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What a great day to remind you that this scene exist. 🫣

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Just Friends || Bellamy Blake x Reader

Summary: Trapped in space, alone and heartbroken, Bellamy and Y/N find solace in each other. As time passes, feelings begin to flutter between them. The only problem is that everyone seems to notice but them. 

I suck at summaries, it's cute I promise!

Warnings: set sometime between season 4 and season 5 (yk when Bellamy and the rest are on space), friends to lovers, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, fluff so much fluff, a little angst (Bellamy and the reader miss their friends on earth), Fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

English is not my first language

Word count: 4000+

Notes: I wrote this a long time ago and I completely forgot about it until a few days ago. I reread it and thought the concept was very cute and it was a shame that I never shared it with anyone. I asked you guys if you would like to read it and you said yes so here we are! I have a couple more fics that are almost ready to post so you might see more Bellamy on my blog. 

Also my requests are open for the 100 if you guys have any ideas you would like to see. For now I only write for Bellamy, but we’ll see if that changes

Y/N walked through the dark corridors of the spaceship in silence. She was upset. She had spent the last few hours tossing and turning in her bed trying to fall asleep but it was impossible. Her brain refused to shut up. It wasn't the first time this had happened to her. Ever since they had returned to space escaping the second nuclear apocalypse Y/N had started having trouble sleeping. Ironically, living there once again was much more peaceful and safe than her time on Earth. For the first time in years she could close her eyes without fear of being attacked by an enemy. But now what kept her awake was not the fear or guilt, but the uncertainty. There was so much she didn't know—when they would be able to return to Earth, how their friends were doing down there, what they would find when they got back—that she found it impossible to stop thinking about it. When the lights went out and she was left alone in the silence of what was now her room, all her brain did was think. And that night was no exception. 

Tired of tossing and turning and frustrated at not being able to sleep, Y/N decided it would be best to get up and try to clear her head. On Earth she probably would have taken the opportunity to go for a walk in the woods, letting the gentle breeze of air hit her body and clear her mind. He couldn't do that now, but over the course of days she discovered that looking out the ship's windows into space had a similar effect. So every night she settled in for a couple of hours to watch Earth from a distance and made a silent promise that she would return for her friends someday. 

This time when she arrived at her special place she discovered that someone else was already there. Bellamy was standing in front of the window with his hands inside his pants pockets. His eyes were fixed on Earth, but when Y/N approached she noticed his gaze was lost, probably immersed in his own destructive thoughts. She placed a hand on his back to let him know she was there causing him to turn for a moment to look at her.

"You can't sleep either, huh?" she said breaking the silence as she settled into her usual corner. Bellamy simply shook his head. "The thoughts that emerge when you're alone are the worst."

"Is that why you come here almost every night?" Bellamy finally spoke. His voice sounded deeper than usual and for a moment Y/N wondered if he had been crying. 

"Yes," she admitted. "For some reason it makes me feel better. It's like they're a little closer to me even though they're not really."

"Doesn't it make you feel worse?" he asked, sitting down next to her. "Knowing they're there and we're here and there's nothing we can do about it?" 

"Sometimes." She shrugged. "I miss them and I'm worried about them, but I know they're strong and they'll be okay. So when I feel bad I just look down to Earth and promise them I'll see them again." She admitted and Bellamy looked at her with a tired smile, amazed at her positivity. 

"I wish it were that easy."

"It's not, but it's all I can do for now so I can get a couple of hours of sleep."

The room fell silent. They both stared into the space in front of them again, lost in their own thoughts, reflecting on the situation and how much they missed their friends. Bellamy appreciated Y/N's words. While they didn't ease the heaviness he felt in his chest, they gave him a different, more positive outlook, and helped him not feel so alone.

Without saying a word, Y/N rested his head on Bellamy's shoulder. Her eyes were still glued to the window, her gaze lost in the distance as she let out a slight sigh. Bellamy leaned in to look at her for a moment, before leaning his head back against hers in a subtle gesture of support.

"This will pass. We'll be back on Earth and everyone will be safe and sound wondering what took us so long." She broke the silence, resting a hand on his leg in an attempt to reassure her friend. Y/N knew exactly what kind of thoughts were going through his head because she had those same thoughts herself, but they had to stay strong. And she also knew that it was difficult for Bellamy to process those thoughts and emotions in a healthy way. He was a natural leader and a very empathetic person, so his instinct was to care about others before himself. He spent his days encouraging others, making sure they stayed positive, when he was struggling with that too and had no one to talk to. 

"You will see Octavia again and you'll hug one more time. This is not the end. Raven will find a way to get us back to Earth, you'll see."

Bellamy didn't respond with words because he feared that he would end up crying if he did. He simply smiled and put an arm around her to pull her closer to his body. She snuggled into his chest, giving him gentle soothing caresses to which he responded by depositing a kiss on the top of her head. Y/N understood what he wanted to tell her even though he had not used words. Over time she had learned to read Bellamy as if he were her favorite book—and in a way he was.

They stayed there, entangled in each other's arms and enjoying the warmth their bodies radiated for longer than they should have. Without either of them anticipating it, their eyes began to feel heavy. The exhaustion of the day was finally winning them over. The pose they were in was not the most comfortable for sleeping, and if they were in that situation with anyone else they would probably not be able to fall asleep. But there was something strangely comforting about being snuggled together like this, they just couldn't help but relax. Y/N was the first to fall asleep. The warmth Bellamy provided and the rhythmic beating of his heart was all she needed to finally be able to close her eyes and rest. Her breathing slowly stabilized and by the time Bellamy realized it, his eyes were already closing from exhaustion. 

They were discovered by Raven and Emori the next day, who woke them up with cheeky smiles on their faces. Y/N was puzzled by their expression, but after joining the others for breakfast she understood the reason behind their smiles. Everyone teased them and looked at them funny for the rest of the day, singing childish songs about how they were in love and making heart shapes with their hands every time they were together. It was pretty annoying, but neither Bellamy nor Y/N said anything about it. It was the first time since they had been back in space that they saw their friends genuinely laugh. They didn't mind having to endure a couple of harmless jokes if it meant their friends could clear their minds even for a little while.

"What's with you and Bellamy?" Raven asked nonchalantly, taking Y/N by surprise.

"I thought I was here for you to teach me something useful." The young woman replied, trying to evade the question. 

"And I will, but we can chat in the meantime."

Y/N looked at her blankly and rolled her eyes. It had been kind of nice to see everyone focus on something fun and lighthearted for once, but things were starting to get out of control. It had been weeks since that incident and she was still dealing with the consequences. She understood that the days on the ship were boring, but the constant comments from Raven, Emori and Harper especially were starting to get to her. She and Bellamy were good friends, but now she had to make sure none of them were in the room before approaching him unless she wanted to have to endure the stares of the girls pinned to her back. 

"I prefer to work in silence, it helps me concentrate." Y/N muttered without much encouragement and this time it was Raven's turn to roll her eyes. 

"Oh, come on, don't be mean. I just want to know."

"There's nothing you need to know because there's nothing between us, Raven. How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

"I can understand if you don't want to tell me, but at least don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying to you."

"Come on, Y/N, we're not stupid." Emori spoke. "We know there's something between you."

"We're just friends." Y/N interrupted her before she could continue. 

"Friends who sleep together every night?" Raven asked sarcastically. "I always see you two getting up together in the mornings and the other night I saw you sneaking into his room when you thought no one saw you."

"It's not what you think. We just stay up talking when we can't sleep." She excused herself, feeling the blood all over her body pool in her cheeks. She understood that that could be misinterpreted, but there was really nothing going on between them. They were just two friends finding solace in each other. Bellamy trusted her enough to open up about his feelings, and if there was anyone who needed a shoulder to lean on, it was Bellamy. Their talks were important to both of them, falling asleep together was just an accident that ended up happening. It wasn't her fault that in his arms she found the comfort and peace she needed to fall asleep. It didn't mean anything, did it? They were just really good friends. 

"Yeah, right." Raven let out a sarcastic laugh. 

"I'm telling you the truth, it's not my fault you don't want to believe me."

"Let me get this straight, you're telling me that you guys spend all day together, you even sleep together, you act like idiots when you're around each other, but you're just friends?" The engineer asked, looking at her friend with a raised eyebrow.

"We don't act like idiots when we're together!" Y/N complained. What was that supposed to mean anyway?

"Girls, leave her alone," Harper said, finally joining the conversation. 

"Thank you! Finally someone who's on my side." 

"Clearly she hasn't realized she has feelings for Bellamy yet. When she's ready to face it she'll tell us."

"Wait, what?" exclaimed Y/N in surprise. She definitely wasn't expecting that to come from her friend's lips. "I thought you were on my side!"

"And I am, but I can't deny what I see. It's pretty obvious when you're together, the way you look at each other says it all. You may be in denial now, but when you accept it I suggest you talk it over with Bellamy because it's obvious he has feelings for you too."

"I'm not in love with Bellamy and he's not in love with me! How many times do I have to say it? We're just friends." 

"So you wouldn't mind if I asked him out?" Echo asked, suddenly joining the conversation. She looked at Y/N with a raised eyebrow, analyzing her body language as she waited for a response. The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but closed it almost immediately as a knot formed in her stomach. For some reason the idea of Echo and Bellamy together bothered her. But still that didn't mean she was in love with him, did it?

"No, of course not!" she rushed to reply as soon as she found her voice. She hoped that was enough to convince them, though the look on Echo's face told her otherwise.

"Why did you hesitate?" Raven pressed her with a smile on her face, fully aware that her friend was about to hit her to force her to shut up. 

"Oh for god's sake, would you just give it up already!" Y/N exclaimed, exhausted.  

"Okay, okay!" Raven laughed and put her hands up in defeat. She then went on to explain what she would be teaching him today, but no matter how hard Y/N tried she wasn't able to pay attention. All she could think about was Harper's words, echoing in her mind without giving her rest. Fortunately for her, Emori was paying attention and was able to follow Raven's lesson without her noticing her distraction. 

For the rest of the day her mind continued to be distracted, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to focus on the world around her. And what made her situation even worse was that she couldn't even look Bellamy in the eyes without remembering Harper's voice and Raven's looks. He noticed something was wrong with her, he was always able to tell when something was bothering her. Y/N saw it in his gaze, which was why she decided to lock herself in her room for the remainder of the day. She knew Bellamy would ask her what was wrong sooner or later and since she wasn't in a position to answer him at the moment, she made sure she had some time to clear her thoughts. 

After much debate with herself in the solitude of her room she came to the conclusion that Harper's words were ridiculous. It was impossible for her friend to know how she really felt about Bellamy before she herself realized it. That whole conversation had been ridiculous. They were just bored and looking for something to entertain themselves with.

But then she remembered the strange feeling that coursed through her body at the very idea of someone else starting a relationship with Bellamy.

'It wasn't just anyone, it was Echo', a voice in her mind said. 'It just bothered you because you don't know her that well and Bellamy is your friend. It's a normal reaction from a friend who cares about her friend and nothing more',  continuó, en un intento por convencerse a sí misma de que ese comentario no había despertado celos dentro de ella. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone entering her room. Y/N didn't even have to look up to know who it was. Bellamy walked over to her and in a whisper asked her if she was awake, something they always did when they would walk into each other's room unexpectedly. She answered him and moved aside to make room on the bed for him to lie down. Soon she ended up cuddled by Bellamy's body heat with her head resting on his bare torso as he stroked her back. That relaxed her, the tension she hadn't realized was building up in her shoulders soon disappeared. A smile formed on her face at the irony that he was the only one who could calm her in that situation. 

"Are you okay?" Bellamy asked her in a whisper. "I noticed you were acting strange today and then you just disappeared."

"Yeah, I'm fine." She assured him. "I just had a lot on my mind, but I'm fine now."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. At least not for now." She murmured against his chest, not daring to look into his eyes fearing he would be able to read in them the thoughts that were going through her mind. "Why are you here? I feel like you didn't come just to ask me about my mood."

"And you'd be right." He admitted letting out a sigh. "I couldn't sleep." 

"The dreams again?"

"Yeah, only this time Clarke showed up too."

"You need to stop blaming yourself for that. It was her decision and we both know damn well we couldn't have changed her mind. We were all going to die there and she would never let that happen."

"No, but we did let her die." 

"Bellamy..." Y/N whispered. It hurt her to talk about it as much as it hurt him, but for some reason it hurt more to know that he was having those horrible thoughts and there was nothing she could do to stop it.  

"I know, I'm sorry." He interrupted her, letting out a tired sigh as he ran his free hand through his long hair. "You're right about everything, I know, but that doesn't make it any easier."

"I know how hard it is. I miss her too, but this is what she wanted. She saved us and now it's up to us to live our lives honoring her sacrifice and her memory." 

A comfortable silence formed in the room as they both enjoyed each other's company and tried to clear their minds. Y/N concentrated on the rhythmic beating of Bellamy's heart and the gentle caresses his fingers traced over her back, drawing imaginary figures on her skin. For a moment she forgot everything that had been bothering her during the day. The comments of her friends that had had her so anxious, faded out of her mind. It was as if all of a sudden everyone else had ceased to exist, as if the universe around them had disappeared and the only thing that continued to exist were the two of them. That was the special effect Bellamy had on her. He was able to bring her peace just with a simple hug or just a look. 

"Thank you" Bellamy murmured, catching Y/N's attention. 

"Why?" the young woman asked. She lifted her head to look at him, resting her chin on his chest as her curious eyes rested on his. 

"For always being there for me when I needed it."

"You don't have to thank me, I'd do anything for you, Bell, you know that." 

"I know, but I still want to. You have no idea how much you helped me with all this stuff we're going through. I honestly don't know what would happen to me without you by my side." 

"You'd be fine because you're strong, Bellamy. You're a survivor."

"I don't know, after everything we went through I don't think I could have made it this far without you," Bellamy said, his voice cracking. Y/N's heart squeezed in her chest. "If I had lost you there too I wouldn't have been able to continue.... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you're here with me." 

"Oh, Bellamy" Y/N whispered, deeply touched by her friend's words. She cupped one of his cheeks in her hand, gently stroking the skin with her thumb. He leaned his head over her hand and closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of calm and happiness that the touch of Y/N's fingers awakened in him. When he opened them again he met his friend's intense gaze, charged with love and tenderness. Then, without realizing what was happening, they shortened the distance that separated them and joined their lips in a kiss. 

It was tentative at first. They had both let themselves be carried away by what they felt deep inside, and were testing whether it was a good idea or not. Y/N thought she would feel strange kissing him, that as soon as their lips brushed a feeling of awkwardness would run through her body and force her to pull away. But, much to her surprise, she felt quite the opposite. Their lips moved in perfect harmony, fitting together as if they had been created to be joined together. 

A tingling sensation spread throughout her entire body, starting at her lips and going to the tips of her toes, as Bellamy intensified the kiss. He pulled her closer to his body and she ended up sitting on top of him, one leg on either side of his waist. He cupped Y/N's face and deepened the union of their lips, their tongues caressing each other curiously. With his free hand, he explored every inch of skin within reach, arousing waves of electricity that coursed down Y/N's spine. Her skin felt like it was on fire, but despite that she couldn't tear herself away from Bellamy. His growing beard felt rough against the sensitive skin of her face, but the strange tingle only added a new sensation that mingled deliciously with the pleasure of the passionate kiss.

They kissed like they were desperate to feel each other's company. Like they were afraid of vanishing into thin air if they were separated. Like it was their last day left to live and this was the only chance they had to feel their soft lips together. 

They kissed with the desperation that came with having hidden —consciously or unconsciously— what they felt for each other. They needed to feel their lips together. They needed to feel the warmth of their bodies pressed together, the delicate touch of skin against skin awakening a flame inside them. They needed each other. They had spent too long pretending they were nothing more than friends to be able to control themselves now.

They only separated when the need for air forced them. Their breathing was rapid and their hearts were pounding in their chests. They rejoined their lips once more in a short, sloppy kiss before they had to separate once more. Only this time it was not because of shortness of breath, but because of the giggles Y/N was unable to control. She hid her face in Bellamy's neck in an attempt to calm down, taking the opportunity to deposit a couple of kisses there in between giggles.

"What's so funny?" Bellamy asked, puzzled by Y/N's sudden change in attitude. 

"Nothing, its just that today I almost beat Raven to get her to stop insisting that there was something between us that we weren't telling her." She murmured against his neck. This time it was Bellamy's turn to let out a laugh.

"I guess everyone figured it out before we did."

"She won't stop teasing us when she finds out," Y/N groaned, figuring her friend wouldn't stop reminding them that she was right from now on. 

"Probably, but it's worth putting up with his comments from time to time, isn't it?" Bellamy inquired, hiding in his words what he really wanted to ask her. 

Was it worth risking it all to bet on a relationship? 

He was more than willing to do it. Now that he finally understood—and accepted—his feelings he would do anything to be with her. 

Y/N understood the true message behind his words as soon as she heard him utter them. By now they knew each other so well that they were able to understand each other without even speaking. She pulled her head out of its hiding place in Bellamy's neck and sat up to look at him. His eyes watched her intently, waiting for the answer to her implied question. Y/N noticed a special sparkle in them, one she hadn't seen in him in a while. His eyes were shining with happiness. That put a smile on her face. Nothing made her feel better than seeing Bellamy happy. She reached out one of her arms to gently caress his cheek, sliding her thumb back and forth over the soft skin. He responded to her gesture by resting his hands on her waist, delicately touching the exposed skin her shirt didn't cover. Each brush of his fingers awakened a new tingle inside her. She could not understand how such a simple act could provoke such a reaction from her body. She had never experienced anything like that before. Only he had that effect on her. 

"Of course it's worth it!" assured Y/N. "I'm willing to put up with Raven teasing me for the rest of my life if it means I can kiss you again."

Bellamy smiled and was quick to rejoin their lips. It was a slower kiss than the last, much sweeter and more sensual. They had no reason to rush things anymore, they knew they both felt something more than friendship. They would have plenty of time to be together and memorize every corner of each other's bodies. It was better to go slowly, to enjoy every moment together, every caress, every kiss, as if it were the first. Find out exactly how they felt about each other and whether their relationship would have a future. Although judging by the way her body reacted to every slight touch of Bellamy's hands, Y/N was confident that they would be together for a long time.

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FORGIVEN- Brian Otis Zvonecek

Summary: You and Brian haven't seen each other for months, distanced by pain and resentment, but the past comes back to knock at the door a night like any other (but not without the help of Brett and Joe )

Warnings : Mention of Panic Attack and past abusive relationships

17.30 PM

"For the last time, Sylvie: I don't intend to come at any double date with... her." It's been about ten times that Otis has told her this, yet his friend hasn't stopped pestering him since the morning.

"It's not a double date!" Sylvie replies "You are just coming to the the Street Food Expo  with me, Joe and y/n."

"And I bet it's a coincidence that we are four people and two of us are a couple and then there's me and y/n. If this isn't a double date..." He mutters, shaking his head.

"Come on," She pleads "if you'll come, y/n won't be hanging around me and Joe all the time but at the same time she won't be in danger being alone at home. You know, since she has broken up with that asshole, Marcus, he follows her everywhere. He has even stopped by my apartment a few times, we haven't opened the door but it was scary as hell."

Otis tries to ignore the painful pinch in his chest at the mention of Marcus and the fact that he is now your ex. He tries to stop the anger that boils in his veins at the idea that someone could even think of hurting you. "Right, and you can't ask anyone else?"

This is not how he wants to say it, he doesn't know why words escape his lips like this. "No Otis, I can't and you know it too. You were her best friends, you still are." He shakes his head again, Brett nails him with an accusing look. "Come on, I'm begging you. If you don't want to do it for her, do it for me."

And truth is, Brian would do anything for you.

He has already done it, everything.

He has tired to save you for two years from that toxic and wrong relationship you got yourself stuck into, getting a door in his face and a broken heart in return. When Marcus has forced you to choose one day, you've chosen him.

"I don't even like the expo" He replies but now he's already convinced to come and Brett knows it.

"Pick us up at half past eight, be punctual and..." "But I do not -"

"Be on time and wear something nice, okay? You never know what can happen" After lingering for several seconds and insulting himself with at least fifteen different offensive expressions, in fact, Otis sighs and gives up.

"Alright then."

"Oh thanks!" Sylvie throws her arms around his neck, euphoric

"Thank you, thank you, tha –"

"Let's be clear about one thing, though" he interrupts her without breaking away "first: you owe me a favor, and secondly... You are aware that if this is a move to clarify things between me and y/n it won't work, right?" Brett giggles in amusement, pulling away but still holding him by the shoulders.

"Don't worry Otis, this night is for me not for you."

And Brian doesn't know why, but when Brett leaves a strange feeling pushes between in his chest and throat, something like an itch that he can not soothe. "But if you still want her, I'm sure y/n needs you"

This perhaps makes him feel almost worse.

9.15 PM

Friday night is almost as sacred to you as Christmas to your mother. Although practically everyone thinks of you as a pub girl, you love to spend Fridays at home, on the sofa wearing only a tank top, bra free, with sweatpants, a glass of wine and Marcus by your side back during the good old days, when he still was the guy you fell in love with in high school.

There was another time then when your Friday nights - but also your Saturdays and Tuesdays - were the Mollys.

Brian, to be more specific.

Your Fridays has been Brian at one point. When with Marcus it was all ups and downs, all messed up and sad and pathetic, you have found yourself there more and more, with that sweet, nice fireman you had slept with once, during one of the many breakups with Marcus, and who then somehow had became your best friend.

A friendship you've always  paid dearly for.

A punch once. A kick in the ribs. A glass on the head yet another time. Every time Marcus has remembered that Otis was still  part of your life, it has gotten worse. And you have accepted everything, without saying anything to Brian, because you were sure that if he knew that what you were going through was somehow his fault - of his texts and his calls-  then he would have felt guilty forever and you didn't want to. Also he was going to kill Marcus, and you didn't want that too. He would have tried to save you. Indeed he did it to be honest, after two years of friendship, after two years of lies and subterfuge, after two years in which you swore you had left Marcus so many times.

"It's really over" but then you always came back to him and Brian could only watch you self-destruct in the name of your sick love, of a life you didn't deserve, a man who have convinced you that you're worthless without him.

And that's how you feel now: worthless and pathetic.

Brian has tried to save you, even putting Antonio in the middle and reporting Marcus.

He did it without your knowledge, while you were still unconscious in a hospital bed, after Marcus threw you down the stairs.

A concussion, bruised face, broken rib and arm. Even that wasn't enough to make you give up.

"I fell" You have said to the police, saving his ass again one time.

"You didn't have the right" you have yelled at Brian, later, with an IV still in your body. He couldn't look at your swollen and pale face, he couldn't touch your cold skin. He couldn't accept that the best person he knew, the only woman in the world from whom he had willingly accepted a friend-zone because he would have wanted you in his life in any way, the person he called at the end of every difficult shift and  knew how to calm him like no one else in the world, you, his precious y/n were a mess of bruises, tears and broken bones.

In his heart he blamed himself for everything, because he should have stopped it, he should have killed Marcus, he should have asked you out after your first -and only- night together instead of waiting days just to find you with him again.

He should have understood sooner that he was the right man for you, gathered courage and stepped forward.

Brian could not understand that you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved.

"I can stand up for myself"

"Oh I. see it. Fuck I'm tired of finding you like this, I'm tired of standing still while you let that son of a bitch kill you."

He raised his voice and waved his hands in the air gesturing in a way that for some reason scared you and covered your face to protect yourself.. Your body instinctively reacted to the only thing it knew by now: violence and Brian looked at you with the biggest eyes in the world, scared of himself.. He brought a hand to his face, trying to hide how much that gesture of yours struck him, then he leaned towards you and gently as if you were made of glass, he embraced you.

It was the last time.

When you met again, Brian was at your door. When you met again, you had just discovered that no, he hadn't given up on the Marcus investigation and had continued to put Voight and his bloody cop friends in the middle.

"I did it because I'm your friend y/n fuck"

You opened the door just enough to see his face collapse as you yelled.

"Then maybe you shouldn't be. I don't need you"

It's been four months. Somehow you found the courage to leave Marcus when you saw him try to lay hands on Sylvie, one evening when she came by to see how you were doing. 

You've moved in with her, you've taken your life back in your hands . You've never seen Brian though.

"Hurry up y/n" Brett intimates.

"Take it easy, Joe will surely be late anyway" You reply, putting on your lipstick.

"There's been a change of plans," Syilvie says hastily, pulling on her black boots.

"Joe and Otis will be picking us up in a bit."

"When were you going to tell me he's coming too?" you scream, your voice  high-pitched, smearing lipstick in your cheeks in anxiety. You clean yourself quickly, so hard it feels like you want to peel off your skin and you try not to notice the way your heart has started pounding at the mention of his name.

You tell yourself that you can do it, that it's okay, that you're ready to see him again even if you know it's not true. For a moment a little voice whispers in you ear that you shouldn't go with them, but you can't: the idea of being alone still scares you.

"Please wipe that depressed look off your face" she begs.

"You know what's depressing? The fact that you have invited him because I can't be alone, at my age. It's all so absurd."

You shake your head, trying to smile

"Of all the people in the world you had to invite him? You couldn't invite... I don't know, Kelly? Dawson?" You ask, putting on your favorite jacket at full speed.

"Because he's your best friend and you miss him more than you care to admit and he's the only one you wouldn't be ashamed to tell what Marcus is still doing to you. Besides, I know he's the only one you could bear to spend some time with right now, he's special to you." she replies, bringing out the best of her innocent expressions, while you roll your eyes and just pray that it will end quickly.

You like less and less the fact that deep down you know how right Sylvie is: Brian Zvonecek is without a shadow of doubt the only person in the world who has managed to understand you, he was also the only one to touch the deepest strings of your heart when you thought it was made of stone after all the years with Marcus.

He has crushed your soul in a way no one had before and he did it with kindness and delicacy, without having to do anything more than be himself.

He has taught you to still believe in good people and in true love, the one made of caresses, of sharing, of sweetness.

You've figured it out too late and repaid him treating his like he didn't matter, like he wasn't important.

You know it's his greatest fear, being abandoned, being left behind, being less important to others, being the last wheel in the cart and you hurt him in the worst way.

No matter how much Sylvie and Joe keep telling you that it's not true, that in cases like yours it's a normal reaction, that Marcus has manipulated you for a long time, that Otis doesn't see it that way and that he will understand if you talk to him: you just can't look at his face now.

9.45 PM

"I still don't understand why I can't be in the front sit." Otis mutters, turning to look out the window at the Chicago nightscape.. It's just the beginning of the evening and he's already tired of the palpable tension between you two, he's tired of having to keep his head turned away because he can't bear the sight you, he's tired of feeling your eyes on him.

"Come on man. Sylvie 's my girlfriend it's normal that I make her sit here, Have you ever heard of gallantry?" Otis shakes his head. "Yes right, gallantry"

Sylvie turns towards you, she gives you a look to give you courage but you don't speak, you remain silent, you throw a few glances at Brian from time to time that he doesn't reciprocate and you are here, still, to torture your hands wondering if you should have stayed at home.

He hates you.

He hates you and you can't stand it.

When Cruz's car stops suddenly to avoid colliding with another car you are thrown forward hard. It's an instantaneous gesture, so quick, fast and natural that he doesn't realize it and maybe not even you. Not really.

In a second the fireman's arm is in front of you, as if to protect you, keeping you in your place, avoiding any kind of danger.

You don't even hear Joe and Sylvie's curses, you and Brian are still in your moment, still In the instant in which after so many months your bodies are touching again, and under layers of clothes you can both feel a shiver shaking your bodies .

"Everything Okay?" He asks, his voice shaking, realizing what he's just done. He withdraws his arm slowly, reluctantly. He hates to admit it, but he would like to stay like this forever.

This little contact, it seems enough for him and he feels like a fool.

A poor idiot in love.

You nod. "Everything fine?" You ask, looking directly at his face for the first time. You've missed his dark eyes so much that you can't quantify it in words, so much that the world exists only in his gaze and you wonder how you haven't realized before all this, how wonderful and big his eyes are.

How much you need his gaze on you.

He reciprocates with an intensity that scares you, that doesn't seem real. Marcus has never looked at you like that. Not even once.

Not even at the beginning.

Brian, he has looked at you like that all the time.

If he's still looking at you like that then maybe he doesn't hate you.

But then, as soon as he comes to his senses, his gaze returns hard, cold, distant, all hope is lost.

When the car starts again, he turns around and puts a distance between you two. The world is suddenly colder. He shifts his eyes to you, again and again, being careful not to be noticed.He thinks you are beautiful. He thinks you're beautiful and you seem better off without that asshole.

He can't help but be happy about it.

"It's going to be a long night," Joe murmurs softly.

I'm sure of that too, Otis thinks, still looking at you sideways.

He's never been lucky with love, of course, but with you it's something that goes beyond love, beyond friendship, beyond everything. Something he can't describe or name, but still hurts terribly

10 PM

Brian doesn't hate y/n, at all. He could never, not even when you  have decided to cut all ties. What makes him angry is never being able to fully understand you.

You are a mystery, even though he knows you so well. One second you're a strong and independent woman, the best he knows, the most talented, the liveliest and nicest, the next you're Marcus' puppet, silent at her side, submissive, afraid and dull.

Sure, it's not your fault, but he can't help but get angry to see how you let an ordinary man shut down someone as amazing as you, it angers him to know how little  respect you have for yourself to think you deserve something like this. No matter if it's over, Brian will carry this anger with him forever maybe.

Brett goes out of the car, clutching Cruz's arm, announcing that they're going to go for a walk on their own.

"No" You say instinctively. "I mean, I thought we were supposed to be together." You continue then, hoping you haven't offended Brian.

"We need to discuss something, then we'll catch up with you" Brett replies winking at Otis and walking away before he can reply.

Cruz doesn't know if his friend has the  strength to do it anyway. He is confused and upset to have you here again, Joe knows this and isn't entirely sure of Brett's plan.

"You're crazy" Joe whispers.

"They both need it, I can't take it anymore"

"You realize we're pretending to still be together just for them, Sylvie, you're crazy"  Joe shakes his head.

"it's crazy that those two don't talk to each other anymore"

Brian watches you, the way you bite your nails tense, the way you move your knee, and bite your lip. You are agitated and something more: scared. "Everything Okay?" He asks, his voice hoarse.

"Yes, yes, don't worry, it's just that I haven't imagine a night like this"

"And how have imagined it?" He asks. You shake your head, smile just letting your hair cover your face red with embarrassment.

"I didn't expect to see you Bri, I wasn't ready"And he almost wants to yell at you that you drove him away, and he doesn't need to talk. You know the face he makes when something makes him nervous, recognize it and remain silent. "I think we should go" he says he points to the stalls.. He starts walking then he stops and turns to you.

"I knew you'd be there, but it doesn't make it any easier"

You nod. "I'm sorry, I'd give anything to..."

The words dies in your throat.

"Me too y/n" he replies, hinting for the first time a smile under his mustache that you like so much.

"Come on, let's go get something to eat" he whispers.

You walk behind him.

It's not all solved, but it's a start and for now it already seems almost a miracle.

10.15 PM

You see him everywhere, it takes your breath away.

Marcus is in every shadow, in every man, in every corner and you can't help but tremble with every step you take. Your hands are shaking, your legs are limp and you're breathing hard but you don't want Brian to notice.

Marcus is in your head, just in your fucking head.

"Do you prefer ketchup or barbecue?" Brian turns to you, wallet in his hands, an almost serene expression on his face. It takes you a while to answer, to understand. You remember that you're at the hot dog stand, that everything's fine, that you're talking to Brian and Brett and Joe will be back soon and it'll be even better.

"I ... Nothing" You whisper, your voice trembles, your eyes move from side to side looking for something that can justify your fear, the shiver down your spine.

"You sure? Oh girl that's fool" He comments, giggling. You place a hand on his clutching wallet.

"No Bri, there's no need"

You don't want him to pay. It's not right.

"Look, it's okay. I'm still mad at you, but I'm also happy to be here and it won't make me broke" You don't even smile, you keep looking around you and you feel the air getting heavy, almost oppressive.

"Dude" One of the guys from the truck intervenes."Watch out for your girlfriend, she doesn't seem so well" Otis doesn't bother to say that you're not his girlfriend, he gently pushes you out of line as soon as he realizes you're shaking like a leaf and looking paler than ever.

He hates himself for not noticing it sooner.

"Ei ei y/n, what's going on?" You shake your head.

"it's nothing, it's All Right"

You can't tell him. You can't reopen this wound. Brian would freak out, look for Marcus.

What if... If he is really here?

He would put himself in danger for you, you know he would. You can't let it happen.

"I just need some air" You move away but Brian, quick as lightning, grabs you by the arm.. The gesture takes you back in time, where the hands holding you are not those of the fireman and they are not delicate at all but mean, cruel. You stiffen and Brian realizes it without you having to speak.

He seems to read your mind, he's always been good at it.

"Sorry" he whispers.

"You didn't do anything Bri. I'm not made of crystal, you can touch me"

You start walking again trying to erase the fear from your heart and he stops you after a few seconds, looking you up with his big dark eyes as if the whole world dependeds on you and you alone.

"Don' t look at me like this"

"Tell me what you have then"

You feel the tears tingling in your eyes when yet another shadow takes the form of your ex and feel your chest tighten and you want to die.

"Why? Damn Brian you should hate me! Stop worrying about me, I don't need you"

The man looks away, his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed.

You realize what you've said:

I don't need you.

You take a step towards him and try to grab his hand.

"I...I didn't mean...I" And you wonder how it's possible to mess it all up again so easily.

Otis' hand trembles in anger under your fingers.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"I will never stop worrying about you okay? I've tried and I just can't! It would have been wonderful to do it, to forget about you in a hospital bed bacause of that son of a bitch but there isn't a single, fucking day that I don't think about it and there isn't a day where I don't wonder what I could have done to stop it. And God, there isn't a day that I don't regret not making you fucking leave him earlier. For months I've spent every fucking second wondering how you were doing. So no, it's not about you. It's me. I, I need to know. Tell me what's wrong with you." He raises his voice but Brian doesn't scare you.

Come on, he's different and the way he looks at you... he's not angry, not really, it's something different and maybe worse: disappointed, desperate, scared even.

Terrified of realizing how his life depends on you.

"I see him everywhere" You confess in a faint voice, looking at the ground.

"I see Marcus everywhere and I'm terrified that I won't be able to figure out when he's really there and I'm scared of him, and I'm with you and he hates you so much and I'm scared he might hurt you. To you and the others and me.... I just want to erase him from my life but he's everywhere no matter what.

I left him he's everywhere and he'll never stop" Brian pulls you to him without thinking about it, as if months haven't passed, as if not a single day has passed. He squeezes you tight, you melt into tears with your face against his chest, sobbing like a baby.

"I'm sorry for how I behaved"

"Shhh it's okay, it's okay I know, I know don't worry I'm not angry. I swear it's okay"

He kisses your hair, kisses your forehead and every piece of skin he can reach and you've never felt as much at home as with him now.

"Marcus isn't here, and even if he was I wouldn't let him get near you, ever" This is exactly what scares you, but you don't say it, you don't have the strength.

"I don't deserve it" He shakes his head. "No, you don't deserve it. But I would do it anyway, even if you were the worst person on earth. And you're not" You smile as he slides his fingers through your hair.

"I think that Brett and Cruz have abandoned us"

"Actually, I'm kinda cold and I've never finished Galactica you know? " You confess.

He laughs, just moves away from you.

"You're so full of surprises" He fixes your hair and dries your tears with his tumb.

"Wanna go home?" He asks."

"No, I...God I don't know. I...I want to be with you. It doesn't matter where." You reply. You don't wanna rush things. The smile he gives you is priceless, you would spend hours looking at him like this, perhaps all the rest of your life if possible. You only care about him, the way he gazes at you and is so close, the warmth of his skin and the sparkle in his eyes.

I love you, you think.

I love you, Brian.

The realization falls on you like a Boulder. How can you only notice now?

It has always been so clear.

"Oh, seriously?" Laughs Otis "So how about we take a Taxi?" You nod smiling.

"As I said I need to finish Galactica"

"But you hate Galactica"

"But I love you"

#chicago fire imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago fire otis #otis chicago fire #brian otis zvonecek x reader #brian zvonecek x reader #otis chicago fire x reader #brian zvonecek imagine #brian otis zvonecek #brian zvonecek #chicago fire fanfic #chicago fire x reader #otis x reader #chicago fire #kelly severide x reader #jay halstead x reader #chicago med x reader

[persage]

Back in my Medici Era

My favorite conspirator

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definition of deserved better

[persage]

Before, After, Again - S. HARRINGTON

This little one is made for making you cry, you are warned

Summary: There is before Steve. And during. You didn't think there would be an after, but in a world of monsters and danger, the after comes.

Words: 1.6 k

Tags: Angst and Steve being a self-sacrifice her as always.

Before:

When you leave Howkins for the poetry camp, you don't say goodbye. You don't say goodbye to your brother, with whom you will only meet at the end of the summer, who is laughing, so easily unaware of what is really going on.

You don't say goodbye to your mother, who smiles trying to hide her tears. Ever since your brother Tommy went to college, she has had a hard time letting go of you too. You don't say goodbye to Steve Harrington either: leaning against his beloved BMW, a small smile on his face. He gives you a sidelong glance, amused. He brushes your hand before hugging you, making you jump. "Can you forgive me?" He whispers. Tommy glares at you all the time, he mumbles something but you don't listen to him.

You never listen.

You watch Steve, the way he bites his bottom lip, the way he grits his teeth, his jaw set. He is afraid that this might be the last moment you spend together.

You decide not to grant it, but ask. "What should I forgive you for?" you ask, faking innocence, pretending that the rage that flares up in your chest doesn't exist. "I did it for you," he replies, shaking his head. "You'll be safer away from here" He is the one who convinced your mother to let you go away for months. He is the one who is kicking you out of the way when your city needs it most, when he needs it most.

When hell breaks loose in Howkins, you're not there. When you come back, just a couple weeks later, almost running away from stupid camp, the city is in pieces, Eddie Munson is dead. Max Mayfield is in a coma. Vecna is still around.

And Steve, Steve has battle marks and scars on his body and you swear you'll never let that happen again.

During:

Hell returns, then. And you're back too.

This time Steve can't keep you away, this time you fight together.

You stand paralyzed as the world around you falls apart - and Steve runs, to keep fighting, as always. He can't do anything else, it's his nature. He must be a hero, a stupid careless one, one of those who don't value life. Not his own at least.

Sometimes you hate him as much as you love him, this self-sacrifice man who doesn't understand that if he dies you die to. You manage to grab him by the hem of his jacket, like a little girl, turning him around with a surprised air. "Don't go" you whisper, so soft that you are the only one to hear.

"Please, Steve, don't go away." His big brown eyes look at you beyond held back tears. You can't really tell if it's his or yours.  It does not matter. Don't go. Don't act as bait.

Don't be a hero.

He is deaf to every call, and repeats it over and over again: that everything will be fine, that there is no need to cry. That he has to go for Max, for Eddie. He must distract an army of demogorgons and demobats long enough for El to reach Vecna and destroy him.

That there's no room for mistakes, you answer, cold.

"There won't be mistakes. It won't take long" He presses a kiss on your forehead, forcefully, leaving the imprint of his lips to burn your skin like an indelible mark.

"I'm coming with you" He shakes his head, yells something at Hopper who grabs you, holds you so you can't run away and follow him. Steve smiles at you, before running away.

"Can you forgive me?" You do not answer, just shake your head. He lets a hand slip through your hair stained with blood and sweat and you squirm, to cling to him and prevent him from going.

"Forgive me" He repeats, but this time it's not a question. t's a goodbye.

A farewell.

"You can't leave," you whisper to the wind, letting your tired body go limp in Hopper's arms. Steve has no more answers to give you.

Steve is gone.

If you die, I will too.

After

"You should stop thinking about him" Your sobs tear apart the artificial existence in which the city has been immersed for months, as it tries to get back on its feet. You too are trying to do it, but you can't.

"Damn, y/n!» Tommy scolds you."Stop Crying for him" He tells you that you have to forget, erase, discolor every memory you have left of Steve: that this is how you go on. He tells you that you revel in those thoughts, in your desperation, that maybe you even like it.

It's not true. Oh God, thinking about him isn't pleasant but Steve is part of your confused and ripped soul. You litterally feel the thought of him move with your every breath and it risks disappearing. You don't want to. He is an uncomfortable, painful memory, but you bear it as you bear yourself. He is part of you. That's all you have. Tommy doesn't understand.

Tommy knows nothing.

"You need to stop acting like a widow"

But then you see him cry as soon as he turns the corner.

*

Nancy and Jonathan get married in summer. Nance is a bride who won't be drenched in rain, but who will still have the good fortune she deserves. "Wet bride, lucky bride" Your grandmother used to say.

You're the bridesmaid and you wish you were happier than that, but some days are there to remind you that someone is missing. No, it's a lie: there isn't a day you don't think about him.

"You know, y/n" Nance whispers to you, all wrapped up in her  white dress. Steve once told you that he would have liked to see you dressed like this one day. That he would have  liked to watch you walk down the aisle, then live happily with a large and numerous family. But they were just dreams and lies.

Steve got himself killed and you're left alone. "Forgive me" The echo of his last words echoes in your head. The thing that hurts the most is that you don't even know if they are really his last words, because you weren't there. You weren't with him as he died.

He didn't let you.

Forgive me.

Truth is that deep down you are unable to do it. He is the one to blame for having gone in Hopper's place, for having chosen death rather than a life with you. But you can't tell anyone, it's such a bad thing  and no one would understand.

Only Steve would, but he's not there.

"They say Carl Winchester left his wife and moved back to town. You liked him so much when we were youn.  you could..." Nancy continues. "No" you answer, freezing her with a look. "I can't "

"It's been two years y/n" Nance notes, trying to erase the emotion that suddenly strikes her. You would feel guilty if you had room for any feeling other than pain.

"He would like you to move on"

"He would also like to be alive." You whisper. "He would want to be here, to dance with me. Dance with El and Rob and embarrass Dust. But he can't do anything about it no matter what he wants. Because he's not here." She closes her eyes, inspires deeply. She grabs your hand, squeezes it lightly and she feels bad when she watches Jonathan laughing with Will and she inevitably thinks she is lucky. In her heart, Nancy feels relieved it wasn't her, them. And she apologizes to Steve wherever he is. She apologizes to you, without speaking.

"But I'm here and I would like you to go on"

You sigh, wipe away a tear with your thumb. You Imagine it's Steve's.

"I'm looking for a soul like his" you smile, sad. "one similar to mine"

Again

He has been waiting for you for so long that to enumerate, to collect and when you go beyond the veil or whatever this strange fog is that divides the living from the dead, he is there to scream your name. And you reciprocate, running, ending up on him in that incorporeal embrace that perhaps something bodily preserves. He lets his hands run down your back, through your hair, over your face.

Your skin is different, but always soft, young. Far too young. You've grown up, but you haven't gotten old. You couldn't.

It's been 10 years, anyway

"I'm sorry" he whispers, stroking your head. "I never wanted you to leave like this" he observes you, with eyes so bright that for a moment you forget where you are. Or why. You have nothing to say. You left as it was right that you did, after enlisting in the police and moving to Chicago you were injured on a mission, to save others.

Just like he did.

Exactly as you know he would have continued to do if he had survived his over  twenty-one years "It was a soulless life, Stevie." you answer, intertwining your fingers with his. "Can you imagine that?"Beyond the veil, you smile.

It ends like this, on a cold December day, with the snow falling on the cold body of a woman who doesn't want to go back, because she has reached her goal.

She has reached her home again.

One minute you're there, the next you're with him. And that's okay.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington x fem!oc #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington whump #Steve harrington dies #steve harrington fluff #jim hopper #eddie munson #st4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you

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TRUE COLORS - BRIAN "OTIS" ZVONECEK

'Cause my boy Otis deserves better

Summary:When you spend your time at 51, you draw Otis on the sly. Everyone notices it, except him. Until fate gets in the way

Word Count: 2.5 k

Maybe it's the way he moves his hands. Maybe it's how he moves the dark curls from his face. Maybe it's the way he wrinkles his nose when he's tired after the shift and starts working at Molly's, tirelessly.

Or it's the way he writes, with his head slightly tilted to the left.

It could be just the way the light fits between his features and makes him pure, bringing out his light skin stained by many small moles. Perhaps it's his dark eyes.

You really don't know. You just can't help but drawing him.

You'd like to draw his eyes after you've seen them even closer and realized how deep they really are, because you're sure they are, more than anything else in the world. Or, again, maybe it's the way he curls his lips as he smiles.

It's probably all together and he doesn't even realize it while a few meters away you're crouched on a chair, in a corner of the 51, almost invisible and your hand moves over a sheet and captures his image, without mistakes or smudges. You could be drawing Brian with your eyes closed by now.

"Are you still here?" Your half-sister, Leslie, asks, noticing you. You've been spending a lot of time at the 51 lately (and equally at the Molly's) officially because you're soon to be Boden's new secretary, secondly to spend time with Lesley. What you didn't expect was to find yourself spending most of your free time observing Brian, scribbling his face here and there, forcing yourself from time to time to portray other colleagues as well so as not to arouse suspicion. "Let me work Lesl" You reply, letting the pen run across the paper noisily. "Our Little Artist" Kelly teases you, ruffling your hair.

"When will you set up an exhibition with our portraits?" Herman asks, chuckling. "That wouldn't be a bad idea you know" Mills replies, winking. "Think about it y/n" You smile uneasily.

"I should find better models" You reply as Cruz and Otis - Brian - shake their heads. "Listen to the nonsense" Your eyes meet and you smile at him and he reciprocates before the siren of the imminent call forces him to leave. You sigh.

He fascinates you just like he torments you, you long for him and at the same time you are afraid to get to know him better. There's something sweet, genuine about him and you admire his courage and his work, but at the same time you're terrified because deep down what do you have to offer? What can make you interesting to him? You're just a failed student who needs to work here to make some money, a failed artist who has lost her inspiration, who can't help her sister in a difficult moment, who didn't get a degree, who can't control the emotions.

"You never color it" Boden has noticed one day, admiring your drawings. "I think it would ruin it" You have replied. The truth is that you are convinced that to do this, especially when it comes to Brian, you should need to see the color gradations of his skin, his face, his freckles or his eyes. It is incorrect to portray a subject and complete it inaccurately. You will use color on his drawings when and if you can see him at very close range. Closer than the Molly's counter or the 51. For now you settle for pencil or pen.

Sometimes you dwell too much on his well-defined lips. It's one of the parts you like to draw the most, after the eyes. Then you look at the finished drawing and wonder if you are experiencing something that will never happen, or not experiencing it at all. And with every call they come back with wounded expressions from a difficult intervention and some new scar on the body or the soul ans you wonder if it really makes sense to waste all this time.

It must be said : fate works in a curious way at times.

You're -again- drawing Brian, he's wearing his uniform and he's approaching the truck laughing with Mouch. The 51 is quieter than usual today and there are few calls, an unusual thing but you don't mind. You smile when Brian turns to face you and pretend to be focusing on someone else, momentarily terrified that he will think you're crazy. You place your pen on the table in front of you, tie your hair into a spooky ponytail, then start over with the care you reserve for important things. Brian  sighs, turning back in your direction, Mouch's hand on his shoulder as he shakes his head repeatedly. You wonder what they're talking about, you get the distinct feeling that it's you, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Stupid little girl.

" Someone has a crush" it's a voice behind you. The worst voice you could hear in this situation: Joe Cruz. Brian's best friend, roommate, his other half.

"Of all of us Otis? Why?" Cruz sits across from you, a hand under his chin and an inquisitive expression on his face that does not hide his happy grin. And you're terrified, now there's no way Brian won't know about it now. "I don't have a crush. I draw all of you Cruz" you reply, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"Yeah sure. You draw me once in a while, once of Herman, maybe three times of Kelly because it's particularly handsome, but I'm sure most of them are about Otis." You shake your head.

"What makes you think that?"

"I've been watching you Little Shay. You know, it's pretty obvious. You're not as good as you think at hiding." You open your eyes suddenly and feel your face get hot with embarrassment. Brian's eyes are still fixed on you and this with Cruz's words short-circuit you.

"If I were you I'd make a move" You need some fresh air. You get up and head for the exit, forgetting the notebook with your drawings on the table in a hurry.

When you come back for it, an hour and two cigarettes later, it's gone.

Two days, seven hours and a new notebook later, your half-sister has abandoned you at Molly's, a beer in front of you to finish and the light chatter of the last remaining customers. Someone sits next to you and lets their chair clatter to the floor. You don't turn around and stay focused on the beer because you know all too well who's next to you. Your senses alert, your heart furious. Brian.

"It's amazing" the voice is warm, but slightly high in pitch and secretly insecure. You shrug. "Thank you" you reply. Your brain is so muddy that you don't even wonder what it's referring to

"This is yours" now you look up and you see it. Brian's hand just reaching out to give you back the notebook. You stare at him dumbfounded. You admire the way the light falls on his face, how he smiled lightly and the lips you've always drawn so carefully, even more beautiful at that non-distance. For several seconds you don't say anything, but you stay still to study him, to study his colors, his embarrassed, sweet expression. Everything seems to stop to you.

"Otis, can you close?" Question Herman before leaving the pub, making you awaken and ashamed at the same time, realizing what you're getting into. You take the notebook without saying a word and start to get up and leave, but the boy's hand stops you, gently grabbing you by the wrist. It is soft, despite the hard work his skin is not rough. His warm skin seems to burn yours, leaving invisible marks.

You look at his fingers wrapped around your wrist, then at him, his dark eyes still fixed on you. He lets you go slowly, almost reluctant to break the contactn and you realize that he has the power to make you sit back, without saying a word.

"Sorry," you say sheepishly, looking away and letting your hair fall in front of your face to cover the blush on your cheeks.

"You shouldn't apologize" He replies, continuing to observe you. You feel his hand approaching your face, his fingers lingering near your hair, and you know what he's about to do, and you wish he would. You would like to him slowly pull your hair back, put it behind your ear, to let his big fingers slide against your skin and you would like to tilt your head to one side, to let yourself go to that contact. But he doesn't.

After a few moments he pulls his hand away, thinking maybe he's going too far.

Sure, your notebook is filled with portraits of him, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

"You're good" He whispers. "You're really good little Shay, you shouldn't waste such a talent." You just smile, let a sheepish chuckle leave your lips. Brian doesn't say it, but he feels like he's never heard a better sound in his life. He wonders how he didn't notice it before. Of course, as soon as you arrived at 51 he immediately set his sights on you, but he never really did it with an intention: partly because you are Shay's little sister, partly because he never thought he had any chance despite what Cruz said.

In short, Cruz doesn't always have brilliant intuitions when it comes to women.

Maybe Dawson's jokes could have enlightened him, sure, but anyway...Brian has never been a phenomenon with girls, in a barracks full of men like Kelly Severide why would you have to look at him? And instead you looked at him all the time, drew him so much that it filled entire pages, tracing his features with a pen and making him look much more handsome, bold, courageous, appreciable than he probably was. Because you see him this way.

"At first I didn't know whether to come to you or keep the notebook," he admits. "Then I thought it was a good excuse to talk to you."

"You don't need an excuse to talk to me Brian" you answers automatically, without thinking. He smiles, feels his heart melt in his chest. Hardly anyone calls him Brian, especially at the station.

"I needed to find the courage" he murmurs, clearing his throat. "It's easy in the barracks, between one joke and another but talking... I mean for real... It is different. Especially with someone like you"

"Someone like me?" you raise an eyebrow as he smiles. He is impossibly beautiful as his cheeks turn pink.

"An interesting girl, a curious one. An artist y/n"

"You're the only one who thinks of me like that. Artist."

He shakes his head. "That's not true, we all think so and if you start showing your drawings the whole world would do it" You shyly grab his hand which is still on the table.

"Thank you, you don't know how much this means to me." He hold yours back and intertwines his fingers with yours. He seems made to hold your hand, he seems born to grab you, to keep you close. And you wonder if hugging him gives the same effect, if even his lips are made to kiss yours.

"Listen, y / n ...." he takes on a serious tone of voice and you almost worry.

"Why have you never colored me? I mean, do you see me in black and white somehow? Does my aura tell you something? I'm not an artist, so I don't really know how these things work, but it scared me to death. Do you see me in any strange way?" he looks nervous

"Is that what worries you?"

"What else should?"

"I mean you find the notebook of someone who drew you too many times to count and you're worried about the fact that I don't color you?" you use a hint of sarcasm, realizing this confuses you.

Part of you feared there would be a different reaction, not anger knowing Otis, but at least a detachment, a rebuke. Anyone else would have been upset, but not him, he seems happy. He studies you carefully.

"You think I haven't seen you?" Your eyes widen and total silence envelops you. "What?" You're the one who doesn't understand now.

"Do you really think I haven't noticed that you spent your time looking at me and drawing me?" he shakes his head, amused by your shocked expression  "You've been going on like this for months, aren't you going to pretend that you don't believe me?"

"I..." You can't say more. He laughs and you look at him, and then start laughing , because Brian has written "liar" on his forehead. "No, you didn't understand a damn thing my dear Brian" You retort.

"Oh I don't, but Cruz does. It was just hard to believe"

"And why?"

Brian doesn't answer, he caresses his goatee thoughtfully and you understand that you won't get the truth. Not yet. "Because you're beautiful y/n, people like you fly too many meters higher then me. In short..."

"I've looked at you from the start, Brian." You confess, this time without shame, your will to make him happy is stronger than any embarrassment. You know he needs to know it, to realize his value, for once to be the protagonist, the hero of your story, of your drawings, of your life. Him and no one else.

When silence returns, he turns to you again.

"So? Why didn't you color me?"

"I've never colored you because... I had to see you up close, really close, to be able to color you the way I want" you simply reply and he opens his mouth to say something, but he can't formulate anything, not when you continue. "Modigliani painted empty eyes, without pupils, because he couldn't paint what he didn't know: the souls of the people he was portraying. He only painted those of his partner Jeanne. I suppose it's the same for me. I can't color you without knowing the your true colors, without knowing what undertone your skin is or the paths that the veins form on your body."

Without realizing it, you've started to run your fingertip along his wrist, where the vein pulsates under the skin.

"Do you think." His voice is hoarse, scratched with emotion and excitement. "Do you think you'll give me the chance to let you find out?" He asks shyly. You nod with a slight smile.

"Are you asking me out Brian?"

"I'm asking you for dinner, then let's see what happens."

"Only one?"

"Maybe more than one"

#brian zvonecek #chicago fire x reader #otis x reader #brian zvonecek x reader #Brian otis zvonecek x reader #Chicago fire otis #Otis chicago fire #Otis chicago fire x reader #brian otis zvonecek #Brian zvonecek imagine #chicago fire imagine #Matthew Casey x reader #kelly severide #kelly severide x reader #chicago pd imagine #Joe Cruz #Joe Cruz x reader #gabriela dawson #Leslie Shay x reader #chicago fire fanfic

[persage]

My Best Gift - S. HARRINGTON

I wanted to post it on Christmas - yes, it's a silly fluffy Christmas story- but it was a busy time and now here we are a little late but I still hope you enjoy it.

Summary: Steve is resigned to spend Christmas alone. He certainly doesn't imagine that Robin has planned a surprise for him, much less seeing someone he honestly believed he would never see again and that he misses more than he cares to admit.

Words Count: 3.5 k

Tags: none, just some Fluff I needed on Christmas time. It's silly but I promise it's cute

Steve Harrington is ready to spend a serene and peaceful Christmas, just him, his father's good whiskey and a good action movie. A calm evening, for the first time in a long time without family dramas, parents in quarrels, embarrassing silences or equally embarrassing reproaches. Also without Nancy and her family, but Steve prefers not to think about it. With them he spent the first happy Christmas with a family of his entire life, then he just lost them. Being alone on Christmas day is not sad and it is not pathetic and he has no intention of indulging in excessive thinking, he will enjoy the peace like a grown man.

Like a Harrington.

After wishing Dustin and Rob and everyone else happy holidays, reassuring an unspecified number of people that "No, I won't be alone", giving Robin and the kids his presents, now Steve clutches the remote in his hands and think back to Joyce Byers' unexpected invitation and the way in which for a moment, just one, he has risked calling her mom. He feels pathetic now.

Dinner time approaches, but he has no desire to start cooking, so he shrugs, concentrating on the colorful images that pass before him on TV. He takes a gulp of warm alcohol down his throat, which burns like pure fire and he is about to light a cigarette when the doorbell rings and for a moment he lets himself be taken by the stupid fantasy that it could be his parents, that they have come home  to surprise him and he runs towards the door without even realizing it, like a child who hopes to be able to see Santa. His heart sinks into an abyss, a dark place that he didn't even know he owned, when opening the door he finds nothing but darkness and silence waiting for him. He wants to cry to be honest, like a stupid little boy.

But before he can slam the door as hard as he is able, Robin's face peeks out. He doesn't have the chance to say anything because a pair of arms tighten around his neck and he immediately catches a scent that he knows well and calms him down. "Dingus!" Robin exclaimes happily, pulling away.

"Rob? What are you doing here? I thought... "

"Did you really think we'd let you celebrate Christmas alone?"

He raises his eyebrows in defiance, spreading his arms to make room for a series of all too familiar heads and faces and this time Steve has to use all his strength not to be moved and start crying for real, because his real family is here and for the first time he is not alone."Merry Christmas Steve"  Nancy says, making her way with Jonathan,  a turkey in her hands. She places a kiss on Steve's cheek standing up on her toes and Jonathan squeezes his shoulder and after all that has happened this is enough for him to know that everything is okay, that they are friends, that they can be together without embarrassment or resentment.

"I'll put this in the kitchen" she shouts, smiling at him. Steve lets his gaze slide over Robin, her open jacket, her red sweater and a Christmas hat identical to Max's one, who wears it with a much less happy expression than Buckley. Envelopes of every shape and color protrude from her feet.

"What are you waiting? Will you let us in?" Dustin asks, in a fake annoyed tone, actually smiling to the point that Steve fears his cheeks might come off.

"And your families?" He asks shyly, still fearful that now they might leave again. They enter the house one by one, greeting him, some with a nod, some with a hug. "They'll understand" Max replies, trying not to show satisfaction in seeing Steve so excited.

"You don't get rid of us, man." Lucas continues, bypassing him and entering the house, where Nancy is already beginning to dictate orders. One by one Dustin, Robin, Max and Lucas, even Will, Mike (who would rather be anywhere else) and El file past him. He can't deny it, this is a surprise, more like a Christmas miracle... And for a moment he feels different, lighter, more carefree. Steve Harrington feels happy. He is not used to that feeling during Cristhmas. He looks down at the ground and shakes his head, unable, however, to stop smiling. When he thinks that parade of his people is over and that there are no more intruders to let into the house, he gently pushes the door with a wave of his arm, and turns towards the living room. Before he hears the door close, however, he senses someone coughing lightly, and a voice comes clear and distinct.

"You won't let me in?"

Steve's eyes widen, because he's sure he knows who this voice belongs to and up until now he's been sure he won't be hearing it again any time soon. His breath catches in his chest. In a second he turns back towards the entrance, where the toe of a black shoes block the door from closing.

"Y/n?" He mumbles before meeting your face again. He hurries to open the door all the way back and immediately freezes to the spot. In front of him, wrapped in a black coat,  hair scattered around your face and eyes brighter than the stars exactly as he remembered them, you star at him with a faintly hinted smile on your face.

"Oh my god y/n" his voice shakes  more than he wants to, so he fakes a  a cough, while Robin looks at him knowingly and a sly smile. You star at him for a few more moments, just a fraction of a second, before dropping the envelope and purse on the floor and throwing yourself into his arms. After all it's been a while since you last saw him, before your parents forced you to leave Hawkins and move.

Hardest experience of your life.

You still remember the day of departure, passing in front of your friends' houses, you have flooded your clothes with tears and thought about everything you left behind and the things you never had the courage to say and do. And all these things are now here, in front of you and they are looking at you with the biggest eyes in the world.

Incredulous.

Because Steve Harrington has always been your biggest regret and your only desire.

"Steve." You sigh against his skin, so happy to finally be here that you almost shiver. When Robin Buckley has called you to ask you to join her in Hawkins, she really thought you couldn't do it, given the short time in which she had organized the surprise for Steve. "You'll be his Christmas present!" And you had thought of a joke and you had anxiety until you had Robin in front of you and she smiled and embraced you happily, as if your presence could really be a gift. Yet here you are, with the boy you thought you hated so much as a child, only to discover that you felt everything for him except hate, that never really felt anything but love.

"What... What are you doing here? You should... Be on the other side of the world. I haven't seen you in..." He strokes your hair lightly, then he grabs your face in his big hands and squeezes it tightly to check if you are real. "One Year and Three Months Stevie" And after saying that he squeezes it a little tighter, because he probably just realizes right now how much time has actually passed. You are one of the things Steve tries not to think about, filed away in a corner of his heart where your absence can't hurt him. You wrote to each other in the beginning, even quite often, but then it just became too difficult. He moves away a little, just enough to look you in the eye, and none of you try to hide the surprise and the smiles. Somewhere deep down there are  regret and the fear too.

"You are... Changed." he says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You've gotten slightly taller and your cheeks have taken on color and are fuller than the last time he saw you, when the upside-down chores were slowly draining you. You seem healthier, calmer and happier, safer than you will ever be here. With him.

"You too Harrington look...Grown up. A man"

He doesn't answer and you continue. "I guess being a hero makes you grow up fast" You burst into a nervous laugh and look down at the toes of your boots.

"Sorry, it's just that... I'm nervous" He shakes his head.

"Don't be y/n, this is still your home." You observe him, the words get caught on your tongue, stumble and never come out right.

I love you. I miss you. I wished I was here.

And instead all you can say is "I know things have happened...Bad. Difficult. I.." Steve closes his eyes, trying to erase the images of StarCourt, of the Russians, of Billy. Hopper. You have lost so many things but honestly he is happy about it. When he opens them you're watching him worried, his fingers reach your cheek again, gently brushing it

"Yes but I'm glad you weren't there. I prefer to know you're safe"

You smile, softly, placing your hand on his still firm on your skin. You're about to reply that you wish you were here just to keep him safe but Dustin's voice cuts you off.

"Lovebirds, would you do us the favor of coming here?" Stepping back, he coughs lightly as a blush spreads across his cheeks. "Come on, before someone destroys my house." He leans in towards you, reaching out to close the door behind you, and for a tiny instant, you were numb by the scent of him. The moment soon vanishes as he takes you by the hand and leads you to the room where all the voices come from.

"Steve, you haven't even decorated the tree!"

Nancy says shocked. When her eyes lock on your clasped hands, she just smiles at you sweetly.

"It's not like I exactly expected to spend Christmas like this." He tries to justify himself, earning a series of insults and "You're terrible!" from the rest of the company. "As if you mind," Dustin teases. "I'm the one who minds being here actually" Mike mutters slyly.

An hour later Steve is leaning over the dining table, a glass of white wine in his hands and watches as Lucas and Will attempt to scramble over each other to position the three topper. Robin and Jonathan burst into laugh after noticing they brought the same kind of decorations. You and El are trying in every way to whiten the tips of the tree to simulate snow. Right now, while looking at his friends, Steve again perceives this feeling: pure joy. It's has nothing to do with food, gifts or Christmas lights.

It is more a warmth,  something that objects can't bring people. He feels it again, this damned wonderful overwhelming happiness, when, having puffed and abandoned the hard work you've been doing, you look up at him and smile at him from across the hall.

You are here.

You're here, for real and Steve already feels the pain of having to let you go again. But you're here and he can hold you,  kiss your hair, talk to you. It's the best gift ever. He still remembers so distinctly the moment he met you, you were just a little thing, so small you looked like a doll running around the garden of his house and rolling with him among the flowers that his mother cared for more than her own son and Steve hated to death. He remembers your little hand hanging a drawing of the two of you on his bedroom wall. He rembers you throwing your head back and laughing by the sea when Tommy and Carol dragged you for a weekend away from the city routine and then you hiding your tears at Barbara Holland's funeral, trying to be strong and breaking down anyway, shattered in front of an empty coffin, devoured by guilt. There is no memory of his childhood or adolescence that does not involve you, or that he cannot be traced back to you. Even after your departure in every memory you are, a distant thought. Now that you're here everything seems to be back exactly as before. And even if he doesn't even know what heaven is, Steve Harrington feels very close to it. The dinner is not as perfect as Robin planned it, but no less exciting. As she studies her best friend sitting next to you, she still can't believe she haa managed to bring you home. You laugh with Nance and Jonathan. Dustin, Will and the boys are chatting across the table. Robin feels like a little girl waiting for her presents and always leaving a plate of cookies and a glass of milk by the fireplace.

In the imperfection of her life and the difficulties that her family has to face, she has managed to do something great for Steve and this is the most precious gift in the world. If everything they've been through has brought them here, Robin is ready to face it all again. There is nothing  she could want more then her dingus being in peace. You wake up abruptly, still upside down from the jet leg, in the living room, lit only by the tree surrounded by colored lights.

You must have collapsed just a few hours ago, curled up on Steve's couch - specifically next to him, surrounded by his perfume - and now you see your friends curled up in their sleeping bags scattered around the room, each too tired to even notice they're asleep on the floor. Shifting the blanket someone must have wrapped you in after you fell asleep, you decide to use it to cover Max, lying on the other side of the sofa clutching one of the large pillows to her chest, her hand left dangling down to where Lucas promptly reached out to squeeze it . With all the delicacy of which you are capable, you place your feet on the floor and try to get around the various sleeping bags scattered along the room. Luckily, you manage to make it to the kitchen without waking anyone – not that they could have woken up anyway – but noticing a light on.

Before you can even think anything, your eyes met the figure of Steve who has his back at you, wrapped in a burgundy sweatshirt and wearing a pair of shorts. You've missed seeing him so calm, so relaxed. You just missed him to tell the truth, more than you expected.

"What are you doing up?" You ask in a low voice, leaning an arm against the counter and waiting for him to turn around.When he does, he runs a hand through his messy hair and smiles at you.

"I can't sleep" he explains to you, placing a cup on the counter. You catch the movement and narrow your eyes. "By chance is that...?"

"You caught me." He raises his hands in surrender.

"Hot chocolate. Oh, God... You shouldn't have done it without me it's pur thing Steve!" You scold him, silently approaching and trying to suppress a grin. Chocolate has always been their ritual during the endless study afternoons, spent doing everything but study.

"I am sorry... "

"Now, my dear Harrington, I shall be forced to take serious measures."

You threaten. Before he can do anything, you've gotten very close and managed to grab onto his hips. You begin to tickle him when he tries to move, but you're faster and let your hands slide under the sweatshirt, on the abdomen and Steve is shaken by a series of irrepressible laughter. "I give up, I give up!" He almost screams, grabbing your wrists and finally managing to stop you.

"What do you have to say in your defense?" You lift your chin to him, closer than you've ever been all evening, and your smile fades as you notice Steve's eyes roaming over your lips tracing them with his gaze. Just do it. Please . But don't speak, in fact your breath catches in your chest. Everything is exactly like in the good old days.

Immediately he releases your wrists.

"Steve" You mumble confused by whatever is going on, this is enough to bring him back from the trance he seems to have fallen into. Steve turns and leans towards the top right locker where he keeps his cups, with his back to you. "A cup of hot chocolate on the way." He mutters, you try to suppress the sigh you feel growing in the center of her chest. "I missed you, you know?" You confess with a half smile, going to sit on the opposite counter, continuing to observe his back. It's nothing new, you know what there is between you, affection, Devotion but sometimes it's feels like it could be so much more it actually hurts.

"I would have liked to keep in touch, to contact you more often..." He starts.

" I know it. It looked wrong. ridiculous. I get it, really." you interrupt him. He still won't look at you. "I'm glad you're okay." You continue."I'm glad you're okay too. Thank God you are safe. I would die if everything ever happens to you Steve." Only now  he turns around, hitting you with the intensity of his gaze "I missed you too. You don't know how much, princess" As soon as you hear that nickname, that stupid nickname he gave you years and years ago, your heart skips a beat. And you blame the memories, you blame Christmas and the distance, for what you do afterwards. While Steve walks up to you carrying the hot cup, it's easy to take it out of his hand and place it behind you. It's easy to grab hold of his fingers that you know as your own and bring him close, just as it's easy to stare at him from below without letting go. The easiest thing, however, is to close your eyes. Close your eyes and wait, as you have done since you were twelve, when you finally understood that there is no person in the world more similar to you, more suited to you than stupid Steve Harrington. And that's why, in the end, you fell in love with him hard.

The long-awaited kiss reaches you,  the only light that remains is the sensation of this moment, imperfect as it has always been between you two, but nothing less than exceptional. You sense the initial awkwardness, which, of course, has nothing to do with inexperience– Steve seems born to kiss ypu and make it seem like the simplest thing in the whole universe. It's an embarrassment that says "you've been my best friend since before I even remotely looked like a girl, but now you want me and I want you and here we are" and likewise you feel it fade, giving way to an ease you haven't felt with anyone else.

The romantic side of your mind suggests it's because he knows you better than any other guy.

Steve, who has leaned over your legs stretching his neck towards your face as if a natural thing, moves his left hand towards his side, and only now  you suddenly realize you want him closer, you need him. Therefore you surround his waist with your legs and cling to the collar of his sweatshirt, devouring his mouth in a need that has been ignited since he held you in his arms in front of the door. Despite the desire, however, you are  this is Steve you are kissing now and you must know what the hell it means to him before doing something you could regret. In the same moment in which Steve starts to move away slightly, you do it  too and finally open your eyes.

"I wish I hadn't waited a year to be able to do it." He whispers softly, letting the fingers of his right hand get lost behind your neck, in your soft hair. And it's enough for you, for him and for everything you've never said.

For now, that's enough.

"You've always been slow Harrington"you scold him, trying with all your strength not to smile at him, "Give me a good reason to stay Steve" He leans down once more to kiss you.This time, you both smile.

This time you will never leave.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #st4 #jim hopper #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!oc #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things 4

[persage]

take my hand and I’ll take yours too

PAIRING: Steve Harrington x Bestfriend!Reader

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: fem!reader, friends to lovers, so much mutual pining, more angst than fluff, MAJOR hurt/comfort, graphic character death—through nightmares (no one actually dies)

His breathing is so quiet it makes you think he’s not even breathing at all. The only tell that he’s still here is the slow rise and fall of his chest—something you only noticed once you tried to find it.

Despite being in the safety of Steve’s bed—and him by your side—your fear still keeps you up in the middle of the night. Every time you toss and turn, you’re afraid it’ll wake him up, but you think he’s definitely out like a rock. It would probably take an explosion to wake him up right now.

The two of you had a long day. So did the kids, but being the designated babysitters, you were the ones who had the right to collapse as soon as you got in the house.

After… everything, it’s been a silent agreement between you and Steve that you’d stay with him at his house for the time being. The bed sharing had not been planned, but Steve had insisted. He claimed having someone near helped him sleep better, but you knew he was doing it for you.

He’s not the one with the nightmares.

But tonight it seems, he is.

Continua a leggere

[persage]

SW: no bc when akane sacrificed herself for aguni and he went unhinged on the king of spades for it…and then she spent all day crawling to him despite her horrific injuries just to be with him when the game ended. yeah. that’s all i’ve thought about since finishing it.

[persage]

Free Guy (2021) dir. Shawn Levy

[persage]

A little less awful - Shane Walsh

Summary: When Shane comes close to losing you, he realizes that just the idea scares him more than he thought. But things aren't easy, not with a man like him.

(Post S2) Shane Walsh x Reader

Usually I only write about Steve Harrington, but this time I wanted to try something different. I know Shane isn't the good guy, I know he's not that loved too, but he's given me a great inspiration to write (and then every once in a while my love for morally gray characters takes over) so here's this little work because i admit, it's my fault, but i wish I could see more of Shane. Also my man Jon Bernthal deserves everything.

Words: 3k

It's a rustle in the middle of the meadow, broken branches and trampled dry leaves. The noise of quick footsteps and heavy breathing approaching. A thud, a moan and then footsteps again. You run fast in the direction of an abandoned house and behind you a horde of walkers is chasing you, so many that this time you can't help but think it's over. Really over.

You've been scared many times since this hell started devastating the whole world, your life and erasing what you've known. You were scared when you saw your father transform, your friends die -  by the walkers or equally monstrous men - but you have never  feared for your life like you are doing now. It's just that things have been going well for a while, far too long, and you felt like you could manage to live in peace here. You were obviously wrong.

You have only one thought in mind. It's the face of a man, his strong features, short hair that is growing back,  eyes darker than the night, so full of demons that only you know how to keep at bay. If you don't reach the cottage soon the walkers will make you their meal and no, you don't want to die. For you. For him. He'll never admit it openly, he's not a man of big demonstrations, but you know you're the one holding him together, that if you die he falls apart.

Also you don't want to die before hearing those words leave his lips. You don't want to die before you know that there is still some hope in the world, some kind of love. Above all you don't want to die to feed these damned monsters.

Out of breath  you let go in a cry of frustration, while you feel your legs getting weaker the only thing that drives you is the adrenaline. With one last desperate shot you reach the house and he's here, rifle in hand, ready as always.

"Shane!" you scream. You have never been so happy to see him in your life.

"Go inside, hurry!" he replies as bullets whiz through the air, impacting what remains of the walkers rotting skulls. You mentally thank the fortuitous coincidence that made you find an armory on your path weeks ago, there was nothing left but an old silencer hidden in a corner. Your little miracle. You see Shane drop his stoic mask for a moment when he runs out of bullets, or maybe it's the rifle jamming, you don't know, you don't understand and you don't have time to do it, you grab the hunting knife placed on the chair behind you, in the small veranda of the house. With a small jerk, ignoring his protests, you move away to stab one of the two remaining walkers in the head, splashing all the blood around. Shane is immediately at your side, ready to kill the other with his dagger. Then, making sure they're all dead, he turns around and, with his back to you, walks towards the house.Your home. You silently observe the tortured dead bodies. You wonder if one day you'll find a familiar face among them, you wonder if anyone will find yours, if they will ever have compassion.

You don't have any, you can't. Shane taught you that you don't have to have any to survive.

"Shane" you began by breaking the silence as soon as you reach him, leaning against the wall for support. You're so tired you just want to fall to the ground, but you can't. You don't want to be weak, not in front of him. He 's always so strong, ready, invincible.

Sometimes you wonder if he's even human.

When you found him wounded in a field months ago, none of your old group gave him a chance of survival, no one wanted to take him with you except for you and Arnold, a former war doctor. Arnold was good and if it wasn't for him Shane would be dead. It was your job to take care of him. He was unconscious and in the throes of a delirious fever and you dragged him along with a makeshift stretcher made of wood and rags for a day and a half without respite before finding a place to let him recover. The other members of the group left you with him and you didn't object, because people who leave behind a wounded but alive man - in a world where being alive is a privilege - will do the same with you.

Shane woke up 3 days later. It took him weeks to recover. He never told you what happened to him, he only said he deserved it. You didn't believe him, cause in the end you wanted him to be a good man. You wanted to know saving his life was worth it. Then you hit the road again, Arnold died and you two were left alone. You've become each other's only comfort, even though Shane Walsh is a difficult comfort, a difficult man that you sometimes feel you don't know. know nothing about. It's Ironic since he the only thing you have left in the world.

With the bloody knife still in hand he walks towards you. He's not threatening you, he wouldn't hurt you and you know it, that's why you stay still. "Y/n fuck! why do you always mess up? You're not able for once to....Keep quiet, not go wandering around almost getting caught by those bloody walkers. No cause there's always fucking Shane to save you ass" He yells. You look into his eyes for a few seconds.

"You could have left me there"

You reply without a single emotion in you voice, moving away from him without looking back. You know Shane is trying to grab your wrist, you know he stops before doing it. He looks at his arm outstretched towards you, the muscles, the hand shaking with anger and fear. He dropps the knife from his other hand and brought a hand to the back of his neck like he always does, then let it slide over his face and when you are gone, hiding in the only room of the house, he let himself slide to the floor, caught in the realization that this time he could have really lost you. That it can happend at any moment and it's not that he hasn't thought about it before but this is time... It was so close. So real. He feels something acid rise in his throat, a knot, a block of cement. He would like to throw up.

He wasn't there to protect you, like always.

Like he has never protected anyone, because Shane isn't able, because Rick has always been the one able to defend his people. He misses him, his brother.

He also misses Carl. And Lori.

They were family, the one he wanted to protect, the one he destroyed without apology or justification.

You screwed up, Walsh.

He looks at the closed door of the bedroom and Shane wonders if he's destroying you too. Since the moment he opehas opened his eyes and saw you cleaning his wounds he has decided he wanted to be better. he still does, he wants to try to find himself - the man he was before all this, who ran to the hospital to save his best friend, the policeman Shane Walsh - but a good person doesn't treat their loved ones like he treats you.

A good person doesn't hurt someone he cared about like he is hurting you, like he is ruining you with his only presence here. A good person wouldn't stay in this house so long. No, he should have followed the original plan: find you a safe place, with other good people because there must be someone like this in the world. Maybe Rick. He should have find him leave you with him and you would be safer.

He will do it.

Then he will go away forever, so as not to stain yourself with his darkness, with his madness. Because Shane has now discovered a beast in himself and is afraid that the time will come when he will not be able to contain it again. Truth is that every day he repeats himself that you will leave the next one and it never happens and every day the idea of letting you is harder to accept cause he is just an selfish peace of shit.

When evening falls, you barricade yourself in the house and light the fire in what is left of the fireplace, in silence, with brusque gestures that reveal nervousness. Shane kicks out a couple of squirrels and starts quietly skinning them with his knife, like Daryl taught him to do a while back. He throws you one without even looking at you and you sit cross-legged around the hearth, to roast what little meat you can get. You lack real food.

You're hungry and you're tired and you want to cry, but you don't.

Shane would think you're crying for him and it's not like that, really.

You don't care about his reaction, you don't care about his outburst and you don't care that he doesn't talk to you, that he doesn't trust you and that he keeps his distance when you just want human contact. It doesn't matter that he touches your hands and then builds walls between you, that he kisses your neck at night or holds you in your sleep like you are the most precious thing on earth without ever taking an extra step towards you. You don't care about these things, they can't matter when you're experiencing the end of the world, right?

You eat looking down, obviously hungry. Shane instead looks at you chewing slowly. Once finished he leans on his elbows, he sighs watching the fire dance in front of him, then you again, illuminated by the orange light of the flames.

You are pretty. No, you are beautiful.

Shane knows it, he's always known it, but now it's like having an apparition in front of his eyes. You're perfect even now, tired to the point of exhaustion, with dirty hai and badly tied hair while eating a squirrel. You're beautiful and you're the only thing he has. His angel, his savior. And he has no right to desire you, to have you by his side. He has no right to look at you like that. You lift your head crossing his gaze with arched eyebrows

"What are you looking at?"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." he replies unexpectedly. You throw away the remaining bones and clean your fingers as best you can, trying to have a semblance of elegance under his watchful eye. You hug your knees, sinking your face into them. Shane tilts his head, trying to catch your expression. He knows you're on edge and he's terrified of seeing you cry in front of him again, he's not good at that sort of thing anymore. Once, oh, once he was very good but now, now he's afraid of always making mistakes and he prefers not to try for fear of hurting you more. He doesn't want to hurt you, he can't bear the thought of letting anyone else down. He would rather die. And he hates that you have met him now, that you will never know a world where he was just Deputy Shane Walsh, and not Shane Walsh the survivor who tried to kill his best friend, the one who was sleeping with his wife, the one who wanted his family, the leader no one wanted, the hero no one recognized.

Shane Walsh, the villain from someone else's story.

"I'm sorry I made you angry." he adds, with a strange softness in his voice.

It hits you. Usually he would have just waited for your anger to subside and everything would have returned to normal, but something inside him changed and he couldn't say when. Stupid lonely man, stupid weak heart.

"It doesn't matter."You reply. You've almost resigned yourself to always seeming the weakest, it was like this even before, with your group and it's like this now. You want so much to look strong for a moment and show Shane how much potential you have, but after getting chased by a horde of walkers for trying to hunt something for him you think you've lost all hope. A cold shiver runs down your back and you unconsciously try to warm your arm with one hand

"I was a fool." You continue letting out a little sad laugh. You approach the fire with disjointed and awkward movements and he smiles without realizing it, finding your awkwardness terribly cute. He has seen you run miles of tree-lined paths, jump and scramble for survival with extreme ease and then you get stuck at the simplest things. It's sweet. Shane always says your problem is that you your head too much "And you don't use it at all"

He shakes his head, gets up and goes away. You, lost in thought, stare at the fire without wondering where he is going. When he comes back a few minutes later he has a blanket in his hands and sits next to you draping it over your shoulders.

"Thank you..." you whisper. "You must have thought I'm weak." Shane shakes his head again in disagreement

"No." he answers. You nod, holding back tears and rest your head on his shoulder slowly, for fear of a rejection that won't come. Before he can even feel your weight against his body, Shane is already hugging you, squeezing you affectionately. The truth is that he cares about you, he is afraid of losing you because he knows that if he loses you, he loses everything. His purpose is to keep you alive, to find a better place for you. Today he got scared but he never thought of you as weak, after all if you really from walkers, you would have been one of them. The only thought makes him shiver. You don't deserve such a terrible end.

You raise your head with slightly shining eyes and just smile tenderly. "Even if you treat me badly sometimes, I know you're a good person, deep down." you say. Shane looks you in the eye. His gaze is veiled in night yet sparkle with a new light that you have rarely seen in him and that you recognize immediately.

Affection. Devotion. Lust.

Shane wonders how he can hold on, how he can keep you away when you're the only thing keeping him grounded, wonders how he's done it so far because now that you're so close, with your soft skin ready to be kissed, he understands incredibly difficult. He Imagines the sensation of your warm skin under his big hands, the way your nails could dig into his back, the way your little hands would grip his shoulders, the softness of your voice becoming a moan softly begging his name.

He looks away, he'd better never have such thoughts. He couldn't think of you like that, you're... You're still good, still uncorrupted by the new world, still willing to believe there's something good in the world and he doesn't want to screw it up. But you don't care about this, about what he did, what he could do. You care that despite believing himself evil and dangerous, Shane Walsh has always protected you.

He has kept you alive. He has caressed you, with his fingers barely touching you, while the world tried to suffocate you. And you want more now, you want to discover all that Shane Walsh can be and give, you want to discover what it's like to be a part of him. He turns his head towards you again and it's the anticipation of something, the trepidation of a moment, you shiver under his warm and slow touch. His fingertips brush your ears as he brushes the hair away from your face.

"Are you still cold?" He asks. His voice is hoarse, broken. This strong and intrepid man you've seen defeating monsters, now he almost seems to be afraid of you. You grab his hand, he lets himself be guided as you bring it to your lips and kiss his fingertips.

"Y/n" he whispers.

"Don't say we can't, don't say that," you mutter.

"I can't... I don't" You shake your head.

"But do you want, Shane?" He can't deny it, he swallows letting his gaze run between your eyes and your lips, so damn close to his fingers that he feels your warm breath tickling him. "I don't want to hurt you"

You smile. "Let me" You begin "Let me prove to you that you can't hurt me Shane." he remains motionless, closes his eyes, a gesture of surrender as you approach and place a kiss on his cheek, long, then one closer to his lips. You hear him sigh as he grabs you by your hips with his big hand, squeezing the fabric of your sweatshirt.

"Shane" You whisper, moving towards his neck, leaving moist kisses in the way drawn by his veins, you can feel his heart beating and you think that today this is all that matters.

Warm flesh, beating hearts.

You and him.

Shane decides that right now he needs nothing more than to stay here. With you maybe the world will seem a little less awful.

#shane walsh #shane walsh imagine #shane walsh x you #shane walsh x reader #twd x y/n #twd x reader #twd imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x you #jon bernthal x reader #frank castle #rick grimes x you #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x reader

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the sound of your heartbeat [ brian zvonecek ]

SUMMARY ─  nothing is more relieving that to hear the sound of a loved ones heartbeat // @hauntedmilkshakeghost​

PROMPT ─ [ ways to say i love you 79 ] "I never imagined that someone’s heartbeat could sound so amazing.“

WARNINGS ─ female!reader, tw [ mentions of surgeries ], angst [ mentions of getting shot ] + general fluff [ reassurance, sweetness + kisses ]

AUTHORS NOTE ─ follows the storyline of season 06, episode 14//15 – if you haven’t watched these episodes, please consider skipping this as it will spoil those episodes for you

you had been in the middle of work – in the process of walking towards a quarterly meeting when you had gotten the call, not finding it odd that joe was calling your cell; as he did that from time to time and considering the two of you were great friends.

though, the words ‘brian got shot’ had you stopping in your tracks. your coworker had quickly reacted, stating they would inform the group of your sudden departure and ushered you off to go support your fiancé.

Continua a leggere

[persage]

Remember Me- Steve Harrington

Summary: Every morning Steve shows up at the coffee shop you work in and every morning you hope is the one where the cute stranger will finally talk to you. But it never happens and maybe you don't really need it. Yet, while you wait at the tables with a smile, you can't help but wonder why you feel like you've known him all your life.

Words count: 3.8k

Tags: Fluff and Angst. Post-season4 Steve Harrington / Post War/ Mentions of major character death.

Y/n smells like coffee and lemons. A strange mix that Steve still doesn't know whether its good or not. You move around the shop with a circumstantial smile on your face, a tray in your hands and a green apron used as an impassable wall against the rest of the world, your armor.

Yet you can't take your eyes off that customer, who oders American coffee every morning and sit at the table furthest from people. Sometimes he brings a curly-haired boy with him, other times there's a beautiful girl with big blue eyes - perhaps his girlfriend, perhaps a friend - and with them he smiles slightly more. But he is often alone and clarly wants to be.

You're sorry for that. You don't even know why, you have so much else to think about. You moved in the USA just a few years ago, from your  country you ended up in the middle of nowhere, in Indiana, and when you  arrived you discovered that this place is not as safe and boring as you believed. Strange deaths, accidents, earthquakes, natural disasters like it has been cursed and to be honest you have the feeling of having lost a good part of the time spent here. Now, apart from the fact that this place sucks, you should think about having fun, hanging out with boys, trying to make friends like your aunt says, but you don't. You go home at night and think of a sad stranger and you don't want to, you really don't want to but you do. Silly girl.

"What can I get you sir?" you ask, like every day. When he's alone he usually doesn't reply, he mumbles something under his mouth, looks into your eyes and points his finger at his choice. The menu next to the paper napkins is his voice and you like to listen to it.

"I'll bring it to you right away." There are no smiles between you, even if you would like to. Sometimes you've found yourself wanting a simple "thank you" said properly, not half-mouthed or in a whisper. Yet there's kindness even in the way he moves, the way he isolates himself and it's something you can't explain.

When you place the coffee on the table – a breath away from his fingers – he usually just looks at you. His are not eyes to remain indifferent to. It's not the color that makes them  so special, they're big and dark, but it's their depth, the way they seem to be a portal to that boy's soul, the way they peer into you and seem to contain not a shred of malice and seen too much. They look like a child's eyes, actually. They have something pure, sincere, tremendously tender and at the same time they contain the gaze of a veteran and they defeat you. He looks at you and you are chained. But that's okay, you wouldn't have tried to resist anyway.

He looks at you with something that reminds you of sweetness, hints at a half smile - the first - and this alone is enough to burn you inside,  even if it's snowing outside.

The boy doesn't like snow, he's always in a bad mood when it snows. One day you overheard him talking about it with his friend Dustin, Dexter, something like that. 

"Everytime I fear he is coming back"

"He can't, you know it . We made sure it can't happen again"

"Yes, but at what coast?" and his voice had broken in a yearning way, on the last syllable, like a raging river that you thought you would see burst. When you turned to look at him not a single emotion had appeared on his face. You would like to know what happened to him.

Everyday you look away from him when you realize you've spent too much time staring at him and walk away, ignoring the abandoned baconnotes on the table, silent like him. You feel stupid, a high school girl staring at the mysterious lonely boy. It's ironic and you don't know it yet, but there was a time Steve Harrington was the opposite of mysterious and lonely.

This morning it's different and you don't run away. You linger a moment too long on the marks that can be glimpsed from his shirt, scars on his neck that seem to continue under the fabric of his shirt for who knows how long. You've already noticed some small signs, but usually he's very careful to cover them. Today they are redder and more visible. You notice more scars, these never seen before, on his arms and you realize only now that he has cut his hair and when he moves them you notice and old wound on the left side of his face. 

If he wasn't around your age you'd really think he's a war veteran. You wonder what he must have been through and you don't notice his hand extended towards the cup, which meets yours. For the first time, you feel the contact with his skin, a silent echo of an unexpressed desire. You know nothing about him, barely his name. "Steve" You've heard from his friends. You know nothing of his life; still for an instant you dream of being part of it with all the monsters he must have fought to hurt himself like this. You talk with your eyes for as long as you stay close: you with a silent voice full of questions, he with a single answer. And it's always the same.

To each request, he reacts by moving his fingers, running along your palm and thumb, making red-hot marks that only you can see. You feel them, like burns on your skin, as if you are no longer in the cafeteria, surrounded by people, but in a private place, where every gesture, every touch acquires meaning. And there's no need for him to say anything, you know that today he wanted you to see his scars, he wanted to understand how you would react, he wanted you to see him for real. And you do it, you really see him, and you don't get scared. You never could. You don't know why. 

«Y/n please, could you bring me more coffee?»Another guy asks. He is just another is a customer, an ordinary, common one. Not like him. Just a guy who shows up often, asking you for coffee and smiles. And you're willing to give it to him, you're willing to pretend with the others but not with Steve, with him you only smile when you really want to and it's absurd that in his presence this happens more or less always. 

"Sure! " Breaking contact  with Steve seems more tiring than studying for the last exam, more painful than finding out you didn't pass it. You feel yourself blush as you bow your head and flutter your eyelashes, tucking the tray under your arm. Sorry, you say in one last look, ready to leave him. But he grabs your wrist with the delicacy that distinguishes him, making you turn around again. Blush again.

"I'm Steve." I know, you would like to answer however you avoid doing that. It's the first time you can hear his voice right, with words articulated slowly, fearlessly, spoken for you and you alone .

«Y/n.»

Steve runs his thumb along the inside of the wrist before letting you go, in an almost automatic gesture that he seems to regret immediately. A Last, anxious caress, which reveals what his eyes have always hidden.

"I know"

These words are the most exciting thing you've heard in a while. Suddenly you understand why Steve comes in every day, stealing a look and a few minutes of your life. Or so you believe. You feel a shiver running down your back, turning into a burning caress - the one you would like from him - and going up your spine, up to your ears. It's hope. 

You don't know how or why, you feel as if you already know him, as if in another life your skin has touched nothing but his, and you don't even believe in these things. Maybe he feels the same, the same overwhelming nostalgia for something you haven't even experienced. You hope you're right, you hope he comes here every day  just to see you, to search for a contact that happened by chance - by mistake - and to show you his tormented gaze of him, looking for the peace that he has lost in you. 

«I'll bring you some coffee» You say to another customer, looking at him without seeing him.

I have to talk to Steve. I can't let him go. Not like that. You hurry to get the hot container of coffee and reach the customer's table, dedicating a smile and a moment of your life to him. A moment that he could have, or should have, dedicated to someone else.  "Are you on duty again tonight?" You almost don't hear the question, taken as you are from another table, another customer, one different from the others. Your mind is only on Steve. "Yes," you say, glancing at Steve to make sure he's still there. He is. You suddenly feel calmer. "But only until six."

"It's already dark at six" the boy observes. "I could take you home..."

"There's really no need to, thanks." You walk up to the counter to put the container away. You hear the doorbell ring, and feel the brutal urge to turn around. 

Steve's table is now empty.

*

At six o'clock Steve stares at you from the misted window as you untie the ribbon on your apron, take it off and disappear into the back of the shop. He knows you're tired and you just want to go home. He knows it, because it's the first thing you always said to him after the shift, in another life: before Vecna, before the war, before you forgot about him forever. 

You put on your coat, gloves and wool cap, and say goodbye to your colleague. "See you tomorrow." You pull the scarf up on your chin as you open the door.  

After the war with Vecna and the disappearance of the Upside Down, even the climate has changed. The ice covers the streets, leaving just two gray trails to show the asphalt. There are very few cars parked outside the cafeteria, a badly parked red BMW stands out, it's the only one not covered in snow. Steve smiles seeing you, he holds back from calling you, enjoying the image: a colored spot in the whiteness of winter. You puff. It's cold, and you have to walk home, your high boots sinking into the white blanket, the houses still to be rebuilt across the street are the only sign of the drama Hawkins has experienced. An earthquake so strong that it has destroyed everything. You have been hurt, a head injury big enough to steal a piece of your life. A piece so important that you're only retrieving the fragments of your life here, tales of your aunt, your friends, which for some reason never seem to fit right together 

"Hey." A male voice calls you. You keep moving forward. It is not the first time that some stranger tries to approach you .

«Y/n.» You turn around, you see him and suddenly the snow and the cold disappear and the world is a warm and beautiful place. Steve. "Hello, y/n." You take a step towards him and stop, as if you've dared too much. "What are you doing out here?"

 With this wheater. You think you know the answer. And you hope to hear it from him.

"I'm here for you" Would be the sweetest music. But Steve shrugs, makes an embarrassed noise, pulling his jacket around him. You seem to notice a redness on his cheeck, you wonder if it's not just the cold. "What does it mean?" You ask, letting out a smile, tossing your tied hair. Steve's eyes catch yours, in a silent response that seems to be enough for you. For a moment everything is as before for Steve, you are only you and he is only him and in your eyes he finds the girl he fell in love with during a war that you shouldn't have had to fight. 

You arrived like lightning a year ago alongside the only friend you managed to make in the city at that time: Eddie Munson, and you were the first -together with Dustin- to try to prove his innocence, with all that this entailed: including demobats, Upside Down and Vecna. Now you don't remember anything, and maybe a little part of Steve is happy you don't have to carry the trauma with you, but you don't remember the good things either. You don't remember Eddie. When you look at his old posters or find his photos on the newspapers, to you he is just the killer who terrorized the city and you don't mourn his death. But you did it, you did it until you lost your breath, screaming at the top of your throat in the middle of the darkest night. Steve had to drag you from his  body by force, against your punches and kicks. You melted into his embrace, you vented the pain with such force that he feared your bones might break from the powerful sobs that shook you. Steve lulled you into a tormented sleep and watched over you. And then there was Max. The list of fallen soldiers got longer. Murray.Hopper, again. Will.

And Robin, oh, Rob. 

You were the only thing keeping Steve alive after that. When his best friend fell into his arms, Steve wanted to die and for a moment he stood still, ready to let himself be taken by the same cursed monster that stole Robin from him. But you were there and you needed him, he had to keep you alive. He had to think about Dustin.

Then he lost you too. In a different, unexpected way. When Vecna took you, he thought you were going to die, because the music wasn't playing and you were floating in the air and he, he looked away, like a coward, he gave up. He decided he didn't want to see you die, not like that. He regrets it every day. All he did was prepare to grab your lifeless body, imagining that he would be the next one to die. He couldn't live in a world without Robin.

 But in a world without Robin where he didn't even have you, it was torture, hell. The world was shaking again and the earth was cracking  and Steve desperately wanted to die. But you fell into his arms still alive and breathing and Eleven had killed Vecna and all you had were broken bones and a head injury from the pressure exerted by that monster. Steve didn't know it at the time, but you also had a brain injury, something strong enough to erase everything from the last three years. Everyithing about him. Your family, despite being aware of the situation, has decided not to tell you anything, to keep you away from them, from Steve.

 After all if it wasn't for them you wouldn't have been involved. Also Steve promised to protect you and he didn't. He had failed you , as he did with Robin.

Dustin has kept him alive, keeping him company in the months of solitude spent locked up in his house. Nance forced him to eat every day and Erica, Erica remained silent next to him for hours and that was enough at least for a while. Then, at a certain point, Steve saw you from the shop windows, you were working, smiling. 

And it wasn't enough anymore.

The sky is black, the streetlights barely lit up the street, yet you can understand more about Steve right now, looking at his face wrapped in half-light, than you ever guessed during these endless mornings. «Y/n» your colleague opens the door, investing you with warmth and light, so much so that you lower your eyelids.

"Sorry... I saw you out here. I just wanted to let you know that I'll come early tomorrow so you can go home early." You nod as the door closes. When you turn to Steve, you find him closer than when you last looked at him. You see his breath condense between you and join yours. Heat mingling with heat, and desire meeting desire. Steve nods at the BMW.

"I... I didn't mean to scare you, I just... I can take you home if you want." 

There is a fire inside you, even if you can't explain why. You should be scared of an unknown guy who comes to your workplace every morning and now silently approaches you to offer you a ride home on a dark winter afternoon, but the truth is that Steve makes you feel so many things and fear it's not one of them. You think that this is his car, that the car says so much about people, that you want to see what he keeps inside it, the objects that are important to him. There is probably his scent inside it. 

Steve smells good, clean.You know, you just don't know why.  "That is fine." 

"Steve, can I... Can I ask you a question?" You ask after a few steps in silence. He nods, keeps walking, his arm against yours looking for even the slightest contact. He needs it, or else he'll sink. He needs it to keep himself on his feet when dark comes and in the streets he sees the faces of his dead appear. When your bodies touch, over layers of fabric, you feel your skin melt and you wonder if maybe you're crazy. "Why me?"It's a strange question, you know, you're a little ashamed of it, and you're afraid of scaring him but you feel, somewhere inside you, that maybe he has the answer you were looking for, the missing piece in your story. Or maybe it's just an illusion. He turns around, his gaze softens and he observes you like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. Because there is no other girl.

 He doesn't say it, he can't. He doesn't want to mess with you, he doesn't want to lose you again and scare you. 

"You know y/n, I've never met a waitress as good as you." 

You laugh, putting a hand over your mouth. "You're an easy guy to get Steve Harrington"

He opens his eyes wide and you don't realize it but is'shere, clear, limpid: Steve has never said his surname. You don't notice, not really. You keep walking beside him. "Thanks," you whisper as you let your arm slide, intertwining it with his. What would it be like to really feel his skin? 

Warm. Rough in the points furrowed by scars, soft in the rest of the body. To Feel the sensation of  naked flesh on your lips, the scent of laundry, the saltiness of his body, the pulse of the vein on his neck, where you place a kiss that isn't there, never was. It's a fantasy that looks a lot like a memory. It scares you. "Let's go." He exhorts you, with shyness and a touch of fear his hand moves to your back and your body is warm under his gaze. His breath is against his cheek, slips under the scarf, up to your neck."Yes" he says, holding his breath. It's cold, but not that much, not now, not for you. Not when you feel Steve's nose against your ear, not when he notices your twitch too. Steve closes his eyes, tries to refrain from telling you everything, from holding you tightly to him, it's so difficult now that he has you close again to resist, to keep a distance that hurts and he doesn't want. "Are you cold?" Steve asks  in a low voice, but for you this question is so much like the caress you've been craving since you became aware of his presence in the shop, since you met his gaze."Not at all'."

You feel Steve's smile on your cheek and you feel like you're. You just turn your head, just to give him the opportunity to reach your lips, but Steve doesn't kiss you, he's still with his eyes closed and who knows what he thinks of you, looking for a kiss from someone you don't even know

."You smell like coffee." The words are an incandescent breath on the mouth. His breath join yours,  you can feel the the taste of him – mint and aftershave – before you even smell it, like you've never tasted anything else in your life. 

"You don't like it?" Thrill after thrill, waiting to discover something about him that you don't know yet. Everything, you have to find out everything, but it seems to you that you have known him for a lifetime."I love coffee" You know he is lying. You just know. But you don't care. Just one question goes through your head and in order not to give it a voice you decide to shut your mouth in the best possible way at the moment. You shiver a little when your lips are close to him. You trace his cheek slowly with your lips, waiting for the moment when he pulls back and tells you you're crazy. You look for the right way to kiss him. 

"I don't usually do that. You must have something very special" You whisper against him. And Steve can't take it anymore, like a dam that breaks its banks, he pushes you completely against him, as if you were one. And then, finally, he finds his way. When he kisses you – slowly at first, giving your lips time to get to know each other; then devouring your every thought, as if nothing else exist but you – you find yourself repeating to yourself that you don't want to kiss anyone anymore. Touch no one anymore. Let anyone kiss and touch you except from Steve. 

"Steve" You murmur breathlessly, pulling away from him. "Would you think I'm crazy if I tell you something?"He shakes his head, his lips swollen and beautifully red. "Never"

"I knew you before, didn't I?" Now Steve Harrington no longer has the strength to lie.Steve Harrington has come to get his girl back and far off in the dark of night he swears he can see Robin Buckley smiling at him for it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things 4 #jim hopper #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!oc #steve stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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How I hate writers block and university and all the stuff that keeps me from writing about everything I want.

I feel so awful

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Currently crying for this comment😭❤️❤️

My Responsibility|| S. Harrington - Masterlist

Whump!Steve Harrington x Reader

I feel like the second part of my work has been shadowbanned (it can happen? It's even a thing here? ) idk. But if you are seraching for it or you are just curious, here we are.

Summary: After the events of Season 4, Steve must deal with the consequences of his injuries. When his condition worsens, only the reader realizes it and the truth is much scarier than you expected.

A/n: if you want some Steve Harrington whump - really sad shit- found family trope and best friend to lovers you can find it here! Also a lot of Dustin and Steve, Dustin and Robin and Jim Hopper being the dad figure we all want. Basically Steve Harrington getting all the love he deserves :) Hope you enjoy

Part 1: After the events of S4 Steve has to deal with consequences of his injuries. You are there for him

Part 2: Steve feels like a dead man walking and he does what he can to protect you

Part 3: Steve's running out of time, Dustin puts some sense in him before things come crashing down

Part 4: You have a plan to save Steve's life, it's risky but it's your only option. Not everything goes as planned

Bonus Part 5: Steve shares a moment with his found family and the reader (Warnings! It contains smut)

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I Promise I'll be worthy- S.HARRINGTON

Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader

Part 2 of Can I stay with you tonight? ( don't worry it is perfectly understandable without having read the first part)

Summary: After being kicked out of his home, you and your father offer to help Steve, but it's not always easy to save someone, especially when they don't think they're worth it. Things don't go as planned.

Words Count: 6.6 k

Tags: Hopper!Reader Angst with fluff, Jim Hopper being the best dad, Jim Hopper being a father figure for Steve Shitty Harrington's parenting and very traumatized Steve Harrington.

Thanks again to @loving-and-dreaming

It's ironic how in a reality of monsters and dangers, in the ranking of the things that Jim Hopper despises most in the world there are two relatively anonymous and  useless people like Mr and Mrs Harrington, and not even in such a low position to be honest. As he watches Mr Harrington throw a  bag out the front door in anger, soon followed by none other than his son Steve, Hopper feels a visceral urge to get out of the car and grab the man by the shirt exactly like he is now doing with the boy. He holds him by the jacket, brutally pushing him out of the house. "I'm tired of your headbutts Steven! Come back when you will become a man" Mr. Harrington shouts. Hopper never liked the man. The kid's dark eyes rest on the police chief's car parked nearby and as he is literally thrown out of his own house, Steve shakes his head motioning Jim not to intervene. This however attracts his father's attention, he notices Hopper's car and the two people inside it. You and your dad helplessly watch the scene.

Steve picks up the bag from the ground and walks away with small steps turning back from time to time, looking for the gaze of his own mother who has taken refuge in her house, sobbing and crying as if she really cares about that only son hers. Yet she doesn't intervene. She never did anyway. Steve doesn't blame her, you do. You can't help it.

Steve looks his father in the eye and for the first time in many years finds the courage to answer without apology. "I look like you more than you think dad .... You know, miserable" There is no expression on his face, motionless, impassive even when his father raises his arm with the clear intention of hitting him. With your eyes wide open and your heart pounding in your chest you get out of the car, immediately followed by your father who tries to stop you, to overtake you, to prevent you from being the first to get in the way. But before you or Jim can reach them, Steve has already caught his father's arm in mid-air and is staring at him without daring to say anything. Now that you can observe the way they look at each other, something in you breaks down, because the guy in front of you doesn't even seem the same as always. The sunny, cheerful person, able to calm you down in every situation, has left the place for someone different, as if a part of him - who knows how big and how important - has broken forever after being hit for so long. Slowly Steve lets go of his father's arm, turns around and without daring to look at you or Hopper starts walking towards the car. "Let's go" he whispers. You clench your fists, trying to appease the need to break Mr. Harrington's face and you stand still and observe him for longer than necessary, the old man reciprocates, scrutinizing you from top to bottom like you are scum.

The second in which you get distracted to look around you, it's enough to miss the exact moment in which Mr. Harrington grabs his son by the arm forcefully, with a sort of controlled but scary violence "You wretch!" He screams, squeezing him tighter and tugging at him. "You got the police in, you stupid boy" he shouts on and on, his face red with rage, an expression of pure fury you've never seen before on such a serious and composed face. Steve has his back to you and you're glad you can't see the way his face becomes a mask of sadness, the way his eyes fill with a pain no one has taught him to voice and that once again will make him feel so damn wrong. "What will people say about us huh? Isn't everything you've done to us  enough Steven? Sometimes I doubt you're even my son, so stupid, so....miserable."

If you were in another time and context, Steve would laugh to notice you and your father lined up in the exact same position, with the exact same expression on your faces addressed to nothing less than his own dad. His fucking father. Steve actually manages to smile a little, because with the possibilities that nature has given him - after all, he shares that cursed man's genes - he could have been a much worse person. Also he's lucky enough to have you two to worry about him, and Dustin and Rob. That's enough for now. But the thought brings with it a new fear: Steve Harrington, in times he doesn't like to remember, not even too far away, was like his dad and he was proud of it, he did everything to be exactly what his father wanted (without ever succeeding to be honest, grades and intelligence, are things he could not pretend), but what if he is really like that? What if this is his true self? What if  all his failed attempts to improve, all the effort he is making to demonstrate in every way that he is a better person, in the end it's only an act great enough to even convince himself? What if, after all, he is just a reflection of the man who he most hates - and loves, at the same time, however absurd it may seem - in the world?

The thought paralyzes him, terrifies him but he is more terrified by the chill between all of you, the immobility of these infinite moments and it scares the shit out of him to see you so close to his father. He knows that Hopper is there and if Hopper is there nothing bad will ever happen to you, but there is no rationality in Steve's mind right now, so he comes back and grabs your hand with sweetness and decision at the same time.

"Let's go" He murmus, his voice is calm and gentle enough to turn you towards him. His cold hands manage to loosen your grip still in a fist, you intertwine your fingers with his, letting them slide slowly, in a light, delicate but firm grip that seems to mean "I'm here, I'm always here ". This is enough to calm down the crazy beating of your heart, it's enough to bring back a shred of light in his eyes, it's almost imperceptible, but it's enough to give you hope that all the wickedness in the world won't be enough to take away the Steve you know.

For the first time since you were born, and even worse since losing Sarah, Jim Hopper doesn't hate seeing you with someone else, a boy. He feels no jealousy, nothing but blind anger and a deep sense of injustice for the poor kid: Jim Hopper hasn't always been a perfect father. To be fair he has been a shitty father for a long time, letting himself go, making many mistakes, and yet he always loved you and  this is a certainty that no one will ever be able to take away from you: you've been loved. Apparently Steve Harrington hasn't been so lucky. The idea that this young man who now walks with his head down with you, dragging you along as if he's the one to hold you up- while it's obvious from the way his feet shuffle that he's the one about to collapse- the idea that this boy who has seen death with his own eyes more times than anyone his age should, has never received the comfort of a hug, a pat on the back, a word of reassurance, pisses him off in a terrible way and causes him a deep sadness. With one last look Hopper starts to leave, then turns one last time. "You know Mr. Harrington, you're right about one thing. That boy over there can't be your son, he's far too smart to be"

"Steve" You whisper as you open the car door for him. Steve shakes his head, tries to smile but what comes out is just a distorted expression that doesn't look like a smile at all. "Steve" You repeat, grabbing his face in your hands and caressing it gently. The hint of a beard to be redone, the scars under his skin tell the story of his existence and you feel like it's your story too, cause he is part of you. The most important now. "Please" He replies in a hushed voice. Please, I need time. Please leave me be. Please, I don't deserve you. And Steve doesn't say it, you wouldn't understand, but terror blocks him and he sees himself old, with a few extra pounds, identical to his father, it seems to him an inevitable destiny, and for an instant he wishes he had died in that cursed Russian laboratory.

To convince Steve to stay with you, Hopper had to get his service pistol and threaten him. It was also quite amusing to see him surrender with his hands up and his face white with fear.

"You know boy, I thought I should have pulled a gun on you to keep you away from my daughter, not force you to stay." Jim says, chuckling under his mustache. "Dad!" You exclaim trying to hide your embarrassment, but your face, unlike Steve's, has turned such a deep red that it's impossible not to notice. Now, Jim Hopper has never been a fool, let alone a blind man: he knows perfectly well that you have a crush on this  Harrington boy, it's so obvious that if Steve hasn't noticed it, it must be because of all the beatings on the head he's taken over the years. And let's be clear, he normally wouldn't let him get close to you, not even under torture, let alone live under the same roof, yet there is something about the way he treats you that erases his jealousy. Sure, when he finds you snuggled up to him on the sofa watching tv he wants to kick him out of the house and he certainly isn't happy to see the way you curl up against his body in search of a hug, but there's something very respectful and pure in the way he hugs you. Jim then, looking closer, notices he's doing the same with El, like a brother would. He's protective, caring with both of you but Jim notices the way Steve keeps a wall between you two. It's a thin wall, barely visible in his hesitations, which Jim appreciates and acknowledges. It's the wall broken people put up to protect the ones they love, to save them from their problems at least until they're solved. You don't notice all this, too divided between the elation of having Steve Harrington - your beloved Stevie - in your house and the sadness for the circumstances that brought him to you. Oh and also the fact of having left your room to him and having to share one with Eleven, a teenager in full hormonal and sentimental crisis who spends all her time fantasizing about her little boyfriend. It's a punishment, a hell on earth that you endure only because you obviously love your sister very much and also you love the boy who sleeps on the other side of the wall. 

"Where are you going little lady?" 

You've tried sneaking into his room—yours—sometimes to be honest, legs shaking, wracked with fear of his reaction. You have done it without any specific reason, simply driven by a desire to check that he is doing well, that he is able to sleep peaceful dreams, that he is not troubled by nightmares. Since the day he has definitively left his house, Steve has closed himself in an overbearing silence on the subject, pretending a serenity that he doesn't possess and avoiding you as much as possible. If he's not at work, he's hanging out with Dustin or Robin and if he's not with them you find him chatting with your dad like he would with a close friend, like he should do with you. When he's with you, then, he does everything to get Eleven to be there and it freaks you out. It's not that you expect something from him, but he's your friend,  the same person who ran to your house under the flood because he needed you and now that you live together he almost seems like a stranger and it hurts you. That's why you have tried to sneak into his room so many times. Some of them you were stopped by your father, awake in his armchair watching the umpteenth episode of Magnum PI, or rather keeping watch over you two even if he'll never admit it.

"I'm thirsty" 

"You have a bottle of water in your room on your nightstand, go back to bed y/n"

Other times you have bypassed your guard dog, just to go back in your room without the courage to enter. Then it happens. Your legs are shaking so hard it's diffult to even walk. Steve has been particularly distant all day and you have heard him crying, locked in the bathroom, still he haven't said anything to you, pushing you away, closed in a silence that continues to hurt you deeply. You finally enter his room and find him awake, sitting cross-legged on the bed with the head in his hands. You approach on tiptoe and he only notices you when you sit on the bed, mattress folds under your weight. He jumps back a little, startled by your unexpected presence. "You gave me a stroke" he whispers, In the moonlight coming through the window you notice that he has no signs of tears on his face and it relieves you. You don't think you can bear to see him in that state again without being able to do anything. Without him letting you help him. "What are you doing here?" He asks. You just smile and with all the spontaneity of the world, while  properly hiding your fears and your concern and the very stupid idea that maybe Steve seems so far away from you because he has understood that you have feelings for him and he doesn't reciprocate them or, even worse, 'cause he has started dating Robin in the end. To be honest, you are not even interested in the romantic sentimental part of your relationship, that could easily be exclusively your problem, what matters to you is him just being here, being your friend Steve, a person you care about, who has experienced more trauma in the last few months than a normal person in a lifetime and who won't let you help. You hust want him to talk to you, he has been living with you for the past three weeks and he doesn't seem happy about it.

That makes you angry and sad, you really want him to start seeing himself as part of the family  somehow, in any way he wants. In short, you would like him to realize the way your father looks at him, with admiration, affection, esteem. The, way you look at him like he is the fuckin sun, shining above you, keeping you alive.

He doesn't seem happy about anything anymore to be honest. Every now and then you see him looking at you, your father and El with a nostalgic smile on his face and you know exactly what he's thinking, because you know him enough to understand it. He is happy to have you, to be with you, but at the same time he feels like he doesnt' belong here: this is not his family, it's yours, and he is a guest. He has never had what you have, he never will. 

"I missed you" You reply.

"And El doesn't want to turn off the light and sleep. She's scribbling something for Mike in her diary."

"Such a sweet little girl," Steve comments. "Wheeler is a lucky boy" "She's gooey and drives me crazy" You reply "But she's my babysister and she's really really sweet and she cares about Mike a lot, sometimes I'm almost afraid it's too much for such young kids." He shakes his head. "I suppose growing up in a lobratory, then defeating Demogorgons and the damn Mindflayer gives you a slightly different perception of things." 

Steve looks into your eyes, wonders what you were like at El's age. He can't remember and he hates it. At the time he still didn't have the courage to talk to you, Tommy H. would make fun of him, 'cause your father was a alcoholic and you used to come to school with weird combinations of colors and old clothes. No one was really taking care of you during these long years and he was so... silly. Steve wonders if you wrote your crush's names on your diary too. He wonders if you have ever written his stupid name.

"You know, sometimes I forget that we are so young too, I feel already old." You continue. He lets out a little puff, his gaze is lost in nothingness. "I feel at the end of the line, y/n" he affirms.

"Is that why you weren't sleeping?" You ask. He nods, without adding anything else. You lie down next to him, slowly, almost expecting him to pull you away at any moment, but he doesn't and you find yourself with your head against his chest and his hand in your hair, caressing you as gently as it hasn't been in a long time. "That's why you were crying today" You continue, your voice trembling, afraid of ruining everything and finding him distant from you again. But he doesn't chase you away, he doesn't move, you feel him hold his breath before answering. "I've been living here for three weeks, but the money I earn at Family Video isn't enough to pay you a decent rent, to support myself, not to weigh on you. But not even to leave. And I don't know what to do with my life, I have no prospects y/n and I....I'm scared." He confesses. You hold him tighter. "No one expects you to pay us Steve, your contribution is enough, and above all it is enough for us that you are well, even dad thinks so. We will help you and when you will be back on your feet, when you will understand what to do and how, we we will support you. I swear.  Until that moment we will take care of you. Please Steve, let us take care of you"

"I'd be lost without you."

Steve sighs. "That's what scares me, I don't want you to do that..." You cut him off, standing up to face him, a suddenly serious and furious expression on your face. "Don't  you dare. Don't you dare say you don't deserve It" He looks at you in shock, as if wondering how you know what he thinks.  "Steve, if anyone deserves it, it's you. Allow yourself to be helped and loved, for once." Steve can't find the courage to reply this time, he nods, and you lie down next to him again trying not to think about the unfortunate choice of terms you've made. Love. You hope he hasn't noticed it and that he doesn't get strange ideas because now, surrounded in his warm embrace as you feel your heavy eyelids closing and his lips placing sweet kisses in your hair, you couldn't stand a rejection. Not now that you're deluding yourself and imagining and letting go to a distant fantasy in which  Steve Harrington loves you and this is just yet another night you spend together in your country house, after making love for hours. It's such a beautiful idea that you fall asleep smiling, not worrying that your father will find you together. You even imagine Steve's voice muttering something in your ear.

For the first time in three weeks Steve Harrington falls asleep without his  nightmares and for a moment forgets the fear of being like his dad. To be honest, while he hugs you and whispers sweet words in your ear, he feels profoundly different from him, he has never done certain things with his mother. And then another thought takes over to keep him awake: Steve is thinking of you like his own wife and while he watches you sleeping peacefully next to him with an expression of pure serenity on his face, he realizes something he may have known all along. Steve Harrington is hopelessly in love with you. And he's not his father, he never will be as long as he has a good reason to be better. The reason is you, y/n Hopper.

Your father doesn't notice your nocturnal escapes to Steve's room, he never does. This makes you suspicious to be honest because Hopper has always been quite careful about this kind of things but you don't think too much about it, you have other priorities right now. The nights with Steve are beautiful, you spend them hugging each other on his bed, trying not to make noise and not to wake anyone up, playing, joking, listening to music, anything but sleeping. Talking, mostly, but never about all the terrible things you've experienced like Billy or the Russians, but about simple, normal life. About El and Mike and their  relationship, about Nancy, Jonathan, Dustin and sometimes even Robin. Apparently there is nothing between her and Steve or at least he says so. You don't think that's all, there's probably something he's not telling you and you feel curiosity dug in because there isn't a single good reason for those two not to be together: she's beautiful, smart and brave and they have a crazy chemistry, they've shared a trauma, they are always together. Honestly, It makes no sense. Furthermore she is perhaps the only girl in Steve's life who can easily compete with Nancy Wheeler, both so perfect even if different. You sigh, curled up on Steve's chest. Certain thoughts hurt you, they scratch your stomach and chest and lungs and you are gripped by a jealousy that makes you feel bad, an envy that makes you despise everything you are and possess because if Nancy Wheeler is his standard, then you will never have Steve, not the way you want.. Yours isn't anger, you don't wish them - Nance and Rob- anything but good, you're just... Sad.

Maybe Steve Harrington has a sixth sense for your needs because he seems to notice it right away, your change in mood, the way your little hands have begun to grip him tightly without you realizing it, to tremble imperceptibly. He worries about you immediately, ha wants to hold your face between his hands and force you to talk to him like you have done so many times because he knows you enough to understand that something is bothering you, but you're not him, you wouldn't talk, you would keep it all to yourself because that's what you do. You believe your problems are stupid and your thoughts irrelevant and your traumas aren't that bad. Steve realizes you and him have more in common than he thought. Probably that's why, while lying in each other's arms, you fit so well, like your bodies are made to be together, close.

"hey hey" He repeats while you're clinging to him like a little girl, in desperation, you stretch out your arms to hug his neck, you curl up on yourself, you hide your head in the crook of his neck, you breathe his perfume and soak the edge of his pajamas with tears without being able to stop. "Sorry". You Repeat obsessively, like a prayer.

"Everything okay?" You can feel his warm breath in your ear. Shivering, you stay silent, your hands loosen their grip on him, but the shaking, that doesn't stop. It can't be stopped. It's not just about Steve, it's that the weight of always being the last choice, the discard, the second place falls on your shoulders all at once. No matter how hard you try, you're nobody's favorite: not the kids, not Steve's, nobody's. At Starcourt you had to save your own ass, you weren't saved, no one came for you until you were already free from Billy's clutches. Even with your father, deep down you never feel his first place, his priority: you have to compete with a dead sister who will always be the ghost of your lives. Thinking these things makes you feel rotten, bad, corrupt inside. You feel so damn guilty. You burst into tears without warning like a raging river, your shoulders shake with violentl sobs and it looks  like to Steve that your bones are about to break. He is taken aback, he doesn't immediately hug you, his hands, are still on your trembling body. He wonders why you're crying, then he remembers that after everything that's happened he's never seen you do it and he wonders what you're not crying about.

"You couldn't be bad even if you wanted to y/n" He replies, with a serious and sincere tone. He wishes you could see yourself through his eyes, he wishes you realized how absurd what you're saying is: you have forgiven all of his stupid mistakes and if you're bad he then, what is he? With all the petty things he's done, he should be a monster. But for you he never was. Steve knows it and he wishes he could give you the same comfort.

He squeezes you tightly, as if he wants to engulf you in himself, to keep you away from anything that hurts you. "Sorry about what honey?" Steve asks kissing your temple with a softness that makes you feel even worse. "I'm bad Steve...I think bad things"

He catches is breath against your mouth, you no longer know where he ends and you begin and there is something violent, ferocious, urgent in the way your mouths and your teeth collide, in the salty taste of this kiss, in the tears that keep flowing as your brain screams, screams that it won't last much longer and when you break away you will have to face reality.

"You are not in my head Steve you don't know... You don't know the terrible thoughts I have" Steve now stands in front of you, grabs your face with both hands, runs his thumb over the smooth skin of your cheeks, wipes away the silent tears, then runs his finger along your chin, jaw, lips. "You will never be evil in my eyes. I don't care what you think, I don't care what you do. You are and always will be the most amazing woman on earth and if there is something beyond the earth, then you will be the most incredible creature there too" He whispers to you. His words collapse on you like a boulder and honestly Steve is surprised at what he's saying because he didn't even know he could use such true and complicated words, that he could formulate such a deep thought. You feel like dying under his lucid, excited gaze, which seems to read you inside and not be afraid of what he might find. He lets his eyes travel from your face to your lips, where he continues to caress your bottom lip with his thumb. With a sigh, he approaches you and you remain petrified in front of what is happening because you have  dreamed about it so many times that now it scares you, it terrifies you indeed. Steve places his lips on yours in a chaste kiss that you don't have time to respond to and just moves away, as if to ask permission before continuing, and without your brain being able to take control you find yourself with your lips glued together again to his in a hungry kiss, he lets your tongue meet his own, bites your lip, your hands run through his soft hair and squeeze them as if they are the only foothold for life. Maybe that's not such a big lie after all.

You're taking advantage of him and his weakness.

Days later things are worse than you've expected, the disappointment in Steve's eyes at your rejection is something you don't think you can erase, because your only certainty has always been one: you wouldn't  hurt him. Ever. Yet here you are, both of you closed in a silence that no one can explain except you and him. Since you've talked, you've put up a wall to protect him, or maybe that's what you like to think when in reality you're only thinking about yourself, because you're afraid you're not strong enough to make a point with Steve, not without putting a distance, pretending that your kiss was a mistake.

Steve Harrington is kissing you because he's grateful, because you're helping him, because he's lonely and he tends to confuse feelings, he always has after all and you know him enough to be sure that no matter how much it hurts you'll have to make the right choice for both of you: walk away and give him time to understand. But now, you let him kiss you again, wondering how you're going to live without his lips on yours now that you've discovered the sweet taste and heady sensation of them.

"It's not a mistake, how could it be?" he asks when you put your hand on his chest to push him away from you, muttering a series of no's and "that's wrong"

"Because it's not what you want Steve, it's not what you want and I know it and I can't, I can't take advantage of it."

"You don't decide what the heck I want y/n, I want you!" Steve raises his voice just before you silence him with your hand by pointing to the door your father slept through. He shakes his head, regaining his composure to whisper again, trying to caress you.

"I... I want it, I swear I want what happened" You walk away shaking your head and god knows how you don't cry.

"Not now Steve, I want to make sure you don't do it out of gratitude." He is annoyed, you see.

"Fix everything and we'll talk about it, I swear"

Steve looks at you, let his eyes run over you as if he were seeing you for the first time. "I'll wait for you, if you still want me I'll be there" you continue. He caresses you again, this time you don't move, you can't, you don't want to. Like a cat, you let yourself go against his hand. "I know what I want, it's not solving my problems that will change anything. But I swear that in this time I will become the best version of myself so that you have no doubts. I swear." He confesses, placing the ghost of a kiss on your lips, so light you might have imagined  it.

You don't claim that you don't want to it, that every version of him is the best version for you and he doesn't confess that he doubts the best version of himself will still be enough for someone special like you.

"Just promise me until we clear things up between us, it won't be weird," he say. You hug him, but you don't answer. You don't want to lie to him.You can't.

Everything falls apart and when it does, it happens bad and you can't be there for Steve.

The call catches him off guard, like a bolt from the blue as soon as Steve's life seemed to start moving in a better direction. Hopper had offered him a job with him at the station, to support  Flo and was starting to think about trying to make things right with you. And then there it is, the cold voice of a lawyer who is calling him on behalf of his client, Mr. Harrington, to tell Steve that he had been disinherited by his parents. Damn he don't even care about the family business or their money or the house because to tell the truth he never felt any of it was his own, which more than anything makes him want to die, to rip his heart from the chest. is the fact that his father doesn't have the courage to call him, or perhaps the desire. Not even a word from his mother. The lawyer asks him what his new address is, so that he can deliver his last personal belongings, and Steve gives it to him in a cold and apathetic tone under your and Hopper's perplexed gaze. His face an impenetrable and emotionless mask, his skin pale and sweaty, his eyes dull and empty. This is the image you have of Steve Harrington before he runs away from your house, without saying a word, deaf to your words, to your screams. "What's up Steve?" You ask, following him, grabbing his shoulder only to be swept away without a single look, a word, an explanation.Your father puts a hand on your shoulder.

"Let him go" he tells you. "He will be back soon"

But the day after his bed is still empty, his car - the only thing he has left - is not there. It does not take much for Hopper to find out what has happened to upset him so much and when your dad confesses it to you, before going out to look for the boy, you imagine what Steve might have thought: his parents didn't even wanted of saying it to his face, of speaking with him, to treat him as a person and not a practice to be resolved quickly. He will think that's because he is not enough, he has no value or quality that distinguishes him from the garbage that is thrown away in the morning. You know he thinks it, you know he will always think it no matter how much you try to tell him otherwise and you know, above all, that now he will feel guilty for having reacted like this, for having felt emotions, for being human and he will call himself idiot because with everything he's seen and experienced he collapses from a stupid phone call, his heart give out and his strength suddenly failes as a whirlwind has sucked it all away.

Silly, pathetic rich boy.

What you don't imagine he has been thinking obsessively in these hours is your face. As soon as he closes his eyes you're here and you tell him he doesn't know what he wants and Steve isn't able to convince you that he wants you and now, now realizes it's pretty obvious why you don't believe him: after all he was a liar, he was a fool, someone not to trust and maybe in your heart you still see him in this way, an unreliable douchebag. The same douchebg that doesn't deserve you and never will. You're too good and kind and special to admit it or more simply you just haven't realize it, it's your subconscious that knows-really knows- how terribile Steve Harrington is. Steve believs you are trying hard to look for the good in him, but deep down you see what's underneath, a poor asshole with no prospects who has now lost everything. 

He lets a hand slide over his face, the bat gripped in the other hand and with a cry he starts hitting his beloved car. He doesn't want anything from his father, nothing, not even a memory, not even that mass of iron that he loves so much. And he screams, he screams so loud that he gets people's attention and he dosen't care at all.

 When Hopper receives a call in the middle of the night about an unidentified subject, a boy, who is breaking up a car near the Harrington's house, Hopper interrupts his search after so many hours and reaches Steve as any good father should do, ready to bring him back to their home.

"That's not my last name anymore" Steve replies chuckling, completely gone, he drops dead weight against the man's body. "You're comfortable" he comments, to hide the apathy he feels with a laugh so fake that Jim's heart skips a beat. He looks at him so battered and thinks he's really sick. If he had I found him like this a few years ago, he would have thought it was the whim of yet another spoiled child, but now Jim knows and respects his pain and if he weren't a big tough and mean big man he would feel it too in part. Or so he likes to believe, he doesn't want to admit that he's attached to him to the point of feeling his pain. 

He finds him sitting in the middle of the road, so stupidly drunk that if he woulnd't even notice a car running over him. He doesn't notice Hopper's car stopping near him , or maybe he's pretending. The kid is great at acting.  He doesn't even say anything when the man lifts him off the ground and drags him into his car. "What are you doing Harrington?" Hopper mutters

Steve gets into the car next to him and is silent again. "Are you all right boy?" He asks. Steve shakes his head. He laughs again, but tears roll down his face silently from him. Steve doesn't notice. "I no longer have a family don't you know chief?" Hopper shakes his head. 

"That Family never deserved you anyway Steve" Steve doesn't seem to hear him and continues "And I don't think I'm going to college. Ever. I don't think I can leave this place. I will die here, just stupid and poor Steven without a family."He's so drunk. He doesn't know why he is saying certain things. His mouth moves by itself. "And young. I'll die young" Hopper turns to him, seriously worried "Don't talk shit boy. You'd break y/n's heart by leaving her too soon, then I'd have to kill you again."Steve shakes his head, smiles thinking of you and Hopper sees something change in his gaze, a light, something melting inside him.

"She would be better off without me"

"I'm a father, Steve. I'm a jealous father and you know it kid, but I have to tell you, my daughter would die without you." the boy lowers his head.

"I wish it weren't like this, chief. I'm sorry. "

"Not me my boy. You make her happy and you're our family now. You're not alone. Also don't think I could bear to see her with someone else" Steve shakes his head, sniffs at him and his cheeks flush as he realizes he's been crying in front of Jim Hopper. "It'll be fine son" the man tells him, and there's such a certainty in his words that Steve Harrington decides to believe it for the first time. "You're a good person Steve."

Jim sighs. Sorry for what? He thinks, for having people caring about him? This time he reaches out and ruffles Steve's hair in an affectionate gesture. 

He will be fine. He's fine.He'll get better, he'll do it for you and when Hopper'll bring him home he'll hold you in his arms and repeat you that he knows what he wants, he's known it since the beginning. He loves you madly and he'll get better for you, but by your side , because that is his place, a small space in the world that was created just for him. You'll cry a little hugging him in the middle of the night, you'll think about all the times you've come close to being his -all the almosts, the maybes buts that have kept you apart until now - and the times when you suffered knowing you'd never have him and the ones where you felt your heart skip a beat seeing him with anothergirl and you'll know it was worth it. For him, for your perfect Steve. He'll took you to his bed at night, hiding from your dad, he'll lie down next to you and you'll just to listen to the furious beating of his strong heart and everything will be worthy this moment. And you'll love him and you'll feel loved by him, which deep down, even if he'll never understand it, is the greatest privilege of your life. You hope that one day your love will be enough to convince him of this.

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