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slashersteve · 2 years

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Next Best Thing to An Angel

requested by anonymous

pairing: Steve Harrington/Henderson!Female Reader

summary: Reader has been cursed by Vecna, and the group has to work fast in order to find a way to rid her of it. There's too many close calls, and just when they thought they had it figured out...it just might be too late.

warnings/extra tags: cursing, mentions of blood, violence due to fucked up visions brought to you by Vecna, near death experiences, >>>ST4 V1 SPOILERS<<<, this is beta read by the bestie @dearneverlander so it should be ~crisp~

note: There's references to the 1984 movie Streets of Fire aka one of my fave 80s Rock and Roll Fables. You don't need to know the exact plot, but just know it's an important movie and soundtrack to the reader <3 This took me a bit to write because I wanted it to be hella good. Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy!

✧ ✧ ✧

It started just a day after your cheer teammate and one of your closest friends, Chrissy Cunningham, told you she was having problems. You were perhaps one of the only people who was aware of what she was going through, not even her boyfriend knew about her horrible headaches or the growing nightmares.

When she told you, she seemed so scared. It was so unlike her that it scared you to see her act in such a way, so much that you thought you scared yourself into experiencing the same things or that maybe she caught an illness and gave it to you.

The first thing that happened was a nosebleed. You were at the Hawkins Family Video Store, waiting for your boyfriend Steve to finish renting out a video to a customer so you can help him pick out a movie to put on.

You were reading the back of a tape that Robin had handed you prior, since she was trying to broaden yours and Steve's movie horizons because according to her you both were ‘hopeless’ when it came to your movie knowledge.

"I don't know about this one Robin," You called to her.

"What? God, you're so lame, you and Steve are probably just going to put on Streets of Fire again,” she replied from somewhere behind you.

You chuckled to yourself, "Not exactly a bad idea."

"Did you say Streets of Fire?" Steve questioned after the customer had left, leaving just you three and a handful of patrons who were still trying to find movies to watch, "I love that movie. It's pretty damn romantic."

You laughed and agreed while Robin scoffed and pushed the video cart aside.

"Excuse me? Did you say romantic? He punches her in the face," Robin reminded you both. You cringed.

"Okay, not that part, but even then it's taken out of context- just- whatever, it's a good movie," you tried to defend it, "Plus, the soundtrack is pretty killer."

"I’m still not over you both thinking it’s romantic. Context considered and all, but they don't even end up together in the end," Robin replied, you sighed.

"It's about the closure, Robin, he just left her without a word, and after he saves her from Raven, they finally get it, it is romantic in it's own way," you set the other tape down, ready to put it on the video store's TV out of spite.

"Right. Well, at least Diane Lane is hot in it...and yeah, I'll give you the soundtrack, it is pretty good."

Steve laughed to himself, enjoying how much you loved and defended the movie because he knew why you liked it so much. It was the movie you and him watched on your very first date two years ago at a drive-in. Since then, it has been your favorite movie of all time.

"I think you secretly like the movie, Robin, and since it's my turn to pick a movie," Steve had grabbed it from where it sat conveniently under the counter and handed it to you, "Go ahead and put it on." You hopped off of the counter with a satisfied grin while Robin sighed dramatically and crossed her arms.

You removed the tape from its case, and leaned up, ready to insert it into the player when your mind suddenly became foggy. It felt odd, like an invisible force had violently washed over you and caused a pulsing pain in your head that almost mirrored a migraine.

The tape slipped from your grasp, crashing onto the ground as you brought your hand to your forehead. The clatter of the tape hitting the ground was what had brought you back to reality after a few seconds, and Steve was beside you.

"Woah, are you okay-” he stopped when his brown eyes fell to the bottom part of your face. You blinked, still a little disoriented from the random headache.

“Oh shit, Henderson, your nose,” Robin said what Steve didn’t, her eyes on the same place Steve’s were. You lifted your hand to below your nose, instantly feeling something wet and sticky.

When you looked at your fingers, you saw it was blood.

It didn't scare you more than it had confused you. You hadn't gotten one in so long, and the last time your nose did bleed was when a sophomore girl trying out for the cheer team kicked you in the nose by accident.

After this incident, the days following felt almost like hell. You'd wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares, all of them about either losing Steve or your little brother Dustin, and you were taking Tylenol more frequently for these massive headaches that never seemed to go away.

You could only think of Chrissy, and what she had told you, and wonder if she passed you some kind of illness. You tried talking to her again during practice or in the halls, but she seemed keen on continuing to pretend that she was alright, and maybe she was because she still cheered and ruled the school with a smile on her face.

You thought if she could do it, then so could you. Unlike her though, you had a boyfriend who could see right through the facade and had a brother who could relay to him how weird you've been acting when Steve asked. He had told Steve the nights you’ve canceled on dates or meet-ups with him and Robin in the past few days you were actually locked away in your room. It was very uncharacteristic of you, considering you were out almost every other day, either with your friends or with Steve.

When Steve insisted you let him drop you off at Hawkins High and asked you what had been going on when Robin left first, you didn’t really understand why your first instinct was to withhold the truth.

"I just haven't been feeling well," you told him, while pretending you were fixing your lipstick, "I think I...caught something.”

"Something how?" Steve asked, concern etched all over his features, “It must be bad because you look like you haven’t been sleeping either.”

You pressed your lips together because you were positive you packed on enough make-up to hide those dark circles that had started form.

You didn't want to tell him about your nightmares, not wanting to worry him for what you thought were just dreams. It made you feel bad because you've never shied away from telling Steve anything, but you were scared if you said anything whatever it was would get him too. Your dreams were too...vivid and real.

It was always about the day you both were interrogated by the Russian Guards, and every time you didn't answer they hurt him and not you. They made you believe they had killed him, that you were the reason he was dead. And there was that…room.

"Just headaches, mostly," you said quietly, shutting the mirror and resting your hands above your Hawkins cheer skirt.

Steve had looked suspicious, and he said, “Should you do the pep rally then? Or the game tonight? I know it’s the championship but…” You had forced a sweet smile his way and leaned toward him.

"I'll be okay, I promise," you tried to assure him with a peck on his cheek, leaving the pink residue of your lipstick there, “I love it when you care so much.” You were gone and out of the car before Steve could say anything more.

Steve had noticed since that day you were different, it almost felt like you were pulling away from him emotionally in a way. For almost two years you've been in this relationship, and when you've gotten sick in the past, you never had done this.

Something else was wrong, but neither of you would find out until after Chrissy Cunningham's death.

✧ ✧ ✧

"The curse of Vecna," Dustin Henderson and Eddie Munson had both said at the same time.

"The curse of who?" Steve asked. You had scrunched your face up with confusion.

"Are you two talking about that wizard from Dungeons and Dragons?" you asked, knowing this information because Dustin always bothered you by explaining all of the campaigns he did to you during dinner mostly.

"Not just a wizard, a dark wizard," Dustin told you, "He uses a magic spell on the players called Vecna's curse."

"Do you really think that's what it is?" Max had asked from beside Robin, "I mean…”

"Only one way to find out. What else have you experienced?" Dustin's question was toward you now, and you uncomfortably crossed your arms over your chest, not sure what to say.

Eddie blinked a few times as he looked between Dustin and you before he asked, "Wait, why are you asking her?"

Steve's hand rested on the small of your back, and you exhaled shakenly, "Because about a week ago, Chrissy confided in me about these...nightmares and headaches she'd been getting. And about a day after that...I started to get the same kind of symptoms and now Chrissy is dead and I-" you closed your lips and shook your head.

Eddie stared at you, "Oh shit."

Steve rubbed your back affectionately, "Okay, so now that we think we know what it is, how it works...is there any way to stop it?"

"Okay, okay, first up, didn't you say something about a nosebleed?" Dustin's question was directed at you again. You looked at your little brother and nodded.

"Yeah, about 6 days ago at the video store...Steve and Robin were there."

Nobody noticed how Max shifted uncomfortably in her spot upon hearing your words.

Robin nodded, "Yeah I remember that...god this is insane. I mean, last time it was insane too, but this is just...yikes."

As they continued to discuss possible ways to stop this curse they believe you had, you started to feel very uneasy. Chills had crawled their way up your back, making you tense up and bite your lip to stop it from quivering.

Eddie had said what happened to Chrissy, how she was in this sort of trance before her body was lifted into the air and...how her bones cracked and how her eyes...how her fucking eyes were sucked back into her skull.

You thought about how it was after Chrissy told you about her problems, you instantly got them too. And you looked at everyone around you, your little brother, Robin, Max, even Eddie, and especially Steve. You didn't know how this thing spread, if this Vecna character had chosen you simply because you interacted with Chrissy, like she passed some curse onto you.

And if any of them were next it would be because you were an idiot and told them too.

The thought made you physically ill and you were leaving before anyone could stop you, ignoring Steve calling after you. You left the boat house with a hand over your mouth to try and keep the rising bile in your throat down.

When you were finally near the trees, you doubled over and threw up all over the grass. You fell to your hands and knees after you emptied out your already empty stomach, panting and spitting onto the floor to get the horrid taste of the stomach bile and acid out of your mouth.

Running out into the darkness was not a smart idea, you knew that, especially now you learned you were probably cursed, but you just needed to run. You needed to get out, you needed to just get away from them.

Then, you heard Steve calling your name. You were shaking and shouted, "I’m okay- just leave me alone right now- please-"

Your name was called again, but this time...it wasn't Steve. In fact, it wasn't any of them inside that boat house.

This voice caused a violent wave of fear to crash through you, making your body go still. Whatever had called your name was right behind you. You turned your head slowly, and saw that your surroundings were different now.

Different, but very familiar too. Blood stained the floor tiled floor and walls, torture weapons scattered among them. The stench of blood was strong, just as it was the day you remember being locked in there when you were captured in the Russian Facility.

It was the room they said they had killed Steve in.

Your hands moved to cover your nose and mouth, panic rising in you that you were somehow here again reliving the worst day of your life.

The loud chime of what sounded like a large clock echoed from behind you, causing you to yelp out a short scream and twist your body around to see the source of the sound.

Engraved in the wall, your eyes fell upon an ominous grandfather clock. It chimed, echoing in your ears and mind, and it ticked almost like a threat.

And it certainly was.Your name was called again, but this time it felt like it was all around you.

“The time to end your suffering is coming soon,” the voice told you, “Join me and I will spare your friends. If you refuse, I will take them all.”

The clock chimed again and ticked, louder than the thumping of your chest and louder than the voice itself. The lights of the torture room you were in flickered, and you caught a glimpse of…something or somebody.

It was enough to make you scream.

You were gasping suddenly. And then, you heard Steve’s voice shouting your name.

Steve’s hands were grasped tightly over your shoulders, as he was shaking you in an attempt to get you to wake up.

Your eyes shot around your surroundings, not looking at Steve at first as you took in that you were where you found yourself before. By the trees just outside of Reefer Rick’s boathouse, and in the grass you’d just vomited in.

“Hey! Hey!” Steve called to you, “Look at me, I’m right here, what happened? Are you okay? Talk to me!” You finally looked at Steve, and in an instant you remembered what that being had told you.

“If you refuse, I will take them all.”

You shook your head frantically, and said in a broken voice, “No, no I won’t let him.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows at you, and tilted his head and he asked you what you were talking about. That was when you moved away from him, from all of them, even your own little brother who was knelt beside you.

Like Steve, his eyebrows were drawn together, and he said, “Wait- wait what are you talking about?”

You kept your eyes down, being sure not to look at any of them who you realized were surrounding you too. Eddie had his hands in his hair, Robin had a hand over her mouth and Max’s expression was simply unreadable. Nobody spoke for a few seconds, probably because they were waiting for you to speak.

Steve reached out to you, gently grabbing your trembling hand when you didn’t, “Hey, it’s us, okay? What happened?”

To Steve’s surprise, you pulled away from him the moment his hand touched yours and started to shake your head again, muttering a quiet I can’t underneath your breath.

His heart dropped when you had done so and he only felt more of this fearful feeling since he came out here and found you. After you had left the boat house, Steve was the first to run after you, then it was Dustin and the rest. He found you on your hands and knees, just staring forward with your eyes clear and blinking.

You were unresponsive, no matter how much he called your name, not even when all of them called your name. It was like you weren’t even there.

It was when Eddie came out and saw the state you were in, things became much more real.

“That’s exactly what happened to fucking Chrissy!” Eddie had said, his hands moving to his ears as he stared with a terrified expression, as if he expected you to start levitating like she did at any second.

It was one thing to hear about it, but another to see what Eddie was talking about in person, especially to someone you care and desperately love. It felt like someone had thrown ice cold water on Steve, and he felt completely helpless as nothing he did brought you back from wherever you were.

And now, you were awake and you were…terrified.

“I…I have to get out of here,” you suddenly said in a shaking voice as you moved to stand, “Because of me he’s going to get you- he’s going to get all of you.”

The words hit them like a freight train, but you were already walking away. Steve tried to catch you, but you were already out of his reach.

“Who? Vecna? You saw Vecna? Did he tell you that? ” Dustin was standing and following after you, “Shit! Tell us what you saw! Then maybe-”

“No!” you shouted at your brother, “No! I can’t- I-I have to go-”

Steve remained still for a moment, wondering why you would say such a thing. Because of me he’s going to get all of you.

What the hell does that mean?

✧ ✧ ✧

“Here’s what we know, my sister said because of me he’s going to get all of you,” Dustin stated as they sat in the trailer park benches, “And she said she interacted with Chrissy before that. So maybe, just maybe there’s some kind of a connection there, right? Like it’s a curse that spreads like some kind of…virus?”

Everyone was there, and so were you, but you were sitting at the playground. They were sure to always look over at you.

You hadn’t talked much since your experience last night, and it was a choice on your part. If they weren’t going to leave you alone, then you wouldn’t tell them anything, hoping that perhaps that would keep this Vecna away from them too.

“I mean…maybe?” Nancy had spoken, having joined them after the death of her co-editor Fred. He was killed the exact same way Chrissy had been, and when you heard that, you were shaking with terror because you knew you were next.

“What do you mean maybe?” Dustin asked Nancy.

“It’s just…Fred’s never had any interaction with Chrissy or your sister, he’s been at my side for at least…89% of the school year,” Nancy said then glanced over at you, “Has she said anything yet?”

All eyes moved to you and then to Steve, and his eyes dropped down.

“She’s…fucking terrified guys,” Steve said, lifting his gaze on you now. You were digging your feet into the dirt beneath you, “And I am too. She hasn’t said a word since last night.”

He was still haunted by that image of you, your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your skull and nonreactive to anything he or the others had tried. He couldn’t get even a wink of sleep last night because he couldn’t get the image out of his mind.

“Well, we should try again,” Nancy urged, then started to stand, “I’ll go talk to her-”

“No, no I’ll talk to her,” Steve said as he stood up faster than her. They all looked at him again, and he raised his hand slightly, “I got this, she’s my girlfriend, did everyone forget that or something?”

He didn’t wait for any response from them, especially Dustin, and jogged toward where you sat. You heard someone coming, something you were actually anticipating. When you looked up, you saw Steve, and as your heart always did when you saw him, it leaped, making you for a moment feel…normal and safe again.

“Hey,” Steve said, and you would’ve smiled had your heart not felt cold again after being warm for the first few seconds you saw him. He leaned on the spot next to you. You stood up and moved away from him, making him frown deeper.

You never did this, shut yourself off from him and your friends before. Even with your little brother. And it broke Steve to see you like this, broke him that you didn’t want to tell him anything even if it could help them help you.

Right now, it just seemed like you’d given up and Steve didn’t like that because you never gave up.

Steve walked after you, and captured your wrist before you could get away. Your face hardened, and tried to pull away, but Steve kept his grasp firm.

“Stop doing that,” Steve told you, “Please. We want to help, I want to help, don’t let this creep Vecna guy just…torment you and take you away so easily.”

You shook your head, “Steve, it’s too dangerous, I’m next I know it, I know it.”

Steve exhaled sharply, hating that you’ve already actively accepted your fate rather than fighting and trying to find out with the rest of them on how to stop him.

“Don’t talk like that,” he said, “We’re going to figure this out, okay? We’ve figured everything out in the past and this time is going to be no different.”

“What’s different is that I’m a target this time, and it’s already been a day since Chrissy, and now Fred- I’m next and then it’ll be one of you and it’ll be because of me.”

“You don’t know that!” Steve said, his voice getting a little harder, “We don’t even know why or how this wizard guy targets his victims-”

“I was around Chrissy, Steve! She told me about her nightmares and her- her headaches, and now she’s dead and now someone else is dead and-”

“Hey!” Steve was pulling you toward him now, making you face him completely, “This isn’t helping anybody, especially yourself. You know more than us, probably something that we are missing. You have to trust us, trust me- because I am not going to let some…creepy weird dark wizard fucker take the girl that I love away from me.”

You stared at Steve in silence, his words striking you right in the chest.

“And they won’t either,” he gestured back to them, “No fucking way. No fucking way.”

Steve was mad, not at you, but at Vecna, and you felt almost a wave of calm coming over you for the first time since that nosebleed of yours. You’d forgotten in your mute state that they were your friends, that they cared about you, Steve cared about you. They only wanted to help. You were going to speak, going to tell Steve that you were sorry, that you would help…

But then, a cold air hit you, and the sky above you was covered in gray clouds, submerging you in a gloomy, stormy kind of atmosphere. You didn’t understand at first, eyes flickering upward until you suddenly heard the familiar chime of the clock.

Your heart dropped, and you looked back at Steve. Except it wasn’t Steve anymore, but this…monster.

You shrieked at the sight of this thing, this unimaginable horror that looked like it was covered with burnmarks and the vines of the Upside Down you remembered seeing in the underground tunnels you helped the kids set fire to.

“You’re going to get them killed,” the monster of your waking nightmares told you, “They’re going to die because of you.”

You stumbled backward and away from him, dry heaves coming out of your lips as you tried to form any kind of words. Instead, you placed your hand over your ears and closed your eyes again, a new habit of yours you didn’t know you had in the face of true terror.

He was chuckling, clearly entertained by the torment he was causing you.

As fast as it came, it had passed and the world around you was bright and warm again, Vecna’s laughter fading away from you, and your face was being held by Steve’s hands. He was panting, eyes flickering all over your features.

He looked distraught, his lips lightly quivering as he had to watch you go into yet another trance. The others were already running toward you, calling your name as well and asking what happened.

“What is he doing to you? Please tell me, so I can help you-” Steve practically begged you, but you were pulling away from him then and started to run. You didn’t know where you were running, or how far you’d get before them catching you, but it was all you could think of to do again. Just run, you thought, run as far away from them as possible. You run away and you keep them safe. You keep Dustin safe, you keep Steve safe, you keep them all safe.

They were all calling after you, their voices desperate and scared.

You thought you could still hear the chimes and the ticking, echoing all around you as you ran as fast as you could.

✧ ✧ ✧

Steve was trying to hold himself together, but the truth was he didn’t know what the hell to do. None of you really did. They of course had caught up to you after you ran, finding you sitting at the edge of the road.

When they found you, you had said it would be any moment now, any second, and that if they didn’t want to see what happened to Chrissy and Fred happen to you, they should leave now.

None of them did, and after many attempts, they finally got you to get into the car.

You were under a strict watch now, whether you had liked it or not. Both Steve and Dustin had to be firm with you.

You were lucky to have a genius for a little brother, sure he got on both yours and Steve’s nerves on occasion, but his mind was working quickly, and he was somehow able to keep moving forward in finding out more about Vecna and a possible cure for this curse of his.

He was doing more than Steve, and he felt useless because you were the love of his life and felt that he should be able to do more than just helplessly watch you suffer.

It was nighttime, and Steve had taken both you and Dustin to his place for the night. His parents were gone, per usual, and Dustin was sure to keep his radio on in case they needed the others for an emergency.

Neither of them wanted to say what this code red could be, deciding to keep that to themselves.

Steve didn’t want to think about what this emergency could be. They were in his bedroom, you were in the bathroom, unlocked of course and being timed, and Dustin was going over the new information they had learned.

“Think about it, they all went through the same thing, right? Nosebleeds, headaches, nightmares, everything, and everyone has had these…problems,” Dustin re-explained everything they had discovered together when they broke into Ms. Kelley’s office to Steve as he paced back and forth, eyes moving to the bathroom door every once in a while, “Chrissy, Fred��and…”

Steve said your name, and Dustin nodded.

“Yeah…there’s got to be something she’s not telling us, before all of this, maybe if she just told someone, anyone then we could at least weaken the curse, and then if this works than we can help Max too,” Dustin theorized as he made his way to the other side of the room again, and was sure to say her name a little quieter so you wouldn’t hear.

They had opted to not tell you about Max’s vision because you seemed dead bent on it being your fault somehow, and the last thing you needed was more on your conscience.

“So, is there anything she’s been weird about?” Dustin asked Steve now. He looked away in thought for a moment, but nothing fast was coming to mind.

“I…I don’t know,” Steve admitted, and Dustin scowled at him.

“Jesus Christ Steve, she’s your girlfriend,” Dustin sneered, Steve’s face scrunched up and he replied, “You’re her brother. And how am I supposed to know something that she didn’t tell me? I can’t read minds, man. That’s…Vecma’s job apparently.”

“Vecna,” Dustin corrected and Steve rolled his eyes because he’d been doing it all day, “I think it’s worth a try. I don’t think we have a lot of time here…” he closed his mouth, not wanting to think about how his sister could have the same fate as Chrissy and Fred.

Steve sympathized with him greatly, because if he was scared then so was Dustin. He was just ironically very collected about it, nevermind the pacing of the room or how he was speaking all in one breath.

“Okay, so…we talk to her then,” Steve repeated and Dustin nodded.

“If we can get her to, which is why I’m asking you to get her to talk,” Dustin pointed at Steve after stopping in the middle of the room, “You said she almost talked to you right? Before she went under his spell.”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, there was something different in her eyes, and she was about to speak, but then…she was just gone.”

Dustin snapped his fingers, “I think that proves my theory then! She was going to talk to you, open up to you, probably, and Vecna can’t have that…he can’t have her running back to us or letting us help her or else his spell gets weaker!”

Steve crossed one arm and rested the other under his chin as he thought. It sounded incredibly plausible, and he met Dustin’s gaze once again, “I…I think it’s definitely worth a shot.”

The door to the bathroom had opened then, and you emerged in one of Steve’s long sleeves, looking at both of them with suspicious eyes, especially when they both went quiet.

“Okay well, Steve is going to be on the first watch, I’m going to go downstairs and find some food,” Dustin stated quickly to you. You didn’t say anything, and Dustin gave you and Steve a thumbs up before leaving.

It was all up to Steve now, and he wasn’t going to let you keep quiet until Vecna got you. It wasn’t going to happen.

✧ ✧ ✧

You were sitting on his bed, your back resting against the bedrest when Steve finally sat down in front of you. You didn’t look at him when he did, keeping your eyes to the wall opposite of you. It looked like you were probably admiring his trophies, but Steve knew better. You were a million miles away, but not in Vecna’s spell at least.

He didn’t know how to start it, how to even ask you, but he knew he had to. Something had happened, and he needed to make you tell him.

“Did something happen…before all this that you never told me about?” Steve was asking you, you still didn’t look at him. Steve reached over and grabbed your hand gently, “I was talking to Dustin, and he thinks that it’s possible that Vecna targets those with some kind of…trauma, I guess?”

You shifted only slightly, and Steve rubbed his thumb on your knuckles, “Don’t tell him this because it’ll just rub his already big ego,” he rolled his eyes jokingly, for his new attempt to get you to talk was to be humorous, it always worked on you, but you didn’t smile or react at all, “…but he’s usually right about most things.”

Steve honestly didn’t doubt it. The girl you became since you were first cursed was somebody completely different, somebody who was broken and afraid, so whatever this Vecna was using to manipulate and change you into this person must’ve been pretty horrific.

But you wouldn’t talk to him, and he now knew Vecna wasn’t letting you because of what happened in the trailer park. Like he relayed to Dustin, you were going to talk to him, going to tell him at least something, and immediately you were put into that trance.

It pissed him off because he was keeping you away from him, and everyone else. He was isolating you, and it was working. You refused to speak, hell you even physically ran away.

“Whatever he is telling you, it isn’t true,” Steve had tried to say these words as firmly as he could, but his voice had cracked instantly when he continued, “There’s a reason this sadistic asshole is convincing you to run away from us, to keep quiet- and I’m sick of it. Talk to me, please, tell me what it is, just please try.”

Tears slipped from his eyes then, ones that he didn’t notice at first.

You finally looked at him again, realizing then that Steve was crying. He hardly ever cried, but when he did, it always made you instantly upset too. The last time you’d seen him shed such tears like this was when he learned he didn’t get into any colleges and his dad practically called him stupid and almost disowned him.

Knowing that it was you Steve was crying over, that it was you causing such emotions made you feel shameful. You reached out suddenly, resting your hand over his. Steve was right, you knew he was, and it was time to stop letting Vecna scare you. You had to say something.

“It…it happened when we were taken by the Russian guards under Starcourt,” you suddenly said, making Steve’s eyes lift up at you. They were wet with tears, “Remember how you were marked up but me and Robin weren’t?”

He nodded once at you, and sucked in a shaky breath before saying, “It was because they were using you against us, specifically me. If I didn’t speak, they’d beat you more, torture you…and I…I didn’t say anything even though I wanted to so bad just to stop hearing them hurt you.”

Your own eyes were welling up with tears now too at the horrid memory, “I wasn’t going to give away Dustin or Erica, or anyone, and they knew that, so they had taken it a step forward and-”

Your voice was quivering again, but you knew you had to tell him.

“They made it seem like they killed you,” you eyes flashed with the memory of the room they forced you into, claiming it was the room Steve had been kept in, the room that Vecna forced you to step into again in your first vision, “I don’t know whose blood it was, it probably wasn’t even human, but I…I thought you were dead because of me.”

Tears slipped from your eyes as you finally told him what he wanted to know, “I know they lied, but in the hour they left me in there, it wasn’t a lie. It was real, and I-”

Steve was pulling you into his arms before you knew it.

You started to cry too, letting apologies slip from your lips for not telling him and letting Vecna use it against you. You felt weak and pitiful, and he knew how to make that feeling worse until you were too scared to be around everyone.

“I’m okay,” he reassured you, “And I’m going to be okay, nobody can take me away from you so easily- I would fight till the ends of the earth to get back to you…I love you way too much.”

You were nodding, understanding that now because the past week Vecna had taken that understanding from you. You sniffled and told him that you loved him too.

You and Steve stayed in each other’s arms for a while until he moved away from you and said, “Can I give you something?”

You looked up at him, blinking away a few years and asked, “What…what is it?”

“It’s an early anniversary gift,” Steve said as he dug through his drawer. You found yourself smiling at the idea of him hiding it, especially when it was about 2 months before your actual anniversary of being together for two years, “I think…I don’t know maybe it will help…show you how much I love you…”

“Steve, I don’t go into your drawers, you didn’t have to hide it like that,” you said, but still peaked over as far as you could to see what it was as you wiped away your tears. Honestly, you thought maybe it was some piece of jewelry because a sock drawer is usually where those are hidden.

“It’s exactly why I put it here,” he said following a sniffle before he snapped his fingers and said, “Here it is!” He held up a mixtape, and you tilted your head curiously at it.

“You made a mixtape?” you asked, a smile growing on your lips once again. Steve nodded, then cringed.

“Honestly, Dustin had to help out…you can imagine how that went,” he said as he shook his head at the memory.

“Oh god, the story of my life. You ask him one simple question and he does everything but call you stupid to your face. Sometimes he does.”

“Oh my god, yeah, your brother’s a good kid, but wow,” Steve agreed. This time, you laughed, and at the sound of your laughter Steve’s features grew soft and warm. Your laugh was definitely something you both needed to hear, “Want to listen?”

“Yes,” you said, “Put it on!”

Steve practically pranced to his stereo as he said, “They’re all your favorite songs, some songs that make me think about you, and some I think you’ll just like.” You hugged your knees to your chest, smiling warmly at Steve.

At the moment, it felt like Vecna was far behind you and after having talked to Steve and shed tears with him, it felt like this massive weight had come off your shoulders. It was possible that talking was the key to ridding yourself of his curse, or at least making Vecna’s hold on you and his other victims weaker like Dustin thought.

For the first time in a long time, you felt calm, you felt more alive. And it was very obvious, especially to Steve.

It was why you both had let your guard down, even if just for tonight. He inserted the tape, and adjusted the volume.

Music began to blast through the speakers, and Steve nodded with content. He had listened to it over and over again, knowing the exact order each song was in. He stood up straight now, and turned to look at you.

You were staring right at him, your lips in that wide smile despite the tears that stained both of your faces. He was going to walk over to you, but you were already moving to stand. You walked over to him, and wrapped your arms around him in a warm and tender embrace.

Steve pulled you toward him tightly, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“We’re going to figure this out.”

He seemed to be saying this more and more often, but after talking to him and seeing how life seemed to return to you, he was sure he was right now and that you had a chance of surviving Vecna. If they can save you, then they can also save Max and find Vecna and destroy him like they’ve defeated so many things in the past.

“I love you,” he said again breathlessly, “And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It was everything he needed you to hear and more, but…you were gone before he even uttered those words to you.

The music that played had suddenly begun to cut out, going in and out of silence in short cracks of electricity. Steve turned from you to look at it, eyes narrowing curiously for his stereo hardly did that.

Then, the lights began to flicker as well. He looked up at the flickering light, eyes squinting as it disoriented him for a second.

Realization dawned on him a few seconds too late, and he noticed you were no longer hugging him and instead had gone rigid in his arms. His eyes snapped back to you, and he let out a panicked breath as he saw your expression for the third time in only a day. His heart sank.

His hands moved to your shoulders, shouting your name even though he knew it was futile. You were in Vecna’s trance again, talking didn’t work.

“Steve! Steve, where did you go!”

Your words were echoing in your own ears. You were in the room alone now, Steve nowhere in sight. You ran toward the door, grasping the doorknob and trying to pull it open. It wouldn’t budge, as if someone was holding it on the other side, keeping you from leaving the room.

“Steve!” you shouted again, now grasping the doorknob with both hands and beginning to shake and pull at it. Panic rose in your chest and bubbled up your throat the longer it didn’t budge, “Help! Steve! Help!”

You were shouting at the top of your lungs, now letting go of it and banging aggressively on the wooden door, and throwing your body against it in an attempt to break it down.

Back in reality, Steve was desperately shaking you, the tears he had shed coming back full force. Dustin was bursting through the door a few seconds later.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit-” Dustin was saying over and over again when he saw your rigid body in Steve’s arms, “It didn’t work?! It didn’t fucking work!? Steve!?”

Steve was shaking his head, “I thought- fuck! She was better, she was-” His voice cracked from the tight knot in his throat. Dustin put his hands on his head, entering a full panic as he thought about anything else, literally anything else to save his older sister.

“Help! Please! Somebody!” you slammed your body against the door one again, and this time it had opened. You fell through it, and fell to the cold, tiled ground. There was also something wet staining your hands and your knees. You couldn’t see though in the darkness, but you could smell.

It was a strong metallic, coppery smell…a scent you could never forget.

“No…” you stated as you realized what was happening and made yourself stand. Vecna had put you in that god forsaken room again.

The clock chimed, sending you into nothing but defeat and dread once you heard it. Like Dustin and Steve had thought…it didn’t work. You were here still, you were still in Vecna’s grasp. Fresh tears spilled from your eyes, and mewls slipped past your lips.

“Did you think it would be that easy?” Vecna’s deep tremble of his voice shook through you, “I wouldn’t let you escape so easily, not when your time was so near.”

The lights flickered on joining with a dramatic buzzing noise, and your worst fears were proven and more. Your hands were covered in blood that was not yours and when you looked down and past your hands, you saw something that wasn’t in the room before.

It was Steve. His head was turned to the side and his eyes were open and unblinking. You couldn’t even scream, only releasing panicked, dry breaths as you were sent into a full blown panic attack. Your bloody hands shook, and your skin suddenly became below freezing.

You reached out to touch Steve, beginning to shake your head. It wasn’t possible, this never happened. You escaped Starcourt with him, with Robin, Dustin, and Erica. This never happened. Steve was alive, dammit, he was alive.

“This-this isn’t real! This didn’t happen!” You shouted into the lights above you, “This isn’t real-”

“Oh, but it will happen.”

“What do you want!” you screamed at him into the darkness, angry and afraid. The lights flickered again, and you now found yourself in a long hallway, similar to the one you and the Scoops Troop had to walk down in the Russian Facility. Blood still stained the walls, and Steve’s body was gone. In the distance the lights were flickering off as Vecna was stalking toward you with darkness following behind him. The claws of his left hand twitching and moving with every step.

“I want you to join me.”

You shot up and stepped backwards until your back pressed against a hard wall as you let out quiet whimpers.

“What do we do!” Steve called to Dustin, his hands now touching your face.

“I’m thinking!” Dustin shouted back, trying not to cry himself. His eyes moved around the room frantically until his eyes fell upon the stereo that was still cutting in and out of music. His eyes widened as he got an idea, “Will! Will! Do you remember when he was possessed by the Mind Flayer and they- shit nevermind- do you have a battery operated stereo or something?”

Steve yelled at him that it was in his closet. Dustin ran over to it while he yelled, “We have to talk to her, maybe it can get her out- that’s how they communicated with Will and playing that song he likes-”

Dustin was in Steve’s closet now, eyes searching for the boombox. Steve heard Dustin and remembered exactly what he was talking about. His eyes flashed to his stereo, knowing that they’d need the mixtape that was still in it.

“The tape we made Dustin, the tape! It’s in there!” Steve said, looking back at you, “Track 3, track 3 !”

Dustin had found it on one the top shelves, tossing boxes of shoes out of the way and grabbing it. He shouted at Steve that he needed to start talking to you, that he needed to tell you fond memories or something like that because it just might get through to you.

And Steve did, his voice breathless and panicked as he started to tell you about the first time he saw you at Hawkins High. He didn’t know how he never noticed you before because he knew all of the cheerleaders of Hawkins pretty well, but you- you were new. He told you about how he asked everyone about you, learning your name, anything that could get him closer to you.

Seemingly unstoppable tears flowed from your eyes as Vecna got closer and closer to you. You pressed yourself further into the wall, and wanted to turn your head but found that you couldn’t.

“Don’t cry for them,” Vecna told you, now only a few feet from reaching you, “They will be joining you and the others very soon, starting with the boy you love.”

You were trembling in your spot, Vecna now standing before you. You were trying to speak, but no words were coming out, especially when he lifted his left hand up, those sharp, long claws bigger than your own face.

You stared up at Vecna, and whimpered slowly when he began to move his hand closer to you, “It is time.”

It was like he was grasping your mind, an intense wave of pain and fear washing over you like the waves of the ocean during a storm. You couldn’t move. There was no escape, this time Vecna wasn’t going to let you go. It was time for you to join him.

“Dustin! Hurry up-” Steve's words were cut off when he felt you move in arms. His eyes flashed back toward you, and he watched as your body began to levitate into the air.

“SHIT,” Dustin shouted as he finally inserted the mixtape into the boombox and began to move it to track 3 like Steve said. The song that began to play made Dustin pause momentarily, and even he knew how much you liked this song.

‘I’ve got a dream about an angel on the beach…and the perfect waves are starting to come…

…his hair is flying out in ribbons of gold and his touch has got the power to stun…’

The tips of Vecna’s claws were almost touching your face, but he had suddenly stopped when the lyrics of the song echoed behind him.

The grip Vecna had on your mind faltered as you recognized the Fire Inc. song Ellen Aim performs at the end of Streets of Fire. Your eyes moved past Vecna toward the source of the song, and fell onto what looked like a tear in this world Vecna had created in your head.

You saw yourself in Steve’s room, your body levitating into the air, and Steve and Dustin. Steve was saying something to you. Your eyes narrowed slightly, trying to listen to what he was saying over the music.

‘But I don’t see any Angels in the city, I don’t hear any holy choirs sing… And if I can't get an Angel. I can still get a boy. And the boy will be the next best thing, the next best thing to an Angel.’

Steve’s voice began to break through as well. It was faint, but you could still hear and understand what he was saying. He was talking to you about your first date, and how you went to the drive-in to watch a whole other movie, but ended up watching this one. You didn’t even remember what the first movie was.

Memories flooded through you, flashing through your mind quickly. You saw Steve on this first date, felt his hand take yours, and felt his lips meet yours for the first time. You never kissed on the first date, and he was the first and only exception.

You saw Steve’s flushed face when he had climbed out of the pool following a swim race, and his eyes had lit up when he saw you there in your cheer uniform and pom poms cheering his name. You were the only cheerleader there. He had laughed and winked at you while you had blown a kiss.

“They can’t help you,” Vecna told you, making your eyes shift back to him, “You belong here, with me, with Chrissy…”

His hands began to inch closer, the tips of his claws barely touching your skin.

Steve helplessly watched as your body slammed flat against the ceiling, and his first move was to grab Dustin and pull him against him, making him face away from the sight. Because of what Eddie had said about what happened to Chrissy, they knew what was going to happen next.

“Her bones- they just snapped, and her eyes…it was like something was inside and-” Eddie had said in that boathouse the day before when you got your first vision.

He didn’t want Dustin to see that, especially not when it was his older sister. If he couldn’t protect you, he could at least shield Dustin and protect him.

‘I’ve got a dream when the darkness is over….We’ll be lying in the rays of the sun.’

Ellen aim’s lyrics got to you again and you heard Dustin’s sobbing, your eyes moved past Vecna’s again to see your little brother in Steve’s arms, Steve shielding him from your body that was now pressed against the ceiling.

More memories flashed in your mind. You saw the kids throwing popcorn at you and Steve at the movie theater during a matinee reshowing of Jaws, and heard Dustin say, “Are you seriously sucking face when someone is getting killed by a shark?”

You could hear their giggling from behind you, and a couple of gags that made you throw the popcorn back at them, but missing.

‘But it’s only a dream and tonight is for real, you’ll never know what it means, but you'll know how it feels.’

You saw Robin forcing you to watch movies you never thought of watching before, you saw her laughing, and saw both her and Stevea arguing in their ridiculous Scoops Ahoy uniforms.

You saw Steve running toward you after Starcourt, his face bruised up, yet he was still smiling and kissing you, happy that you were okay and you were alive.

‘It’s gonna be over before you know it’s begun, it’s all we really got tonight…’

“N-No,” you said to Vecna suddenly, he stopped before he could sink his claws into the skin of your face, “No!” You found the strength to reach up with both hands and grasp the wet, sticky vines that collected around his collarbone and neck. You grasped and pulled, the tendrils squishing between your nails and fingers before you screamed and pulled it off with incredible strength.

Vecna released you with a groan of pain, and you ducked underneath him, and raced toward them. You were a long way from running away from them at the trailer park, now running as fast as you could toward the end of this hall, back to your reality, back to your life, back to Dustin and back to Steve.

You didn’t look back, Ellen Aim’s singing and Steve and Dustin’s calls to you blasting your ears, drowning out Vecna calling your name.

‘Say a prayer in the darkness for the magic to come’

Ellen Aim sang as you inched closer and closer to your world.

‘No matter what it seems tonight is what it means to be young…’

Your feet echoed with every step you took, your heart beating out of your chest as you ran and you ran and you ran, toward the music, toward your home.

“We have to help her, Steve, we can’t let him take her,” Dustin was crying, his words muffled against Steve’s shirt. Steve was shaking, and didn’t know what to say, and even if he did he couldn’t speak anyways.

He was too distraught, shedding more tears than he’s ever shed before. He was going to lose you, he failed you, Vecna got to you before any of them could figure out how to stop him. He held Dustin against him tighter, and shut his eyes.

“Just don’t look, Dustin, don’t look,” Steve even tried to cover his ears with his arms, hellbent on making sure Dustin doesn’t see or hear anything, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry we couldn’t save you…”

He clenched his teeth, the thought of Vecna being responsible sending a rage throughout him. His eyes were forced open, and profanities were falling from his lips all targeted toward Vecna. He didn’t know if he could hear him, but he wanted him to know that they were going to fuck him up for what he’s done, for who he’s done it to.

That was when you came back.

Your eyes were suddenly back to normal, and Steve caught it the exact moment because a loud gasp for air escaped from you. Steve moved Dustin aside, practically throwing him on his bed, and stepping under you just as you became unstuck from the ceiling and fell.

Steve fell on the floor with you right on top of him, hyperventilating and gasping for air as you felt like you ran miles and miles to get back here. Your eyes frantically looked around you, becoming hyper aware of everything around you, but knowing that you were back here, you escaped.

It didn’t seem real at first, Steve’s soft calling of your name that wasn’t echoing and rather in real time.

Your fists closed around Steve’s shirt as you met his gaze, they were puffy and red and full of the greatest relief in the world. You pressed your forehead against his, and whispered to him that you were okay.

“I heard you, I heard you both and the song,” you said between your fast breaths, your voice trembling and still cracking, “I saw-” Your words were becoming less coherent as you broke down in Steve’s arms.

Steve sat you up then, keeping you in his lap and holding you against him.

“It’s okay, you’re back, you don’t have to talk, not right now,” he told you quietly, his own voice matching yours.

Dustin had watched in disbelief that you were okay, thinking that maybe it wasn’t even real, but when he heard you speak and Steve respond, he was off of the bed and on the floor next to you Steve. Tears of relief spilled from his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around you as well.

Steve would ask you how you exactly got out, about what you had seen, about everything, but right now, he was beyond relieved that you were back, that you didn’t end up like Chrissy or Fred, that you finally fought back.

#this is a long one #over 9k words!#please enjoy <3 #it took me a while to write but I'm actually quite happy with it #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 spoilers #lys writes again #Spotify #requests #fic request

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elisysd · 1 month

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8. Need you more than I want to

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack : Shameless - Camila Cabello

He was the last person you expected to be in front of your door, but here he was. Seeing him there, a little disheveled, his hair a mess, had the effect of sobering you up.

“What are you doing here?” you asked. “How did you get my room number?”

He didn’t answer, only arched an eyebrow and it made you sighed. You were annoyed, frustrated, in total disbelief. You couldn’t understand why he was there. You couldn’t find a justification that would be important enough for him to find you there.

“I have my ways to get what I want.”

“Of course… little prince of Monaco. It comes with perks. One of them being to disturb the privacy of people, I assume.” you bitterly commented.

“I want an explanation”

“You want an explanation?” you repeated.

“Your behavior, your questions! I don’t understand them! I don’t understand you! I thought we were friends, that we built something and you are still the annoying girl I’ve met the first time in Bahrain! What did I do? I deserve to know.”

“You deserve? Deserve? Who do you think you are? It’s not because we have a good relationship outside of the tracks that I have to change the ways I do my job. I’m not here to please you, I’m not here to praise you, I’m not here to pat you on the back. It’s not what is asked from me. If you don’t like it, that is your problem not mine. I’m staying professional out there.”

You were harsh, you knew it and saying you were enjoying drawing a line between your personal relationship with Charles and the one you had on the tracks, was a big fat lie.

“And where was your professionalism when you were dancing and flirting with Mick?” he asked, furious.

You took a step back, as if his bitter question had physically hurt you. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes. You briefly closed them and proceeded to ignore him as you made your way to your door, not hesitating to push him a little. You wouldn’t make him the pleasure to see you hurt. You fumbled with your key until you managed to open your door and entered the room. You were not quick enough to prevent Charles from following you inside.

“Mick is my friend.”

“So you do make friends with some drivers, nice to know. Make you even more hypocrite than I thought.”

“Mick and I understand each other. Not that I should justify myself to you.”

“I understand you too! I try to! I’m trying here, can’t you see? But you prefer to push me away because you know what? You are scared. You are scared of the bond we could have. So you’re fleeing, like a coward.”

It made you snap.

“You have no right to stand here and judge me. When did I give you the permission to do so? We are friends. I let you in, despite everything I let you in. I told you about my brother, I let you see me be vulnerable, I’ve done more things with you than with any other drivers and here you are, asking for what? More? I give you enough, Charles! And maybe I could give you even more but I need time! I need to find the right balance between professional and personal and yeah, fine, maybe it was not right of me to be like that with you. But I’m trying! I will make mistakes but I don’t want you to throw them in my face every damn time. And if you can’t handle that, then maybe it’s best if you leave and if we stop being friends.”

You swore you had seen a flash in his eyes and before you even had time to register what was happening, you felt his hands around your waist and his lips on yours, kissing you like his life depended on it. Before you could even process it, you kissed him back as his teeth bit your lower lip. And that’s when you finally fully understood what was going on. You let go of him, took a step back and before you even knew it, you felt your hand moving on its own to slap his face, getting him out of the trance he was in.

“Y/N… I… I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know where that comes from, I…” he stuttered.

“Leave, Charles. I think it’s best.” you calmly answered, opening the door as you saw him rushing out, without a second glance to you.

You were a coward. He was right. Because if you had just an ounce of bravery you wouldn't seriously consider not attending Barcelona. How could you face him? How would you be able to do your job properly? Your thoughts were all over the place. You were thinking about his lips on yours, about his hands around your waist and how good it felt. He was even haunting you in your dreams. Very sweet dreams that were making you blush whenever you were thinking about them. As the race was approaching you were feeling more and more anxious to the point your work was starting to pay the price, something Marion ended up noticing. When she confronted you, you simply said that you were not feeling good lately.

“If you want to skip Barcelona, you can. I can cover for you. I know how tiring traveling can get. If you need to sit this one out, don’t worry, okay?” she reassured you and never you had felt so relieved.

“I want to come, I just don’t feel good enough for the interviews.”

“So you can be in the pitlane at the start, if it is more convenient for you.”

“I would like that.”

“Did something happen? You loved the interviews.” she asked.

“No!” you answered a little too fast for your liking. “It’s just the perspective of staying in a crowded place, with little space to move… And I want to experiment something new.”

“Then it is settled! The pitlane will be waiting for you.”

Hell on earth. That’s what Barcelona felt like to Charles. He was not happy at all about his performance, nor was he of the team’s. He was pissed off. About everything but as much as he was trying to convince himself otherwise, he knew the underlying issue. An issue that could be summed up in five letters. A kiss. A stupid kiss. It was a mistake and he couldn’t believe how stupid he could have been? His multiple texts, sent as apologies, had stayed unanswered. But he understood. He messed up, probably scared you off and he was the only one to blame.

“Charles, you have to leave the room, I don’t want an aggressive driver during our meetings.” Fred had firmly said when he had blown up in anger.

He couldn’t let his private life influence his driving and his relationship with the team. And he couldn’t keep lying to himself. He had to act on his feelings properly or he had to forget about you. There was no in between. But in any case, he had to talk to you and you had to listen. He knew you were around and he was determined to make you listen.

Y/N

Can we talk?

We have to.

We NEED to.

He saw his texts immediately opened and it gave him hope.

Please. It won’t be long.

When he noticed the three dots indicating you were typing he almost let out a sigh of relief.

You’re right. We have to.

You sent him your address and the time she would be there. An hour. It was a lot of time to think about what he was going to tell you and at the same time it was not enough. He felt like a high school teenager about to confess to his crush and he felt so stupid. It had never happened to him before. He usually was confident around women, he knew how good looking he was and how charming he could be. But with you, he was a mess. You were making him so nervous. A mix of good kind and bad kind. He didn’t know how you would react, if you would slap him again or kiss him until you both would be out of breath. He liked an option better than the other.

He had bought tulips on his way to your door. And when he was in front of it, he suddenly found the idea very stupid. It’s not like you would be able to keep them. But it was reassuring for him, maybe it would make you smile. The door finally opened, revealing you, still in your work clothes. You were so pretty. He had always noticed it but today you were pretty in a candid way. It made him gulp, especially since you were still very silent as you sat down on your bed looking at him, waiting for his next move. Move he had no idea what it would be. So he started pacing the room, hoping to find the right words, the flowers still in hands. He finally stopped, ran a hand in his hair and looked at you.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. Especially because of the reasons that led me to kiss you. I admit, I was jealous of Mick. A real and fat feeling of jealousy like I’ve never experienced before. Seeing you laugh with him and be your carefree self with someone other than me made me feel things I didn’t expect to feel. It was stupid and selfish to hope that the side of you that you've shown me in New York would be for me only. You told me about your brother, you gave me access to your life in New York, the way you acted around me and then the friendly texts… I think I got confused. Maybe I misread the entire situation. For that I’m sorry. Bur gosh, I’m not sorry to have kissed you. It made me realize that my feelings were everything but friendly. I have a crush on you. I like you a whole lot. It’s stupid, I know. But it is there. It exists. And I can’t help it.” he said in one breath.

You sighed and stood up, moving next to him and taking his free hand in yours.

“I can’t reciprocate it, Charles. I’m so sorry.”

“You can’t or you don’t, because these are two different things? he asked, slightly hurt but expecting your answer and when he saw you hesitating he knew not everything was lost. That he was right to hope.

“You’re nice and caring and you did it, you know. You showed me that there were not only assholes out there. Your presence in my life is a breath of fresh air and the companionship I didn't know I needed. I value our friendship. A lot more than what you can imagine. But I don’t want to sacrifice my career. It’s my dream and my little brother’s. He wanted to see me there and I won’t jeopardize it. I can’t. I would never forgive myself if I was messing it up. For Luc, I can’t do that.” you explained, tears in your eyes.

Charles slowly got closer, caressed your cheek and put two fingers under your chin in order to make you look at him. He could read the dilemma you were going through and it hurt him more than a rejection would have.

“I understand. But you don’t have to choose. You can have your career and you can have me.”

You shook your head.

“As much as I would like it, it doesn’t work like that, Charles. I don’t think it’s possible.”

“And I think you’re wrong. Let me show you that you can have the best of both worlds.”

You let out a small laugh. He would not give up.

And his promise started the next day as you were checking in at the airport.

“You’ve been upgraded to first class, Miss.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, as Marion and Jean let out an impressed sigh.

“Well, you’re registered as a first class passenger in our online base.”

“But how?” you insisted.

“I don’t know, miss, and it’s not really my problem now if you can move out of the way, you’re not the only passenger.”

You reluctantly moved to let Marion and Jean check in. As they were doing so, you took you phone out to find a text from Charles and suddenly, it was all clearer.

Would you be with me, that would become your daily life.

Those few words messed with your head during the whole flight and when you finally got back to your flat. You were exhausted. Your best friend was supposed to arrive soon and you hoped that she would be able to make you forget about Charles. You took a quick shower and soon the doorbell rang, telling you that she had arrived. She jumped into your arms, begging you to tell her everything.

“I don’t have much to tell. It was work, you know.” you avoided her look on you, preparing water to boil.

She sneaked next to you and moved her head to the side, her eyes staring at you, making you uncomfortable.

“There’s something you are not saying.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You can never shut up about your job when I ask you questions and I find you very quiet right now. Spill.”

And you spilled. In details, from the moment you met Charles to Miami, to New York and the kiss in Monaco, ending your story to his confession in your hotel room. You were out of breath when you finished talking and you could feel your cheeks burning.

“Atta girl. You have an F1 driver at your feet and you don’t jump on the occasion? What is wrong with you? “

“Why can’t anyone understand that it might cause conflicts with my job? Like bias, conflicts of interests… I can’t!” you sighed, annoyed.

“Okay, fine, I get it. Now let me ask you something different. Imagine you’re not a journalist. In another world, you and Charles work a very tedious 9 to 5 job. You both end up in a bar, for an after work event. He sees you across the room, you do too and you think that damn, he is good looking. And he finds you pretty too. So he comes and buys you a drink that you accept, because who says no to free alcohol? Anyway, you have a chat and it lasts until the bar has to close. You were so deep into your conversation that you both didn’t notice the crowd leaving and the hour approaching the early hours of the next day. And then, he asks you out for a real date, because he finds in you everything he is searching for. What are you saying?”

You closed your eyes, imagined the scene and let a warm and comforting feeling settle in your chest. A smile escaped you. It felt nice. Peaceful. For the first time in a very long time, you felt excited about the perspective of something new, no matter how scary that could be.

“I would have said yes.” you replied, opening your eyes.

“Then maybe you should hold onto that and give the poor guy a chance. You never know what could happen.” she smiled.

And when she finally left your flat, after hours of talking, you took your phone and sent a text to Charles. A bold and thrilling feeling running through your body when you press send.

Do you still want to prove to me that I can have the best of both worlds?

Author's note: Happy Easter everyone! Here's a little gift from me to you to celebrate! I knew you were waiting for that kiss... hehe

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism @roseamongthorns13 @aundercover @snowflakesfluff @fictional-l0v3r

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rosewaterandivy · 4 months

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Hm. So. Modern actor! Steve Harrington being nominated for an Oscar (Best Actor, obviously). He’s been nominated and lost out on Best Supporting Actor before and he’s been an attendee and presenter a few times over the years, but he’s nervous about this nomination in particular.

Maybe it’s because there’s a bit more on the line now, you’ve been married a few years and the twins, Eden and Ezra, are turning two soon. Eddie’s girlfriend Liz penned the script, which was miraculously picked up by A24, and somehow you and Ed had been roped into overseeing the score/soundtrack. Liz had been hesitant to bring Steve on even though all the other actors auditions and self-tapes paled in comparison.

They had a whole lunch about it - it was a *to do* in every sense of the word.

But once he read the script, Steve knew that role had to be his. Because the emotional thrust of the film was inspired by you and the chaotic unfolding of his relationship with you. It wasn’t so obvious at first glance, but if you knew where to look, it was clear as day.

All the love you’d had for one another, your little ragtag bunch of dreamers - Eddie, Steve, Liz, and you - found its way onto the pages of this script. It was a love letter to you and for you, with every word.

And Steve would be damned if he didn’t fight tooth and nail to be a part of it.

Bringing home the Oscar was no different. Besides, he had a little side bet riding on it. Maybe he cajoled you into potentially contemplating having another kid (or two) after one too many glasses of Syrah.

And maybe you’d agreed with the stipulation of: “Okay stud. I’ll think about it if you win the Oscar, but then and only then.”

He’d started the campaign in earnest the very next day. Now all that was left was it being it all home. And if there’s one thing Steve Harrington does, it’s win.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #modern actor!steve

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millersdjarin · 1 year

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I Only See Daylight

Chapter One

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series: Ongoing, set after The Mandalorian season two

Warnings/Tags (Overall): eventual smut, post-canon, trauma, past emotional/physical abuse, scars, self-doubting/negative self-image, din working out his shit, reader working out her shit, found family, injury, religious trauma, cults

~series masterlist & info~

chapter tags/warnings: mentions of past trauma/emotional abuse

chapter length: 6.8k

notes: this planet and its creatures are entirely made up by me, it does not exist, hope u like it anyway :) the fic title is from "daylight" by taylor swift, aka the soundtrack for this fic ❤️

my love was as cruel as the cities i lived in; everyone looked worse in the light

Ah, the smells and sounds of a backwater planet in the morning.

Dewy grass underfoot and damp moss lining the bases of trees. Birds chirping on the tall branches, bright green leaves shaking gently in the wind, the sound rustling through the air. The scent of the nearby flowers, the running of the river beside your hut, the hissing of an engine and the smell of burning metal…

Wait.

That’s…not the smell of this backwater planet in the morning.

You’ve just had a small breakfast, fruit picked from the meiloorun trees a few miles West, when the strange sounds and smells suddenly hit you.

It’s concerning, to say the least. No one is around for hundreds of klicks; not a hint of civilisation, not a whiff of a trade route until you reach the other side of the planet.

You chose this place for a kriffing reason. No one’s here. No one’s even near. Despite the sparse covering of meiloorun trees in an overgrown meadow, there’s no reason for anyone to be here. No reason for a ship to land nearby, that’s for sure.

Unless…

No time to think.

There are footsteps approaching.

Shit.

Your sniper rifle is by the door to your hut, blaster by your pillow. One for hunting food, one for self defence.

One that you’ve never had to use before now. Not since arriving here, anyway.

Well, first time for everything.

You grab it, and press yourself against the wall by your door, slowing your breathing so you can listen closely. The footsteps get closer; they’re muffled on the grassy ground, but getting louder, and it’s definitely a two-legged being of some kind. Just one.

You’d have thought that if They had found you, They would bring the whole damn lot along to take you back. An army, a garrison, outnumbering and overpowering you in every way.

But maybe not. They’re cunning, manipulative. Maybe sending just one of them, sending him, is a tactic. Maybe They think it would break you down; make you vulnerable again.

Well, whoever it is is walking carefully, slowly. Like every step could be putting a foot wrong.

There is, of course, the possibility that they’re not here for you at all, and are just going to bypass your hut without a second thought. A very minute possibility; you are the only sentient being here, your hut the only sign of someone’s life. It’s the best place to hide, somewhere where no one ever goes, because no one needs or wants to. The flora and fauna isn’t ideal, there are no useful resources for trading, and only just enough for one careful person to survive on.

But that chance of someone being here not for you is squashed when you peer out of the window on the door and realise that, yes, there is a figure emerging from the woods in front of your hut, and, yes, that is the shine of the barrel of a blaster.

Kriff.

They’ve found you.

You could run. There’s a back door you built specifically for this.

But if there’s only one out front, then it’s definitely some kind of manipulation tactic. There will be more nearby. They’ll be waiting in the back, having taught you themselves to always have a back route to escape, and they’ll grab you before you can even think twice.

The only option is to try and reason with him. To try and use his own tricks against him. To manipulate him into thinking you’re doing what he wants, and then use his weakness to get away.

It’s never worked before.

But it’s the only option you’ve got.

Creaking open your front door, you point your blaster around the frame, followed closely by your left eye. You expect to see a human face, bearded, white skin and bright blue eyes. Familiar. So familiar you can never fucking forget it.

But, instead, all you see is blinding silver.

No, not silver. Not even durasteel. You don’t know what it’s made of, but it’s armour, a lot of it, shining brightly in the morning sunlight. It’s complete with a helmet, also that strange type of silver metal, with a black T-shaped Visor across the eyes and cutting down the front. A gloved hand is holding up a blaster not dissimilar to your own, though the person looks hesitant, only holding it as a caution, as they approach your hut in the same way.

“Get back!” You shout.

The armour stops.

People don’t normally actually stop when you tell them to. So, you’re not sure what to do next.

(You were expecting to shoot, but honestly, you’re not sure what good it could possibly do past that armour. What is that stuff, anyways?)

“Leave now,” you demand, “this is your warning. I will shoot you.”

The hand holding the blaster lifts, very pointedly bringing their finger off the trigger. They hold up both of their hands, in surrender. “I’m not here to harm you,” a voice comes through the helmet, modulated and most likely male. He’s speaking quietly, so measured and calm that you wonder if the helmet does that for him.

“You need to leave!” You say again, gaining enough confidence now that his blaster is not pointed at you to put your whole head around the door. Now both of your eyes are on him, you see the entirety of his armour. He is absolutely armed to the fucking teeth, probably not even needing a blaster to kill you in a breath. There’s a rifle on his back. A satchel is slung over his shoulder, but you can’t see the bag itself as it sits over his back.

The shape and design of his helmet is familiar to you, distantly, something in your brain ringing when you see it. But you can’t quite put your finger on it, and it’s not important right now.

“I can’t do that,” he says, measuredly calm again.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

A pause. He still has his hands in the air, but after seeing the amount of weapons he has strapped to him, it’s not all that comforting. “My ship crashed,” he says after an uncomfortably long time, like he wishes he didn’t have to say it. “I was hoping to find somewhere to buy parts.”

You huff out a laugh. “Good luck with that,” you say. Subtly, and with your blaster still aimed at him, you get another look at him. With his hands up, his satchel is starting to slip around his body. You get a glimpse at the very edge of the bag. Whatever is in there is heavy, and you’re not about to take the risk that it’s something dangerous. “You need to leave. You can’t be here.”

“Is there a town nearby that you can direct me to?” He asks. “I tried looking at the map, but it must have been corrupted…”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes. “It’s not corrupted. There’s nothing on this side of the planet.”

Another pause. “But you’re here.”

Alright. Either They have sent some random, terrifying guy to lure you into a false sense of security, or he is just genuinely lost.

You’re just about to lower your blaster, to give him the bad news that he’s going to have to travel half way around the planet if he ever wants to get off it, when two things happen at once.

First, the satchel slips all the way around. You jump at first, but soon, the bag itself is moving, and something pops out from the top of it. Something…alive. Something green, wrinkled, with ears as big as its head and deep, dark eyes almost as large too.

You frown. A kid?

Not enough time to process the fact that this seems to be a father who has got himself stranded, because suddenly you see something else in the satchel, sticking out from one of the front pockets with a blinking light and a beeping that you can hear from here.

A tracking fob.

Your heart rate shoots up, blood suddenly rushing through your ears so you can’t hear anything but that. You flick the safety off your blaster, aim it stronger at him, look through the scope with one eye. “Get out of here, bounty hunter, or I swear I’ll shoot you where that armour can’t protect you.”

The child—why the fuck does a bounty hunter have a child?—coos, seeming concerned, and looks up at the armoured man like he’ll have an answer.

The man himself has his blaster aimed at you again, and you didn’t even see him move to point it. Kriff. He’s fucking good.

They put a bounty on you. Fuck, They wanted you back that badly.

“I said leave!” You cry, feeling tears of both fear and betrayal sting at the backs of your eyes. You try desperately to swallow them down. “Take that tracking fob, and leave, or I swear to the Maker—”

Your words seem to startle him, and he drops his blaster once more, the helmet tilting down towards where the fob is sticking out of his bag. “No, no, it’s not—this isn’t for you!” He says, sounding more hurried now than he had when his hands were up and you were about to shoot him. He fishes the fob out. “This isn’t yours. See, it’s not telling me I’m close to my target. Look.” He holds it out towards you.

A quick glance tells you that he’s not lying about that. The lights aren’t blinking right.

You hesitate. Your heart is still beating wildly in your chest, so hard that it feels like it might jump out and run away from this entire situation. Which, you couldn’t blame it.

You wish you could do the same.

“You really just crashed here?” You ask, your blaster-wielding arm twitching.

“Yes,” he answers.

You look at the child. “The kid yours?”

“I…yes. Yes, he’s mine.”

A frown creases at your forehead, both concerned and curious. “No one’s surrounding us? No one going to jump out and take me?”

“…No,” he says. Something in the tilt of his helmet comes across as amusement.

It’s not funny.

But he has a kid. Someone sent here to kill you wouldn’t have brought a kid.

Well, probably not. Though knowing Them, you wouldn’t necessarily put anything past them.

Not without hesitation, you lower your arm. Flick the safety back on, but keep your finger on it, ready to flick it back at a moment’s notice. “You crashed onto the wrong planet,” you say, stepping further into the doorway. You can’t see his eyes, but it feels like they’re on you, taking you in now he can see you. “I meant it when I said there’s nothing until you get to the other side.”

He observes you. “Can you help me?”

You sigh. It’s been a long time since you had any kind of human contact—well, you assume he’s human—and it’s already becoming too much. A tiny, corrupt part of you says, No, you can’t help him. Send him on his way. A part of you that is either there for self preservation, or a part that They put in you from a young, young age.

It’s a part that you have never listened to. Not once.

And you’re not about to start now.

“I can give you food and water,” you say, eyeing the kid curiously, wondering if it even eats or drinks, “and I can tell you more about this place. Maybe even help with the ship. But I haven’t got a way for you to get to the city.”

He seems to relax a little. Tentatively, and still holding his hands halfway up, he steps closer. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you very much.”

He sounds so sincere, so genuine, that it takes you by surprise. Because, really, he’s quite terrifying. Just this big, looming wall of steel-silver armour, covered head-to-toe in weapons, as well as ones that are no doubt hidden, too. You can’t see his face or read him at all. He walks so casually, like he’s meant to be here. Like this is normal.

And there’s a fucking green child strapped to him, the likes of which you’ve never seen before.

“Please, sit,” you say, gesturing to the table and chairs you have set up under the awning that stretches from your hut’s roof. “Are you hungry?”

“The kid is. We have supplies on our ship, but it’s a few miles away…”

You raise an eyebrow. He doesn’t sit down, just stands there under the shade, staring at you. “When did you crash?”

“We didn’t crash, necessarily. Just…an interesting landing.”

“Right, right, of course. But it was such an interesting landing that you can’t take off again?”

“…That’s right.”

Before replying, you head inside and to the little kitchenette along the left wall. There’s some fruit there and a little of the bread you made last week. You gather it, along with a knife and some plates, and take them out to the man.

“Well, I don’t know much about mechanical stuff,” you shrug, putting it all down on the table, “but I’ll do what I can to help.”

He still doesn’t move to sit down, or even towards the table. The child careens towards the food, though, reaching out little clawed, three-fingered hands.

The man just stares at you. You wonder why. What he’s staring so much for. Is there something particularly puzzling about you? Something he doesn’t understand?

“Thank you,” he says eventually. “For your generosity.”

Yeah, well. Again, you gesture to the table, and finally he follows. He sits down and puts the kid on the bench beside him, giving his nose an affectionate little rub before he turns to the table and breaks a bit off the bread. The kid is reaching for it as he hands it over, and the way his little green mouth starts biting at it is adorable.

“So,” you say, “who are you?”

The helmet looks back at you again. Even out of the sunlight, it’s still a piercing, shining silver. “People call me Mando,” he says after a beat.

You frown. “Mando,” you repeat, mostly to yourself. “As in, Mandalorian?”

He seems to startle a little, pausing as he cuts the fruit into kid-sized squares. “You know about the Mandalorians?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

A noise comes through the helmet. You could swear it sounds like a breathy laugh. He shakes his head and looks back to the fruit in front of him. “Depends what you know.”

“Uh, let’s see,” you sit down on the chair opposite him, across the table. “A race of warriors, proud of their heritage, destroyed by the Empire…”

He tenses. Stops again, and looks up.

Kriff.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, “sorry. It’s…been a while since I talked to another person. That was insensitive.”

After yet another long, indiscernible stare, he gets back to work. Silence passes for a minute, long and uncomfortable as anxiety roils in your stomach. You always say the wrong fucking thing, don’t you? Always making things worse, always fucking things up…

“Well, you’re right,” his modulated voice breaks through your quickly spiralling thoughts. “The Empire destroyed most of us.” Grief laces his voice, heavy like you imagine the armour on him must be.

It twigs, then. His armour. Mandalorian. The shape of his helmet.

That’s where you recognise it from.

You want to ask, want to hear more about his people, about what happened. Before coming here, you knew a lot about the different cultures in the Galaxy; last you heard, the Empire was gone, and the New Republic was being built. But you don’t know anything about the Mandalorians except that they were all wiped out—or, so you thought.

He starts handing little cubes of yellow fruit to the kid, who coos and accepts them happily.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” You ask him, curious.

“No, thank you.”

A frown tugs at your forehead. Maybe he’s not human. “Do you…do you eat?”

“What?”

“I mean…do you need to eat?”

“I—yes, I need to eat. I’m human,” he adds on, like he’s realised my unasked question.

Okay, good. Not that it would have been bad if he’d not been human. But the way his broad shoulders look under the armour, the solidity of his thighs, the way his gloved fingers are flexing around the fruit, shiny with juice, working deftly…

You shake yourself from your thoughts. You literally just met this man, and you know that he’s a bounty hunter. You need to stop.

Speaking of, “So did you come here for a bounty?”

He looks up again, and something about the way he startles comes across as surprise. Pleasant or unpleasant surprise, you’re not sure, but either way, he looks surprised that you asked that.

“No,” he says.

“How badly damaged is your ship?” Recalling the smell of burning engine oil, you prop your foot up on one of the table’s legs, the soles of your boot gripping to the wood. Sunlight is streaming through the coarse fabric of the awning above you, casting tiny slivers of golden beams across all three of you. It shimmers in his armour, and he looks just a little magical. The kid is gazing up at the twinkling lights above him. It looks like the canvas is covered in golden stars, flitting as trees rustle between the fabric and the sunlight.

“I can probably fix it myself. At least enough to get me somewhere that has parts.”

“Hyperdrive blown?”

“Yes,” he says. “How’d you know?”

“I could smell it,” you say. It’s been a long time since you smelled that, but it’s ingrained in your memory, all sour and oily.

“The hyperdrive blew, and it damaged the engine. I only just got us down safely.”

“So probably a little body damage too, then.” I ponder, wondering if there’s any way we can find parts that he might need. There’s a scrap heap a little way off—definitely not as far as the other side of the kriffing planet—left there by, presumably, the last people unfortunate enough to crash here.

“I thought you didn’t know about mechanics?” He asks, something in his voice quirking, the same tilt of his helmet that you thought was amusement earlier.

“I have a little knowledge. Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

He shakes his head.

“Alright.”

And it’s not a good idea to offer him the kind of help you’re thinking of offering. It’s not. He’s a bounty hunter, very clearly dangerous, and he’s also the first person you’ve seen since you left Them.

You don’t trust people easily. You used to. But you don’t anymore.

But he has a kid. And if you don’t help him, he’s going to be stuck here forever, unless he’s happy to take the year-long journey of going to the other side of the planet. You came here for solitude, for safety. To not have to trust people.

That won’t work if he’s going to have to stay here.

And, who knows? Maybe he’ll try and kill you for food in the end. By the looks of him, he could.

You sigh to yourself.

Because even despite all that, despite the fact that the only remotely good reason to help him out is to try and stop yourself getting eaten, you’d still help him anyway.

That’s who you are. You didn’t let Them make you anything else. Swore you would never.

“Well,” you say, having made up your mind, “there’s a scrap heap a fifty klicks West of here. It’ll take a couple days of travelling on foot to get there, but it might have what you need.”

He nods. “I could probably get there. Can you mark it on a map?”

You haven’t seen a map in years. In fact, you only know this place by its terrain. By its land under your feet, the trees above you. “No,” you say. “But I can come with you.”

He stares. “You don’t have to do that.”

“If you ever want to get off this planet, yes, I do,” you say with a smirk. What you don’t say is, And I want you to leave. Despite the fact that you’ve got really lovely shoulders and a cute baby. “Assuming you actually need parts. Can you fix what you need to fix with what you’ve got?”

He sighs. “Probably not,” he says. “It’s a new ship. I don’t…know it as well as my others.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “You have others?”

“Had,” he corrects. “I have had others.”

“Hm. Alright, well, I’ll help you, if you’ll accept my help. Just don’t point a blaster at me again.”

There’s that sound again, a little huff, like a laugh. “I’ll ask the same of you,” he says, “if you would.”

“Mm…I’m already doing you a pretty big favour,” you tease, smirking and patting the blaster that sits at your hip, “I’ll think about it.”

You’re not really big on babies. They’re messy, sticky, demanding, and loud.

But this one is really very cute.

He’s got hold of your finger, and is squeezing it gently between his little fingers. Mando tells you that his name is Grogu, and the first time you call him it, his big green ears twitch along with a tilt of his head.

It probably wasn’t all that wise to let Mando stay the night. Even though he and the kid slept outside in your hiking tent, and you kept the front door locked, you know that he could have without a doubt gotten inside to kill you. Or worse.

But he didn’t.

All that happens is that, when you wake up, he and the kid are already sitting at the table, and the little box of food that you’d left with them after sunset in case they got hungry was empty.

You’d talked with Mando a little yesterday, but mostly went about your daily routine like he wasn’t there. He seems good at that; just being still, blending in, the opposite of obtrusive. Which, you suppose, is what makes a good bounty hunter. At least the type that likes to do it with minimal mess.

Still, you’re curious about him. He sat outside all day with the kid, even took him for a walk to the nearby creek in the late afternoon. It’s so strange to see such contrast in him: the cold, hard exterior of his armour, something so impenetrable and immovable; and then the soft way he handles the kid, the way he bounces him on his hip, shows him magic tricks, picks him up when his little hands reach out for him.

There are a lot of questions on your tongue. Why and how he has the kid, where he came from, where the rest of his people are, how the kriff are you such a gentle person when you’re also the scariest pillar of metal I’ve ever seen?

You keep them to yourself.

You wouldn’t want anyone asking questions about you. (Hence why you’re here in the first place, but.) So you don’t ask the same of him.

The morning after he arrived here, the three of you set off for the scrap heap. Your backpack slung over your back, filled with blankets, rations, flasks, and sleeping mats. Mando carries a bag that you gave him, though most of the bulk is your hiking tent.

It’s only when you’re a half hour into the forest that you realise you’ve only got one tent.

Three sleeping mats for the floor, yes. Three sets of blankets, yes.

But one kriffing tent.

Well, you think, we can take sleep watch shifts anyway.

The sun is warm this morning, but not too hot; just a comfortable heat on your skin as you walk through the thick forest, climbing over fallen trees and winding, gnarled roots that stick up from the ground. It’s mostly dry earth underfoot, some moss glistening on rocks, a few tufts of grass sprouting beneath pillars of light that shine through the treetops.

Mando isn’t much of a talker, you’re realising. And you can’t decide if you like that or not.

The kid is always babbling, though. He’s got his head sticking out of Mando’s satchel again, and he’s looking around slowly, his mouth slightly open and big eyes wide as he takes in his surroundings. You wonder if he’s ever seen anywhere like this; where the two of them may have been together. You don’t even know what species he is—he could be from somewhere like this. A planet with a warm, mildly humid climate during the spring.

You’re coming up on one of the large valleys that splits the earth, stretching down into a deep cavern filled with rushing water coming from the tall waterfall beside it. You can hear the water before you see any sign of it.

“We’re coming to the waterfall valley,” you explain, “there’s a fallen tree over the chasm that we can use as a bridge.”

Wordless, Mando nods in acknowledgement.

The fallen tree that bridges the gap between sides of the river is giant, both in length and width, with more than enough room to comfortably walk across it in a single-file line. It was probably thousands of years old before it fell. The roots snapped at its base, leaving gnarled and sharp splints of wood curling up into the air and surrounding foliage. On the other side, its branches are bare, the leaves having died and fallen off long ago, and the branches are anchored into the ground after years of being covered by it.

“It looks mossy,” Mando says as you step up onto it first. “Watch your step.”

He’s right; the spray of water constantly shooting up into the air from the waterfall has made for a nice home for moss, glistening in dark green florets along the top, with longer water weeds hanging from the underside.

It could be slippy, but you’ve walked across it many times, and you’re used to it. It’s the only way to the fruit trees in the overgrown meadow. There’s almost a path worn across it, though not quite; the moss grows back far too enthusiastically to stay away.

Grogu is cooing as you cross. You don’t look back at him lest you lose your footing, but you can imagine that he’s gazing around with that same wonder on his face.

It is pretty. This whole area is pretty. Serene, if you don’t count the various wildlife that can often be just a little hostile. There are birds of prey that swoop down from the impossibly small treetops sometimes; yellow and red lizards that skitter along the forest floor, their tails, complete with stinger, thrashing threateningly into the air as they run past. As long as you keep an ear out, though, it’s alright.

“I don’t know your name,” Mando’s voice, calm through his helmet, cuts into your thoughts once you’ve crossed. He’s fallen into step beside you, one of his hands absently pressed against the kid’s back.

You glance at him, uncertain. Technically, you don’t know his name. So, really, it’s only fair that your answer is, “No, you don’t.”

His helmet tilts as he huffs out a laugh. “Alright. Guess I’m not going to?”

“Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine,” you challenge, raising a teasing eyebrow at him.

He laughs again. You wonder how often he does that. He seems to live a pretty serious life, with what little information you have on him. But the kid is adorable, and there’s bound to be several times a day where he laughs at his cuteness, surely. “Alright. Fair enough.”

“There’s a river up ahead. I’m going to fill my flask.” You gesture to the approaching clearing where a river cuts through the forest floor, a few metres wide, deeper than it looks.

“Can we cross it?”

“We’ll have to get our feet wet, but yes. And watch out for the water snails.”

“The what?”

“They live in the riverbed. If your foot lingers too long, they’ll crawl on you and suck you down into the sand. Oh, and then there’s the stinging lizards that live in the brush on each side.”

The helmet tilts to look at you, and something about his body language comes across as incredulity. “Safe planet you got here,” he says, dry.

The surprise of hearing him make a sarcastic comment catches in a laugh in your throat, bubbling out without permission. “It is safe,” you counter, smiling at him even though he’s not looking at you anymore, “no one else around kind of has that effect.”

“If there’s nothing on this side of the planet,” he says, “why are you here?”

A cold stab of dread shoots through your stomach. Quickly, you push it away, forcing the thoughts out of your mind that want to come in and race around until you feel dizzy. To cover up your slight falter, you clear your throat as you step out into the river’s clearing. “How about I don’t ask you about you, and you don’t ask me about me?”

He stops beside you when you lean down to fill your flask from the rapidly running river water. For a moment, he just observes you, quiet. It’s strange to be able to feel someone’s gaze so strongly when you can’t even see their face, their eyes. “Deal,” he says.

Satisfied, you stand up straight again, and gesture to the shallower part of the river a few feet to the right. He follows as you step into the water. You keep your steps light and quick, scanning the riverbed for any sign of those metallic-brown molluscs that masquerade as innocent rocks.

The thing with the snails is that they don’t actually want anything with you. They don’t eat you. They just pull you down into the sand because it’s their instinct. You get stuck, and sink until you drown in the water or the riverbed itself. When one sticks to your foot, the entire swarm of them joins in, and it’s nearly impossible to escape if you don’t catch it quickly enough. Your only hope in that situation is that the blue shindl birds will come and eat the snails before their numbers are too many.

You make it to the other side quickly enough, and turn to watch Mando copying the lightness of your steps. It’s quite amusing, actually, to see this heavily armoured, heavy-booted man taking light footsteps like he’s standing on ground too hot for his feet. The kid laughs from his place in the satchel, and you watch in amusement.

That is, until, there’s a loud swoop coming from the sky above you, accompanied by a Squalk!

A shindl bird, bigger than your own body, swoops just metres above you, dipping so low down towards the river that you can feel the downdraft from its giant, pale white and blue feathered wings.

On instinct, Mando freezes in his tracks, covering the kid with one hand and reaching for his blaster with the other.

“Don’t shoot it!” You shout hastily, watching as he tracks the bird flying down the length of the river with his blaster’s scope. The bird turns around, heading back to you. “They’re just looking for the snails to eat!”

Mando ignores you, too busy clutching the kid to his side.

“Mando, you need to move! The snails!”

This time, he doesn’t ignore you; but he does only have a second to look back at you before he’s trying to move, to bring his feet out from the riverbed, but one of them is stuck.

Kriff, he’s stuck.

His visor turns down to his feet. He tugs his left leg, trying to walk forward on it.

“Oh, for kriff’s sake,” you curse, reaching for your own blaster. He’s not sinking yet, but you can already see the large snail on his foot through the water, and more are coming to life beneath the surface, slowly making their way to him.

The shindl swoops overhead again, lower this time, clearly having spotted the snails too.

“Stay still!” You shout to Mando over the deafening sound of the bird’s wings flapping in the air.

He looks up at you and sees the blaster pointed towards his foot. “What are you doing?”

“Just hold still!” You aim through the sight, just an inch away from the edge of Mando’s foot, getting the snail’s eyes right in your crosshair.

Mando protests, saying, “Wait, no, don’t—” But he’s too late, your finger already squeezing the trigger.

The snail on his foot wilts immediately, like leafy vegetables thrown into a hot pan. Mando wastes no time in pulling on his leg again, and he only just gets himself to move in time before the rest of the snail’s colony is gaining on him and discovering the body of the early bird who got the worm—well, the foot.

He splashes out of the river towards you, still gripping the child to his side, with both hands now. Once he’s free and clear on to the riverbank, he sighs out in relief at the same time you do.

Lowering your blaster, you watch as the shindl bird swoops right down to the water and ducks its large beak down below the surface, grabbing the dead snail first. Its wings are so wide and so close that you feel the very edge of one of its feathers brush against your face.

It turns to look at the two of you before it flies up completely vertically into the sky and gives a triumphant cry.

“You might want to back up,” you tell Mando with a smirk at how he’s trying to scrape off the snail’s goo from the top of his boot. “The rest are coming.”

“The snails?”

“No. The birds.” As you reach a hand out in front of him, you back up, automatically taking him with you. He follows willingly, though he could just as easily push you away and defy your advice.

You step back into the tree line again, under the cover of the rustling branches.

Before you can even blink, suddenly an entire flock of the shindl birds is descending upon the river where Mando was once stuck, all diving in with their beaks open to pick up as many snails as they can at once.

Really, Mando did them a favour by getting stuck. The only time the snail colony comes out is when they think they’ve caught something. Otherwise, the shindl have to spend hours looking down into the water, standing still or hovering low, waiting for one to appear before them.

The flaps and squalks of the birds fills the air, and beneath it, you can hear a trill of glee coming from the kid’s satchel. Looking down, you find his hands outstretched towards the whole ordeal, flapping a little in excitement.

You chuckle. From under the cover of the trees, it’s a pretty amazing thing to see. The birds’ feathers are metallic and pearly, fading from glistening white to pale blue as the sunlight shifts over their curves and edges. They fly so gracefully despite the frantic fight to find the best snail.

The first time you got caught in one of their food grabs wasn’t as fun, though. But you learned your lesson.

“What are those things?” Mando asks. He lifts the kid from the satchel and clutches him to his breastplate, tapping comfortingly at the kid’s tummy. It’s sweet, like he’s reassuring him that everything is alright after what happened.

When you don’t answer right away, the helmet turns to look at you, waiting for an answer.

You got distracted by him, to be honest. By him and the kid. “They’re shindl birds,” you say.

He looks back to them. The flock is clearing a little now; you imagine there are only a few snails left for them to devour.

“They’re native to this planet. They really love those snails.”

“Hm.” Mando hums, and you’re not sure if it’s an acknowledgement or a laugh.

“Come on,” you say, gesturing to continue on your path, “we should move.”

“Are there more creatures out to get us?”

“Probably. But don’t worry. I’ll save you again, should you need it.”

Walking alongside you, his helmet tilts. “I can handle myself.”

“Clearly. You’re welcome, by the way.”

His sigh is not impatient or unimpressed; in fact, it sounds amused, warm. “Thank you. You did save me back there.”

“No problem. I’ve dealt with those things before.”

“I would have appreciated a warning, though.”

“I gave you a warning; I told you not to stop in the river!”

“You didn’t tell me about the birds.”

The kid laughs, lifting up one of his hands to press it against the side of Mando’s helmet.

“Well, I’m just glad you didn’t shoot them,” you say. Out of the corner of your eye as you walk side-by-side, you observe Mando, watch the kid touch the plate of metal that covers his cheekbone. You realise, then, that you don’t actually know what he looks like. He’s never taken his helmet off in front of you; not even his gloves. You don’t think you’ve even seen him have a drink.

Maybe it’s for the best, though. Because you’re finding yourself wanting to walk just a little ways behind him so you can admire the casual, commanding way that he walks, the slight swing of his hips as his hands flex at his sides. The breadth of his shoulders, emphasised by his heavy armour. His hips, the way his torso gets only a little narrower towards them, his entire frame straight and wide and beautiful.

You need to stop.

You don’t even know what he looks like.

Speaking of, “Do you want a drink?”

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Do you drink?”

“I told you, I’m human.”

You nod, hoping it comes across as unassuming. But there are so many questions swirling around in your head; so much that you suddenly want to know about him. He’s mysterious, you’ll give him that. Does he do it on purpose? Is it something he does to try and get people to follow him, or is he just genuinely a private person?

You’re so used to people using tactics, games to mess with you and the way you form relationships, that you never know what to believe. They used to string you along, make you chase them, make you beg for them to just see you, hear you, understand you…and then, just when you felt like you’d finally done enough for them, they’d turn it all around and shut you out again.

It was a never ending cycle.

It’s hard not to project that onto Mando. He’s the first person you’ve seen since you escaped Them. For all you know, he could be just as manipulative.

Except, unprompted, he says, “I don’t take my helmet off.”

Oh.

Okay, racing thoughts on pause: “What?”

“It’s part of my Creed. As a Mandalorian.”

“Oh,” you say as the pieces fit into place. It makes sense now, but you’re still surprised; you didn’t know that about Mandalorians. In fact, you distinctly remember meeting some when you were a child who definitely did not wear their helmet all the time. “So…you’ve never taken it off?”

He pauses, hesitating. His moment of unprompted honesty falters. “It’s complicated.”

Oh, great. It’s hard not to put bad intentions on to him when he says stuff like that. It’s complicated.

You wouldn’t understand.

You don’t get to know the secrets.

You’ve earned my trust, well done.

I never want to see you again.

You have to force yourself to stop spiralling. For a long moment there, you were no longer walking through the forest with a strange Mandalorian and his little green child. You were walking through the forest with Them. With your family. And the weight of everything they ever did.

You clear your throat, demanding yourself back into the moment. “Is it not uncomfortable?”

It must be. Especially in humid climates like this. Or maybe it’s temperature-controlled under there. The entire set of armour looks pretty swish; maybe it’s got some cool technology.

“I’m used to it,” he says, and his tone suggests that that’s the last he wants to talk about it.

So, you’re quiet again.

You focus on the ground crunching underfoot, the tiny birds whistling in the trees.

You’re not back there. Mando isn’t Them.

You’re safe.

You’re okay.

notes: i'm REALLY excited to finally be posting this fic! i hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. all interactions are appreciated, but comments and reblogs especially make my day ❤️ updates will be regular!

i'm going to make a taglist for this fic so if you wanna be on it, drop me an ask or reply to this post!

take care of yourself ❤️

#din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #star wars fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #my post #my fic: mando #my fic #i only see daylight

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