got in his eyes.

“Nope.”

“Ugghhh c'mon Steve! Just imagine the look on the little hellions when they see me opening the book! God the jealousy! The feeling of betrayal when they see me reading Steve Harringtons’s treasure trove of text and they are none the wiser to what is inside. And the best part, I have permission! The power I would hold Steve! The possibility, I could use them like little puppets to do my bidding while they crave information I alone hold!”

“Eddie that sounds like a headache for me waiting to happen, they’re just gonna badger me to tell them because they would claim it’s unfair you know and they don’t.”

“Eh, their egos could take a little hit don’t you think?” Eddie was now resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as the younger started to bring the food out of the carry out bag.

“Can I read your lyric notebook?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as his brain proceeded to remind him of every lyric he had written around his devotion to Steve. Red in the face Eddie responded quickly, “Nope! Mmm you smell that Stevie I’m so hungry, aren’t you?”

“Subtle Munson.”

“Tis my middle name.”

Steve fondly rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

As they settled down on the couch Eddie tracked Steve grabbing the remote, “So I can really watch you?”

Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a calmness on his face. “Yeah Eddie.”

Eddie grabbed his hair as Steve stared at him, “Cool, cool, it’s a date.” Eddie froze about to panic silently as he tried to fix his slip up.

“Yeah, it's a date.” The two looked at each other, neither wanting to look away. After a minute or so Steve turned on the TV and if the two fell asleep together it was their business.

#my writing #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson

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shewrites02 · 8 months ago

Text

Forgive Me, if I break you | Zoro x Reader | Pt. III

Part I Part II Part IIII

Trigger warnings: Domestic assault, verbal abuse , physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence. THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT ! MINORS DNI

*THERE IS A GRAPHIC DEPECTION OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE THE SCENE BEGINNING AND END ARE MARKED WITH THREE ASTERISKS (***) *

A/n: I know it has taken me forever and a day to finish this part, but all of you have been so encouraging in spite of that. I hope that this chapter is worth the wait!

Request: Open

Word count: 8.4k

Leave a comment if you enjoy :)

You twirl in the boutique's mirror. The owner was gracious enough to close, so you and your friends can shop in private. Apparently the villagers have become quite fond of the pirates' during their stay. It is difficult to walk the streets without them being recognized or stopped. It seems the cheerfulness of Strawhats is as infectious to your people as it is to you.

"You really don't like it?" Robin asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror after looking you over.

She stands behind you, a little off to the left meeting your reflection’s gaze. Bashfully, you shake your head. You drag your hands down the pink fabric. This is the fourth dress you have tried on- all of them beautiful- but you have yet to find a dress that makes you feel pretty while sitting in all your ugly emotions.

"I think you look hot! but- I said that about the other three dresses." Nami quips.

"What don't you like, y/n?"

Robin's voice is soft, patient, her smile unwavering. You feel bad when you can't produce a truthful answer. 'It's me that's ugly, not the dresses' is not a sentiment to be spewed so recklessly. When you are unable to produce a satisfactory response, you shrug, feigning ignorance.

"Maybe the color?" You question. The pink feels unfitting- the color too loud for how you bleak you feel. The occasion feels more kin to a funeral than an elaborate celebration.

Robin nods, taking in the note. She flashes you a wide smile before dragging her hands up and down your arms in comfort. She implores your trust before grabbing Nami, the two of them head to the dress racks.

When Robin returns she waves you back into the closeted dressing room. She is insistent on forcing you to get dressed with your eyes closed, saying the reveal will be so much better blind. Nami shouts her agreements through the door. Willing to try anything at this point, you agree.

Robin's fingers are laced in yours as she guides you back to the mirror. After planting you dead center , she instructs you to open your eyes . They widen immediately at the sight.

The velvet fabric runs down to the floor, a high slit on your right leg. The corset is adorned with flashy embellishments, and the color- emerald green, seems a lot more fitting for the occasion.

It had been a long while since the sight of yourself in a mirror made your gasp in a way that didn't sting your heart. You couldn't be more thankful for the silly idea Nami and Robin suggested. The two squeal at what they hope is your pleased reaction.

"We think the swordsman will like it too." Robin teases in a hushed whisper. Zoro enters the room soon after, surely of no coincidence.

"And that's our que." Nami announces as the pair start their descent out the room.

Zoro immediately stops at the entryway once he sees your reflection in the mirror. his mouth is slightly agape, before morphing into a toothy grin. His crew-mate's voices seem to draw his attention back, forcing his feet.

"This is the fifth dress y/n has tried on today. She is still on the fence about it. " Robin instigates.

"Why don't you tell her what you think Zoro?"

And with that the two are gone. The room is quiet, and for a brief moment the two of you just stare. No anger. No sadness. Just a moment where the two of you could cherish being together, that you are finally alone. A moment where Zoro can just be the swordsman, and you- a damsel on the beach.

"Can I touch you?" Zoro asks. His voice is hushed and fragile. Already broken as if preparing in advance for your rejection. The stoic swordsman, the pirate who was more used to taking what he wanted than asking for permission, what had you done to him?

You nod solemnly. Thought the days of pleasantries and cautionary asks were long behind you and the Pirate. Hearing him revert back so quickly, so readily after your repeated rejections- It's disheartening. Zoro is wrapping his arms around your waist, before you have the opportunity to dissect the thought thoroughly. He plants a kiss on your temple, then your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. He meets your eyes in the mirror, grin still on his face. Your hand finds his cheeks caressing him lightly.

You had missed being able to bask in the eye of the swordsman so freely. To feel the warmth of his love for you in his stare. The pirate looks at you as if you are truly the most amazing thing he's ever seen. The same wonder and awe he has when tending meticulously to his swords.

"You like it?" You ask, allowing yourself to relax into his hold. Though you know you shouldn't, It is impossible not to indulge when there is swiftly coming a time you'll never feel his touch again.

"I like it. I think you look gorgeous... " He kisses your cheek once more.

The butterflies wake in your stomach. Violently swarming as though this is the first compliment you have ever gotten from the swordsman. They're quickly drowned in your guilt, in your knowing that this- whatever it is the two of you are doing- is only going to destroy the pirate in the end.

"Do you like it?" He asks as if sensing your apprehension. You shrug in response.

"It's fine. As long as you like it."

Zoro's brow raises to his forehead. His expressionless face shows that he is unimpressed with your attempt to dismiss your feelings in favor of his.

"What was wrong with the other dresses?" He pivots.

You swallow the lie that tries to climb its way out your throat. Tired of the rancid aftertaste it always left in your mouth after its departure. Part of you is astonished at how reflexive it was, the lie so ready to fly past your lips. The shock quickly turns to grief.

This is a part of yourself you could openly give to the swordsman. A part of you that only had his fingerprints indented into it. A part of you that Lee would never have claim too. This was a truth you could openly and honestly give him. Are you not obligated to?

"Nothing." You confess taking in a shaky breath. There's a frailness to your voice that houses all the tears wanting to swell in your eyes. "I'm too sad to feel pretty Zoro. To sit here playing dress up when our time is ticking away with each dress I put on ... How do I pick out the perfect dress to say goodbye to you?"

"We aren't saying goodbye." Zoro states the words plainly, as if you are supposed to know already.

You turn your head to face him. The eye contact made in the mirror is no longer sufficient enough for the conversation. You need to see if his collected demeanor shifts once your pain-staked eyes stare back at him. It does not. The pirate looks at you deadpanned, in search of an explanation.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I told you , I'm not leaving until you tell me what's happening."

The furrow of your brows has deepened into a full frown. You stare back at Zoro with your mouth wide searching for your next words. Can only describe this static in your brain as disbelief. What is he talking about? Stay? Here?

"Zoro. The sunny is leaving here in two days. Your crew has spent all morning preparing for their departure ... "

He nods, confirming your words are true.

"Zoro-"

"I'm not leaving."

It's as though your senses come flushing back all at once. Jolting your body to break free of the pirate's hold. Forcing his arms away as you create distance.

"You can't stay ... not for me." You want your proclamation to come out strong, demanding, but you only sound broken. Making a desperate plea.

"I'd really love to see you make me leave." He lets out a boisterous laugh. "I bet your husband would love that, uh? Me out the way."

Zoro reaches his hand out to you, he is still smiling. As though he is not saying he is going to abandon his crew mates for you. Give up his dreams for you. All to what- watch you play house with another man? A relationship filled with fleeting touches , and stolen moments. How is that fair to him?

"Zo-"

"I know you miss me." His voice has dropped in tone and volume. He drops his hand once you don't return the gesture. The smile previously seared onto his face is gone.

"I know when he touches you, you're wishing it's me. Every smile, every laugh, every touch , every kiss it's me in the back of your mind. All the affection you give to him- it's mine ... I know he can't make you feel as good as I can. "

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Nothing comes to mind in the midst of the overwhelming whirlwind of your emotions. You don't- can't- lie to the swordsman, tell him that none of it is true. But how can you admit the truth when you know there is no escape, no way out.

You could tell Zoro you loved him a million times, it is not going to change this absolute fact: you are not going anywhere.

"It doesn't matter. What I want doesn't matter." You mutter.

"Your feelings- they don't matter?!" The swordsman snarls in response . "Don't fucking say that."

There's a stab to your heart, his words cutting you just as deeply as if he put a sword through your chest. You could not for the life of you understand the concern Zoro had for your emotions when you are undoubtedly breaking his heart more with each passing day.

"Please Zoro- don't stay behind for me. Go."

"Why don't you trust me?" The swordsman asks. His voice so hushed it threatens not to make it to your ear.

The sword in your heart twists in a devilish way. Is this what Zoro has deduced? That your lack of openness could only be a fault of his own. That he has not loved you enough , made you feel safe enough. Yet another reminder of why you are so undeserving of him. Though he doesn't meet you , you still search his gaze . Look at the truth in his expression to see that this is truly what Zoro believed . You didn't trust him.

"It's not you I don't trust Zo...."

This time the pirate doesn't ask. He closes the gap between the two of you in two strides, taking your hands in his.

"Then why won't you tell me what's going on? Why won't you let me help you?" Zoro asks.

Your eyes closed at his inquiries. Trust. You have already given every bit of excess you had to the swordsman on the beach. You aren't sure you have anymore to spare now that you are home. Wished it was that simple. Simple enough to only have to make a decision and stick to it. To have only your heart to follow, but that is not a luxury of yours.

"You can't save me Zo..."

His face drops. The squeeze he has on your hands tightens some.

"I can. Ask me to. Please ..."

The room falls silent. It is now you who is averting eye contact from the pirate.

" ... Do you think I'm not strong enough?"

You sat beside Zoro digging your hands in and out of the sand despite the fact you hated the feeling. It was something to do while watching him meticulously care for his swords. In the time the two of you had spent on the beach, you had watched Zoro tend to his swords more times than you had seen him do almost anything else.

"Can I touch your swords?"

Your words were meant for the first mate, but they seemed to grasp the attention of the whole Strawhat crew. They tried to pretend, act as if the breakfast Sanji's was serving was far more interesting than the conversation the two of you were having. This did not stop his crewmates from taking turns borrowing their eyes into the side of his skull. If you hadn't known any better you'd even swore they were holding their breaths in anticipation of the swordsman's response.

The tension in the air gave way that you may have made a mistake. That perhaps that was not a question allowed amongst this crew. You looked toward Zoro, bracing yourself for the harsh rejection. Instead he removed the three swords he had just placed on his hip and laid them out on the sand in front of you.

There was an audible gasp that fell from his crewmates. Zoro quickly narrowed his eyes toward their direction, the pirates sitting on the wooden table Franky had conjured up around the fire. His crewmates' eyes scatter in different directions faking obliviousness. Usopp even started to whistle to further prove his distraction. Zoro rolled his eyes before facing toward his swords.

"This one is Enma, Sandai Kitetsu, and Wado Ichimonji."

Zoro goes from top to bottom, pointing out each sword as he names it. Lightly, he pushes the first two away, so they are out of your arms’ reach. Leaving only Wado Ichimonji within your grasp.

"What- those two your favorite? That why I can't touch them." You teased.

"Not that." He gave you a playful laugh in response. That familiar cocky smile on his lips. "These two will literally kill you if you touch them."

"Oh-"

"This one is my favorite." He pulled Wado close so it was parallel to the knees of your criss-crossed legs. Before Zoro picked up his sword he forced your hands palm side up, arms out, rested against your thighs. Once he was satisfied with your posture he inched close to you smushing his thigh against yours then placed the sword in your hands.

"Why is this one your favorite?"

You go to move your hand from beneath the sword to foolishly trace the edge of the blade, but Zoro grabs your wrist before you have the opportunity. Quickly instructing you to be still. Griped that he had your hands placed like that for a reason.

"I don't want you to cut yourself." He scolded. Feeling like a small child, a 'sorry' clumsily fell from your lips in response. Zoro continued to answer your question.

"... A friend gave it to me."

This time you got the sense that you weren't to inquire any further about this. You wouldn't dare push the boundaries of the pirate. Instead you shifted the conversation.

"Was I not supposed to ask about your swords? ... your crewmates seemed kind of surprised."

"It's sort of a rule on the ship, that no one can touch my swords. " The swordsman's hand found the nape of his neck rubbing nervously. You laughed at his proclamation. His crewmate of years hadn't touched his swords, yet there he was placing his favorite blade in your hands. Unsure of what you had done to earn the pirate's trust, you were grateful all the same.

"So two swords that can kill you ... you must be like really strong?" you ask.

"Yeah, you could say that..." The swordsman chuckled. There's amusement filled in his expression as he takes the sword from your grasp so he could return them to their home. "You've really never heard of the Strawhat pirates?"

You shook your head 'no'. Had no intention of explaining to the swordsman that Lee had controlled most of the entertainment you had access to, and the news was hardly something he viewed as a concern of yours.

"I do keep hearing Luffy say he is going to be the pirate king a lot!" You tried to defend, hoping the information was relevant. the green haired pirate let out another laugh, nodding in agreement.

" 'nd I'm going to be the strongest swordsman in the world one day."

There was no uncertainty in his voice. No unsureness of weather it would be. The swordsman spoke his declaration as if it were a prophecy.

"How can you be so sure?"

"... Because I made a promise."

You forgot what the ballroom looked like filled with smiling faces, a sight lost after the death of your father. The warmth you feel at the anticipation is quickly replaced with an ice cold chill once you remember what these balls entail. Acting. You fix your smile, make it wider. As genuine as you could fake. Run your hands along your dress to smooth the folds. Make sure you are presentable- perfect like the chief expects.

Lee extends his hand as you approach the bottom of the steps. He does not wear a smile, but his eyes don't hold the malice you've become accustomed to searching for. He wordlessly looks you over with your hand in his. When he begins to lead you to the entrance of the ballroom you assume your appearance satisfies him.

There's an announcement as the two of you enter.

"Presenting Chief Misatori , and his wife".

The villagers look upon the two of you with such... mixed reactions. Some scold, probably wondering what you could possibly see in such an evil man. Probably trying to conjure up ways you cope with all his cruel actions. Others are more welcoming, the pain and grief your husband has put them through carved into their smile lines. Despite which side they lay, all the villagers have their eyes on you. Watching. Waiting for any crack in your façade.

Once you two reach your table at the front of the room, the announcer introduces the Strawhats next. The reception they receive is blazing compared to you and your husband. The room fills with cheers and whistles. Toothy smiles from all patrons. The pirate crew seems to enjoy the attention, maybe not welcoming of it, but definitely not shying away.

It seems Luffy couldn't be bothered to change out of his cut off denim for the formal event. Throwing on a button up shirt as compensation for his otherwise casual dress. You suspect that was Nami's idea. The other Strawhats are dressed more appropriately, in spite of their captain's relaxed attire. Although all look stunning, your eyes fall on Zoro, dressed in an all black 3 piece suit.

This is the first time you've seen the pirate in anything that wasn't a kimono or plain black shirt. The sight is a Divine gift. You would be watering at the mouth had you not been so aware of your surroundings. The swordsman's eyes meet yours the closer he gets. He flashes you a small smirk darting his eye down to his chest then back to you.

His tie and pocket square are velvet, the same emerald green of your dress. He has a gold sun pinned to his left lapel, its center adorned with an emerald stone strikingly similar to the stones on your corset. Shock is not a strong enough word to describe how you feel when your eyes return to his.

The emotions in you swirl so violently you feel like you're going to puke. Elation. Dread. Guilt. The three battle for space in your chest. The smirk on his face turns into a crooked smile at your eyes going slightly wide. If you didn't know any better you might even say he lets out a laugh at your surprise. When the group finally makes it to the shared round table, Zoro does not hesitate to take a seat next to you. Doesn't shy away from meeting Lee's disgruntled glance as he takes his seat.

"You look amazing love, a true sight for sore eyes." Sanji compliments.

It deepens the scowl already on Lee's face, but Sanji does not bother to acknowledge him. He gleams at you adoringly with a wide grin. You can only smile in response, softly thanking the cook. You wouldn't dare throw more ammunition onto the fire already fuming in your husband.

"She does look beautiful, doesn't she?" Lee gloats.

He has dropped the scowl, in an attempt to morph his features into something more inviting. He draws you in to meet his lips for a kiss. Usually Lee isn't one for public displays of affection, but in the face of the Strawhat men, he seems more than happy to make an exception . The chief has always been one to flaunt his spoils of war.

Zoro pinches your thigh. Not too hard, but enough to draw a reaction from you. It forces you to jump in surprise, drawing away from your husband. The puzzled look on Lee's face begins to look more of anger the longer his eyes linger on you awaiting an explanation.

"I'm sorry honey. I thought I felt something run across my foot, it just startled me." You caress his cheek to try to ease the tension. The sound of Zoro snickering whispers behind you.

The further into the night it gets the more lively the party has gotten. Alcohol has started to flow, live music Blares while patrons fill the dance floor. Most of the Strawhats have scattered.

Luffy in search of meat, or adventure. Don't remember which one he was singing about as he drug Usopp along. Chopper followed gleefully with hopes to join the fun. The cook has made himself busy talking to the maid from before, her appearance almost night and day in the evening gown. The others are difficult to track down, each with their own agendas for the night. The only ones sitting and enjoying the music with you are Zoro and Robin.

Lee has abandoned you at the table to entertain the men of his council, leaving you with the command to stay here. The chief never allowed you within ten feet of the dignitaries. Always said you were 'sure to say something stupid'. 'Only going to embarrass him and yourself'. So worried you would not be perfect enough for them, in spite of the fact that these men have known you since childhood. But you do not complain. Would much rather sit at the table swaying to the music than smile in the faces of your husband's subordinates anyway. Plus, the addition of company has made the experience that much more enjoyable.

"You want to dance?" The swordsman whispers.

"Roronoa , I wouldn't have taken you to be a dancer." You jest in return.

"I'm not. You haven't sat still since the music started. If you want to dance, I'll dance with you."

Your cheeks flush at his testament, at the mere thought of Zoro willing to wade through his own discomfort for you. It aches that you cannot do the same. That instead of exclaiming a resounding 'yes' your eyes fall to your husband on the other side of the room.

"It's okay Zo. Thank you."

Zoro glances back to see where your eyes have fallen. Rolls them in response to seeing Lee. A sigh leaves his lips but he doesn't push any further.

"I'm sure I can buy you guys a few minutes." Robin interjects. "I bet the garden is beautiful under the full moon."

Her eyes glance over at the swordsman briefly before returning to her drink. Zoro is already standing, adjusting the way his swords sit on his waist before heading presumably to the garden. You watch his figure shrink as he wades through the people to find the exit. When you return to Robin, she too is on her feet. There is a smile on her face, free of any anxieties.

"I'll distract Lee. Go find the swordsman."

Your heart pounds against your chest with each stride Robin makes towards the chief. Is this happening? Defying your husband so blatantly in the face of the entire kingdom. Your breath quickens as you watch her greet him. Gets shallower with each word that falls from the archeologist's lips. It's completely snatched from your throat once her fingers intertwine with his, leading the man out the ballroom with a giddy smile on his face.

You sit dumbfounded looking at the empty chairs that surround your table. There genuinely is nothing but you and the decision you have to make. Disrespect your husband to gallivant under the stars, or- Be the good wife. Behave. Act. Sit and smile while Robin wastes her precious time presumably flirting with your husband who had done little to conceal his crush on her.

Your feet are moving before your brain has an opportunity to justify their movement. All that echoes in your brain is Zoro's voice proclaiming he won't leave. How he is willing to risk his dream for you, and all you have to do is have the courage to leave the table. Once you make it to the garden you don't have the restraint to keep yourself from running in search of Zoro. Looking for any clue of his whereabouts in spite of your heels sinking you into the dirt with each step.

"I'm right here princess."

Your head snaps in the direction of his voice. The swordsman sits at the fountain in the center of the garden. His arms crossed against his chest with his legs outstretched in front of him. There is a full smile on his face as he takes you in, really takes you in.

"You're so fucking pretty... I hope he tells you everyday."

You don't want to discuss the chief. Hadn't escaped his watch to allow him to infiltrate your final moments with Zoro. You rush to the swordsman intertwining your fingers with his, and pull him to his feet or- more accurately, he stands at your request. The music from the ballroom carries into the garden faintly.

"You promised me a dance."

You wrap your arms around Zoro's neck. His hands find your waist. He pulls you close until your chest are flush together. You rest your head on his chest as the two of you sway. There is a comfortable silence falling between the two of you.

"We could do this on the sunny. Brook plays that violin non stop. " Zoro whispers.

Your eyes close as you allow your mind one second to wander. To think about what life on the seas would be like with Zoro. Naps in the crow's nest. Sake on the deck. Morning kisses before breakfast. The swordsman would love you. This you are certain.

"That would've been nice Zo."

"Don't say it like that- like you're never coming back ."

The swordsman's plea has you stopping in place. You take a step back to look up at him with somber eyes.

"What do you think will happen Zoro? ... That your crewmates will leave and my circumstances are going to change? If they don't- will you stay here to watch me be in a relationship with another man?"

"You won't even tell me what your circumstances are!" Zoro rebuttals quickly. Seemingly having no intentions of playing these games of 'what if'. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to gather himself.

"I'm just hoping that you will eventually tell me the truth. Tell me what's going on so we can go back to living our lives together! Is that not what you want?"

"I don't get to make that choice Zoro!" You retort. "I don't get what I want!"

An astonished huff leaves the swordsman's mouth. His lips upturn as he snarls at your words.

"Yes you do! You could decide to let me love you! I've been begging you to let me help and you just keep-"

"Go!" You shout . Unable to withstand the sweet sentiments he spews so fervidly any longer. The shake of pain in his voice growing unbearable to hear. "Leave Zoro! How many times do I have to say you can't stay!"

"How many times do I have to say I am not leaving you?" The pirate responds without missing a beat.

You hate the decision you make next. Cringe at the words before they even leave your lips. Disappointed at how quickly the idea pops into your head.

"You're never going to be the world's strongest swordsman, Zoro. The world's strongest swordsman would never give up their dream to chase after some woman they've only known two months."

The swordsman’s face drops in a way you've never seen before. Worse than when you introduced Lee as your husband. That was betrayal, this-

This was pure agony.

"Why are you trying to hurt me?"

You swallow hard. Shoving down the pained cries that want to shout out the truth. 'To make you hate me.' If that is the only way the swordsman is willing to leave then so be it. You would shatter him again. Tap at the cracks in his already broken heart, until the pieces are on the ground for him to pick up again. If that is what it is going to take.

"I'm telling you the truth Zoro. I know you look down on Lee , but he would never be foolish enough to jeopardize his dreams just for me."

"You saying that makes him a better man than me? That he's the one you're choosing." Zoro seethed. "He doesn't fucking love you- I do!"

"I'm not choosing anyone." You screech desperately.

It has taken some time, but it has finally sunk in. You do not get to leave. To choose. To stray from the path your husband deemed appropriate. You don't get saved. There is nothing the swordsman, or any of the other Strawhat pirates could do to change that.

Zoro nods his head as though he is saying he finally understands. He drags his right hand down his face before letting out a tired sigh.

"You win. You want me gone ... We'll leave tonight."

***

Finally the last of the patrons filed out. A sigh of relief leaves your lips when the castle doors shut. Your performative smile drops at the click of the locks. Air could fill your lungs again. Now that the night has drawn to a close, you wish nothing more than to get out of this dress. Strip down bare so you could cry in the tub. Soothe your heart's ache in privacy for just a little while.

Lee grasps your hand in his to force your attention. He wears a smile. You expect it's rewarding of the good job you've done tonight. He pulls you in close to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is soft, delicate . When you go to withdraw, the chief does not allow you any reprieve. The tender kiss quickly turns forceful. He tangles his hand into your hair so you have nowhere to go.

"You must think I'm a fucking idiot, Honey." Lee mumbles against your lips. He starts pushing you backwards until you are pressed against the iron doors. His free hand wraps around your throat while his lips travel to your ear.

"You love the swordsman..." He whispers. "Do you really think I'm too stupid to notice? "

Goosebumps appear at his words. For a split second everything stops. Your Hearing. Your breath. Your heart. How- how could he know? Sweat beads at your brow as they scrunch in confusion. You try to blink your way out this nightmare as tears start to swell in your eyes. Refuse to accept this as reality.

"No Lee, I only love you. Zor-"

Lee squeezes his fingers tight around your neck. The piercing blow to your windpipe brings your testament to a swift end. You claw violently at his fingers. Attempt fervidly to pry his grip from your neck to no avail.

"Don't say his fucking name ... Not in my house. You and those pirates think you're so clever sneaking around tonight. Did you honestly think I would take your word on some filthy pirate? That I wouldn't have you watched after strictly forbidding you to see him? Darling, surely you aren't that pathetic..."

The sound of Lee's voice drifts in and out along with your consciousness. Your limbs feel heavy, moving lethargically with each thrashing movement. Before your vision fades to black, Lee drops your body to the floor. A loud smack echoes the halls once your skin meets the marble.

For a moment there is only the sound of your hacking. A poor attempt to force your lungs to work. Lee bends at the knees to observe you. Ponder on if this punishment is enough. If you had endured enough pain to assuage his anger.

"Tell me sweetheart..." He reaches out to sweep the hair out of your face. He caresses your check lightly before continuing. "Is the garden you and the swordsman's special place? Uh? Do the two of you sneak off and laugh at the fool you make of me?"

You go to speak, curse that your words would fail you in such a crucial time. Your brain is too light headed and caught off guard to have lies readily available. You avert your gaze away from the chief. Look toward all the staff too afraid of the man's wrath to watch his atrocities' face on, but bear witness all the same.

When you don't respond, Lee stands. That darkness has consumed the totality of his eyes. Your husband -and what little humanity resided left in him- is gone. The chief: Judge, Jury, and Executioner stood before you determining your sentence.

"You want to leave ? Go ! Be with the swordsman!"

The hair on your neck stands at his proclamation. Lee had sneered you with one trap . You would be foolish to allow him to devour you whole in another. You shake your head 'no'. Repent to the man. Implore his forgiveness. The chief stares unmoved. Glowering down at you with a merciless grin.

"I warned you before Honey. There is only one way your leaving."

You push your back further into the doors. Willing them to burst open at the force. Your eyes scatter the area as he approaches. There is nowhere to run. Nothing to grab. You are utterly helpless to the whims of the chief.

Lee fists his hand into your hair, grabbing tightly, then pulls to drag you along the floor. The scream you let out at the sting does not deter him. Neither does your kicking, or clawing at his fingers in hopes of relief. None of it offers any reprieve.

"I don't want to leave. I don't want to go with the swordsman. Please Lee- Let me stay." You wail. Your heels slide against the stone floor foiling your attempts to dig your feet into the ground.

Lee has made it to the bottom of the staircase, and finally in the chaos, you are able to ascertain his plans. This was it, the final straw on the camel's back. The last defiance Lee is willing to forgive. He had finally deemed you useless. Worthless. And was planning to get rid of you in such a manner.

"I tried to teach you sweetheart, but you just won't learn." He scolds

Your body must be weightless the way Lee is so effortlessly dragging you up the steps. Was this really how things were going to end? Had the chief decided himself so deserving of his authority he would rule without the woman who made him monarch in the first place? Your father must be turning in his grave at the sight.

"I'll be good. I promise!" You weep. Your hands are tangled in your hair searching for relief.

The chief lets out an obnoxious laugh. Now that the two of you are at the top of the stairs, it has only gotten easier for the man to drag you along the hardwood floor. The entrance to your bedroom is coming into view. The boom of your heart thumping rings in your ears. Your time is running out.

"Trying to play me like some fucking idiot. I guess you are your fathers daughter after all... "

Fervidly you press white fingertips into the door frame, using all the strength you had to fight against Lee's pull. It is no use. Like a rag doll at the manipulation of her owner you're easily forced into the room.

"I'll have to take care of you, just like I did your father."

"Please ! Please ! Please ! Please -" You beg, pleas barely audible in the midst of your sobs.

Your eyes scatter the room in one last stitch effort to save your life. If this were it, you refused to go quietly. Scissors. They have fallen from the top of your dresser onto the floor in front of the bed. You thank whatever god has taken mercy on you. Whoever decided the chief plans too nefarious to come to fruition.

You snatch the blades as he drags you past the bed. Jab the tool into the chief's feet before withdrawing and jamming it into his thigh. Lee lets out a sharp yelp, before falling to the floor. He curses loudly, grasping his wound. There is no time to revel in victory.

Hastily you rush to your feet, fleeing out the room. You can hear the man shouting out after you, but the mistake is already made. Too deep to fall to your knees and beg forgiveness now.

***

The rain refuses to let up. With each thud of your feet against the wet forest floor, you swear the drops only quicken in pace. The regal gown you wear , or the pieces that remain in tack, are soaked through. Your heels are long discarded in the shuffle. In spite of the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you shudder at the brisk winds.

You push your discomfort aside. No time to think about the weather, when you had to flee as far away from your home as you could. you had gotten away once , surely you could do it again. Had to be able to do it again.

guilt consumes you with each step you plow into the ground. Leaving behind the home your mother raised you in. The land your father thought sacred- just to save yourself. Selfish. That's all you are. Selfish. Pitiful. Failure- Your thoughts flee when you go crashing onto the wet forest ground.

Hurriedly you wipe at your face to see the culprit of your disruption. It is to no avail. The rain has done a remarkable job at distorting your vision. The darkness is its fateful ally. You can barely make out the voices calling to you through the rumbling of the thunder.

"What are you doing out here?"

There's a hand around your arm dragging you up before you are able to grasp your bearings. Fear consumes you too much to focus. Only know that getting caught isn't not an option. You jerk to free your arm, but the hold is too strong.

"Y/n!"

Your panic forces coherence. Your vision finally comes to.

Zoro.

His face is contorted into a grimace as he looks you over. His hand travels up and down your arm as though he could wash the bruises away with the fallen rain. When the wounds remain the pirate pierces his eye into yours.

"What Happened?" He growls.

Your arms wrap your body. As if you could stretch your limbs around you like Strawhat to hide your bruises. Eyes quick to dart away from him. For a second you try to conjure up a palatable explanation. One that would soothe the fire in the pirate's eye. Eradicate the concern from his voice. But there is none.

For the first time in six months you are all out of excuses. All out of ways to justify the pain away. No words to lie reassurance into anyone's hearts.

Your eyes are glued to the floor shielding your face from your audience. From Zoro. Your skin trembles against his fingers. Using his free hand, Zoro wraps his fingers gently around your chin. You wince at his touch. The sting is intense despite his delicate disposition.

Don't want to expose yourself to him any further. The scratches and cuts that covered you were indicator enough of your injuries. The swordsman does not care. He gently presses against your jaw , forcing your head up to see the fingers indented into your neck. The red bands evidence of your skirmish even without your confirmation.

You feel small underneath Zoro's gaze. There's a mix of emotions that flow through his eye. Anger. Relief. Guilt. The only that's lingers is pity. It makes your skin crawl to see it so clearly painted on his face.

"Did he do this to you?" The swordsman barks.

You want to run. You're going to run. Refuse to be subjected to the pitiful glances and stares . It is as if Zoro can read your mind, tightening his grip around your arm the moment your muscles tense beneath him.

"...Yes." The answer is almost lost in the storm.

Zoro releases you. His hand immediately finds Enma's hilt. Wordlessly he turns to walk in the direction of the castle. His crewmates do not speak. Wouldn't dare ask where he was going when the answer is so obvious.

"Please- Zoro! Don't leave me!" You sob, tears mixing into the rainfall that covers your cheeks. Your voice, broken from Lee's abuse, forces your plea to come out as a strained cry. Zoro stops in his tracks to glance your way.

"I know I don't deserve you! I know you're too good for me! I know! But please-"

You can barely make him out as he approaches. The blur from the showers distorts his figure. Can only make out the swordsman sheathing his weapon. In seconds he is within your grasp, drawing you into his chest as his arms wrap around your shoulder.

"Shh- I'm right here."

You curl into his hold, trying to shield yourself from everyone- everything. Can only bawl into the pirates chest. Your legs fail you. Too weak to hold their own. Zoro does not let you fall, holds all your weight against him as you cry.

"He killed him. He killed my father."

There is only the sound of thunder in the air. You have rendered the pirate speechless. This was probably the first time the swordsman has ever not known what to say. How to comfort you. Zoro holds you tighter, closer. Rubs your back in a soothing way.

"... Let's go home." Zoro whispers, kissing the top of your head.

The walk to the sunny is silent. Not even the pirate captain has anything to say. It's hard not to feel on display in the midst of everyone stares. You know your friends do not mean to watch in the way they do. To trail their eyes down your abused body every time they glance your way. Probably just taken aback by your appearance. You look far worse than when you washed ashore on the beach. Still, it makes you want to hide. Strip yourself of your skin to escape their stares.

Zoro glances over at you every few seconds like he must be sure you're still there. That you haven't abandoned his side. Run off to lick your wounds in isolation.

"Here."

The pirate strips out of his suit jacket then wraps it around your shoulders. Although soaked from the rain you appreciate having the cover. For being able to give your arms a break from shielding you. The coolness against your skin actually offers some relief to the pain drenching your body.

Immediately once you board Sunny, Zoro is walking you to the infirmary to have chopper look at you. He does not ask, and you get the impression that the topic isn't up for debate. Chopper does not ask any questions. Doesn't pry about how your injuries came about. Just treats each wound, handling you as delicately as he can.

Zoro holds your hand the entire appointment. lightly rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You squeeze his fingers tightly at Chopper feeling your neck.

"It's okay princess, you're doing so good. He's almost done. Right chopper?"

"All done." The reindeer backs away hooves up as proof. "I'm going to give you some ice for your neck, leave it on for about twenty minutes."

"And the rest of her bruises?" Zoro asks.

"I don't have any reason to believe there is internal bleeding, but we will keep an eye on your condition the next couple days just to be sure."

Chopper extends out an ice pack for you then goes to rifle through the medication cabinet. Once convinced he has all he needs he turns to hand you two bottles.

"These are for the pain. Take these in the morning " He holds up one bottle, shakes it lightly then picks up the other. "These are for night."

Zoro reaches to take both bottles before you have the chance to.

"Thank you chopper."

Zoro holds your hand the whole way to his quarters. Though you told him when you first boarded the ship you could walk on your own now, he does not let you go. You suspect Zoro is scared of where you'll go if he does.

When the two of you walk into his quarters it is quiet. Only the soft sound of the waves swaying the boat fills the air. You make your way to the bed, flopping lazily on top of the comforter. Your body begs the comfort of a soft mattress after all the harsh treatment. When you look over at Zoro he hasn't moved.

The swordsman's back is against the door as though he is guarding it. Covering the exits so you could not scurry away from him again. His gaze doesn't linger on you, instead he stares out of the singular port hole into the darkness of the night.

The quiet begins to eat away at your consciousness. Usually silence was comfortable between you and the pirate. No words ever needed to be exchanged to feel the comfort of the other person's presence. But now was different-

Now you stood in front of the swordsman with your heart in pieces, just as broken as him. Waiting for him to put the pieces back together like he had done unknowingly so many times before. How could two people, broken the way you two are broken, offer anyone comfort or solace?

"Is this what you didn't want to tell me? ..." Zoro asks.

His voice battles the waves for space in the room. Wins only barely taking its place. You don't say anything. Act as though his question going unanswered, will keep the truth from spilling into the space.

"How long?"

"... Since my father died."

Zoro gives you a curt nod before pushing himself away from the door. Still his eye does not fall on you. Part of you begins to wander if it's intentional. If the sight of your broken body is just too much for the swordsman to bear.

"You can take the bed. I'll wake you up when it's time to take your meds again. Chopper will be just down the hall. If you need me, I'll be in the crow's nest." He begins to ramble.

As your mind reels the pirate starts to rifle through his clothes for a clean shirt. A task you are sure requires exceptional effort in his messy quarters. After the third black tee Zoro finds a clean one and hands it out to you. Only then has your mind caught up enough to clasp his wrist.

"I don't want to sleep alone." You admitted. "Please don't make me sleep another night without you."

Zoro exhales a shaky breath. Like it is taking everything in him to grasp his bearings.

"Okay. " He whispers in response.

The sentiment settles and wrenches your heart. The guilt pains you much more than the bruises ever could. The physical pain would heal. In time the red marks around your throat would fade. The cuts that cover your feet will only be a distant memory. But you will forever have to live with the pain of what you did to the swordsman.

As Zoro climbs into the bed you wonder why he still has so much affection left for you. Why he was offering refuge after the terrible things you said. Think it might have been better had he screamed. Cursed and yelled at the sight of you, opposed to these gentle ministrations. After all, you deserved to feel a fraction of the pain you have put him through.

"I'm so sorry Zoro. I-"

"Go to sleep." He mutters. Lazily wrapping an arm around your waist. "We can talk in the morning."

The swordsman holds you close to his chest. His hold is so tight it slightly stings against your wounds. If you concentrate enough you swear you can feel Zoro's heart thumping violently.

The smell of the sea can almost deceive you into believing you're on the beach. That things are okay. The daydream only crushes your spirits more. Emphasizes how your world is actively crumbling around you.

You wished you had the heart to let it go. To not need reassurance at his expense. But the words are fumbling out your mouth before you can stop them.

"Do you still love me?" You choke out.

There is no strength left to hold back any tears. To swallow the vulnerability before the pirate is able to see it. All that is left is to slice your chest open for the swordsman. Show him all the broken ribs you have endured trying to protect your heart only to have it broken in the end.

"I still love you." He confirms placing a kiss to your temple.

The words bring more anguish than relief. A visceral hurt cascades your body. All you can do is sob. Grasping desperately onto his arm in an attempt to ground yourself.

"I hate him, Zoro. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him."

"I'm going to kill him." The pirate announces.

The definiteness in his voice , kin to when he announced he would be the strongest swordsman in the world. You turn in his arms to face him, and this time when you look up at the pirate he is meeting your gaze. The stress of the day so clearly pronounced by the bags under his eyes.

"Zoro you don't hav-"

"Go to sleep." The swordsman reiterates, before you can continue. He sweeps his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears, even though more come to replace them. He gives you a soft, weak smile before gently pressing his lips to yours. The feather light touch has you second guessing if you had felt him at all.

"We'll talk in the morning."

—————————————————————————————

A/n: Hey luvbugs! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Comment your favorite quote 👀 or part ! I’d love to know. I think there’s gonna be about two more parts left at the most. Ahhhh can’t believe we’re almost done.

If you would like to be on the taglist , let me know ! I’d love to have you! :)

Tag List: @turtletaubwrites @jinjen @sanzu-clinic @heyauntieeee @honeybuzzzzzz @nothing-but-brass @katiemrty @zorotime @kahelis @vikispike @haitaniwhor3 @starlightanyaaa

#forgive me if i break you #one piece #zoro roronoa #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro roronoa x y/n #zoro roronoa x reader

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flowercrowngods · 2 years ago

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hello i’m attempting something for steddie week too, but it'll be one large thing probably @steddie-week

day 01: pining

2 new messages

eddie The Problem munson: —steeb —esteban —stefano —stevie —love of my life apple of my eye pls pls tell me i can call you —i am very chill etc etc —no i’m not —let me call youuuu —😠🥺🙏

Steve snorts as he picks up his phone and reads Eddie’s messages that keep coming in his usual spam of consciousness, a giddy feeling spreading in his chest as he snorts and goes to answer.

— Call me then, coward

Not a second later, his phone rings. Steve picks up immediately, even though he considers making Eddie wait; just to be difficult. Just to calm his racing heart that is always so lively around Eddie.

“What,” he says, attempting to sound bored and annoyed — in vain, because even he can hear the smile on his face. Traitor, he thinks to himself.

“Steve,” Eddie sing-songs, drawing out Steve’s name like he does every time he’s happy. “Steve, Steve, Stevie.”

“Ed, Ed, Eddie,” he sings back, relaxing into his couch and shutting the laptop. Lesson planning can wait, he decides, shuffling all the loose pages into the text book and placing his laptop on the pile, trusting that physics won’t betray him. “What’s got you so happy, hm?”

“Why do you think I’m happy?” Damn idiot has a smile on his face as he asks that, Steve can hear it. It makes his own grin widen and he huffs into the phone.

“I literally know you, babe.”

Babe. His heart flutters every time he says it — and he tries not to, because it’s meaningless, it’ll never happen. But Eddie picks it back up every time, and Steve is weak. God, he is so, so weak.

On the other end, Eddie hums and Steve basks in the sound for a moment. It’s always so contagious, Eddie’s happiness, and he wants to soak it all up. Wants to be the reason for it. Wants, wants, wants.

“You do,” Eddie says, his voice so light and fond it makes Steve’s whole body tingle. And his heart flutter. And it fills him with such happiness that he feels like he could take on the entire world right now, just with the way Eddie’s voice went all soft on him.

God, he’s hopeless. So, so hopeless. But he’s also weak. An addict, leeching off Eddie’s attention, getting a kick out of the smallest dose, and absolutely certain he couldn’t survive if it were taken from him. He needs it. Even if it kills him a little bit, because—

“She said yes.”

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

“Chrissy. She said— She said yes, Stevie. We’re getting married.”

He says it and he sounds so happy. So, so happy. And Steve is the world’s worst best friend for the way he freezes, the way he almost drops his phone if it weren’t for the vice grip he has on it, frozen in time and space because his heart has stopped beating. It has stopped, surely, because no beating heart can hurt this much. No beating heart can crack open and still work the way it used to three, five, seven seconds ago.

Eddie, bless his entire soul, laughs to fill the silence, and it’s the happiest sound. A boyish one, like there is no pain in the world and not a worry on his mind. A bit hysterical, too. Like he can’t believe it himself yet. Like this is the best day of his life and saying it again has reminded him of it. At least that’s what Steve imagines it feels like when someone wants to be married to you. He wouldn’t know, of course, as the only person he would ever ask is already engaged to someone else. Apparently.

Eddie is engaged.

Engaged and laughing and so, so happy.

And Steve feels nauseous. Dizzy. Breathless. His eyes begin to sting and the hand that’s holding his phone begins to tremble, his grip so tight it hurts.

Steve feels… too much. His hands tremble and he tries hard not to cry.

“You’re getting married.”

“We’re getting married.”

They’re getting married.

Fuck.

Someone has to tell Robin. Because in true Platonic Soulmate manner, Steve and Robin fell in love with the two people who are in love with each other. Like the chaotic mess they are.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner,” Eddie continues, a bit more sober now. Sounding genuine and sufficiently awkward about it, in true Eddie-manner. Like the big old softie he secretly is. “I would have, but…”

But I know you’re in love with me and didn’t want to burden you with the love I carry for someone who isn’t you, Steve’s brain auto-fills helpfully. But you keep flirting with me and there was never room for someone else when I was with you.

But, but, but—

He swallows and drags in a deep breath past the pain in his throat where all the words he can never say are forming a massive lump.

“Hey man, don’t worry about that, we all know I suck at keeping secrets,” he offers. And it’s a lie, because he has kept this one thing secret for years and years. This one thing, this huge and all-encompassing thing that he can feel in the tips of his fingers when he is texting Eddie, and on his tongue when they are talking, and in his heart even when he is sleeping.

This one thing, this one secret, is his never-ending love for Eddie.

And he will add another one to that, a lovely little friend for it. To keep it company. That other secret, of course, will be the way his heart has shattered into a million little pieces and will remain that way until he can’t even look at Eddie anymore. And even then will he look at Eddie and smile at him, and Eddie will smile back and the pain will flare up again.

Again and again and again, for the rest of their lives. Possibly even beyond that.

“You do suck at that,” Eddie chuckles, though it is quieter this time, almost private. Fond. Gentle. Always, always like that. It used to mean something once. And if Steve closes his eyes, he can imagine that Eddie smiles his secret smile, the one Steve has only seen directed at himself. It almost breaks him.

Eddie’s I have known you for a whole eternity and love you beyond words, silly, but you also make my life so much harder-smile. That’s what he has dubbed it because that is what Eddie had said the first time he smiled like that when Steve was drunk off his ass.

But. But, but, but—

It’s no use to think of that now, to reminisce and imagine what might have been if… Well. If Steve weren’t Steve.

And that sure is a dark path he doesn’t want to trudge now, not in the face of the even darker path of Eddie getting married that he sure as hell will have to walk down for the rest of his life.

He sighs and tries to think of something to say. Something good. Something that is not Please don’t marry Chrissy. Please don’t take yourself away from me. Please. Please don’t get married to anyone who isn’t me. Please open your eyes and see me, please listen to me, please understand what I say when I say I love you. Please.

He kind of spaces out for the rest of the conversation, not really listening to Eddie’s words over the ringing in his ears and the pumping beat of his shattered heart.

Eddie speaks softly to him, the undercurrent of happiness and contentment still in his voice, and it would give Steve life, it would be contagious, it would be so very precious if it didn’t also drive the knife of pain ever deeper into Steve’s entire soul, slicing him apart with no one around to put him back together again.

Splitting him in half. One half that just wants Eddie to be happy, to sound like he does right now for ever and ever. And the other half, loathing that Eddie’s happiness is not inspired by him, not because of him, not in any sort of relation to him.

It’s not fair. And Steve is torn. So he shuts himself off and lets Eddie ramble, tells him that he is tired after pulling an all-nighter again and wrangling the his difficult seventh graders that were particularly hard on him today when the other man asks him if he is all right.

“Steve,” Eddie sighs, and a traitorous tear rolls down Steve’s cheek at the caring exasperation he hears there. “How often do I need to tell you that sleep is important? You’re gonna wear yourself out at this rate. And the kids just suck.”

“I know,” he says, and sniffs, willing the tears to not fall. Not until Eddie has hung up on him.

“Aww. That emotional, huh?”

At that, Steve sobs out a laugh and gladly accepts the way out. “Well, excuse me, my bestest friend whom I love very much is getting married soon! Or, well, I hope it’s soon, nobody has time for all that suspense. Anyway, I am allowed to be emotional about this!”

Eddie chuckles again and sighs gently. “Yes, you are. I’m glad you are. Thank you, Stevie.”

Don’t thank me. Not for this. Not over this, please, don’t thank me.

“Don’t thank me,” he says with a grin, and it hurts his cheeks from how forced it is. “Thank yourself for being brave enough to actually go through with the proposal! We both know you’re chicken shit.”

Just like me, he thinks. Just like me.

They laugh and it sounds hollow to Steve’s ears. He just wants the phone call to end, wants this to be over with. Wants them to not get married. Never, ever, in this life or the next.

He wants… he wants Robin. No, he needs his best friend, his soulmate. He can’t cry alone, not about this.

Eventually, Eddie hangs up, that smile still so audibly his lips, and that painful happiness still very clear in his voice. Steve wants to share it. But he can’t.

All he can do is stare at the phone in his trembling hand before he closes his eyes and lets himself cry, his head falling back against the couch until he slumps over to one side. He stares and he cries until he can’t anymore.

Eddie. The love of his life. Is getting married. To Chrissy, the other, platonic love of his life, who is like a sister to him. Who, coincidentally, is the love of his real platonic soulmate’s life.

Fucking hell, the mess they find themselves in!

After a while of pitifully staring at the wall, all cried out and feeling thoroughly pathetic, he lifts his phone and speed-dials Robin.

“Stevie?”

He sniffs, and it must sound as awful as he feels, for her next words are, “I’ll be right there. Alcohol or ice cream?”

“Both?” he whimpers after a moment, and Robin hums right back.

“I’ve got you. I’ll be there in ten.”

She hangs up before he can say anything more, and he is overcome with all the love he holds for her.

As he waits for her to come over, he does not move from the awkwardly half curled-up position on his couch, the lesson plans for tomorrow forgotten completely. This is his life now. His Eddie-less life. His engaged-Eddie life. His loveless, hopeless, endlessly pitiful life.

come back tomorrow for: bittersweet & angst | read here

#steddieweek2023 #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dio words #listen idk if this'll be a whole thing but I hope it will (but also I've written almost the exact same premise for the Witcher once before #so if you feel like this is too familiar I swear I am not plagiarising this is just me again with a hallmark typcial trope dont yell at me #please 🤍#it’s technically not day one for me bc it’s 3:42am but eh

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the-sinful-voice-witch · 3 months ago

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DC, you decided to make Barbara and Cassandra ditch Stephanie out of birds of prey and rejected the proposal for her to be the leader of a new team of young heroes... Seriously... Would it be that hard or terrible or extremely difficult to you to make her be part of something? She doesn't have to have her own run if you don't want to I see how you rejected the last proposal ok but why can't she be part of something? Why isn't she part of the birds of prey? I seriously don't get it... On the other hand Damian is with everyone, with his father, with Jon, with Wonder Woman, with Connor Hawke and Rose Wilson... And those last ones even got to be placed in a family drawing of people who loves him... So they spend some days together in a island and suddenly characters like Duke, Jason and Stephanie are replaceable in a drawing... Cool, cool, nice... Yep Damian gets a spotlight constantly being with a lot of different characters but not with Stephanie? Like really DC you forgot they were the best duo as Batgirl and Robin without the romance factor...

Ok but what about jason? I'm sure you would love another Red hood run DC... Could you add Stephanie? As partners on a mission? See? I'm not even asking for romance you see, I just want to see them together in the same panel more often, having proper conversations and fighting together and support each other! Because they are similar!! Just like you put together Connor and Damian because of their similarities!! Damn it! Is not that hard!!! You don't want to put Stephanie with the other Batgirls and Tim anymore? FINE I'm getting sick of them being the only ones who get to have Steph anyway. LET STEPH INTERACT WITH OTHER CHARACTERS!!! DUKE, SUPERGIRL, HUNTRESS, BLACK CANARY, BATWOMAN, CATWOMAN... FUCKING JASON TODD!! she would even get along with Bizarro! She could hang out with the first Superboy who she used to have a poster of in her room and had a bad first interaction and roast Tim together! She was the girl wonder, let her be friends with some wonder girl too! Or wonder Woman even! O let her team up with Damian too now that you use him so much! DC I'm not giving up I swear I'll even do witchcraft to get you to do real Justice! STEPHANIE BROWN DESERVES JUSTICE!

#stephanie brown #jaysteph #jason todd #red hood #batgirl #the batman #batman #batfam #damian wayne #robin #dc #dcu #dc comics #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #tim drake

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nightghoul381 · 3 months ago

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Sharing the Love

Prompts: Double Penetration, Make-up Sex Pairing: Elbert Greetia x Reader x Alfons Sylvatica Smut | Explicit Content | NSFW | MDNI CW: Polyamory, Nipple play, Rim job, Hand job, Anal sex, PIV, double penetration WC: ~2k

A/N 1: I apologize if it seems disjointed and off lol, I have had a few drinks and have quite a nice buzz going and alas it has caused me to have to once again go into 'it's technically still the 5th' when I finally post this ><

A/N 2: Prompts from @natimiles, @valkyyriia, @candied-boys's Kinktober prompts and @xxsycamore's Visions of Temptation Prompts! Found here and here Thank you guys for putting together such awesome prompts!!

“Elbert?”

You hesitate as you open his door, hoping to see his familiar sapphire blue eyes and yet at the same time also hoping that he might not be here and you won’t have to confront the uncomfortable situation.

“Come along now, Miss robin. No use dallying in the hall.” Alfons’ gently nudges your shoulder and you stumble forward into the dark room.

You feel your breath catch as a dark figure outlined in moonlight comes into view. Elbert stands, staring out the window his face cast in shadow. He doesn’t bother to move as you fully enter his line of sight, but you can see his mouth twist into a frown.

“Now El, it’s not polite to so blatantly ignore your lover like this,” Alfons chides, strolling past you and approaching the sullen man as though unable to feel the tension permeating the air.

Elbert turns his head, making a pointed effort to relay his distaste.

“Oh dear, we’re playing hard to get tonight, are we?” Alfons coos, leaning over his shoulder.

You feel the electricity in the air crackle as Alfons’ provocations meet Elbert’s resistance. This could get bad…

“Um, Al…” You start, only to gasp when Elbert turns his head, eyes blazing with anger and hurt.

“You belong to me. She belongs to me. Why were you together without me?” He chokes, tears brimming in his eyes as he speaks through gritted teeth.

You feel your heart clench painfully seeing your lover looking so utterly heart broken.

“We do belong to you, El. But we belong to each other as well,” Alfons replies, his gloved hand quickly moving to brush away tears from Elbert’s cheek. “Besides, just look at her.”

Al’s hand guide’s Elbert’s face toward you and you feel nervous, unsure of how he would react. When he had first caught you straddling Alfons with your tongue down his throat, he’d been stunned and his eyes had grown dark and distant.

He’s always had a difficult time with this part of your relationship. When you and Alfons had first brought up the idea of polyamory, Elbert was hesitant. His greed reared its ugly head, and he had struggled to wrap his head around the thought of not having complete ownership of each of you. He’d eventually given it a shot, and for the most part it had been working well. Both you and Alfons had time spent individually with Elbert, as well as time when the three of you were together, but this was the first time that Elbert had left you and Alfons alone and the raven-haired man’s seductive gaze had met yours within a matter of seconds after the door had closed.

“I suppose this means I have a turn to have you all to myself, doesn’t it, little Robin?” He’d murmured, curling a finger toward himself and drawing you in with no hesitation on your part. You had felt such a rush of excitement at the prospect you’d been sat on his lap and kissing him ravenously before you’d even realized the door had opened again.

Only when it slammed shut did you break apart, turning quickly and seeing Elbert staring at you in shock and something much darker flared in his eyes before he’d stalked back out the door. He’d not bothered to join you for dinner as he usually did and when you told Alfons that you were worried about him he’d merely chuckled. It was as though he’d been waiting for you to say it and he fished Elbert’s room key out of his pocket, twirling it in his fingers before closing his entire fist around the slender metal object.

“What are we waiting for then?”

--Now here you are, trying to wrack your brain for the right thing to say. You know that you hadn’t done anything wrong but at the same time, you also know that Elbert had been hurt.

When you don’t say anything Alfons sighs amusedly. “Look at her, El. Is there any way you can expect either of us to resist that gorgeous face?”

Elbert’s deep blue eyes fixate on you, his lips parting slightly as his stare moves searchingly across your face.

“Her lips are practically begging to be kissed, don’t you think, El?” Alfons goads, wrapping his arm around Elbert’s shoulder and guiding the delicate man over toward you.

“El… I…” You start, chewing on your lip for a brief moment before you feel is cool fingers against your cheeks as he draws you in, sealing his lips over yours, and you feel your heart begin to race as his kisses become stronger, greedier. His tongue delves into your mouth unprompted, searching and tracing every crevice, ensuring that the only taste that remains is his.

You feel all of the tension in your body melt at once, nearly collapsing against Elbert and returning his ravenous kisses. You’re so engrossed in the kisses that you don’t realize that Alfons has moved behind you, his hands snaking around your waist and sliding up to cup your breasts as he nibbles at your neck. The joint sensations are nothing new, but your body still responds instantly, heat pooling in your belly and your heart racing.

When Alfons rips the front of your shirt open, you hear his voice drop low, “El, I think she needs attention here too. Look how desperate her nipples are for your attention.”

You feel your arms pulled tightly behind your back, lips sucking at your nape, and you gasp.

Elbert draws back, his fevered gaze quickly locking onto your now exposed breasts. “Beautiful,” he muses, lowering his head and latching his lips around one nipple, the other pinched between his cold fingertips and you feel a moan of pleasure escape your throat.

“That’s such a lovely sound, little Robin,” Alfons purrs, locking your wrists in one hand and using the other to pull your head to the side, revealing more of your throat to his searching lips. “Do it again.”

When his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin your voice spills out, unrestrained and loud. The sound seems to trigger something in Elbert and his ministrations become more aggressive. His long, slender fingers make quick work of the rest of your clothes before slipping between your thighs and diving into your already dripping pussy.

When he moans against your nipple, you feel the vibration send sparks shooting through your nerves. At the same time, you hear Alfons chuckle against your throat. “Good idea, El. What do you say we move this reunion to the bed?”

Both men move with practiced synchronicity and you find yourself on your stomach, legs still planted on the floor.

“Isn’t that just the most delicious sight, El?” Alfons groans with his hands sliding over your ass.

“Lick.” Elbert states plainly. You hear Alfons sigh hungrily before a warm wetness joins the hand on your backside.

You look back over your shoulder and tremble at the sight. Elbert’s pants have been shed, his cock being stroked gently by Alfons as the same man’s tongue slides against your skin, nearly meeting your slit but moving back up over the globes of your ass before granting you the pleasure.

When you let out a whiny grunt, you see Elbert’s gaze turn from Alfons’ attentions to your face.

“Do you wish me to touch you as well?” he asks softly. His words are breathy as his length is expertly tended and the pink flush on his porcelain cheeks looks so perfect you feel yourself quiver.

“Yes… please, Elbert,” you breathe. Elbert moves away from Alfons, earning a slightly disgruntled grunt from the raven-haired man.

As soon as Elbert moves closer to you, you reach out to him, kissing one of his lovely thighs and looking up at him with pleading eyes. You want to know that he understands how this relationship works, but more than anything, you want him to forgive you.

“Do you want a taste?” He whispers, letting his cock brush against your cheek and you waste no time taking him into your mouth. At the same time you feel Alfons’ tongue sliding between your cheeks, brushing over the sensitive place hidden within.

You moan loudly against Elbert’s cock, and his own voice filling the room like music, encouraging you to suck more eagerly. He’s so perfect in every way, his size stretching your throat just right and his taste so wonderfully decadent you can’t help but continue to moan with each thrust of his hips. At the same time the blissful sensations that Alfons is granting you has your eyes rolling back and you know that, had your mouth not been filled, you’d be crying out how amazing he’s making you feel.

Suddenly Elbert slides himself out of your mouth, and your moans fill the room as Alfons’ tongue and finger begin to stretch your hidden place in just the right way.

“Is she ready?” Elbert pants, stroking his cock and looking down at Alfons needily.

“She will be with proper lubrication,” Alfons replies, sitting back on his knees and chuckling.

You feel a thrill of excitement as Elbert gently guides you back to your feet. You watch in eager anticipation as Alfons slips a bottle of lubricant oil from his pocket. He steps free of his clothes, his cock hard and heavy in his palm as he slicks the oil over it. He positions himself on his back, his ashen eyes staring you with unbridled desire as he continues to stroke himself.

“Come here, little Robin.” He commands, spilling some of the oil onto his hand. You take position, straddling his hips while facing toward Elbert at the foot of the bed. Alfons slips his now slick fingers into your ass, massaging you slowly while Elbert’s mouth eagerly attends to your face.

When you feel Alfons’ tip at your secret entrance, you let your head fall back, moaning and focusing on remaining relaxed as he fills you. Your shoulders are gently pulled backward and you lay against Al’s chest. Feeling his hot length buried inside you sends a thrill through your core and you stare up at Elbert breathing heavily.

He looks down to where you and Alfons are joined, frowning slightly until you beg.

“Elbert, please! I need you…ngh…. I want to feel your cock inside me.

His brilliant gem-like eyes flare with desire and you feel him sink into your cunt, filling you completely and you can feel the bulge in your stomach indicating how deeply he’s penetrating you.

“Oh, fuck… Elbert please!” You moan, arching back against Alfons below you as both men begin to thrust in alternating patterns. The fullness within you has every nerve screaming with euphoria and you can’t keep yourself quiet. You don’t want to keep yourself quiet.

Instead you scream your lovers’ names as they fuck you brutally, expressing their emotions: hurt, pain, need, desire, greed. Every sensation sending ripples of erotic need through you and you feel yourself so quickly approaching your climax.

Elbert’s movements are so aggressive, so unlike his normally docile self. He’s making a point to show you who you belong to and you know that Alfons is enjoying ever second of this from the erotic whispers of bliss filling your ears.

“Make-up sex is some of the best sex one can have, don’t you think little Robin,” he croons, thrusting his cock deep into you and groaning as he fully sheathes himself within your ass.

You’re unable to answer him, your mind already spinning with pleasure and when you feel Elbert’s fingers begin to massage your clit while Alfons fondles your breasts you know you’re not able to hold back any longer.

Your orgasm rushes through you, leaving you screaming in delight as you’re fucked through wave after wave of euphoria.

“Mmm, you feel so tight, so good…” Elbert whimpers, while Alfons’ mouth whispers dirty praise into your ear.

You feel your mind go blank and your eyes roll back, completely consumed by ecstasy as your lovers continue to fuck you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

When you finally regain some sense of self, you feel your body laying limply against the bed, four arms wrapped possessively around you while their owners suck at each other’s faces above your head.

You breathe a sigh of relief at the knowledge that Elbert is no longer upset with either of you, and you feel the sense of peace quickly taking over your body, making you relax and you feel sleep soon steal your consciousness away again.

Taglist: @aquagirl1978, @queengiuliettafirstlady, @floydsteeth, @themiscarnival?

Let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist!

#ikevil #ikemen villains #ikevil alfons #ikevil elbert #ikemen villains alfons #ikemen villains elbert #elbert greetia #alfons sylvatica #elbert x alfons x reader #polyamory #ikevil smut #smut #nsft #mdni

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ijustthinkhesneat · 10 months ago

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I feel compelled to expand upon the previous fae/folklore! Batboys headcanons:

-Bruce is just a straight up normal human. I think this provides a great opportunity for angst because unlike his immortal? children Bruce does age and it terrifies them. And Bruce is young he’s in his early 30s but like his knees will crack a little or his back is slightly stiff after a bad patrol and it just sends them into a spiral because they cannot fathom their dad not being around forever. I can definitely imagine them trying to strong arm Bruce into becoming some flavor of unaging. You could go super dark or just more generally emotional angst but damn the possibilities.

-Cass is giving me shadow person. Very cryptid of her. I’m not sure that I have a clear backstory for her worked out yet. Either magic gone wrong or she’s another flavor of undead like Jason and Tim. I like to imagine she just hovers over people at night to be creepy.

-Originally I wanted to say Duke was a Will-o-the-wisp. But I’m not really sure it fits, especially since he’s primarily active during the day. Then it hit me. Mothman. My lamplight boy is a moth creature. I like the idea of him hiding his little antenna under a beany and wearing sunglasses. The wings would be difficult. But my boy is creative.

- I think Steph and Barbara are also human like Bruce they just are extra bad ass.

-Coming back to life as a magical creature warps peoples memories and emotions from both the trauma and changing into something not human. Tim is significantly less effected than Jason, at least outwardly, because he was only a toddler when he died so he didn’t have many memories or experiences to draw from, but Jason was super volatile. His memories surrounding Willis became even more dark while his memories of his mother sort of glossed over her absentee parenting and drug use. Jason can’t help but struggle with associating the negative learned experience he had with his first paternal figure with Bruce. Jason ends up going to live with Talia for a while because he doesn’t want to feel that way about his dad anymore.

-Basically I think Jason, at least mentally, is the most human of Bruce’s kids besides Damian because he actually lived a life as a human, where as Tim changed so young that he doesn’t really know how to be anything but his extremely disturbing self.

-I think Gotham just has major ‘I do not see it’ energy. Like The Batfamily? Demons from hell. The Wayne’s? Hot neurodivergent people. Did you see Dick Grayson unhinge his jaw like a fucking snake at a gala? No you didn’t he just has a really big smile. Jason Todd??? Has scales??? Nope actually he just developed early onset Eczema and he’s really self conscious about it how dare you! Tim Drake sucking the blood of the himbo blonde boy? Everyone knows Tim and Bernard are total freaks. Cassandra Cain is your sleep paralysis demon? Honestly fair.

-It’s totally a coincidence that strange misfortune befalls anyone who threatens the Wayne’s!

-Clark is Bruce’s favorite man to sleep on so he gets a pass. I don’t know why but a midwestern spin on the story of princess kaguya lives in my head rent free. Like Martha Kent is just shucking corn and then boom baby in the corn. We call that children of the corn. I still love to imagine him being like so perfect that it’s high key alien, but his little sharp nails and fangies! Maybe even slightly pointy ears. And like Clark fully thinks he is human, like his parents don’t tell him humans can’t fly until he’s in kindergarten, and even then they just tell him he is special and learned super fast and shouldn’t embarrass the other kids and Clark is such a Good BoyTM that he just never uses his powers in public cause he doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Like bro doesn’t learn he is adopted until he is about to go to college, he is just straight up clueless.

-Clark learns Dick is a Fae creature when Batman brings Robin to the Watchtower cause he couldn’t get a baby sitter and Alfred doing some spooky shit like dusting the mausoleum. Like Batman just slinking around but there is this super colorful child with him. And then Dick turns and smiles and it’s just so wrong, like his mouth just stretching his face like some horror movie shit. Clark almost shots himself cause like what the fuck. Bruce told Dick to just ‘be himself’ so like he just thinks he’s being friendly. Despite being creepy as all hell Clark kinda thinks Dick is super adorable. Like was he spider crawling around the floor with all his limbs bent the wrong way while Bruce and Clark were talking? Yeah but then he just tugged on Bruce’s cape to ask for a juice box, like that’s a baby.

-Jason freaked him out in a different way. Since Jason is undead he doesn’t have a heartbeat and doesn’t need to breath so when he isn’t moving he makes literally zero noise. When he first met Clark he was just watching him from around corners and behind stair banisters and Clark was convinced he was losing his mind and hallucinating the kid from the Grudge. Then Bruce is just like “Oh you met Jason! He’s so sweet, just a little shy. He’s my second oldest! I think he likes you though.” And then a little grey blue slightly webbed hand just reaches around the corner to give a little wave and boom Clark would kill for him.

-Tim is similar in that Clark has trouble pinpointing his location because of a lack of normal bodily functions, but Tim has no idea what a boundary is. So like at first he’s a shy little toddler and then that night he’s crawling all over Clark and pranking him nonstop.

-Damian is a baby but like Clark looked in his eyes and just felt like this infant could see his past present and future and was judging him heavily. Clark was relieved cause at least he had a heartbeat.

-Cass lives to fuck with Clark. She’s Jason’s age but not only has no heartbeat and doesn’t breath, when she is in shadow form he can’t see her with X-ray vision. She can literally make herself undetectable to Superman. He learns this one night sleeping in a guest room at the manor. He gets the feeling he is being watched but can’t find anyone. Then right when he relaxes her arm shoots out from the darkness under his bed and grabs his leg. Clark screams so loud it cracks the window. And then just nearly silent muffled laughter as the arm retreats into the darkness. He X-Ray visions but nothing is there. He demands to stay in Bruce’s room after that. Bruce is just like “Oh that was just Cass. She likes playing practical jokes, she is my little princess!”

#batfam #bruce wayne #jason todd #batman #dick grayson #damian wayne #dc batman #tim drake #red hood #nightwing #red robin #robin #fae!dick #Fae!batfam #Folklore!batfam #freaks all of them #but like hot freaks

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nameless-ken · 10 months ago

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Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

I'm so excited about my brand new series! Not going to lie this first chapter was difficult for me to write. I have a serious battle with the dreaded delete button!

Anyways, hope you all enjoy this first chapter. It truly means a lot to me how excited you have been for this series <3 Comment below to be added to the taglist.

(Please reblog!!!)

Happy reading!

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: mostly angst with some slight rude remarks/bullying

Introduction to the series here!

Masterlist

(had this song in my head while writing this chapter)

In the tumultuous whirlwind of your teenage existence, embarking on your final year of high school, you've recently become aware of a singular truth: put full trust into the future that stretches far beyond the grasp of your present moment. Amidst the unexpected certainties that await, there's one you never anticipated – Billy Hargrove.

Billy reigns as the new king of Hawkins High, his “coronation” following the departure of Steve "The Hair" Harrington. He embodies the archetype of a manic attention-seeker, parading through the halls with a rotating carousel of girls, each week presenting a fresh face to the crowded hallways. It's a spectacle that leaves you utterly perplexed, unable to fathom the allure that draws countless girls into his orbit, only to be summarily discarded days later.

Thankfully, you've managed to maintain a safe distance from Billy and his band of lunatics, skillfully navigating the school corridors to avoid any unwanted encounters. While you share a few classes with his entourage, you've strategically positioned yourself in the front row, creating a buffer zone that shields you from their antics.

However, fate has a penchant for upheaval, as evidenced by your first detention – a consequence of arriving late to homeroom on three separate occasions. As you begrudgingly endure the mind-numbing 30-minute sentence after school, Robin, your loquacious best friend, offers her trademark blend of sympathy and sarcasm.

“They seriously gave you a detention for that? Couldn’t you pull the ‘I’m a straight A student who has never gotten in trouble before, please help dear little me this one time’ on them?”

“Sadly no. I definitely tried to get out of it but they’ve been cracking down on a bunch of seniors for a couple weeks now.”

“I'll wait up for you after band practice.” Robin slams her locker shut.

“Thanks. See you later.” You turn to go down the opposite hallway than her.

“Have fun troublemaker.” Robin pokes fun at your new “status” and you give her the finger back jokingly before you both wave and disappear down your own paths.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to the monotony of detention, selecting a seat near the window to alleviate the stifling atmosphere of confinement. The rules plastered on the board, NO FOOD. NO TALKING. STAY IN YOUR SEAT, serve as a constant reminder of the school’s misguided attempts at discipline.

You roll your eyes at the obnoxious nature of this situation. Why do schools think detention is ever going to work? You are put in a room for a certain amount of time with other delinquents. If anything you’re setting up a scenario for more trouble to happen.

You pull out the current book you're reading, ignoring all the rest of the students who walk in.

“Alright, welcome to detention. I have quite a lot of work to finish so I will be checking in periodically. When it’s your time to leave per your detention slip, come see me in my classroom and I’ll sign you out. Please respect the rules.” Mr. Thomson, the junior science teacher turned detention overseer, delivers a perfunctory address before retreating to his sanctuary, leaving the delinquent assembly to their own devices.

Amidst the murmurs of discontent, Billy's name resonates like a discordant note, signaling the unwelcome intrusion of Hawkins High's reigning sovereign.

“Are we gonna flake out again Billy?” It didn’t even cross your mind about the possibility of being stuck in the same room as him.

“Can’t. I’ve skipped so many that they want to try and expel me.”

“That'd be hardcore to see.”

“Not to my dad it wouldn’t. Besides, it's not that bad. We have quite the sight sitting up there in the left corner today.”

As Billy and his cohorts encroach upon your solitude, you bury your nose in your book in a feeble attempt to shield yourself from their presence.

“Let’s have some fun.” You turn another page as footsteps echo towards you, stopping in front of your occupance. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”

You don’t give him the time of day in reality but in your head, you’re fighting with the embarrassment and attention he’s solely giving you right now. Billy's charisma knows no bounds, his toothy grin and smug demeanor penetrate your defenses with effortless ease.

“I’m Billy but you may already know that. What’s your name, little mouse?” Billy rests his hands face down on your desk, leaning in so his face is parallel with yours.

“Such a quiet thing.” Ignoring his advances proves to be an exercise in futility as Billy's persistent pestering chips away at your resolve, culminating in a daring theft of your cherished book. Yet, you refuse to grant him the satisfaction of a response, maintaining a stoic facade despite the numerous emotions raging beneath the surface.

“It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.” His friend to the right chimes in.

“There’s some ways I can think of to change that.” You look up, narrow eyes meeting Billy’s. He sends you a wink with his usual smirk resting on his face.

“Not going to say anything?” You can feel your heart racing, hating the way he’s making you feel, more annoying that he’s causing any kind of reaction from you.

The sudden arrival of Mr. Thomson offers a reprieve from Billy's relentless pursuit.

“Y/N, you’re free to go.” He grants you an opportunity to escape the confines of Billy's gaze. As you hastily gather your belongings and make your exit, Billy's parting words linger in the air as he whispers close to your ear, “See you around little mouse.”

Feeling like you could breathe again, you're greeted by a note from Robin stuck to your locker.

I got called into work :( Call me later - Robin

You groan inwardly, the frustration of detention compounded by the looming task of finding a new ride home. Billy and his entourage have succeeded in tainting what was already shaping up to be a less-than-ideal day. You trudge outside, seeking solace in the cool breeze that sweeps through the schoolyard.

The pleasant Indiana weather offers a small comfort, prompting you to forgo the immediate need for a ride and opt instead for a beautiful stroll to clear your mind. As you walk, you reach into your bag and retrieve your trusty cassette player, the familiar weight of it grounding you in the midst of chaos running through your mind. You mentally curse Billy for crowding every corner of your mind.

With a deft motion, you slipbthe cassette into the player, the soft click of the mechanism soothing in its familiarity. The strains of your favorite mix fill the air, providing a welcome distraction from the events of the day.

Lost in the music, you barely notice the passing cars, each one a blur against the backdrop of your thoughts. That is, until a certain familiar shade of blue catches your eye, the sudden halt of the vehicle drawing your attention like a magnet.

You turn, locking eyes with Billy as he idles beside you, his presence an unwelcome intrusion on your solitary walk. His voice cuts through the quiet, laced with an air of amusement that irritates your nerves.

“Didn’t think we’d meet again this soon little mouse.” he remarks, his smirk evident even from the confines of his car.

You pause your tape, the rhythmic pulse of the music abruptly silenced as you face him, a mix of irritation and annoyance evident in your expression.

"What do you want, Billy?" you questione, the weariness of the day showing in your voice.

He chuckles, the sound grating on your nerves as he leanes casually against the driver's side door, his gaze fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

"She speaks!" he exclaims, his laughter ringing out in the quiet of the street. "Need a ride somewhere?"

You bristle at the suggestion, your resolve hardening as you met his gaze with a steely glare.

"Not from you," you retort, tone firm and uncompromising.

“Oh come on, I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.” You rolle your eyes at his innuendo, a flush rising in your cheeks as you resist the urge to give in to his persistent advances.

"I don’t need your help, Billy.”

He relents, his expression shifting to one of mock innocence as he reaches over to open the passenger door, a silent invitation hanging in the air between you.

"Come on, little mouse," he urges, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Just this one time."

You hesitate, torn between pride and practicality, before ultimately capitulating to the inevitable. You step into the car, the door closing with a soft click behind you as you buckle yourself in.

"No speeding," you warn, your voice firm as Billy complies with a laugh, the car pulling away from the curb at a reasonable pace.

As you settle into the seat, a strange sense of calm washes over you, the tension of the day slowly dissipating in the confines of the car. Despite your reservations, there was an undeniable comfort in Billy's presence, a realization that both puzzles and unnerves you in equal measure.

“So are you going to tell me where you live or am I bringing you back to my house?”

“I live near Curly. By that trailer park.”

“Thought you lived more in the pristine area of the Wheelers and Harringtons.”

“Well you thought wrong.”

As Billy maneuveres through the streets, you couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort mixed with a strange intrigue. You steal glances at him, his confident demeanor and reckless charm contrasting sharply with your own cautious nature.

"Why'd you get detention anyway?" Billy's question broke the silence, his eyes briefly leaving the road to meet yours.

"Too many tardies to homeroom," you reply, keeping your answers short.

"That's it? Seems a bit harsh," he remarks, his tone genuinely curious.

You shrug, not wanting to delve into the details of your run-in with authority.

As the familiar landmarks of Hawkins pass by in a blur, you couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead, the uncertainty of the future looming large on the horizon. You couldn’t help but think if this would be the last time Billy would go out of his way to acknowledge you.

Navigating the familiar streets of Hawkins alongside Billy, you're acutely aware of the palpable tension that simmers between you, a potent cocktail of unease but also lingering with intrigue. Though you strive to maintain a facade of indifference, the magnetic pull of Billy's presence proves undeniable, stirring emotions you've long sought to suppress.

You’re thankful the remainder of the drive passes by in a relative quiet, punctuated only by the loud rock n roll blasting from the radio. When you finally reach your destination, you find yourself hesitating before getting out of the car.

"Thanks for the ride," you say, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your voice.

Billy grins, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Anytime, little mouse."

With that, you step out onto the sidewalk, watching as Billy drives off into the distance. As you make your way towards your house, you couldn't shake the feeling that this chance encounter with Billy Hargrove was just the beginning of something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Little did you know, the lines between your world and the world of Hawkins' resident bad boy were about to blur in ways you never imagined possible.

The following day, you find yourself once again navigating the familiar halls of Hawkins High, the events of the previous day still fresh in your mind. As you settle into your seat in English class, you can’t seem to shake the lingering sense of unease that accompanies your newfound proximity to Billy Hargrove.

It’s the most infuriating feeling and you hate yourself for allowing him to overtake your waking thoughts all throughout your night and morning.

The classroom buzzes with the usual chatter of students, the mundane rhythm of academic life marching on despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. As the bell rang, signaling the start of class, Ms. Paterson enters the room with her characteristic air of authority, a stack of papers in hand.

"Good morning, class," she greets as she makes her way to the front of the room. "Today, we'll be embarking on a new project that will count towards a significant portion of your grade for this year."

A collective groan echoes through the room at the mention of yet another assignment, but Ms. Paterson pays it no mind.

"As part of this project, you'll be working in pairs to research and present on a book report of your choosing," she announces, her gaze sweeping over the room as she distributed the assignment sheets. "I'll be assigning partners randomly, so I expect everyone to work together cooperatively."

Everyone exchanges a wary glance around the classroom, the prospect of being paired with someone like Billy Hargrove looming ominously in the air. As Ms, Paterson began calling out pairs, you held your breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

"Y/N, you'll be paired with... Billy Hargrove.”

You felt a sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach as Billy's name reverberated through the classroom, the weight of his presence suddenly suffocating in its proximity. You glance in his direction, meeting his gaze with a mixture of apprehension and resignation.

Billy, for his part, seemingly unfazed by the news, his trademark smirk firmly in place as he turned to face you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of class, you found yourself hesitating by your desk, unsure of how to broach the subject of the upcoming project with your enigmatic partner.

Billy saunters over to your desk with his characteristic swagger, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Well, looks like we're partners, little mouse" he remarks, his tone laced with amusement as he leans against the edge of your desk.

You fight to suppress the urge to roll your eyes at his cavalier attitude, instead meeting his gaze with a steely determination of your own.

"Yeah, looks like it," you reply as you gather your belongings.

Billy's smirk widens at your response, his gaze lingers on you with a mixture of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"So, partner," he begins falling into step beside you as you both maneuver out of the classroom. "Where do you wanna meet up?"

You pause, considering your options carefully before responding. The thought of inviting Billy into your home sent a shiver of apprehension down your spine, but meeting up at his place didn't seem much better.

"How about we meet at the library?" you suggest, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. "It's neutral ground, and we'll have access to all the resources we need."

Billy raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, his smirk morphing into a grin of approval.

"Works for me," he nonchalantly responds. His tone surprises you at how agreeable it is and non combative about trying to get you into his bedroom.

"4 pm. Don’t be late. I will not be waiting on you." You demand.

“See you then, little mouse.” He winks, walking in the opposite direction. You groan internally at the use of that nickname he’s decided to give you. This is going to be a long year.

As you and Robin sat on the bleachers in the gym during lunchtime, the rhythmic thud of basketballs hitting the court filled the air, punctuated by the occasional cheer from the squad as they practice their routines. Your eyes involuntarily flicker towards the court, where Billy’s shirtless form glistens with sweat under the fluorescent lights of the gym, his green gym shorts leaving little to the imagination as he moves with fluid grace among his teammates.

Robin's incredulous tone breaks through your reverie, snapping you back to reality.

"Wait, you got paired up with Billy for a project?" Robin exclaims, her disbelief palpable as she tore her gaze away from the court to focus on you.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, the absurdity of the situation not lost on either of you.

"Yeah, tell me about it," you respond, taking a bite of your sandwich as you try to mask the unease that churns in your stomach. "I have no idea how I'm going to survive working with him for the rest of the year."

Caught in a moment of distraction, your eyes lock with Billy's across the expanse of the gym. Time comes to a stand still leaving only the two of you in a silent battle of uncertainty. For a fleeting moment, you found yourself captivated by the intensity of his gaze, the depths of his eyes holding a tantalizing promise of something unknown. It was a gaze that spoke volumes, conveying a myriad of emotions that stirs something deep and unexpected within you.

As if sensing the weight of your scrutiny, Billy's lips quirk into a knowing smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he holds your gaze with unwavering confidence. Before you could fully process the significance of the moment, the spell breaks as Billy turns his attention back to the game, seamlessly blending into the rhythm of the practice session as if the moment didn’t just happen.

You tear your gaze away, a flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks as you focus once more on your conversation with Robin. But despite your best efforts to dismiss the encounter, the feeling of Billy's piercing gaze lingers in the back of your mind, a silent reminder of the unexpected allure of the boy who has unwittingly become a sudden constant in your life now.

Robin offers words of encouragement, her unwavering support a welcome balm to your frazzled nerves.

"Don't worry, Y/N," her voice a beacon of optimism in the darkness. "You're strong enough to handle anything that comes your way. Besides, who knows? Maybe working with Billy will be...interesting."

You couldn't suppress a snort of disbelief at her suggestion, the image of Billy's smug smirk and cocky attitude flashing through your mind.

"Yeah, interesting is one word for it," you remark dryly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's just hope I survive long enough to at least be there for graduation."

The town library stands as a quiet sanctuary amidst the bustling small town streets of Hawkins, its walls lined with rows upon rows of books that hold the promise of knowledge and adventure. As you step through the entrance, the familiar scent of old paper and ink washes over you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you sought out a secluded corner to await Billy's arrival.

Minutes tick by, each second stretching into an annoying eternity as you scan the quiet aisles for any sign of your partner. Just as you begin to resign yourself to the possibility of being stood up, a figure appears in the doorway, his presence commanding attention as he makes his way towards you with purposeful strides.

"Sorry I'm late," Billy greets, his tone apologetic as he approaches, a faint crease of worry marrying his brow. "Had to drop off my step-sister at home."

You nod understandingly, "No worries," offering him a reassuring smile as you gesture towards the table. "Let's get started."

Billy's expression softens at your words, a hint of gratitude shining in his eyes as you don’t try to pry. For a moment, the weight of his troubles seem to lift from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of camaraderie as you delve into the task at hand.

As you and Billy sift through the titles of various books, searching for the perfect one to base your project on, the atmosphere between you remains comfortably casual, the initial awkwardness of your partnership gradually melting away.

"So, any preferences on which book we should choose?" you ask, breaking the silence that has settled over the table.

"Not really," he replies with a casual shrug, his gaze flicking between the book covers with mild interest. "I'm good with whatever you want."

“Do you have a favorite book?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really finished one before.” Billy admits.

“That’s quite sad to hear. What do you even do for fun?”

“You think this is fun? Holding old pieces of paper about fake people and worlds. Seems like a waste of time to me.”

You raise an eyebrow at Billy's dismissive remark, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Well, not everyone finds joy in reading, I suppose," you remark lightly, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite the underlying tension between you. "But there's something magical about getting lost in a good book, don't you think?"

Billy shrugs, his expression guarded as he leans back in his chair, his gaze fixes on the bookshelves before him.

"I guess," he replies with a noncommittal shrug, his tone tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I've just never really seen the appeal, you know?"

You nod in understanding, sensing the reluctance in his voice as he skirts around the topic of his own interests.

"Well, what about movies or music?" you press, eager to draw him out of his shell and uncover the layers of complexity that lie beneath his tough exterior. "Surely there must be something you enjoy doing in your free time."

Billy hesitates for a moment, his features softening slightly as he considers your question.

"I don't know, I guess I like playing basketball," he admits, a faint glimmer of enthusiasm shining in his eyes. "And...uh, sometimes I'll mess around with drawing when I'm bored."

You smile at his admission, a flicker of curiosity igniting within you as you get to witness a glimpse of the person behind the tough facade.

"That's cool," you reply, genuine warmth coloring your voice as you lean in closer, the distance between you suddenly feeling much smaller. "I didn't know you drew. Maybe you could show me some another time?"

"Yeah, maybe," Billy replies, his tone gruff and defensive, a faint edge of defiance creeping back into his voice. "But don't get your hopes up. It’s not that great"

You sense the walls he's built around himself, the layers of protection he's carefully constructed to shield himself from vulnerability. But beneath the tough exterior, you know there’s something raw and real, a flicker of longing that hints at the depth of his hidden desires.

"That's okay," you reassure him with a smile, your voice gentle as you reach out to bridge the gap between you. "We all have to start somewhere, right?"

"Yeah," he murmurs softly, a rare vulnerability creeping into his voice. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

“So, what about you, little mouse? Any other hobbies besides reading old stories?” A spark of enthusiasm ignites within you, quite surprised at his continuing of the conversation.

"Yeah, actually," you begin, a smile spreading across your face as you lean forward, excitement bubbling within you. "I love photography. There's just something about capturing moments and memories with people and things I love that feels so special. I don’t know, I mostly do it for fun."

A mischievous glint sparks in Billy’s eyes as he leans in closer, his voice low and teasing. " I guess I'll have to watch out for those sneaky snapshots next time."

You can't help but roll your eyes at his playful banter, the Billy everyone around Hawkins knows showing back up.

"Please," you retort with a playful scoff, feigning indifference as you brush off his teasing with a wave of your hand. "Like you're worth wasting film on."

Billy chuckles at your response, a grin spreading across his face as he leans back in his chair, his gaze lingering on you with amusement.

"Ouch, that hurts, little mouse," he replies with mock indignation, his tone light and playful despite the underlying tension between you. "But hey, don't worry. I'll make sure to give you my best angle next time."

"Keep dreaming, Hargrove," you retort, a flicker of annoyance flashing in your eyes as you notice Billy building those tough walls back up, leaving you to the same mysteries as the rest of the town.

As the conversation fizzles out, you can't shake the feeling of disappointment lingering in the air. Despite the brief moment of connection, it seems that Billy's walls are too high to breach, leaving you with a sense of frustration at the missed opportunity for genuine connection. You can't help but wonder about the masks he wears so loudly, each one a cacophony of distractions meant to hide the vulnerability beneath. With a resigned sigh, you turn back to the task at hand, burying your disappointment as you focus on finding the perfect book not without stealing another glance at Billy as he picks up one of the books and rifles through the pages.

If these past two days have shown you anything, it’s how little time it takes for a stranger to become a big part of your life. It's unsettling how quickly he's managed to weave himself into the fabric of your daily existence with a persistence that both frustrates and intrigues you. You've always valued your privacy, cherished the solitude of your inner sanctuary, but now, in the wake of Billy's arrival, you find yourself craving his attention in a way you never thought possible.

Perhaps the greatest risk is not in letting someone new in, but in closing yourself off to the possibility of genuine connection. And even with the knowledge of Billy having a tangled labyrinth for a heart, perhaps he’s worth the risk after all.

Taglist: @msbillyhargrove @uselessbutinteresting @milestellergfs @periwinkle-quill @ghostcastaway

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luveline · 2 years ago

Note

Hi Jade! First of all thank you for bringing back the zombie au, it is my absolute fave! Second, if you are taking requests for it currently, maybe r (with Robin maybe?) goes and finds a gift for Steve just to make him smile (which may or may not make him break into tears with how vulnerable and emotional he's been with all the stuff he's been through?) Thank you for all your lovely writing!

thank you anon! fem!reader, 8k —You, Steve and Robin make a risky trip for non-essentials to improve your quality of life at the camp. Steve's feeling stressed, you try to make it better, and Robin finds a cat in the display section of the mattress store.

tw for zombie apocalypse typical implied violence and gore, food insecurity, injury

"We'll call it something really cool," Robin says, "like Y/N and Robin's ultimate quest for cleanliness."

Robin is a little dirty today. She's scraped her hair back into a tiny ponytail, and it flicks out at the back of her head like a feather duster. You think it's adorable, and you lean around her shoulders to try and touch it. Steve pulls you back bodily.

"Stop touching her," he says.

"Just her hair," you say.

"No, because you know how ansty she is, it's like poking a sleeping dragon."

"Shut up! Shut up, loser, I haven't been antsy at all, I'm planning a girl's trip as we speak."

You laugh and fall back into Steve's arms, the kind of laugh that makes your chest feel tight and your eyes scrunch closed. A girl's trip is definitely one way to put it.

"I'm just saying," Steve says, not just saying at all, "that you're dangerous right now. Next time I'll let her touch your hair and you can bite her hand off."

"She can touch my hair. I don't know if you've noticed, Harrington, but that right there is my very best friend."

And okay, it's not true, Steve and Robin have the strongest friendship you've ever seen, but there is a truth behind it —you and Robin get along well. It would be difficult not to love her, she's a gem, and she cares about the person you care about most in the world at the same level (though in a different calibre).

You worm out of Steve's arms to give her a quick hug. Steve steals you away again and you laugh as you go, flopping your weight onto him and almost knocking him flat onto his back.

You, Robin and Steve are sitting around the campfire in the centre of camp. It's rather big and blissfully hot, the sky a velvet black that hides the smoke. Children sit with droopy eyes to the left, some with parents and most without, though the community is full of good people with great hearts who've swooped in to help look after them. Already, an older woman named Matildhe seems to have gathered a brood of six children, all young, and all wanting cuddles. To the right, Jeremy Livingstone and Joyce Byers plan the unplannable, a map of Michigan at their feet held down by stones. Jonathan sits by his mother's legs with a baby in his lap, her sleeping face pressed to his chest. He taps her back absent-mindedly. "What about here?" he asks, drawing a circle with his finger. Will, his younger brother, moves the flashlight beam to follow his direction.

Despite the fire, the wind bites at your backs, a nippy chill. Steve has solved this by becoming your windbreaker, or so he claims.

"She loves me," you murmur.

"I love her," Robin agrees.

"That's why you can't come on our girl's trip," you say.

"Girls," Steve says, measured, "I'm unsure, but I'm starting to think that you think you're going somewhere without me."

"No, we know you'll crash the party. But we're going to pretend you aren't there," Robin says.

Her chipper attitude makes you laugh for the millionth time tonight. Steve laughs in tandem behind you, his breath fanning warmly over the shell of your ear.

It smells like woodsmoke and pine needles meshed together here, two smells that alone are nice but together give you a headache. You wrinkle your nose and sit up properly, worried about squashing Steve or hurting his bad knee. "The smell is so strong out here," you say.

"Shit, this guy bothering you?" Steve asks, pointing his thumb at the fire.

"Kick his ass, Steve," Robin says.

"Are you losers drunk?" Dustin asks.

You twist on your butt to face him, Steve's favourite sixteen year old standing in the dark wearing two coats and three scarfs.

"Are you cold?" Steve asks. "Come and sit with us."

"We aren't drunk, just happy," you say, gesturing for him to do as Steve said.

Dustin sits by the fire with you, groaning. "What is there to be happy about?"

You bite your top lip. Dustin is so young, and he's lost a lot. More than he ever should've had to lose, twice, his sense of normalcy destroyed. You don't blame him for being depressed over what is possibly the most traumatic thing he will ever have to experience. You don't want to offer him empty platitudes or tell him how to feel, and Steve doesn't want to either, but he can't watch him mope. He loves him too much.

"Dusty," he teases, "don't be so down. Haven't you seen this glorious and ridiculously enormous bonfire we have going on?"

"I see it," Dustin says from behind gritted teeth.

"Hey, do you want to sleep in our tent tonight?" Steve asks, a tad more seriously. "It's warmer with more people, and it's not as crowded as you think it'll be."

"No, thanks."

"You could drag your tent closer," you say, quieter, trying not to smother him or embarrass him with parenting he never asked for.

"I don't like being near the boundary. You guys might be okay with ending up as geek chow but the rest of us have common sense."

"Well, we didn't really have a choice there," Robin says.

Which is true. The kids all get to sleep in tents close to the fire, and the adults are a row behind. You guys aged out of the kids category a long time ago, so you're the ones who'll be eaten first, but you're also the ones who'll hear the can alarms when they ring on the tripwires first.

Steve sleeps with his baseball bat anyhow.

You disentangle yourself from Steve's grips and meet his eyes. He doesn't need you to tell him, but you give him a look that hopefully says, Maybe you should talk to him. Eyebrows raised gently, lips pursed.

Steve sighs like he's preparing himself and shuffles around you. He doesn't begrudge Dustin needing cheering up, you know that. He probably just wishes he could offer Dustin more than, "We have food and water and a place to pee."

Robin crawls right to your side and sets back on her haunches. "Here's what I think we should do."

"Wait, you don't wanna wait for Steve to explain?"

"Nope, he'll say no. Me and you have to find the best way to sell it so we can actually go."

"You aren't kidding about the girl's trip?"

"Nope. Look, the situation is dire. We know where the mall is, we've been there tons of times. The whole group can't go and we don't trust most people to keep us alive anyways, so me, you and Steve will go. We'll sleep there or something too, so there's no pressure on us to rush back and stress out Steve."

"Wouldn't it be safer to hurry back?" you ask.

Robin hums. "Maybe. Uh, if we travel at night like I've been thinking about doing I don't think we could hurry back."

"At night?"

"We're basically nocturnal at this point." You dip your head toward her mildly. She drops the slight facade she'd had, "I would feel better. If we went at night."

The College, the community you and your group had inhabited until recently, was attacked and destroyed by raiders. They were likely drawn by the black smoke of the small bonfire in the quad of the campus, lit to celebrate a quasi-thanksgiving. It wasn't supposed to end up the way it had.

Robin got attacked. Steve was there to help her get away uninjured, earning himself a black eye. She can't sleep if she's by herself anymore. You hate yourself for not being there to protect them.

She's afraid of being attacked by people rather than geeks now. Travelling at night increases the likelihood of dying via geek (you can't see them, they can smell you), but it vastly decreases the chance of meeting other people. It makes sense that a night time excursion is her preference.

You just don't know how you feel about it, and you have no clue how you might convince Steve to go along with it.

"So you want us to hike to the mall at night. Is it on the map? Where even is it?"

"I don't remember the name, Steve'll know it 'cos we've been there, but what matters is that I know for a fact there's a fancy soap store. I need soap, Y/N. I can't take this anymore. And if I don't brush my teeth soon I'm going to scream, my finger can only do so much."

Occasionally three of you take a pea sized dollop of paste and rub it over your teeth in an effort to feel less disgusting, the same way that you wash with a rag and cold water behind the treeline, and dunk your clothes in the river without detergent. Water is a good cleaner, but eventually there's a funk in the clothes that can't be washed out without soap, or Robin's current issue: oily hair.

Without soap and toothbrushes, you feel about as disgusting as a person can feel. If you don't make this trip soon, you'll be in the exact same boat as Robin, one bad stain away from screaming.

"And the fancy soap shop definitely has soap?"

"Definitely. And there's a department store with blankets, too. We could really improve the quality of our miserable lives."

"You don't have to convince me," you say, though it might not hurt in actuality. You're hesitant to leave the camp, but if Robin's leaving she can't go without Steve (who would never let her go alone), or you, because you refuse to be separated from Steve (or her, honestly). "It's Grim Fandango who needs greasing." Grim being Steve.

Steve has managed to wrap an arm around Dustin. You're half-expecting Dustin to be wriggling under his touch, desperate for an escape, a teenage boy allergic to both sincerity and affection, but Dustin's dissolved like jello powder in boiling water, totally slouched into Steve's side. Steve's hand runs the younger boy's upper arm briskly.

"It'll be okay, dude, I promise. We've come this far," Steve says.

"I'm just tired," Dustin says quietly.

"Maybe we should sell it, as uh, an enrichment trip," you suggest to Robin. "We can get stuff for the kids, some board games or something." They need an escape.

"I miss my books," Robin says.

"Holy shit, me too. Steve says you can tell the plot of every Agatha Christie novel from memory, is that true?" you ask.

"Only the good ones. Can I lie down on you?"

You let Robin lie down with her head on your thigh. It can't be comfortable but maybe it's better than the floor, or maybe it's just nice to be close to someone. You like having Robin with you. You'd been so apprehensive of her when you met, not because she was Steve's best friend —though that did worry you to some extent— but because you had trust issues to the neck and she was the first person beside Steve to be nice to you without motivation. In this world, that doesn't check out.

"What ones do you know?"

"Murder on the Orient Express?" she offers.

"Okay. Set the scene, Buckley."

Steve returns just after the detective finds out that Ratchet has been murdered. "I love this part," he says.

"Then let me tell it."

Robin spins for a while, but you peel away from the fire before you're too tired to stand and retreat to your makeshift tent. It's a tarp held up by two sticks and a blanket on the floor, but it works to keep away the rain and most bugs. There's not quite enough room for you three, but there's also literally no other option, and none of you mind. You squeeze in like tinned sardines, sleeping in your coats and shoes.

In the morning, you and Robin attempt to sell your idea to Steve over lukewarm oxtail soup. You and Steve share. Robin had to tip half into a bowl for someone else. The rationing is going okay.

You could've ended up with a can of garden peas, or chopped tomatoes.

"It's actually better if it's only us, you see, because we can sneak around and it'll be much quieter. And they don't need us here right now, everything's settled. And me and Y/N want to so we should."

Steve wraps your hand around the can of soup so you don't touch the hot bottom. He doesn't look like he's even remotely listening to Robin, his eyes on your face and his hands not far behind. He neatens you up, so to speak, scratching a little dirt speck from your cheek and folding the rolled collar of your shirt. "This," he says finally, his hand curling behind your neck, "sounds like a very bad idea."

You shudder happily as he starts to scratch your neck down to your shoulders. "Steve, what's bad about it? We'll be like the Three Musketeers, travelling in darkness, a mission for the people."

"Did you ever read that book?" Steve asks, his hand dropping to your shoulder, where it stays for a reverent second. You look gross and he still wants to squeeze you.

"No," you admit, lips on the sharp edge of your soup. You take a careful sip.

"We get there quickly, spend a night on the mattresses at the department store, and… Hey, why don't we go live in the mall?" Robin asks.

The idea of a real mattress is seductive, but not that much.

"Because we don't want to paint a huge target on our backs?" you ask.

"I'm kidding." Robin peers down at her soup unhappily. "I really hate oxtail."

Steve noticeably flickers. He meets your eyes, and you think he's speaking to you in his head. Fucking hell, I can't believe what I'm about to agree to.

"If you can convince Mrs. Byers to delegate us an actual weapon, then okay, fine, we can go to the mall." He stretches out his mostly healed knee and rubs it with both hands. "Fuck. A knife. Actually, I want each of us to have a weapon. So if you can somehow magic that into being, we can go."

"I don't see why we even had to ask permission," Robin jokes, "like it's the sixties or something." She springs up to her feet, forces her oxtail soup into the hands of one of the preteens by the fire, and beelines for the small crowd of kids surrounding one much taller Joyce.

"You'd still come with us even if you didn't want to," you say.

"Yeah, obviously. Robin's right, this isn't the sixties. That being said, if it was a worse plan, I'd tie you to a tree."

"I could be into that," you tease, pleased when he scoffs through a laugh. His elbow drives into your side. "Stop, fiend."

"No, fiend. Take the force of my elbow." He nudges you.

You elbow back. He elbows harder. You potentially give him a bruise and feel extremely bad when he "Oofs," aloud.

"Sorry," you say, climbing up on your knees to put your arms on his shoulders. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

He shoves you away from him and you're evil, you're selfish, you want him to dote. You fall flat on your back in the dirt and grass, covering your smile with the crook of your elbow so he doesn't immediately know you're fine.

"Shit," he cusses, kneeling between your legs, moving to hover over you. "I didn't mean to knock you down…" He sees your smile. "You lying conniving trickster."

You smile harder, lips pressed together and your chest light as a feather for the first time in days, until suddenly he's squished on top of you and pressing down. "Ow," you fake, wriggling away from him. "I think there's a twig in my brain."

He wriggles with you. "You suck, you made me think I hurt you."

"Don't be a wuss, I get hurt all the time, how do you even know I'm not hurt?"

He sighs all quiet and lifts your head off of the grass. "I can't see through your hair," he says, "did it actually hurt?"

You take his face into your hands. Your fingers are very cold, but he doesn't flinch.

"I'm messing with you, H."

"When did that nickname catch on?"

You rub his cheeks with your thumbs. Fingers behind his ears, you smooth over his short scratchy stubble affectionately. Quick, you lift your chin and touch your lips to his. It's hardly a kiss.

He leans down slowly and makes it a better one.

"Stop," Robin says, kicking you in the ribs. She isn't cruel about it, more of a toe touch.

"Oh, hi, that was a quick rejection," you say, frowning.

Robin beams. "Actually, we've been approved. One knife apiece and a request for children's clothes. Get packing!"

She whizzes off in another direction, seemingly to pack and gather the allocated weaponry.

Steve drops his chin back down to you.

"Does she have secret things we don't know about?" he asks.

You scratch his scalp, "Mm… I'm not supposed to tell you."

He sits up. You frown.

"She really has a secret stash?"

"No, Steve," you laugh. "No, of course she doesn't. Where would she hide them?"

Steve yanks you up by the arm playfully. You pretend to fight him, but it's no use. You'll do anything he wants you to.

—

Steve didn't necessarily think that a hike through the outskirts of an infested city would be easy, but he also hadn't realised it would be this boring. Especially a trip he's already made in the past. Boring and kind of hard.

It's not because you aren't capable —you might've taken a hit when The College collapsed, but you've mostly recovered, and your endurance is good. You have the best survival skills you've ever had, and Robin is similarly ready for whatever it is that might get thrown at you. Too bad preparation doesn't make you a ninja.

He isn't at his peak and he was no man of steel beforehand, and although he was good enough to keep you both alive, he's not sure if it's still true. Plus, he wasn't expecting to feel so moody.

You're marching on like a true warrior next to him, your hand around his wrist and swinging gently, your eyes on the ground. Steve's flashlight carves a weak path through the dusk. Soon, it'll be completely dark, and that's when he imagines his worrying will reach a fever pitch.

For now, he tries to be chill.

"Is my hand not good enough for you?" he asks.

"I figure you can pull away from me quicker if you need to if we're not, like, sewed together."

"You have weird hands," Robin interjects. "They're big. I wouldn’t hold them either.”

"That's why they're nice hands, Robin," you say. "Well, maybe they're just nice because I love him."

"I love him. Mostly. He still has weird hands," she says.

"You don't get it," you say.

You wrap your arms around his bicep and hug it quickly before backing away again. He thinks you kiss his coat, but he really can't tell.

"I don't think I want to get it," Robin says.

You're quieter when you ask, "Is that really true? You don't want to be in love?"

In the dark, and at night, it's quiet. It's nearly always quiet everywhere you go nowadays, but it feels immense this far from the camp. Steve is on edge. Too distracted for heart to hearts. But he wants to know the answer too, so he stays nice and quiet.

"I love that you're in love," Robin says lightly. "And I love you both. But I've seen you guys when you think you're going to lose each other, and surviving is hard enough without… that."

You let your hand slide down to his hand, your palm flat to the top, not holding it but holding him.

Steve clears his throat. "It's worth losing my mind every time she decides to wander off because of the peace she gives me when we're together."

"The peace?" Robin asks. She sounds like she wants to be incredulous but his sincerity has tripped her up.

"I'm with her and…" He can see the side of your face in the flashlight. You're smiling shyly, your gaze on the grass beneath your shoes. Footsteps rustle in the gap of his words. "I don't want to be anywhere else as long as she's there."

"It sounds like a toothache," Robin says.

"You know, I used to get bad toothaches all the time before we found you, and Steve made me a teeth guard out of a leather armchair with a pen knife and a needle and thread."

"Did you just make that up? Trying to convince me about the magic of love?" Robin asks.

"No, he really made it for me, I used to keep it in my nightstand," you say. He can hear your smile.

He made it because watching you cry from toothache left him feeling powerless. A guy who'd never even held a needle and thread before bent over his lap with a flashlight in the hours while you slept until his eyes burned because watching you sniffle made him feel sick. He can't describe the ache of it, loving you but not having kissed you, or even really told you, his girl so stressed at night your jaw had locked tight and you were reduced to whimpers each morning. Having to watch you pretend it wasn't happening until you couldn't, until you broke down crying with your hand wrapped around his wrist like it is now. Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Steve, I just– I want– I don't know– I can't–

He was useless. He was stupid. He could barely bring himself to rub your back because he thought another touch might knock you over.

Calm down, honey, he'd murmured. Just calm down.

He never could've imagined seeing you cry like that before he did. You couldn't move. You explained it like a headache when words became feasible again, which, Steve's had headaches; concussive migraines that were white hot and everywhere. So he could imagine it even if he'd never felt it, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it. Willing to try anything, he'd even wondered if he could pull your tooth out himself. Mouth surgery is prone to infection, and he couldn't face levelling that amount of pain onto you personally. So rather than fix the tooth, he'd have to fix the stress. He couldn't fix the stress, so he looked for anything at all to ease the pain. Ibuprofen, codeine, even a course of antibiotics. And then, finally, the leather mouth guard. Leather stacked and sewed with sanitised, loving hands.

"It's weird what that kind of love can bring out of you," Steve says quietly, matching the surroundings. "I did a great job. I'm a seamstress."

Robin pretends to throw up generously and noisily. Steve shushes her. You, in a very good mood with no signs of calming down, laugh behind your hand.

"I can make you another one," he offers. He hadn't thought about it yet, but of course you don't have it anymore. Anything in your nightstand is lost forever.

"You might need to. I'll be a stressed mess all over again if we don't find some socks, I can feel my ankle bone piercing the back of my shoes," you say. No socks either.

Robin's flashlight turns quickly to the right. You and Steve flinch at the same time to guard the other, peering in the exposed direction. There aren't many trees around here, so all to be seen is yellow-green grass and empty air.

"Sorry, I got the heebies," Robin says. "Maybe it was your disgusting declarations of love."

"Hardy-har. Where the fuck do you think we are right now?" Steve asks.

"Wait, you don't know?" you ask.

"You have the map," he says back.

"Oh, right. But how do we navigate in the dark? We don't have a compass."

"I have the compass!" Robin announces.

"From where?" you ask.

"How did you think we'd get there in the dark, angel?" Steve asks you genuinely.

He doesn't have time to wonder if it's okay to call you angel. He's never done it before, but it felt right in the moment. You're kind of like an angel, protective and sweet and a symbol for goodness.

"I thought because you guys already knew where it was– we– we set off while it was still light! I assumed we'd just walk straight."

Steve and Robin laugh at you, but not without love.

You pretend to sulk for a while, though you shine your flashlight at the map when he asks, your arm threaded through his and face leaning on his shoulder. "I'm so confused," you mumble.

"Don't worry. I know where we are now," he says.

"No, I know where we are too, but I'm confused as to why I thought this was a good idea."

"This is a good idea because I've had greasy hair for two weeks and I feel like a worm," Robin says. "And we need blankets, and moisturiser, and to feel like real people."

Steve has a better list than that. He needs moisturisers for your cracked hands, antiseptic for the healing cut on your thigh. He needs shaving foam or at the least a goddamn razor, a new shirt, you both need underwear and you're in dire need of shoes that fit. He wouldn't mind a compression support for his knee, a pair of scissors, and most of all a box of cigarettes —a quick trip to the pharmacy would fix a lot of problems.

"I feel pretty real."

"You're real pretty," Steve says quickly.

"Yes! Oh, yes! Kiss?" you cheer, delighted at his swift wit.

Steve knows —he knows— you're putting on a brave face for him. He cried on your shoulder and you haven't cried since. You're being the strong one. You're trying to make it work.

You've always been the strong one. Steve has taken care of you so many times; held your hand in torrential rain when you were too tired to go on; scrambled through rotten floorboards to find you on your back and unconscious, fed you water in your sleep half-worried you were dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He's fought for you, the dead and the living —he would do worse for you. But you've done the impossible, surviving every ache and pain, coming back from things he didn't think you would. You crawled through glass for him. You stumbled in the dark bleeding and exhausted to do as he asked, to meet him at the end of an endless day.

He gives you the kiss you asked for. There's only one clue that you aren't as happy as you seem. Your breath catches as he leans down, like you thought he might not give you one after all.

It takes you hours to get there and way longer than you thought. You don't realise you're upon it until the grass turns to roads under your feet, and the road turns to parking lot. There's a shattering of glass spread over the floor like a spilled bag of salt that crunches under your shoes. Steve grips your elbow and the three of you creep inside past the doors. They're open, which is bad and good. Bad because someone's been here since the last time, and might still be inside. Good, because Steve's not sure any of you have the energy to open them.

"I don't think I have to say this, but please, let's whisper from here," Steve suggests.

"Damn, do we have to?" Robin whispers. "I was just about to start my rendition of Singing in the Rain."

You laugh through your nose.

"We'll go up to the bedding store, okay? And we'll grab some blankets, and then we'll find a storage room and barricade ourselves in."

"Steve, I wanna sleep on a mattress," Robin whines.

"But we don't know who's here," he says. "Buckley, I swear, I'll carry a mattress back to camp for you if that's what you want, but we have to live to see the morning first."

"It's not like we haven't done it before," you say, nudging her gently. "Can we go back to whispering? I'm really nervous. I don't want to attract anything."

"Sorry," Robin whispers.

Being outside in the dark had felt horrifying but mostly manageable. Being inside is terrifying too, and though your flashlights make it easy to navigate now that there's walls for the light to reflect off of, it's scarier knowing this is an enclosed space. You can only run so far in either direction.

Your fingers twist in the corner of his hoodie. He doesn't say anything. For a split second, he remembers you doing it in the past, before he'd even thought about kissing you, when you were scared and he was more angry than anything else (though not usually at you). He'd pretend he didn't feel it. He was a bitch but he was never cruel, and if you needed to scrunch the hem of his jacket in your hand to feel better then that was alright.

"You okay?" he murmurs.

"I'm okay. I think my cut is weeping."

"What?" he asks, head clicking as he turns to you. "Since when?"

"Not sure, it just feels weird, like it's wet."

"This is the kind of thing I'd love to know." Steve sighs. "The bedding place is up here somewhere. You can let me take a look at it."

You, Steve and Robin walk up the frozen escalators, your footsteps making banging metal sounds that echo through what feels like the entire mall. Hackles raised, Steve ushers you both into the bedding store, pulling Robin by the sleeve before she can stop to deliberate over blankets to the very back of the store where a door demarcates the Staff Only room.

"Listen," he whispers, "we are going to go in there back to back, just like we always do. Robs, I promise, as soon as I've checked her leg, I'll help you do whatever you want. Cool?"

"My leg is fine."

"If it gets infected, I know for a fact there aren't any antibiotics here," he says. They've looked. "We have to stay in front of it. Are you ready?"

"Steve, we're not amateurs," Robin says. She hums. "Okay, I might be, but you owe Y/N some respect."

"No, I'm an amateur."

"You're not an amateur," Steve says. "Girls, please."

"Can we veto 'girls'? I want to be dudes," Robin says.

"Robin–"

"Okay, okay! Let's do it."

—

You wake up with the driest mouth in the world, your head bumping from hunger and bad sleep —the floor still feels like the floor, no matter how many pillows you have— to sounds just outside of the door.

You hike up on elbows and feel your heart climb into your mouth. Steve's hand is on your neck, and Robin's foot is over your calf, and this is a very bad time to be locked in, especially weighed down as you are by fleece blankets.

"Steve," you whisper, blindly reaching out with your own hand. You accidentally smack him in the face with the base of your thumb. "Oh, shit, sorry. Steve, there's something outside."

He's impressively alert when he opens his eyes. He couldn't have been sleeping deeply. "What kind of something?" he whispers back, sitting up.

He pushes the blankets away and climbs onto his knees. The noise happens again, quickly followed by a smash and a third sound like a thump.

Robin flinches awake next to you. You put your hand on her shoulder, hoping it says, Hey, it's fine, you're fine.

"Where's your bag?" Steve asks you, standing up tall.

It's disgusting, but you're holed up in the employee bathroom. As far from the toilet and sinks as physically possible but with a buffer from the door. Staying in a storage closet hadn't been possible, the staff room door hanging off the hinges enough to not close, and the storage room a medium space crammed to bursting with mattresses and shelves of sheets that wobbled threateningly when touched.

Your bag is somewhere under the blankets. You scramble onto your knees and search for it. You'd put your things away for the sake of neatness. Silly move.

"Here," you say, pulling out a flashlight for Steve. He takes it into one hand, pen knife in the other unsheathed. "It's probably a geek."

"Yeah. Can you put your shoes on?" he asks, not unkindly.

You shake yourself and do as he asks you to. Robin helps you up. Steve creeps to the door, waiting for you both before he opens it into the main floor.

"I don't think we need the torch," Robin says.

Daylight illuminates the room through the windows set in the west wall. You all squint and step out, arms in defensive positions, treading softly so as not to be heard.

Another thump. You can't hear footsteps, exactly, just the occasional, irregular thump. Geeks are usually noisier. Dragging steps. They'll walk into walls if they're following a specific scent.

Steve turns to you both and raises his eyebrows. Brace yourselves.

He hits the butt of the knife into the wall three times.

Nothing shows itself. You stand frozen for a few minutes anyways, even when Steve and Robin decide they want to venture further into the room and scope out the place. You watch their backs, heart still pounding and with no signs of stopping.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve curses.

“What?” you and Robin hiss at the same time.

“Come here. Y/N, come over here,” he says, like you aren’t already half-way across the floor to meet them.

Steve gestures at a showcase bed with velvet purple sheets. They’re not even dusty, no signs of time or wear, nothing to speak of a different age. Nothing, that is, beside the dead bird on the pillowcases, and the carpeting of fur surrounding it. It's odd for Steve to point you towards any gore, and you're a tad shocked, until he takes your forearm in his hand and pulls you in front of him. "See?" he murmurs.

He points to the pillow. You follow his finger.

Robin speaks first. Correction, Robin squeaks first.

"Is that a cat?" she asks, all the excitement of her discovery squashed tightly into a frankly impressive whisper-shout.

Robin refuses to move after that. She begs Steve for some of the dried jerky (of unknown origin and animal) from the rucksack and lays down on her stomach when the tugged tabby you've found flees beneath the bed frame. "Here, kitty," she murmurs, her gentlest tones. "Come on, killer, I need your help."

Steve nudges you.

"Oh, you're talking to me?" you ask Robin.

"I need your help," Robin insists, looking at you from over her shoulder. Her hair is limp around her face, her cheeks flushed red with excitement. "She has to know we're all friends."

"Watch my back?" you ask Steve.

He sits on the end of the bed, "Don't have to ask."

You set down carefully next to Robin and peer under the bed for the tabby. Your arrival has scared her half to death.

"Maybe she's only used to seeing geeks," you say.

"Maybe she thinks we're geeks," Robin says agreeably.

"Me and Steve found a dog once, but he wouldn't let us touch. He begged for food and then he ran away," you say.

"The dog wouldn't let you touch him, or Steve wouldn't let you touch the dog?" Robin asks, waving the jerky around.

"A bit of both."

"Kitty," Robin sings.

"Oh, god, this is comfy as fuck," Steve mumbles, laying down in bed. "Robin, you have to get up and watch your six, babe."

You and Robin laugh in sync and aloud at his 'babe'. It's you who stands and continues taking mild guard. You're not worried about intruders anymore, thinking that any company would have presented itself already, but you like keeping them safe. You take check of every corner of the room, spinning in the world's slowest circle. Robin baby talks to the cat under the bed while offering scraps of jerky. Steve, having curled away from the bird, lets his fingertips brush your thigh each time you turn.

"Getting dizzy?" he asks.

"Yes. And hungry, too, which is a weird feeling together. Can I have some of the jerky?"

Steve offers the bag. "If you're hungry, eat what you want, but if you can keep it to a little portion just in case we can't find anything else, honey…"

You stop spinning so much to eat jerky. You eat more than you should, you hunger a cruel, sharpened thing that jabs from your stomach and up into your diaphragm. You hand Steve back the bag before you can eat someone else's share and decide to focus on the other negatives in your life, like your shoes.

"Can we look for shoes soon?" you ask.

"Yeah, honey," Steve says. Honey, honey. His voice is soft with an ever-present fatigue.

"I don't think this cat likes me very much," Robin says, still singing.

"She's just scared. Maybe if we leave and come back again she'll realise we're friendly," Steve says.

"Yes sir." Robin stands, brushing herself down. "Oh, ew, Steven, how can you lie there? You know the cat's probably spayed all over that bed, right?"

Steve springs up. "Okay, ew."

“It’s okay,” she says. “Let’s go get some new clothes.”

It’s harder than it should be. The three of you move from store to store on high alert for what has to be an hour, searching for practical, fitting clothes. The time for modesty is over, and you take turns changing in front of one another while the others make sure you aren’t about to become naked geek feed. You’re so unclean that putting clean clothes on feels wrong, but you do it anyhow. You double back to the store with suitcases and bags and fill a suitcase to bursting point with the clothes that Joyce requested for the children. You sit yourselves down at some point, always exhausted, to try on sneakers. The relief of finding and changing into a pair that fits cannot be understated. When you’re sure there’s at least pants and a sweater for every child, you pack up and head for the fancy soap shop.

Robin is ecstatic. Ideally, you can all carry one bag on your shoulders and pull one suitcase, so you each fill a bag with soaps and brushes and powders, figuring that if you find food or medication worth carrying you can empty one of the bags rather than double back.

“I’m sorry we didn’t actually sleep on a mattress,” Steve says.

Robin shrugs nonchalantly, kicking aside an empty helium tank with her foot as you pass by a card and gift store. She’s grown less happy as time goes on, unsatisfied with the day's events. Finding nice soap hadn’t felt important with no water around to use it. The cat was rabid, you’re all living off of jerky and river water, and now you have to hike home again in the dark, hours of fear and tenseness.

“I miss your car,” Robin says.

You hadn’t ever been in Steve’s car, but you say, “Me too.”

“Maybe we should find a real tent,” Steve says, apparently not listening.

“Isn’t that kind of mean?” Robin asks.

“I mean, if the others wanted a tent, they could’ve come.”

“I don’t think it's mean,” you say. “But I don’t see how we can carry it.”

“I can carry it,” Steve says. “Just a small one. Big enough for us.”

“Does us include me?” Robin asks.

Steve laughs. “Duh, it includes you. It’s Y/N that’s gonna have to sleep outside.”

“Or me and her can have the tent and you can be our watchdog.”

“We can’t, um, stay outside forever, right?” you ask quietly.

Steve puts his arm over your shoulder for a quick squeeze. “No, we can’t. We’ll find somewhere permanent soon. There’s barely any geeks the more we get into Michigan, who knows. Maybe there's none at all up top. But…" He lets you go. "I'll find somewhere."

"Steve, you sound ridiculous," Robin says. "'I'll find somewhere,'" she quotes, voice deepened.

Robin might joke, but you feel reassured by Steve's promise. You keep your head up for the rest of the day.

—

Later, much later, when you've travelled back to the camp with aching everythings and taken the world's coldest bath in the river nearby, you, Robin and Steve pitch your brand new tent and near collapse. It was night when you finally reached the camp that day, and so it was morning by the time you laid down. Steve has to admit that bathing and building a tent in the dark had been fun, annoying and indicative of the situation but a pleasure anyhow, to hear his favourite people in the whole world trying not to shriek at the cold water, overjoyed and laughing as you finally washed your face with real soap, and terrified that the river would knock you down.

You're shaking with the cold now in his arms, practically sitting on his thigh as you brush his still damp hair back from his eyes.

"I can't believe you're still cold," he says, kissing the line of your jaw affectionately.

Robin, despite hours without sleep, had volunteered to help Sarah corral the younger kids for some early breakfast. Steve thinks it's because she likes Sarah. Your theory was that she's generous enough to give you a half hour of privacy. She's good like that.

Whatever it is, you're alone for the first time in days. It's no different than when you're with friends, only you're touchier and Steve's an honest fool.

You wrap one of your new blankets tighter around your shoulders and shift. "Am I hurting you?"

"Nope." He squeezes you tightly to his front. "You're shivering. Put your hands under my shirt."

You do it quickly, smiling like he's given you the world. "'Member when you'd let me do this? Even when we weren't really dating?"

"We were dating," he says.

"What, before or after the taco truck incident?"

"Before," he says sharply. He pauses. "Alright, maybe not then. But we were definitely dating when you'd put your hands in my shirt. You don't do that for just anyone, I'm not a run around."

"Steve, you used to let me sleep in your lap. Like, a month after we met."

"'Cos you get so damn cold," he says. You're still shivering. He rests his cheek against your neck. "If I didn't let you, you'd spend the whole night shivering and making these really sad sounds."

He's not even teasing. Just being honest.

"I'm sensitive," you say.

"You're used to sleeping indoors like a normal person."

You ease off of his lap. He doesn't want you to; he'd keep you close forever. Plus, he feels guilty cuddling you in front of Robin because he knows public displays are uncomfortable, so he wants to really take you in while he can.

"I have something to tell you," you say.

"Oh?"

"Or, something to give you. But I can tell you something if that matters."

"Tell me anything." Everything. He wants to know everything you have to say.

"Well… well, before this happened…" You rummage through the bag you'd brought home with you, the tip of your tongue peaking out. "You know, before the world half ended, I wasn't– I don't know if I can say it."

"Please?" he asks.

You pull something into your hand. "Alright. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love. And then the world ended, and I really didn't think I would, but you found me and I love you, so it wasn't true."

He thinks about it. You, years ago, when he'd see you in the halls at school or walking home. He doesn't have much recollection of you beyond that, but it aches in a weird way to think you'd been walking around feeling like you wouldn't be loved.

Steve licks his lips. "I get it, because I kind of worried the same thing. Like I'd keep loving people more than they loved me."

"And then you met Robin?"

"Exactly. She taught me more about love as my best friend than any of the girlfriends I had."

"Well, I didn't get a Robin back then, but I have you now, and I guess I want you to know it's important to me," you say. "I know things are so hard right now, I know," —you clear your throat as emotion creeps in to your tone— "you put on a brave face for me. I know you're tired. But I keep going for you, and you keep going for me, and I want you to have something so you remember that even if I'm… not around."

Steve sits up straight. "Hey, you're not going anywhere."

You blink rapidly.

"Where is it that you think you're going without me?" he asks, softer.

"Nowhere. But I just need you to know how much I loved you."

"Love," he corrects.

"How much I love you," you agree, sniffling. You look around at the tent floor, your shoulders raised just so. "Sorry, I'm not gonna cry or anything, I just hate thinking about it."

You hand him something wrapped in a new sock. He bites his lip to stop from laughing at the wrapping and unpeels his gift.

It's a watch. Silver, heavy, glass unscathed and hands tick tick ticking. Steve doesn't know if the time is accurate. His old watch broke a long time ago, but this one looks vaguely similar.

"You gave me a necklace, once, with a little diamond. I know I don't have it anymore, I shouldn't have taken it off. But you gave it to me when I was miserable, and I know you're not miserable, but–"

"I am," he says, rubbing his thumb over the watch. There's a tiny diamond set at the bottom of the clock face. He has no idea why, but the idea that you saw it and remembered his gift that long ago, that you wanted him to know you love him, that pays for some truth. "I'm miserable. I'm so scared for us." He breathes out hard. "Sorry."

Steve's eyes tear up. He tries not to let it show, but he's looking down at the watch and his vision is blurring, and he's thinking Fuck, fuck, I'm crying in front of her again.

You shuffle across the plastic floor toward him and clutch his hand. He's shaking minutely. You must feel it.

"It's okay, baby," you murmur.

He ducks his head.

"It's okay. I know," you say.

"I know that you know," he says.

"But it's hard," you prompt.

"Yeah."

You needle your arm behind his neck and him close. He can't hold back anymore, throwing his arms around your waist because why would you say that stuff to him? You're so evil, you're horrible, you're the very best thing that's ever happened to him and he loves you and what if you do die? Nobody will ever, ever be like you. There's no one out there with your smile, nobody who turns at the sound of his voice as you do, happy before you've set eyes on him and ecstatic when you have.

And if you live (please, God, if you live), Steve wants to give you a better life than this. He's constantly panicking because he doesn't know how.

But you don't mind. You don't love him less for the situation.

"I don't even know what to tell you," you say, stroking the hair at the back of his neck tenderly, "cos I tell you I love you so much it doesn't feel like what I mean. I love you. I love you, Steve."

He hugs you until he's not crying, wishing his cheeks would dry themselves when he finally raises his head and kisses your cheek. "Thank you," he says roughly.

Steve sits back and wipes his nose. You offer the sock. He laughs and bats it away.

"I love you, too," he says. He thrusts his wrist at you. "Strap me in?"

You fasten Steve's watch and, in what's becoming a theme, you kiss his pulse.

"Sorry things have been so hard," you say, adjusting the watch until it's sat comfortably.

"You make it easier."

"Guys!" Robin says, forcing her way into the tent with an exuberant smile on her face. There's something in her arms, a wriggling mass of matted fur. "Look! The cat followed us home! I'm gonna name him Stinkyboy! Or Shark. Get up, I need help catching a fish!" She waves the cat's paw at you both. "I knew he liked me!"

—-

the Steve zombie au

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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galaxymagitech · 9 months ago

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Depending on the version, it is somewhat feasible that Bruce couldn’t talk Dick out of being Robin. Like…yes. If he really tried, he could stop him. He could lock him in a room he can’t escape. He could quit Batman and watch Dick until he’s 100% sure he’s asleep, monitor his vital signs or something. He can prevent Dick from leaving the house so he can’t run away. But all of this would mean he’d basically have to become the warden to a traumatized kid, and I can see how he’d think that letting Dick be Robin is a better parenting decision than the alternatives.

With Tim, Bruce had no legal authority over him. He could try to stop Tim, but in order to really succeed he’d have to either wipe his memories (and thus delete significant events in Tim’s life) or kidnap a thirteen-year-old and keep him prisoner. Bruce’s best option was to let Tim be Robin.

Damian is similarly difficult to control. He’s a trained assassin, and Bruce can’t ground him forever. He didn’t even make him Robin. When he came back from being lost in the timeline, Damian was Robin for a year. At that point, what else could he do?

But Jason. Unlike the others, Jason didn’t insist on being Robin. In post-crisis, Bruce was taking him to Wayne Manor and then basically went, “hey, kid, you can be Robin” in the car ride and Jason was like “cool!” But Jason didn’t ask, and I don’t think he would have. He might’ve struggled with feeling useless, might have wanted to become a vigilante later, but I don’t think he would have been anywhere near as insistent as Dick or Tim were. There are other ways he can help, and he’d accept it.

With the other kids, Bruce made them Robin because he couldn’t stop them, and his guidance and training at least could make them a little safer. But Jason, he made Robin because he thought it would fix his issues and prevent him from going down the “same criminal path as his father” and like. Therapy exists? Maybe a loving home where Robin is not intrinsically tied to Jason’s place there (because what other conclusion was Jason supposed to draw from an immediate offer of Robin?) would help?

I don’t blame Bruce for making the other kids Robin, but I don’t understand why he thought that taking a kid with issues and what he saw as a potential for violence would and making him a vigilante who beats people up would be a good idea.

#meta #batman #dc comics #dcu #dc #batfamily #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #dc meta #batman meta #bruce wayne

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bari-the-witch · 2 years ago

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Couples Quiz Night Part 1

Part 2

Heya dear people of the fandom!

I originall wanted to post this as a whole but because my private life is a bitch right now it's going to take a while to finish this. I decided to post the first part now, so you don't have to wait for something to read. Don't worry, I didn't ditch this. I have too much fun writing this!

A few people wanted me to tag them. So, here they are:

@swimmingbirdrunningrock @grtwdsmwhr @lightwoodbanethings @eggrollofchaos01 @gamerdano @miss-hit @photoaesthetic @alexdesappho @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring (with cherries on top ;D) @gay-stranger-things @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona @thepainisspicy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @alienace @ashwinmeird @satan-is-obsessed @ninjapirateunicorns

Hope you enjoy!

And beware: English is not my native language so there might be a few mistakes here and there. Even though I used two different spell checkers/grammar programs.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Indianapolis, Indiana

July 10, 1987

“Honey, I’m home,” Steve called as he entered the apartment, toeing off his shoes and placing them neatly beside Eddie’s beaten-up sneakers and Robin’s red Converse before slowly making his way to the kitchen.

They had moved to Indianapolis half a year ago, leaving Hawkins behind for good. Between Steve’s shitty parents, Robin’s desire for freedom, and Eddie’s problems with the dear citizens of Hawkins even though his innocence was proven, it wasn’t a particularly difficult decision to make. They were still close enough in case their friends needed help but far enough away to finally heal.

Fortunately, they quickly found a three-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city and were able to afford it with their combined financial forces. Steve was glad he had taken the leap of faith to move here.

His life was a lot better now.

“Welcome back dingus,” Robin greeted him with a mock salute while Eddie just waved. They were both sitting on the kitchen counter together (although they had a small dining table not two feet away), sipping something that looked suspiciously like red wine.

“Already started without me?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you came back home this late,” Robin protested.

“Rob, you literally pressured me into letting you leave earlier so you could get,” Steve eyed the wine glass in her hands, “ready for tonight. I see you’re using your time wisely.”

“It’s totally Eddie’s fault. I swear!”

“Hey! You’re the one who wanted to crack a bottle to get all nice and tipsy before our night out. So you won’t lose your nerves because of Nan-.”

“Shut it, Munson!” Robin grinds out through gritted teeth, a deep blush darkening her cheeks. She smacked a hand over Eddie’s mouth to silence him....only for her to draw it back in disgust immediately. “Eww. Did you just lick my hand? What are you, twelve?”

“Why are you so embarrassed, Bucks? It’s not exactly a secret,” Eddie replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

Robin hung her head in defeat and sighed. “I know. It’s just… every time I meet her, I make a total ass out of myself, you know? I just want to be this cool person that doesn’t start spewing out unnecessary facts no one cares about.”

“With alcohol?” Steve asked amusedly, holding up his hands in defense when she glared at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Come on, Rob. Nancy likes you. Even your rambling. She thinks it’s endearing.”

“She does?”

Steve nodded. Nancy had told him a few weeks ago when they met up in a small cafe during their lunch break. She also said a few other things about Robin but it wasn’t Steve’s place to tell her that.

“That’s-. I need to get ready. I- Boys, see you later!” she exclaimed dramatically and hopped off the counter, marching straight into her room, and closing the door behind her.

“Well, she sure seems excited now,” Eddie chuckled.

They’re alone in the kitchen right now, and Steve is well aware of that. You see the thing is, moving to the big city and living together with his friends had not only made his life better but also significantly more complicated.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t always found men attractive. However, growing up in the Harrington household had taught him to keep these kinds of thoughts buried deep inside him. His father wasn’t very fond of queer people (an understatement) and would not have liked his son to be one of them (also an understatement). Moving here, living together with Eddie day after day, and finally being free from his father’s clutches had thrown him into the biggest sexuality crisis known to mankind.

At first, it was just mild infatuation that soon grew and spread into a full-blown crush, leaving him scared and confused. But it was OK, really. There wouldn't be anything coming out of it anyway. Steve was positively sure Eddie didn’t even like men that way, let alone him. So all he had to do was wait for this to blow over.

Well, that is, until Eddie decided to tear down Steve’s most effective defense mechanisms by outing himself a few weeks after moving in.

Suddenly, Eddie didn’t seem out of reach anymore, throwing Steve into the next crisis on top of the first. It got so obvious there was something wrong with him that Robin pulled him aside one night when it was just the two of them.

He finally spilled his beans that night. From the fact that he seemed to always have liked men as equally as women (bisexuality, Robin called it), down to his embarrassing all-consuming crush on Eddie.

She listened intently, asking a few questions here and there but otherwise letting him do the talking.

“What makes you think he doesn’t like you that way?” Robin asked earnestly.

“I just know,” Steve answered dejectedly and Robin didn’t press.

“Hey, Steve. You in there?”

Steve snapped out of his thoughts and shifted his attention back to the present. Eddie was standing in front of him, a worried expression on his handsome face.

“Huh? Sorry I- just got lost in my own head.”

“Shit, you really scared me there, man. Didn't we talk about not spacing out at random?" Eddie asked, relief evident in his voice. “For a second, I thought Vecna was back or something.”

“I know, I know, sorry.”

Only now did Steve realize how close they were. And that Eddie was grabbing both of his shoulders, the touch sending a spark of something through his body. The fact that Eddie was a very tactile person, touching Steve whenever he had the opportunity to, didn’t make dealing with his crush any easier.

"I, um," Steve started, trying hard not to stare at Eddie’s lips. “I need to get ready. For later. Shower, yes.” He stumbled over his words like a pre-schooler talking to his crush for the first time. Jesus, get it together. What happened to your famous Harrington charm?

“I mean, I’m gonna head to the shower. Or do you wanna go first?”

“Nah, I already did, so… It’s all yours,” Eddie answered before finally releasing his shoulders, and taking a step back. Steve nearly breathed out in relief.

“Well then, see you later.” Eddie patted him on the shoulder, grabbed the wine glass from the kitchen counter behind him, and made his way to his room. Before he stepped inside, he turned around again, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Oh and Steve? Just take your time. I know how much you like getting all dolled up for me.”

Heat shot to Steve’s cheeks while his heart did a full ballet routine in his chest. But befor he had the chance to react, Eddie disappeared inside and closed the door behind him.

Oh, did he forget to mention that Eddie was a notorious flirt, too?

Steve slammed the bathroom door with more force than necessary. He stripped down angrily and stood under the warm spray of the shower, trying to relax.

Fuck, he used to be good at this. Really good. With girls swooning left and right, just looking at them. He had been King Steve for fucks sake.

But then Eddie appeared and Steve’s famous Harrington charm, which was already in a nosedive anyway, crashed and burned to the ground, shattering into a million useless pieces. Eddie, with his stupid wide-brown doe-eyes, his equally ridiculous dark curly hair, and this fucking dimpled smile that always made Steve tremble and weak in the knees. And don’t forget all the stupid pet names he threw at him like candy, coming up with a new one every week.

Don’t get him wrong. Most of the time he’s glad the King Steve days are over. He just missed it sometimes, being that cocky, self-confident guy, strutting the halls of High School instead of this easily flustered tongue-tied idiot he was now.

Standing in front of the mirror after his shower, Steve had to resist the urge not to style his hair just to teach Eddie a lesson.

He dismissed that thought quickly, though. Not even that would make him leave the house looking like that. He still had some self-respect after all.

Steve stayed holed up in his room until Robin told him it was time to leave. He knew it wasn’t a permanent solution to his problem, not with them living and spending so much time together, but he just needed a break to collect himself.

The next few hours will be exhausting enough.

Going out tonight was all Robin's idea.

Since moving to the big city she had used every opportunity to get out of the house and into every gay bar she could get her hands on. She called it her ‘mandatory gay experience’ and Steve was glad she finally popped out of the shell she had built around herself while living in Hawkins.

And because Steve was such a good friend (the best) he tagged along when she asked him to, week after week. Sometimes just the two of the, sometimes with Eddie and Nancy in tow.

And so it happened that Steve found himself at one of those bars again on a Friday night, pressed against Eddie’s side, while Robin and Nancy sat across from them. The seating arrangement hadn’t exactly been Steve’s decision, but Robin had nearly knocked out his teeth trying to scramble into the booth beside Nancy. This left him with no other choice than to sit beside Eddie.

It was beautiful and terrible at the same time.

This close, Steve could feel Eddie's warmth through the layers of their clothes, leaving a tingling feeling wherever they touched. He tried not to show how much it affected him, but from the smirk, Robin was giving him from across the table, he was failing miserably.

Meanwhile, Eddie didn’t seem affected at all. He was his usual animated self, gesticulating around widely while telling Nancy a story about one of his co-workers who almost burned down the kitchen.

Unable to tear his eyes away, Steve followed the movement of Eddie’s mouth with his eyes. How he licked his lips from time to time or the way he bit his lower lip when trying to keep himself from laughing at his own story.

God, those damn kissable lips…

Stabbing pain shooting through his shin made Steve tear his eyes from Eddie’s mouth immediately.

He glared at Robin, who had a far too innocent expression on her face and only mumbled a soft “You’re staring again dingus” in return, before turning back to the conversation.

Oh shit. Had he been that obvious again?

Fortunately, Eddie didn’t seem to have noticed Steve’s brief staring contest with his lips (or so he hoped), being far too engrossed in telling the girls his funny story.

Thank God.

Later, Robin and Nancy had gone to get them a new round of drinks and from what Steve could see, it would take them a while to get back to the table. As the night progressed the bar had gotten steadily more packed which wasn’t surprising considering it was a Friday night. Steve was glad they had gotten here early.

As the girls returned with fresh drinks in tow and sat down again, Robin slid something into the middle of the table.

“You boys wouldn’t believe me what we’ve found,” she said delightedly, tapping at the small piece of paper with her finger Steve could identify as a flyer now. “Sounds pretty interesting to me.”

Next to her, Nancy nodded approvingly, sipping at her drink.

Eddie snatched it before Steve could take a closer look, tossing it back on the table with a snort a few seconds after.

“Couples Quiz Night, huh? I think I’d rather stab myself than join this, thank you very much.”

“What? Is that too uncool for lil’ ol’ Eddie?” Robin asked challengingly.

“You bet, Bucks. That shit’s only for couples that desperately try to make others jealous by showing how great they are.”

Eddie’s reply started a bickering match about the pros and cons of couples quiz night between him and Robin. Steve just rolled his eyes fondly, glad that the two most important people in his life had become such good friends and got along so well. He didn’t want to imagine a world where those two weren’t part of it at the same time.

Curious, Steve decided to take a look at it and grabbed the flyer off the table. Trying to tune out the agitated chatter of his friends he started to read.

The hand-sized flyer didn’t contain much information besides the name and date of the event written in big bold green letters and something about a prize you could win. Steve remembered doing something like this with his girlfriend Lisa (now an ex-girlfriend, fortunately) back in Hawkins. It ended in a complete and utter disaster because he and Lisa hadn’t even gotten one question right. It wasn’t exactly one of his proudest moments as a boyfriend.

"What?"

Steve flinched at Eddie's ear-splitting screech, immediately scanning the room for any signs of danger, his shoulders sagging in relief when he couldn't find any.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, I need them!"

Eddie looked at his friends one by one with big pleading eyes and, to top it off, even jutted out his lower lip. When no one seemed to take the bait right away, because they were all used to Eddie's antics, he fixed his gaze on Steve who still was none the wiser about what brought on Eddie's over the top reaction.

“Stevie?”

Steve quickly averted his eyes. He knew he couldn't say no to Eddie (to whatever he would ask of him) if he kept looking at him like that.

“Wait. That’s actually not a terrible idea,” Nancy said, sipping her drink like the traitor she is. “I mean, this is a gay bar, right? So there shouldn’t be any problems. And you two are so close, I bet you can easily fake it.”

Huh? Fake it?

Robin seemed to have noticed Steve’s confusion because she immediately started to explain. “Eddie wants to take part in the couples quiz night since he found out what the super secret prize is.”

“And … what does this have to do with me?” A sense of dread started to creep up on him.

“He wants you to join him,” Nancy answered matter-of-factly. “It’s a couples quiz after all.”

“But we aren’t a couple?” Steve asked perplexed. “Unless I missed something.”

The thought of him and Eddie being a couple made his insides all gooey and he quickly shoved it away.

“That’s why we’re gonna fake it, sweetheart!” Eddie laughed and threw an arm around, pressing him snuggly into his side.

Wait, what?

“You want me,” Steve pointed a trembling finger to himself and then at Eddie while trying to keep his voice even, “to fake a relationship with you to win a stupid prize at a Couples Quiz Night?”

“Hey, the prize is not stupid. How dare-”

“Yup. That’s exactly what he said.” Nancy answered nonchalantly, before taking a sip from her drink, giving Steve a look from under her lashes he didn’t like one bit.

“Yeah, come on, Steve, don’t be a spoilsport. It'll be fun!” Robin backed her up, of course, with a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“Yes, Stevie. Listen to our friends."

“What happened to ‘rather stabbing yourself than joining this?’” Steve asked dryly, a last desperate attempt to wiggle out of this somehow.

“Steve. Steve-o. My best friend. Light of my life, did you not listen to anything the guy said?" Eddie asked sweetly and huffed when Steve only shrugged his shoulders. "It’s fucking tickets for a Metallica concert at Market Square Arena. That shit’s been sold out for weeks! Dude, I’d sell my soul for this if I could. So screw what I said before. I. Want. Those. Tickets.”

Steve felt his resolve start to crumble like a house of cards. He knew how much those tickets meant to Eddie. The guy literally hadn’t stopped talking about it for weeks and was totally crushed when he heard it was sold out.

Steve sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

He was absolutely sure that this was going to end in total disaster as it did with Lisa. And then Eddie would be mad at him about not winning those tickets, about him not being able to answer some stupid questions in a stupid quiz and -

- and then he made the mistake of looking into Eddie's pleading eyes.

Shit.

Rookie mistake.

Steve sighed, getting ready to succumb to his inevitable fate.

“Fine. But if we’re doing this, you owe me, Munson. Big time.”

“Oh my god, thank you! You’re absolutely the best! You won't regret it. Promise!” Eddie clapped his hands together a few times with barely concealed glee, bouncing on his seat like a maniac. Steve didn’t have the heart to tell him that he regretted it the moment he agreed to do it.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t cream your-. Hey, what are you doing?”

Eddie nearly shoved him off the booth and Steve quickly stood up to prevent himself from planting his face on the floor.

"What the hell, Munson?"

"Come on, come on. There are two Metallica tickets with our names on them, I heard.”

“I don’t think-.”

“Less talking, more walking, Stevie,” Eddie tutted, grabbind Steve around the wrist and dragging Steve mercilessly behind him without waiting for a response.

Glancing at the girls for help, Steve was only met with a thumbs up from Nancy and an overdramatic smooching gesture from Robin.

Screw Nancy's guns. He was so going to strangle them after this was over.

Eddie made it through the crowd with relative ease, slipping smoothly between the bodies on his way over to the bar while Steve bumped into people left and right, receiving tons of dirty looks in return. He didn't even have time to apologize, not with Eddie dragging him behind him like this.

At the bar, Eddie squeezed himself between two scrawny-looking guys, eagerly waving the bartender over. With Eddie's hand still clasped around his wrist, Steve didn't have much choice than to stand way too close behind him.

“Yeah? What can I get ya?”

“Hey, we heard about a quiz tonight and really wanted to join. Because I somehow can’t convince this knucklehead," Eddie turned back to him and had the fucking audacity to wink, then turned tack to the baarkeeper. "that we’re made for each other.” He put a hand on his heart, sighing deeply like he was carrying the whole world on his shoulders. “Maybe that’ll finally make him see it. You know?”

God, Eddie really was a theater kid, huh?

No way in hell someone would buy this little performance. Not when Eddie was laying it on this thick. Not in a million years.

But to Steve’s horror, the guy took a pen and a piece of paper from somewhere and shoved it over the counter. “Relationships are tough, man,” he nodded with a sigh, a look of pity in his eyes. Steve wondered if the guy was either a newbie or simply not good at reading people.

“Just write down your names here. We’re starting in ten minutes. So you better be ready.”

Then he left them alone to tend to some other customers demanding his attention.

“Ten minutes?” Steve hissed into Eddie’s ear from behind, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach running amok. “How should we come up with matching answers in ten minutes?”

Unimpressed by Steve’s tiny little freak-out, Eddie scribbled down their names in his neat handwriting before turning around. Their faces were barely a hair's breadth away and if Steve wanted to he just could lean forward and - no. Nope. Bad idea.

“Relax,” Eddie said, his breath caressing Steve’s lips, nearly driving him insane. “We don’t even know what they’re going to ask so I guess we just have to trust in the power of our relationship.”

“Which doesn’t exist," Steve replied dryly, proud of how even his voice sounded. "Listen, it’s always the same shit, like favorite color, favorite food, who kissed the other first yadda yadda yadda. So we need to-.”

“Wait wait wait. You did something like this before?” Eddie raised his eyebrows, his mouth twisting into a grin. “Stevie, you absolute romantic! You really know how to make a girl feel special,” he giggled, twisting a curl around his finger like a girl in those corny teenage movies Robin always made them watch as punishment for whatever.

“Yeah, I bet Lisa would disagree with you on that,” Steve grimaced, shuddering at the memory. “Whatever. Do you wanna go over some possible questions or not?”

Eddie tapped a finger against his lips, weighing his head left and right a few times like he was thinking really hard about his answer.

But then he leaned forward, bridging the gap between them and pressing his lips against Steve’s cheek. Just a short peck.

Steve's eyes widened in shock.

“I don’t think we’re going to need that, sweetheart,” he whispered softly before drawing back again. Which isn’t very far because they’re still unbelievably close, their noses almost touching. "Just trust in us, ok?"

Steve, whose brain had shut down the moment Eddie’s lips touched his face, nodded dumbly, his mouth open. Eddie’s smile grew and he took Steve’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers before pulling him toward the stage.

#steddie fanfic #steddie fandom #steddie

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