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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

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To Choose the Sword (Bishop Heahmund x Reader)

Summary: There is only person that Heahmund cherishes above all, and when she is threatened, he realizes he would do anything to protect her…. even sell his soul to a blue-eyed devil.

This is my contribution to @maggiescarborough 500 followers celebration! (I’m so sorry this is late but here we are.)

Flower chosen: periwinkle- religious symbol in the Middle Ages tied to the Virgin Mary, benevolence (desire to do good to others, charitable), nostalgia and purity.

I also decided to add an extra challenge and write for a character I would not normally write for- hence Heahmund.

Words: 6000

Warnings: implied abuse/mistreatment, mutual pining, couple swear words, heavy religious overtones, Ivar being manipulative

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

Also, a huge shout-out to @flowers-in-your-hayr for this absolutely stunning moodboard. Look at this! Its gorgeous! Be in awe!

He knew where she would be.

The leaves and twigs underfoot crunched beneath his boots. The morning sun casted shadows as it peeked through the foliage above him. His sword bounced against his back almost in sync with the cross upon his chest. The weight of both, something he was continuously aware of.

It was here he first met her on a hazy summer day.

It was here the two of them always seemed to find one another like two stars caught in each other's orbits.

It was here he could never decide if she was his salvation or his damnation.

Along the thin trail, his feet guided him, stepping over sticks and rocks. His mind wrestled with the news, but as his mind fought, his heart broke within his chest. It was a selfish reaction, he knew. Yet that did not cease the pain welling in his chest, so strong it threatened to bring forth tears. He kept them at bay. For he was a man of the cloth, a man of God.

But sometimes he struggled with just being a man.

Soon the gurgling of the bubbling creek could be heard amidst the summer songs of the birds. His footfalls quickened and after several more paces, she finally came into view. Kneeling near the creek, hands folded before her in supplication, she appeared the very vision of pious purity.

Heahmund gently called out her name, like a whisper in the breeze, a soft caress on skin. When her head lifted, turning to find him walking closer, his heart skipped a beat. Those eyes that beguiled him, those sweet lips that only allowed kind words to pass through, and her smile…. oh, that smile that lit up her face like a lamp uncovered to shine in the darkest of nights.

To his dying breath, he would fervently believe she was an angel in disguise, a blessing from the Lord God bestowed on his creation to remind them of His goodness.

And that was why she was both his salvation and damnation.

Because he wanted her. He wanted her with all his soul. But she was too pure, too benevolent, too holy for someone like him. She made him want to be better in both his vows and himself. To fight without wavering in protecting his country from the heathens. To protect her from ever having to fear them.

And when she turned those eyes to him, when she smiled gently at him like he was her favorite person on earth, he was undone.

"Your Grace." She rose to her feet, brushing off the few pieces of grass that stuck to her green dress.

"I heard the news that you will no longer be in my congregation."

"Yes. My father has family in York. With his failing health, he thinks it wise for us to move there."

Heahmund hummed in thought as he moved closer. Even though his face remained impassive, his heart clenched at the thought of her leaving. For who else would he look to while saying prayers at Mass? Who else would he recite scripture and poems to while they reclined next to the bubbling creek? Who else was kind enough to seek him out after he returned from a raid, to clean his wounds if any and make sure he was fed?

"I shall keep your family in my prayers to our Lord." He whispered, now standing before her. "My congregation will not be the same without you…. or your family."

She gazed shyly at him through those long eyelashes. "You are too kind, Bishop Heahmund."

"You have denied yourself for many years to look after your ailing father and the rest of your family. If the Pope heard of all your sacrifices for your family and our church, he would name you a Saint."

"I am nowhere worthy of sainthood. You tease me."

A smile drew his lips upward as he watched her. "Perhaps a little."

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked downward. It took all of his willpower not to lay a hand beneath her chin, the draw those beautiful eyes back to his own, to gaze upon her beauty, both inside and out, for longer. To ask her to never leave him.

But it was not his place. No matter how he felt for her.

"If it is not too bold of me…." She broke through his turbulent thoughts, her sweet voice trailing off as she toyed with one of her sleeves.

"Go on." He encouraged, heart hammering away inside of him.

"I made something for you. It's not much, but…. but it's just something to remember me by and know you will be in my prayers as well…. for your protection against the heathens." Quickly she dropped to her knees, digging in the basket by her feet.

The basket had gone unnoticed by him as his focus resided with soaking in these last few minutes with her. For he was unsure if the Lord's work would bring him to York. She swiftly pulled something out and held it out with both hands like an offering. His eyes momentarily widened before he reverently reached out and clasped it in his hand. It was a white, square kerchief, soft and pure. It was when he looked at the corners that he truly saw the beauty of it. A small cross was stitched in one corner and in the other opposite corner was a grouping of three small, periwinkle flowers.

"Thank you, y/n, truly." He returned his gaze to her, struggling to keep the awe out of his tone. "I shall cherish your gift as if the Virgin Mary herself gave it unto me."

She giggled, a coy smile on her face. "I would hope that she would bestow a better present for someone as holy as yourself."

"I would never cherish it as much as yours." He admitted with more candor than he should.

Her gaze snapped to his then darted away like a startled bird. A weighty, tense silence hung over them, drawing them closer yet apart simultaneously. For it was this blissful, torturous attraction that left them both spellbound, lost to reality in the presence of the other.

Unable to stay away a moment longer, he cupped her cheek with his calloused hand, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Bishop Heahmund…." She breathed out.

"Must I remind you to call me just Heahmund when we are alone?"

"Heahmund." She murmured, one of her hands coming to rest on the center of his chest. To anchor herself or him to this moment, he did not know.

Desire and longing colored the air around them. A tension that pushed their bodies closer without their awareness, until they could feel the breath of the other gliding across their lips. Something burned between them, this thing that remained unnamed for so long. Heahmund knew it was not lust. For that carnal sin was something he intimately knew and had used other women for, much to his disgrace. No, this was something far stronger, far more powerful, far more dangerous for both of them. For as the years passed, it never faded or wavered like a dying flame. It endured.

His gaze zeroed in on her bottom lip as his thumb caressed it with an almost-there touch. Her lips parted on a quiet gasp but she made no move to pull away. Those enchanting eyes beheld him with absolute trust. Something he was unworthy of.

After taking a deep breath, his hand traced down her neck, to her shoulder and down her arm to hold her hand leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brought her delicate hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. Then, regretfully, he released her hand.

"Come, I shall escort you back to the city. You should not linger out here alone for too long." He said, taking a step back. Needing space before he did something indecent and unbecoming of his station.

"Thank you." She replied automatically, blinking rapidly for a second as if waking from a dream. A dream he wished he could have further explored, to share openly with her. Bending down, she grabbed her basket and held it against her hip.

They walked back through the woods in silence, more spoken in their actions and looks than could ever openly cross their lips. With each step, Heahmund silently beseeched his God that this encounter would not be their last. Although she was his sweetest temptation, his forbidden apple in the garden, he could not abandon her. It was for her that he picked up a sword to fight the heathens that invaded their land. With what might he had, he would see her protected and defended, that the purity she wore like a veil, the benevolence that dressed her daily, the pure goodness she radiated, would never be blemished.

Even if he never had the honor of holding her against his body, of tasting the sweetness of her lips, to hear the pleasured cry of his name from her mouth, to ever be more than just a man of God to her. It was worth it. For she was his angel.

*****

With eyes that could pierce stone in the raging fury bubbling beneath his skin, Heahmund stared at the city of York.

Captured by heathens.

Those damned sons of Ragnar Lothbrok.

Saxon warriors moved about him, none bothering him, either thinking he was strategizing how to reclaim the city or praying for the Lord's protection over His people as they beat back the devils.

What none knew, what no one could see, was the despair and wrath gnawing away in the bishop's mind. It took every ounce of his willpower to remain in the Saxon camp with the new King and his sons and not to scourge the city of the infestation of heathens. But to go seek for her. To find and protect her. Somehow in his heart, he knew she was down there. In what condition though, he dared not imagine.

When the two sons of Ragnar came in the night to talk of peace, his resolve almost broke. Questions of her coated his tongue like the sweetest of poisons, slowly driving him mad. Yet he swallowed them back down. Not just for fear of his fellow warriors learning of his unholy affections towards her; but fear if she was alive and the heathens realized the depth of his care for her. Surely it would bring about her doom. So when he slipped into their tent like a snake cornering its prey, his fists dirtied by the blood of the Ragnarssons, it was his silent promise to save her, that even from here he would protect her.

They must retake the city, to drive out the Vikings, for God and country and justice. Most importantly for him- they must retake the city so he could find her.

*****

"You call me heathen, but to me, I am godly. I live by the gods."

"There is only one God." Heahmund bit out. The chain around his neck was even more sharp than his tongue.

Ivar continued, arrogance dripping off each word. "But I have seen other gods. I have seen the Odin, the All-Father, with my own eyes."

"They are the devil's work. He conjures up demons and fallen angels to beguile us. And lead us into evil."

"What is evil?" The raven-haired heathen asked in a haughty undertone.

Heahmund sighed, dropping his chin back to his chest. His legs were growing weary beneath him, having been chained here for hours already and he saw no true reprieve in sight. "Slaughter of the innocent." He answered in a whisper.

"You slaughter when it suits you."

Rage filled the Bishop at the way this heathen turned his words, how he taunted with that arrogant smirk on his face, how he disrespected the one true God. "He who chooses to be heathen is not innocent." He shouted, pointing his finger in condemnation at the ungodly sinner beside him. Then for a moment he wondered if this was why he had been captured by the Danes. If this was all the Lord's mysterious work. His tone softened as he continued to stare at his captor. "But I could show you the ways of God, to salvation and eternal life."

But it was all in vain.

He chuckled darkly, almost as if shocked that the bishop would even try to convert him. "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course. You are Ivar…. son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Many there are that fear you."

"But not you."

"No, I fear no man….no matter how wicked." Heahmund allowed the sneer to taint his voice at the end. For it was true. No matter the horrendous stories he heard about the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, fear never sunk its claws into him. For he followed the Will of God.

There was only one reason alone that fear gripped him, tighter than a lover, slipped beneath his skin to momentarily poison his mind…. but that reason was gone now. Dead.

The two sat in silence for several minutes, a heathen and a bishop, lost in their own thoughts. Heahmund could not help but wonder as he eyed the young man, if this was all some bloody, gruesome game to him. Was he even capable of remorse? Fear? Mercy? Love? Or had the fires of hell already scourged them from his soul?

The shackles around his wrists grew heavier by the hour. The chain around his neck chaffed. The cold mud beneath him seeped into his trousers, slowly injecting a chill into his bones, amplified by the chains keeping him bound.

"I beseech thee, Lord. Save me or show me why I am here. Grant me Your mercy. Do not cast be aside into the darkness. Grant me Your light so I may see." He murmured to himself.

The sound of a door opening just off to the side of Ivar could be heard but Heahmund paid no mind. He knew his time on earth was dwindling, for how much longer would the heathen bother to keep him? Surely, he would be killed in a cruel and painful way. When he first took up the sword to defend his faith and his people against the Danes, he assumed that was how his life would end. On a battlefield somewhere, surrounded by blood and screams, with his cross upon his chest and sword in hand. Not like this. Not a prisoner to be tortured for amusement.

A soft voice hesitantly spoke up from behind Ivar. "My prince, your brother…."

That voice. Oh, that voice had haunted his dreams, but lately it had only been heard in his nightmares. She would beg for his help to save her, only to witness her dragged away or killed before his eyes, chains or ropes or fire keeping him imprisoned, unable to do more than scream her name. More than once he had jerked awake to find tears streaming down his cheeks.

Now his head jerked up, ears attuned, desperate to see or hear her again, to confirm she was alive and not just a hallucination. To know all his nightmares were wrong.

He prayed his nightmares were wrong.

Ivar beckoned her closer with an annoyed huff and a roll of his eyes. Then she appeared, as if from the mist. His fears confirmed. Her green dress was ripped and filthy. Her hair matted and unwashed. But it was the dark circles that lay beneath her dimmed eyes, the bruise on her cheek and the split lip that adorned her face which brought his rage to the surface, festering in his gut. His hands clenched into fists at the sight of her and images of what all she must have endured played in his mind.

The heathen snatched the cup from her outstretched hands, mumbling something in his own language. "Go." He arrogantly dismissed her with a wave of his hand as if she was some pest he detested.

As she turned to walk away, her eyes drifted over to Heahmund and she froze. Time stood still as their gazes locked. He watched as a series of emotions passed over her face- surprise, relief, concern, fear, worry- they all took their turn to shine from her eyes. He wondered if his own expression mirrored hers. Her name, that name that tasted like the sweetest of honey on his lips, danced on his tongue. How he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her out of his sight. To promise no one would ever hurt her again. To press his lips to hers tenderly. His chest constricted as he witnessed a single tear slip from her right eye, washing away a streak of grime on her cheek. His own tears burned in his eyes, threatening to betray him. Here she was. Alive. But mistreated by these heathens. Something he could never forgive.

"You know this…. priest, thrall?" Ivar's amused voice broke their staring, like a bucket of cold water suddenly thrown on them.

She jerked, brought back to the here and now, that her and Heahmund were not alone. Wordlessly, she lowered her head and nodded.

"Ah, I see." Ivar's shrewd blue eyes jumped between the two as his smirk widened. "You may go to him. I will allow it for now. Ah! And here, give him this." He held the untouched cup out to her.

Hesitantly, she reached out and took it, as if expecting it to get thrown in her face at the last minute. Keeping her gaze downcast, she walked the few steps to stand before Heahmund. Once more, she peered over to the side at Ivar, silently requesting his permission before proceeding.

"Let him drink! I am certain he is quite…. thirsty." The heathen chuckled, playing with his bottom lip.

"Y/n…" Heahmund started quietly but she interrupted him.

"Drink, please." Immediately, she brought the cup to his lips and carefully helped him to drink. At the slow pace she allowed the water to flow, it was perfect to quench his thirst but not fast enough he would choke on it. A skill she must have learned from the many times she was forced to take care of her ailing father. The whole time, he locked his gaze on her face, refusing to look away for even a moment. For fear of her vanishing. For fear of missing even a second of this cherished time in her presence. Even if he was bound in chains like a common criminal.

"Are you well?" He asked once she pulled the empty cup away from his mouth, keeping his voice low for some resemblance of privacy under the heathen's scrutinizing gaze.

She peeked at Ivar out of the corner of her eye before whispering back. "I'm alive."

"Are they treating you well?"

Her gaze dropped to her hands, clutching the cup.

And her silence burned through Heahmund like a wildfire. He knew it was foolish to ask as soon as he uttered the question. The evidence on her face was proof enough. But he had hoped for a different answer. Wanted a different answer. And the truth ate away at him like leprosy. For chained here…. a prisoner…. a prize…. he could do nothing to save her. To protect her.

His nightmare coming to pass.

He swallowed thickly, emotions clogging his throat. "Stay strong, y/n. The Lord knows the challenges we face and will give us strength to endure. We are not forgotten."

She nodded, hastily wiping away another tear that slipped down her cheek. "What…. what about you? What will happen to you?"

Her concern for him warned his soul more than a fire and hot meal ever could. Even amidst her circumstances, she worried for him. She cared about him. Heaven certainly lost an angel when she was born onto this earth. For she was far too good to not be one of the Lord's divine beings.

"I'm deciding if I want to keep him alive," Ivar interrupted, tone all together smug and cocky, "or crucify him, like your god. A fitting ending for his priest."

She inhaled sharply, eyes widening at the revelation.

Heahmund wanted to comfort her, but words failed him as he gazed upon her. For his life was no longer in his own hands. A fate he despised. Before he could speak words that would hopefully bring her some solace, the heathen spoke again.

"Thrall, come here." Ivar commanded. She walked over to him with visible trepidation, cup still clutched in her hands. Instantly, he grabbed her wrist when she was close enough, the movement as sharp and fast as a viper. The cup dropped and bounced on the ground as she gasped. In the next moment he yanked her down to kneel before him, a soft cry slipping from her lips that seemed to spur him on, a malicious smile forming on his face. So reminiscent of a hungry wolf cornering a young lamb, the taste of blood already tainting the air. An allure the wolf feasted on shamelessly.

Heahmund could taste iron in his mouth from how hard he bit his tongue to keep from demanding her release. He could only watch helplessly as this devil toyed with her.

"Hmmm…. what is your name, thrall?"

She said, voice barely above a whisper, eyes firmly planted on the dirt. "Y/n."

Complacently, the heathen tipped her chin up, staring into her eyes for long enough she began to tremble. He chuckled, moving her face side to side and scanning her body like examining an item for sale at the market. "And who owns you now?"

"Ha…. Haakon, my prince."

"Ah. Haakon. A good warrior by our people. But I have heard he is not so kind to his thralls. Hmm?" He stated, but this time his smug gaze was directed at Heahmund, waiting for a reaction. Waiting to see what his latest prize would do.

At his statement, she flinched and it felt like a flaming sword was driven through Heahmund's gut. He made no appeal to mask his hatred nor fury, his eyes hard as stone as he met the heathen's unnatural blue eyes. In his mind, he swore to himself that he would never forget the name she spoke with such a mixture of fear and despair. Somehow, he would kill this man. God, help him.

Ivar grinned, still focused on his prisoner, even as he traced a finger over her split bottom lip, tears springing forth from her eyes. "Maybe I'll buy you from him. What do you think?"

She just stared at the ground, body trembling. Completely submissive. Entirely surrendered.

"You may go. Tell my brother I will join him soon." Ivar said, releasing her chin.

Carefully she scrambled to her feet and took a hasty step back. Her watery gaze flickered over to Heahmund's, meeting his eyes. Oh, how he wished these chains no longer held him. He would slaughter every Dane in York in holy recompense for the abuse she endured. He would shield her with his body, keeping her close until the fear bled from her like poison from a wound, until she was the sweet, vibrant woman he knew.

"I said leave, thrall."

As if startled out of a dream, she jumped at Ivar's shout. Then spun around on her heel and disappeared the way she had come. The cup laid forgotten on the ground, having rolled away.

The bishop dropped his head to his chest. What was left of his heart slowly eroded away inside of him. Why must she be made to suffer at the hands of these devils? Was this why the Lord allowed him to be captured? To save her?

"Y/n…." The heathen rolled her name on his tongue, voice inquisitive with his following question. "What is she to you?"

The Saxon remained silent. He owed his captor nothing. The heathen had no right to say her blessed name, let alone touch her. He was evil, darkness, something to be destroyed. To touch y/n, her perfect soul, was a crime against all that was holy and good.

"Ah, you act like she is nothing but I could see it in your eyes. You want her. Like a man wants a beautiful woman. But more than that…. she means something to you. So, answer my question or maybe I'll call her back and slit her throat in front of you."

Heahmund licked his lips, debating what to say. "She is the Virgin Mary."

"She's a virgin?" Ivar scoffed. "I doubt that's the truth anymore."

"No," he snapped, glaring at Ivar before turning back to stare straight ahead. "She is holy and pure. She is the epitome of benevolence, something you would never understand. She is a soft breeze on a scorching day, the spring rain come to bring new life. She is the candle of fond memories, keeping away the dark thoughts that threatened to cloud my mind. She is…. y/n."

"You love her."

"How could I not?" He sighed, for that was the truth. No matter how hard he tried, prayed for deliverance, she had wormed her way into his heart and planted herself there like an oak tree.

"Well, if Haakon owns her, then she will be leaving soon to journey to Norway with us." Ivar stared at him for a moment before looking away. They sat in silence for several minutes before Ivar laughed and shifted from a sitting position. "Prepare yourself, Bishop Heahmund, you are coming on a journey with us."

"I am already on a journey." He called out, voice unwavering.

"Aren't we all."

He watched the heathen crawl away like an overgrown snake, deceptive and cunning, wondering what this journey meant for him. What it meant for her. Closing his eyes, shutting out his surroundings, he focused on the feeling of her kerchief tucked away under his tunic. Close to his heart.

*****

The crowd jeered around him, a sound beating against his mind like a hammer. The stench of the ocean clogged his nostrils, the fish guts spilled on the docks and ground, the masses of unrighteous bodies pressing closer to have their chance to spit at him. For once, he was grateful that he did not understand their language so his ears would remain untainted by their insults and taunts.

The flaxen-haired Ragnarsson led the parade with Heahmund being the center of attention. Like a spectacle for all to see. A large blond Viking pulled on the chains binding his hands, chuckling at making Heahmund stumble drunkenly to keep his feet beneath him in the unsteady mud. The bishop spat out a mouthful of blood onto the mud. The cut on the inside of his lip a courtesy from a punch to the mouth by the brutish Viking who currently held the chains.

Stubbornly, he yanked on the chain binding him, refusing to let himself be dragged around like some stray mongrel. The brute growled at the Saxon and gave a strong pull, disrupting Heahmund's already unstable footing. In the next moment, he found himself face-first in the revolting mud. The cheers of the crowd exploded around him to new heights at his predicament.

Through sheer determination and a refusal to appear weak to these ungodly wretches, he rose back to his feet. Will unbroken. Though he walked through the valley of death, he refused to fear the evil around him. The Lord would provide a way. Somehow, he would be delivered. Carefully he wiped the mud from his face on his sleeve.

Once back on his feet, he could see Ivar sitting at a nearby table. Although from the way he reclined, he acted more as if it was a throne. The infuriating smug look on his face as he met Heahmund's gaze. All resemblance of vulnerability and unveiled candor from the prior night was gone. Replaced with the arrogant warlord who sentenced people to death with laughter on his lips.

All night his mind wrestled with their conversation from the prior night. How could he fight for this godless heathen? Surely the Lord would smite him for that? Even if in the fighting he only killed more heathens. Was he not also a man of peace like the Lord Jesus Christ? Which was more important right now? Which one was stronger in times like these…. the olive branch or the sword?

He walked with confidence until he noticed y/n standing just behind Ivar. His feet faltered for a moment, shocked to see her. Since their encounter in York, he had only snatched a glimpse of her as he was being loaded onto the boats. His mind wandered to her fate more than he cared to admit. There were many times as he sat alone, he gently toyed with the kerchief she made for him, touching the periwinkle flower sewed onto it. His thoughts on her and all his regrets.

Now his eyes quickly scanned her, noting the different dress she wore. Something rough and bland he had noticed other slaves wearing. She appeared no worse. The bruise on her cheek was gone, the split lip healed. Her hands clasped before her as if waiting for instruction as her eyes followed him. When they finally met, a flood of relief and concern passed between them. For no words needed to be spoken to understand the predicament they both were in. Both of their fates were no longer in their control, only in the Lord's and their captors'.

He could not help but wonder why she was here? To witness his shame? His death? What game was Ivar playing?

As he watched her, his mind returned to his short burst of despair earlier. How he had called out to the Lord for deliverance. But if the Lord delivered him from the hands of these heathens…. would the Lord deliver her also? But did not the Lord send angels to protect the Virgin Mary as she carried Jesus in her womb? How could he then abandon y/n in her hour of need? For it was unthinkable to leave her alone in their clutches. And seeing her now, dressed as a slave, at the beck and call of the blood-thirsty Ragnarsson, Heahmund would rather slit his own throat than leave her alone.

Determination saturating his veins, he tried to move closer towards Ivar but as he took a step, the brutish Viking held him back with an animalistic grunt.

Ivar waved a hand. "Let him approach, Haakon."

For a moment, Heahmund froze, his blood boiling at the name. This name he swore he would always remember. He turned to stare at the brute with a newfound understanding, fury a living thing beneath his skin. This was the man who mistreated the one most precious to him. An unforgivable sin. A heinous crime. And with the mischievous glint in Ivar's eyes, the bishop knew the prince had purposefully orchestrated for them to meet. Tearing his fiery gaze away from the brutish Viking, he walked over to stand before Ivar like a convict awaiting judgment.

"Shhhh…." Ivar hushed the crowd, his voice carrying with an air of authority. "Now will decide if you fight for us." Grabbing the knife out of the table from beside him, he continued. "Or whether I kill you." He paused, pressing the knife to Heahmund's chest. When he spoke next, his voice was low, a harsh truth only to be heard between them. "Nothing is keeping you alive but me."

The tip of the knife pressed against Heahmund's jerkin, not a threat but a promise depending on the bishop's choice. With his quiet sigh, he peered past Ivar to look at y/n one more time. One of her hands covered her mouth, eyes wide with fear. Only now was Heahmund able to see the red marks on her wrist, marking of chains, ones he knew he carried also.

Without hesitation, the Saxon warrior-priest whispered back, "If I fight for you, y/n goes free."

Ivar leaned closer, smirk growing on his lips. "If you fight for me…. I will give her to you."

"Hmmm…." Heahmund's gaze dropped down to the knife still touching his sternum for a second before returning to meet Ivar's penetrating gaze. "Why don't you give me the knife?"

The manic excitement in Ivar's eyes should have scared Heahmund, but right now he needed blood on his hands. With a wicked grin, Ivar handed the knife over, as if already knowing what was to occur next. He accepted the knife with a huff, surprised Ivar gave it to him. Both smiled darkly at one another, the draw and lust for blood staining their lips. Revenge- a language they both spoke fluently.

Slowly Heahmund turned around, the knife pressed to his sternum like he was about to take his own life. Aware of the crowd's eyes on him, he stepped away from Ivar, back into the street. Closer to the brute Viking.

Haakon began yelling in his thickly accented English. "Die! Are you afraid?" He sneered, getting right into the bishop's face. "Do it! Coward. Do it!"

Without a second thought, Heahmund slid the knife home into the Viking's neck. Blood spurting out, coating his hand gripping the knife. As the heathen gurgled, he spat blood onto the heathen's face. The blood on his face was for the punch Heahmund received from him. The knife, though, that was for her. His gift to her. To deliver her from the abuse of the ungodly. He could see death sinking its claws into the Viking, latching itself onto the man's soul to drag him to Hell. With that he let the man drop limply to the mud and threw the knife to the ground nearby.

He gazed over the silenced crowd with his piercing eyes, weaponless once again, and curious if one would fight him for revenge for Haakon. They stared back at him, a mixture of shock and anger on many of their faces. A slow clap and madden laughter startled him. He turned back to see Ivar clapping with an unhinged smile.

"He will fight with us!" Ivar yelled, arms outstretched as if in victory.

The crowd cheered. An example of how fickle a mob can be. As he arrived, being led like an animal to sacrifice, they cheered for his death. Now they cheered for his sword, to fight alongside him.

Suddenly a form slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He tensed, prepared to fight until he looked down to see y/n burying her face against his chest, hands gripping his tunic. Her body trembled against his, muffled sobs reached his ears as she clung to him like a lifeline. The bishop lifted his gaze to meet Ivar's, who leaned forward with a side smirk, eyes intently watching the two. As their gazes met, Ivar made a subtle motion with his hand, a quick wave, as if telling him to accept his prize.

Careful because of the many eyes still on them and not wishing to cause her harm, he brought his bound hands around her, pulling her closer against him. Embracing her in a way he had only fantasized about. Using his body as a shield, blood staining his hands.

"You are safe now." He murmured against the top of her head, a storm of emotion whirling in his heart and mind. "You are safe, I promise. I will not let anyone hurt you again. I am here, my angel."

Silently, she looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, washing away what grime had been on them. But it was the relief and adoration in her eyes that made him freeze. How she beheld him as if a miracle or answer to her prayers. A reverence in her gaze but also joy intermingled.

His heart constricted in his chest; air momentarily cut off by the strong emotion stirring within him. For he knew with every fiber of his being as he gazed down at her, he would do anything to protect her. Would travel any sea to keep her. Fight any army with just his sword by his side. Even sell his own soul to the devil to see her safe.

Glancing up at Ivar and the manic smile on his mouth, Heahmund wondered if he had done just that.

#sophies500 #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings ivar #bishop heahmund #heahmund #bishop heahmund x reader #heahmund x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar's heathen army #vikings imagine #bishop heahmund imagine #mzwrites

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whisperlullaby · 3 years

Text

Just Say It And I’m Yours- Ch.5

Summary: Steve is away on a mission and Connor asks you out again and this time you don’t have a reason to say no.

Words: 1766

Warnings: None? Pining, Steve being dumb...just buckle up he’s gonna be dumb for a while. Allusions to toxic family life. (if I missed anything let me know)

A/N: Super special thanks to @river-soul for being the best beta! Thanks to @dreamslikeaheartbeat for the phenomenal banner. If I missed any warnings let me know and please if you’re a minor DNI.

Tag: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @bestofbucky @loveyou5everr @purselover2 @sweeterthanthis @freyagreyson @saiyanprincessswanie if you want to be on my taglist send me a DM. If you want to be taken off my taglist also send me a DM.

The weekend went by in a blur. You were heartbroken when Steve told you the almost kiss meant nothing, could mean nothing. You dreamt for months about the feel of his lips on yours and now you would never know what it would be like to kiss him. Steve didn’t want anything more than a friendship with you and after drinking your sorrows away for a weekend you reaffirmed your resolve to be his friend. He was trying to find himself, just like you, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask for more than he was willing to give. After spending all of your free time with Steve, he became your person, and when it boiled down to it you would rather have this version of Steve in your life than try to force something more and lose him altogether.

You knew the toxicity of being forced to do something you didn’t want to do just to make someone else happy. Not just from working in your chosen field, but from your family life. You lived your whole life to please your family only to realize one day that it wasn’t what you wanted at all. When you told them you had a different path you wanted to take they cut you off and cast you aside. It was the best thing to ever happen to you because it let you have the freedom you needed to learn more about yourself and figure out who you wanted to be.

That experience left you feeling self-conscious and compliant, ever the people pleaser with poor boundaries. You were determined to move past those feelings even though it was going to be a long road, you owed it to yourself. Being forced to move to a new city was a blessing as it allowed you to grow into a person you felt more proud of. You met Steve a week later and between feeling confident for the first time in years, and Steve looking at you like you hung the stars, you were beginning to feel like you finally found where you belonged. When he told you that you could just pretend the kiss didn’t happen you swore you heard your heart shatter. But you found yourself once before, you could do it again. It’s not like you lost Steve completely, he just needed a friend more than he needed a partner.

So, you steeled yourself against the heartache. Steve needed to get back to his Captain America duties and you needed that distance to figure yourself out again. He had told you that he was going to be gone for at least a week doing recon work, which meant for the first time since you met him you wouldn’t have Friday movie night.

It turned out to be fortuitous that he was gone because your caseload doubled for the week. By Friday you were up to your elbows in paperwork when Connor walked into your office.

“Hey there, darling. You look busy.”

You looked up and narrowed your eyes. “Yeah, it’s what people who are invested in the wellbeing of others look like. Busy.”

Connor snickered. “Well, I just wanted to know if you wanted to get dinner tonight. No shop talk required.”

You froze. You were expecting it, of course, Connor asked you out every week. This time was a bit different though since you knew Steve didn’t feel the same way you felt about him. Truth be told, part of the reason you always turned Connor down was on the off chance Steve would ask you out. You deserved a chance to be with someone who wanted to be with you too. You were hesitant but you needed to start getting over your crush on Captain America.

“Sure Connor,” you sighed. “Why not? Give me 20 minutes and I’ll meet you outside.”

Connor perked up. “Yeah, whatever you need. It’s not a no this time?”

“It’s not a no this time. I just have a few things I need to finish up,” you tapped the pile of paperwork.

“No problem, I’ll bring my car around.” Connor practically skipped out of your office.

When you heard the door click shut you pulled your phone out and sent Steve a text.

“Hey, I know you’re busy but could you and Bucky come over tomorrow night when you get back? It’s been a long week.”

You flipped your phone over not expecting a response when your phone chirped.

“Of course, doll. I’ll let you know when we land and we’ll come over.”

You let out a cleansing breath. If you were going to tell Steve about your date, you were going to need a Bucky buffer.

////////////

It was around 8:00 pm when Steve and Bucky got to your apartment. You didn’t miss the way you felt relief wash over you when you saw Steve standing outside your door. After they hung up their coats they each pulled you in for a hug. Bucky’s was quick and he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. Steve squeezed you tight, almost as if he was afraid to let go, swaying as he stood there. You melted into his embrace for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m sorry for missing movie night, sweetheart. I hope it doesn’t happen again,” Steve lamented.

“I hope it doesn’t either.” You nodded, moving into the kitchen. “Thirsty?”

“Sure I’ll take a beer if you have one.” Steve plopped down on your couch.

“Same here sparky.” Bucky sat in the recliner putting his feet on your coffee table.

You gave him a quizzical look. “Sparky?”

Bucky looked at Steve then back at you. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re like a firecracker, so, Sparky.”

You let out a bubbly laugh. “Alright, tinman, whatever you say.”

Bucky pouted as you handed him his beer and kicked his feet off your coffee table. You handed Steve his and watched him drain half the bottle as you sat down.

“You better use a goddamned coaster or I swear to god you’re buying me a new coffee table.” You threw a coaster at Steve’s face just before his glass hit the table.

He laughed as he caught the coaster and placed it on the table under his glass.

“So, what’s new? I have to admit I got a bit nervous when you asked us to come over when we got back.” Steve raised his eyebrow staring you down.

You began to fidget. Your eyes shifted between Steve and Bucky trying to figure out the easiest way to tell them about your date last night. You caught Steve’s eyes as they filled with concern. He knew you better than anyone so you knew that fidgeting was a dead give away that something wasn’t quite right.

“Doll, is everything okay?” Steve reached out and touched your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you rushed out. “I just, um, Connor asked me on a date. Since you were on a mission, I said yes. We went out last night.”

You looked up at Steve searching his eyes for anything to give him away. His hand fell from your shoulder and you heard Bucky choke a little on his beer. Steve’s eyes snapped towards his friend as he leaned down to pick up his own drink. You had hoped Bucky’s presence would make the news a bit more casual so you wouldn’t feel the heaviness fill your chest like lead as you waited for Steve’s reaction.

“Oh, Connor? Isn’t that the guy that irons his jeans?” Steve joked. Only it wasn’t really a joke, Connor really liked ironing.

“I mean yeah, but that seems like a livable concession.” You rolled your eyes. “Besides it’s not like I have any other suitors.” You cocked your head thoughtfully playing with the rim of your glass.

“How did it go?” Steve was staring at his hands. If there was anything you were an expert at, it was reading Steve Rogers like a damned book and he was avoiding your eye contact for a reason.

“It actually went really great. He took me to that French place across town, you know the one that looks way too pretentious to eat at. We have a lot more in common than I thought.” You bit your lip before you continued. “I wanted to know if my dating him would bother you. It would definitely limit my free time and I know how much you love my company. Though I think Bucky’s starting to feel left out.”

You chuckled when you heard Bucky scoff and turned your head to stick your tongue out at him.

Turning back to Steve you tried to catch his eye. “I just want to know if there is absolutely any reason my dating Connor would make you uncomfortable.”

Steve considered your question for a minute. He had no reason to tell you who you could and could not date, especially after he told you he would rather be friends. You had almost hoped that he would admit to the sparks clearly happening between the two of you. You were taking measured breaths waiting for him to say something. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky staring Steve down as if he was trying to have a silent conversation. Steve took another sip of his beer before turning to you.

“I think you deserve to be happy. If Connor can do that for you then I am happy for you,” Steve said, pursing his lips.

You felt tears spring to your eyes and willed them back.

“Great, cool, okay.” You gathered the empty bottles and ran into the kitchen. “I’ll get us some refills.”

That was it. You knew you weren’t going to be able to convince Steve to fight for you, and you owed it to yourself to give Connor a shot. As you grabbed new beers out of the fridge you reminisced about the times when you and Steve would stay up late sharing your favorite songs, how when you saw a kid lose his balloon Steve bought the vendor out just to cheer them up, and how he knew exactly how you took your coffee after the second coffee run you made together.

You hoped Connor would be able to give you some of those happy memories, but there was a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you something wasn’t right. You pushed that feeling down a little bit further, refusing to listen to it. It was probably just the part of you still hung up on Steve and nothing a little time wouldn’t fix.

#just say it and i'm yours #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers series

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axther · 3 years

Text

every second i get

in which Midoriya is forced to deal with his friends trying to get him and his crush together.

for @patt-writes-stuff

Midoriya tried not to make regrets.

This might’ve sounded strange, maybe obvious. But he took chances when he had them. He took the leap, hurtled off edges that others might’ve been worried about because he was finally able to do what he always wanted to. He put a thousand percent into everything he did.

But this? This was some bullshit.

Recently, as an example of goodwill, U.A. took in several exchange students from other countries. They were all valuable and magnificent in their own right, with talents that Midoriya could only awe at. One had the ability to rewind time under a full moon. Another could breathe underwater.

But most of all, one could read minds.

YN LN rarely used it, but it was said that there was a villain attack back at her own school, and she defeated them by only spamming their mind with cringy, outdated Ugandan Knuckles memes. It was funny, of course, but also incredibly powerful. Some mentioned that she was in the same boat as Shinsou, but she seemed to take it much better than he did.

Oh, and she was cute. Really cute.

Midoriya would catch peeks of her in the hallways, waltzing to her class with her books close to her and her eyes shining in the afternoon light. She always seemed to have someone at her side, talking softly with them, or maybe laughing loudly. But she was popular, kind, and strong.

Everything that Midoriya felt he wasn’t.

Of course, he had friends. His quirk was certainly useful, though it had it’s drawbacks. But she was gentle and sweet. Even Bakugou tolerated her and didn’t give her a nasty nickname, which was definitely new.

So when Mina waltzed up to him with a sneaky grin, he was worried.

“Heyyyyy, Deku!” She tittiered, leaning on him in a way that was more than friendly but less than flirting. “You like YN, right?”

“H-huh?!” Midoriya flushed bright red, flailing his arms comically as if to fend off the accusation. “N-no! I mean, she’s really nice b-but I totally don’t have a crush on her and I don’t want-er, really need to dater her, I mean if she asked I would say yes but I don’t have a crush and it’s really not-!” “We get the idea, loverboy.” Mina cut Midoriya off before he could ramble any more, and turned him around to see Sero talking with Denki and Todoroki. “Sero’s gonna have a party tonight. And guess who’s gonna be there~?” “Y-YN?” Midoriya’s flush went down, but barely.

“You got it! All the transfer are going to be there, and we’re going to rope her into a game of truth or dare!” Mina cheered, but Midoriya recoiled.

“Wait! What?!” “Yeah! And you’ll get to find out if she has a crush on you!” “What?!” Midoriya leapt away from her, bright red again, and gasping. “That’s-!” “We’re fuckin tired of seeing you pine, asshole.” Bakugou bit from his seat. “Either get your shit broken or date her. I don’t give a fuck.” “Oh, don’t lie like that!” Mina chastised him and swatted at his head, making him growl in response. “He does care! It was his idea!” “Shut the fuck up!”

Midoriya felt nervousness crawl up his spine, a chill settling in his heart. What if he got publicly rejected? Oh god! What if she said she liked him? How would he react? Would he hug her? Thank her and bow? Kiss her, even? Oh my god! Kiss her?! What kind of response is that?!

His mind was on overdrive, thinking in all caps and screaming at the top of his proverbial lungs. All sorts of scenarios played through his head, most of which were not meant for public consumption. It was pure chaos until he realised he was being shaken by Tsuyu grabbing his shoulders. It made his head roll around until he came to. “O-oh! Tsu! Sorry!” “It’s okay, kero.” She let go, pointing at her chin. “If this is how you act now, I wanna see how you act with YN in the same room.” “S-same...room…” “Shit, it’s happening again! Someone! Stop him!”

Midoriya was a foot away from her.

They were sitting on the couch together, with Denki between the two of them. The room felt like it was filled with lava; bubbling, hot, and too full. Every other second was spent glancing at YN, who was preoccupied with a game of twister that Jirou and Bakugou were fully absorbed in. They were practically doing aerobatics, growling at each other in a refusal to step down. The tension was climbing until one of Jirou’s ear jacks conveniently got under Bakugou’s hand and made him slip. It was almost artistic how she still stood where he fell, but in the end, Bakugou lost, and most of the class was willing to overlook the foul.

And then came the dreaded truth or dare.

For whatever reason, Sero brought a bottle, but spin the bottle was quickly shut down once everyone realised they would have to tape Mineta to the upside of the ceiling. They chose to tape him anyway, which led to some confusion on what they were going to play, but it remained truth or dare.

The first to go was Ochako, who dared Tsuyu to smack Kirishima with her tongue. She did so and almost knocked him out, but he assured her he was fine and the game went on. Late into the night, borderline dangerous dares (“Hey, Bakugou, can you explode in your mouth?”) and embarrassing truths (like the time Todoroki froze over his own underwear and used Midoriya’s All Might underwear, which Midoriya found more mortifying than Todoroki did) were traded around, until it landed on YN for the first time all night.

“Eh, YN.” Ochako murmured past the thirteen marshmallows in her mouth. “Do you hath a cruth on nnieeone?” “Huh?” YN tilted her head, crossing her legs with a bit of sass. “Now, isn’t that a bit…?” “Nobe!” Ochako chirped, her face splitting into a grin. “Anthwer!” “Ocha…” YN extended her hand, sighing. “I, well…” “You tho! You tho!” Ochako cheered. Midoriya didn’t realise he was on the edge of his seat until he almost fell off. “Thay it!” “Well, maybe…” She pursed his lips. “I can tell you he’s in this room.” Midoriya’s heart skyrocketed. In this room!? There was only him, and Bakugou, and Todoroki, Sero, Denki, Mineta, and Shoki and Tokoyami, Aoyama, Iida, Ojirou, Kirishima, Koda, Sato… Midoriya’s hopes plummetted. It didn’t narrow it down by a lot.

“Yeah?! Who?! Who?!” “He has...a darker palette?” YN tapped a finger to her chin, trying to dance around the question. It cancelled out Denki, Bakugou, Todoroki, Sato, Ojirou, Aoyama, Koda, and kind of Kirishima if Midoriya squinted.

“And he’s really smart, and does really well in class.” That definitely outs Kirishima and Sero. Ojiro, Koda, Tokoyami, Aoyama, and Shoji weren’t exceptional in class, either. So all that was left was…

Midoriya’s brain stopped. It stopped fully in its tracks.

All it left was him.

It was like he did a mental stutter, the couch feeling like a rock and his hands feeling far too sweaty for his liking. He wiped them on his jeans, but they seemed to be just as sweaty as before. He swallowed. He slicked back his hair a bit. His eyes wandered. Every second felt far too long.

“That’s not enough, YN.” Mina whined, tipping back so she was laying on the floor. “You have to tell tell us!” “Nah.” She reclined into her hand with a soft smile, blinking slowly. She seemed satisfied, despite the other girl’s begging for more information. Midoriya coughed into his fist, trying to regain his sensibility before slowly rising.

“I, uh, I’m gonna head to bed!” “Whaaaatttt?” Mina crooned, leaning forward. “Why? Not even Bakugou has gone to bed yet.”

“Shut up!” “I’m just tired,” Midoriya rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, trying to edge away. Before he could, though, YN rose up and took a deep breath.

“I’m going to bed, too.” She smiled, nodding her head. “We need to get sleep while we can, right?” “Ughhhhhh,” Ochako groaned, finally swallowing the marshmallows. “Fine. But it won’t be the same!”

“That sounds like a you problem.” YN sassed before walking past Midoriya, glancing at him when she passed. It was as intimidating and romantic as eye contact could be, and made his knees grow weak.

“R-right.” Midoriya said, though no one asked him anything. “Sure.” “Huh? Dude, are you okay?” Kirishima leans over, but Midoriya just shakes his head as he watches YN walk away. “Y-Yeah!” He juts his thumb towards the hallway, wondering how long leaving was going to take. “I’m just...gonna go.” Before anyone else could say anything, he booked it until he turned the corner and was out of sight. He was panting, but less out of the running than it was nervousness. He kept looking behind him, like he was expecting one of his classmates to come barrelling at him. He turned a second corner, only to bump directly into YN. She had been standing, waiting there for him, with a deep stare. “Hey, Izuku.”

Midoriya jumped, nearly hopping out of his skin at her gentle, quiet tone. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were bearing into him.

“O-Oh! YN! Hi! Hey! I mean, uh, I thought you were going to bed.” He started backing away slowly until his back hit the wall. “Yeah. But I wanted to talk to you.” YN brought her arms up and promptly slammed them on either side of Midoriya’s shoulders, effectively trapping him between her and the wall. “You’re bright red.” “R-really?!” His eyes looked everywhere and nowhere, speeding around until they landed on her. Her brow was furrowed and her nose was scrunched.

“Yeah. Say...do you have a crush on anyone?” She leaned in, eyes glancing down onto his lips before flickering back up.

“M-maybe!” He squeaked, desperately trying to figure out how he should respond. Everything about this was something out of a manga, not real life.

“You know…” YN leaned in again, this time not only looking at his lips but keeping her eyes on them. "I've never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I want to kiss you."

Midoriya felt his face flush again, then go cold, then flush redder than before. It was a constant rapture that seized him, lifting him up higher than he could ever consider.

“What?!” He yelped once his mind caught up with what was going on. “Shh!” She hissed, putting a finger over her lips, which looked very cute. “You don’t want the whole dorm knowing, do you?”

“Oh…” Midoriya wasn’t sure if he did want everyone to know, but YN kabedonning him made his brain keep on stuttering like a broken record.

“Hey…” For a second, there was a flash of uncertainty in her eyes. “Do you like me? All the girls say you do, but still…”

“Yes!” Midoriya nearly shouted, jumping and almost bonking heads with YN. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Wait, really?” YN leaned back, surprise on her face. “I thought I was going to scare you off, or something.”

“Not at all!” Midoriya started waving his hands, a happy flush growing on his face.

“Then...do you wanna date?” “Yeah. “ He sighed softly. His eyes were wide and his heart felt like it had soared to the moon. The moment was pure ecstasy, and he couldn’t come down from this high.

“I would love that.”

#midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha event #kabedon #shorter reader #pumping these mfs out even if it kills me

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chipsfics · 3 years

Text

part 6 2/2

2/2 is finally here! sorry for the long wait!

rated: PG-13 for swearing and crying.

Down in the basement. It's dark, musty, and everything is still covered in cobwebs. Once Tissues flicks on the light, the only thing that changes is the "dark". His brain is buzzing with activity- What could go there, what could he put here? So much wasted space in the hotel- and he was 99% sure that nobody else had been down here in a long time. He had to try and avoid being suspicious- But he'd already pretty much failed when Trophy caught him tiptoeing down the stairs to the basement at 7pm on a Wednesday. He went over to the covered-up couches and the chair surrounding the television set and small table- He carefully lifted up the sheets as if they were going to fall apart like wet paper towels. Underneath, the couch was the same dull orange-ish color as the rest of the hotel's furniture- probably a spare put down here. The furniture was suprisingly in pretty good shape, although the covers were kicking up a lot of dust that made his nose itch. He stifled a sneeze. The TV was tiny and old, but still a flatscreen- Looked like from when Meeple HQ was just dipping into television production. The small, outdated meeple logo on the power button confirmed his suspicions.

He picked up the cord attached to the back of the TV and plugged it into the small, dusty, offwhite outlet. Surprisingly, the TV almost immediately turned on with a loud startup jingle that just about made Tissues jump out of his skin. He walked over and looked at the screen, which had the old Meeple logo spinning on it's screen as it tried to boot up. Once it finally finished the startup sequence, the screen was on an empty DVD selection menu. "Hm." Tissues scratched his head as he continued to explore the area. What else could he fit in there? And more importantly, how would he get it down the stairs?

Tissues sat down on the couch and a puff of dust fluffed out of the cushion. He sniffed... sniff... achoo-! Tissues sneezed. Tissues pulled out his phone and started to browse online for something to buy to fill the room- He had a little extra cash, because despite being eliminated first, he was still compensated for participating in II. That, and the lawsuit against Mephone that OJ pulled a while ago got him enough money to last for a long time. A minifridge, a new game console, a recliner... too many options! He wanted to make this basement space absolutely perfect.

The more he thought about how hard it'd be to order all of this stuff and not have OJ- or god forbid, Trophy- notice what he was up to was leaving him puzzled as well. Maybe he needed to call in some backup... Or just do all these activities at night (although that'd be even sketchier if he got caught.) In a moment of frenzied impulse, Tissues loaded everything he was pining after into his online shopping cart and purchased them all at once. He turned off his phone and rocked back into the couch, processing what he'd just done. It was a bad idea, he knew that, but something about it was so thrilling. His heart was pounding- It was like he was making the hotel into his home, cozy underneath the earth, exciting and secret and all his. He was giddy.

After that brief moment of happiness, Tissues paused as he realized something. Oops. How was he going to pull this off? He scratched his chin, and another lightbulb went off above his head. To find someone to help him... He went back up the stairs, clinging to the handrail as he tried not to look backwards- He /has/ to find a way to get up the stairs without having to scale them. Yinyang was, of course, busy that day (with some kind of... event? He didn't say), so his only option was... sigh.

Cheesy was in his usual spot- loudly unwrapping and eating fun sized candy bars on the couch, throwing the candy wrappers on the floor after he's done with them. Tissues waved to get his attention.

"Hey Tissues, what's up?" Cheesy said, and looked around. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"He's not my-" Tissues sighed. "And he's doing something today. Listen, Cheesy, would you be willing to help me with something?"

Cheesy narrowed his eyes. "Like what?"

"Something... against the house rules," Tissues said. "It involves snacks! And TV,"

"I'm interested," Cheesy said. "I'm always down to cause some trouble. What exactly are we talking about here?"

"So." Tissues looked around. "There's a place in the basement that's completely unused, and already has chairs and a couch and stuff, and i'm planning to fix it up into a kind of secret hangout spot?"

"Hmmm, interesting..." Cheesy nodded. "Sounds fun! But how're you gonna pull that off?"

"That's what I need you for," Tissues said. "I ordered a minifridge, some video games, and a couple other things that i absolutely can't carry down the stairs myself- That's where you come in."

Cheesy looked deep in thought for a couple seconds. "I'm in. But you have to let me hang out down there too,"

"Of course! Just don't tell anyone, ok? Especially OJ." Tissues said.

"No problemo, Tissues." Cheesy said, winking. "Until then, do you wanna play Space Bubble with me? I need a player 2 to complete this level."

"Seriously?" Tissues said. "You wanna play video games with me?"

"Sure, whynot. It's not a huge deal," Cheesy said. "You seem like a cool guy."

"Ah, really? sorry, ehehe, It's just that, people don't usually want to be around me... on purpose," Tissues said bashfully, smiling, and grabbed the second controller. In his head, he was wondering when Yinyang was getting back. This game would be really fun with 3 players...

----

The next morning, Yinyang was still nowhere to be found. It'd been like this a couple times before, and Tissues wasn't too worried- They were probably just sleeping in or taking an extra long shower or something. He figured he'd be able to catch up with him later. Although, the thought lingered in the back of his mind- something was wrong. Was it him? Did something bad happen to his friend? He pulled himself out of bed all at once, stumbling a bit and catching himself before he fell, sniffing and sighing. Down the elevator, no Yinyang. Into the kitchen, no Yinyang. Past the living room, Trophy was sitting in Yinyang's usual spot. Trophy sneered at him, but Tissues was too busy with too much on his mind to really care.

Tissues took a deep breath. Into the basement. It'll clear his head. Stairs, step, step, stumble- whoops, back on his feet and step, step step again. Flick on the lightswitch. Vision blurs a little bit. Stress or vertigo? Doesn't matter.

Someone was sitting on the old couch, twiddling his thumbs, looking upset.

"Yinyang?" Tissues said, and he jolted up and looked.

"Tissues," He said, his voice was shaky.

"What- uhh, What're you doing down here?" Tissues said, sounding concerned, walking over and sitting next to his friend. "Are you... alright?"

"Umm.." Yinyang shifted in his seat, getting more choked up. "I... well."

"It's okay, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Tissues put his hand on Yinyang's, and he immediately melted into the gesture. "D-do you need a hug?" Tissues smiled sheepishly.

Yinyang wordlessly nodded and pulled Tissues closer into a soft embrace. He was shaking really bad. Clenching and unclenching his fists, gritting his teeth. Tissues pat him on the back. "Is there anything I can do to help..?"

Yinyang didn't respond. He was crying. They stayed in that hug for a long time before Yinyang stopped shaking.

Tissues pulled away, his eyes sparkling with sympathy. He pulled a tissue out from his head and handed it to Yinyang. "Here you- sniff.. go, buddy. Please feel better... It hurts my heart to see you cry."

Yinyang laughed. "You..." He sniffed, smiled, and wiped his face off. "Have to stop being so kind to me. I'll just end up disappointing you, or hurting you,"

"Wh.... no way..!" Tissues' eyes widened.. "I think- I... you're the only real friend I've ever had..! I love you and- and I really do care about you!" Tissues was getting choked up..

Yinyang laughed again, tears rolling down his face. "Dammit... this is what I'm talking about." Yinyang sniffed. "You're the only one who's ever cared about me, and it hurts- it hurts because I know that I won't ever be able to let you go." Something about Yinyang's voice was so sad.

"Stopp it- sniff, you're gonna make me cry too..!" Tissues wiped his nose, and paused for a moment... "and... sniff... You're gonna have to try really hard to get rid of me. I'm already imprinted on you like a baby duck you know like in the cartoons where-"

"Tissues, what the hell are you even talking about-?" Yinyang laughed. "You nerd...!" He punched Tissues on the shoulder.

"Aahhh, ahaha, oww.." Tissues smiled. There was a moment of silence. "Are you feeling any better... do you need to talk about anything else, i mean..?"

"ah.... Tissues." Yinyang sighed. "I'm so scared of scaring you away. But... there's something I need to tell you... I. How do I say this..." Yinyang took a deep breath, and seemed to have regained some of his composure.

"It's okay...! You can tell me anything..!" Tissues put a hand on Yinyang's shoulder, and he shivered.

"Tissues. I've never said this to anyone so ... i apologize if we mess up. But... I think I'm in love with you." Yinyang looked away in shame and embarrassment.

Tissues stared at him, wide-eyed, his face red. "W-wait. that's a funny coincidence, because.. Nobody has ever said that to me. Yinyang, I..."

"It's okay if you don't-" Yinyang sniffed, "Feel the same or, whatever. It's been forever since we were able to agree on anything, and it's kind of... terrifying. But i love you. We love you. And..."

"I love you too!!" Tissues stood up on the couch suddenly. "I was so worried you thought that I was hitting on you because I was and I was scared that you didn't like me like that and I just realized that i like liked you a couple days ago and-" Tissues rambled on and on...

"Shut up." Yang said. "Hey!" Yin scolded. "Now is not the time,"

Tissues laughed. "Sorryyy... I just got- really excited, and emotional, and I've never been in a situation like this and-..... just, wow. What does this mean? How does this work, are we like, boyfriends now?"

Yinyang blushed. "I dunno, probably. I'm too busy fighting with myself to learn how relationships work..." Yin laughed. "It's not... can we just... hang out down here for a little while...? I'm... still kind of processing. A lot of stuff."

"Of course..!" Tissues scooted up next to him and cuddled up to him. "I'm so scared, and happy, and worried, and sad, and just... emotional. Everything is changing."

"We're in it together," Yin grabbed Tissues' hand. "Thank you... for a lot. for everything," Yang added.

"I love you," Tissues smiled. "I love you too." Yinyang said.

Hotel OJ was a vague silhouette on the horizon when the sun finally set- millions and millions of uncertain years stretching before them, as inperceivable as the distance between stars.

#tissues #yinyang #inanimate insanity #ii #ii2 #tissyang #tissuyang #yissues #fanfic #fanfiction

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fallen-gravity · 4 years

Text

Fightin’ Back Chapter 4

Chapter Notes: I’d like to give a shoutout to @elegiesofemptiness for throwing suggestions my way for this chapter and helping me out of a rut.

We’re really in it now, boys. Scary-oke this time around, and the next chapter following this one takes place in my favorite episode in season two. >:)

AO3

“You have to promise me you’ll only use the journal for self-defense, and won’t go sniffing around for trouble.”

Dipper crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, but only if you promise that you don’t have any more bombshell secrets about this town”.

“Promise” Stan replies, placing one hand against his heart and the other crossed behind his back. Dipper squints at him for a moment, but then he sighs.

“Promise”, Dipper echoes, and his tone doesn’t sound any more genuine than his own.

Maybe he should just hide all the black lights in the house so the kid doesn’t get any big ideas. For now, though…

“Oof, we have a lot of zombie damage to clean up.” Stan pokes at his recliner with his foot. “Where’s my handyman, anyway?”

As if on cue, the zombified Soos wanders into the room from the kitchen, arms outstretched and eyes glossed over.

“Holy Moses!” Stan yelps, instinctively grabbing for the nearest piece of furniture to smash it over Soos’s head, before Dipper stops him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Wait! It says here there’s a cure for zombification. It’s gonna take a lot of formaldehyde”

“Ooh, and cinnamon!” Mabel beams, popping her head over Dipper’s shoulder.

“C’mon, Soos, let’s fix you up”

Mabel picks up one of the dining chairs off the floor and prods Soos in the stomach back towards the kitchen. Dipper’s about to follow her into the kitchen, but Stan places a firm hand on his shoulders to stop him in his tracks.

“Not so fast, little man,” he scolds. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. I saw that zombie pick you up”

“Are you...accusing me of being a zombie?” Dipper turns to face him, and Stan almost laughs that he looks more baffled than he does angry. “Wouldn’t my head have exploded while we were singing together if that were true?” He asks, and visibly cringes at the mental image.

“Well, yeah. Maybe you weren’t infected as quickly as Soos, but zombies don’t always gotta bite you to infect you. It’s about direct contact.” Stan grins. “Matter of fact, most zombies only bite cause they’re hungry! If they’re just looking to infect, they’re more likely to leave a nasty scratch” he offers out his hand. “Lemme see”

Dipper places his hand in Stan’s, and Stan tugs him a bit closer so he can get a better look at Dipper’s arm. His shoulder looks fine, which means it isn’t spreading as quickly as Stan expected it to. That’s a relief. He turns Dipper’s hand to inspect the other side of his wrist, and sure enough, there are three large gashes right on the spot where the zombie had grabbed him. It doesn’t look like it’s bleeding, but the skin surrounding the gashes are already turning a sickening grayish green.

Dipper’s face goes white as a ghost at the sight of it, and if Stan weren’t holding his wrist he’s almost sure the poor kid would pass out right then and there. Stan squeezes his hand, just to give the kid a grounding gesture to prevent him from passing out a second time. “Whoa, whoa. Deep breaths, kid. You said it yourself! There’s a cure for this. We just gotta follow your sister into the kitchen before she uses it all on Soos, okay?”

Dipper sighs, and his breath is shaky. “Okay” he replies, and he takes three steps forward before he stops. Stan’s afraid he’s going to pass out again, but he turns back around and points a finger at him.

“How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

Dipper’s rubbing at his infected wrist, and the sound it’s making is akin to someone walking through a pile of dead leaves. “How did you know that zombies can infect someone without biting someone? All Journal 3 talked about was how to cure a bite”

...Shit. That must’ve been the first journal that talked about home remedies for monster attacks.

“W-Well I’ve lived here for over thirty years, y’see? You have to learn these things pretty quickly.” Stan straightens out his posture to better sell his lie, and gestures vaguely towards Dipper. “Look at you, kiddo. You’ve had the journal for...what, two months? And I see you going around every day like you own the place”

Dipper blushes. “I guess that makes sense”

Stan rolls his shoulders. “Of course it makes sense. I’m older and wiser, and all that”

Dipper chuckles quietly, mumbling something under his breath about I don’t know about wiser, but Stan’s too distracted by the fact that Dipper keeps scratching at his infection to bite back. “And speaking about older and wiser, I of all people would know that all scratching at that thing is gonna do is make it worse”

Dipper’s hand drops to his side immediately. “Right, right” he murmurs. Stan rolls his eyes, and places a hand on Dipper’s back to gently shove him towards the kitchen.

“Hup to. The last thing we need around here is a zombie with an irrational fear of himself” Stan slaps Dipper on the back and roars in laughter, who only responds with a roll of his eyes. When they step into the kitchen, Mabel and a dezombified Soos are sitting at the table chatting casually. Soos has an ice pack on his head.

“Oh, hey dood!” Soos grins. “Hey Mr. Pines! Sorry about the whole trying to eat your brains thing. I got like, way too into the character.”

“Uh, water under the bridge” Stan waves him off before he turns his attention to Mabel. “Listen, sweetie, you got any more of the formula?” He exchanges a quick glance with Dipper, who’s hiding his arm from his sister behind his back. “I, uh, wanna toss some of it around the yard. See if it doubles as a free fertilizer for the...dead flowers”

Mabel gasps, her eyes going wide. “Those poor zombified flower pixies!” She yelps, and gestures to a pot bubbling with oil on the stove. “Take as much as you need. I accidentally made, like, ten batches too many anyway, so if it works you could sell bottles of it in the gift shop and tell ‘em Mabel sent ya”

Stan laughs, and takes a moment to muss up her hair. “Ah, I knew my swindling skills would rub off on one of ya! Atta girl” he grins, and she grins back in equal measure before returning to her conversation with Soos. As soon as she has her back turned to him, Stan grabs the entire pot and walks as fast as he can towards the back porch without spilling any of the oil.

“Follow me”, he whispers to Dipper once he’s sure he’s out of Mabel’s earshot, and Dipper doesn’t hesitate to trail closely behind. He places the pot of oil on the ground beside the porch couch, and pats at the armrest. Dipper wordlessly complies and takes a seat, and Stan takes one last peek through the window to make sure Mabel hadn’t followed them out to watch him “revive the pixies” or whatever it is she’d said. Once he’s sure that she’s too engrossed in her conversation with Soos to notice they were gone, he takes a knee beside Dipper.

“Alright, lemme see it again” Stan says, and Dipper spreads his arm across the armrest. The infection seems to have spread to the base of his elbow, and the skin surrounding the initial gash in his arm has withered to a faded gray color. Stan sighs, and dips both of his hands up to his wrists into the pot of oil.

The smell of it makes Stan sick. It’s far from his first time dealing with formaldehyde, and a tiny little demon at the back of his head is screaming at him that Dipper could’ve been coming into contact with it for much, much worse reasons if he came up from the basement to help him just ten seconds later.

No. He squashes that thought down before it can get any worse, and begins rubbing the oil into the worst of the infection on Dipper’s wrist. It makes him flinch, and Stan’s not sure if it’s because of the smell or the burning sensation.

“Y’see, this is exactly why I tried keeping you and your sister away from the supernatural.” He flicks the excess oil off of his hands, but it’s a redundant gesture because he’s right back to sticking his hands in the pot anyway. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you if I hadn’t heard you in time? Or if I’d looked anywhere else in the Shack for you first? I would’ve been forced to assume the worst”

He’s trying to sound strict, but damn these kids for tearing him down so much that it hurts his chest to even think about it. “I can’t have the people I care about aimlessly running around and throwing themselves into danger”

“I’m not being aimless!” Dipper whines, but hisses in pain when Stan accidentally rubs some of the oil directly into the gashes in his wrist.

“Mhm,” Stan hums. “And I’ve never spent a year in a Colombian prison”

“I’m not!” he squeaks. “Look, Grunkle Stan, I’m not just running around trying to hunt and capture every monster in the journal for fun, or anything! I’m so close to discovering the identity of the author that I have to follow leads when they present themselves! Nobody can really just...disappear out of thin air, right? He has to be around here somewhere”

Every nerve in Stan’s body freezes up at once.

I’ve been telling myself that for thirty years, kid.

“Look, kid…” he pauses. What can he say? You’re never gonna find him cause I accidentally pushed him through an interdimensional portal? Oh, and by the way, he’s my twin brother and your other Grunkle and he would probably love you and your sister to bits if he were still here? “...I get it. I do. But you have to understand that I’d never forgive myself if anything horrible happened to you or your sister.” He waves a defensive hand in the air. “I don’t mean to say that you can never go anywhere, ‘cause even I know that tryin’a strap you down and make you sit still would be like caging a rabid animal.” He wipes the rest of the excess oil on his pant leg, and places a gentle hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “I just can’t have ya gettin’ hurt on my watch, ya hear?”

Stan can’t help but drift his gaze towards his wrist,

More than you already have, anyway.

“It’s not like that. Mabel and I can take care of ourselves”

“Watch it.” Stan points an accusatory finger at him. “You’re twelve. The last thing you need is a hero complex”

“What?” Dipper shakes his head. “No, Grunkle Stan, I mean, Mabel and I’ve already fought half of the monsters in the journal and won. You don’t need to worry about anything happening to us”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Kid, didn’t I just rescue you two from a hoard of zombies?”

“That’s just the thing! We’ve been chasing after monsters all summer, and this is the first time you’ve ever had to get involved!” Dipper’s beaming, and okay, someone better tell this kid to stop being a picture perfect replica of his brother before he finds out it’s his biggest weakness. ��You saw Gideon’s giant robot the other day, didn’t you?”

Stan blinks. “You mean that giant pile of metal scraps everyone was crowding around?”

“Yeah!” Dipper backtracks. “Okay, well, before that, it was a giant robot.”

“You’re losing me” Stan huffs. “What could Gideon’s broken robot have anything to do with why I should trust you running off on your own?

Dipper blinks, like he’s in disbelief that Stan hadn’t already connected the pieces together himself. “We’re the ones who broke it”

If Stan had a drink in his mouth, he’d be spit-taking all over the place right now. “You two? Wasn’t that thing twice the size of the shack?”

“Oh, it was. As soon as the bus you put us on to go home pulled away from the bus stop, he tried chasing after us in it because he insisted that we still had something that he wanted”

Stan snorts. “Was he goin’ off about Mabel’s hand in marriage again?”

Dipper laughs, but then he shakes his head. “No, he just kept rambling on about Journal 1 and how bringing the journals together could, I dunno, end the world or something? And he wanted to bring them together so he could hold the world hostage, or something.” He shrugs. “It didn’t make any sense to me. I mean, I know the author’s missing, but I just assumed he’d been kidnapped by some...thing that didn’t like being recorded. I didn’t think it was some kind of superweapon”

Stan swears he can feel his blood turn cold. He tugs awkwardly at the collar of his shirt, and hopes Dipper assumes it’s because of the mid-summer heat.

“...But we didn’t have it!” Dipper throws his arms up in the air. “We tried telling him we had no idea what he was talking about, but he just kept getting angrier and calling liars. He had both of us in his...giant robot hands at some point, but then he decided there was nothing else he wanted from me and literally tossed me away”

Dipper’s hands are balling up into tiny, shaking fists. “He tried taking Mabel hostage. I wouldn’t have cared how much he insulted me, but...we’ve never been separated like that before”. He glances down at his shaky hands. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never been the braver one between us. But next thing I know, I’m flinging myself off the train tracks”

“Train tracks?” Stan blinks. “Y’mean the ones up on the cliff?”

Dipper nods, blushing. “I just...went for it. I probably got a ton of cuts from the broken glass when I smashed through the eye of the robot,” he muses, pausing to give his own arm a look over. “But I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much adrenaline in my life”

Stan snorts. “You’re trying to tell me you punched the robot so hard that you knocked it off the cliff?”

“What? No, Gideon was inside of it. He was wearing one of those weird...motion control suit...things. The robot only lost its balance because I punched him in the face.”

Stan roars in laughter. “You punched Gideon in the face?”

“Yep!” Dipper beams. “Quite a few times, actually. I think with everyone treating him like he’s a god he tends to forget that Mabel and I are three years older than him.” He flexes an arm to show off his nonexistent muscle. “Remember that trick you taught me about punching someone in the face with their own fist?”

“Hah!” Stan grins. “That worked?”

“Knocked the robot’s head clean off!” Dipper grins back. “Or, well, it probably would’ve, if that wasn’t what pushed the robot over the edge”

Stan’s keeling over in laughter. He can’t believe how casually Dipper’s talking about this. Just a month ago, if Dipper had told him the same story detail for detail, Stan would’ve been sure that Dipper was describing a movie he’d watched the previous night.

“Not bad, kid!” he grabs Dipper into a gentle headlock, messing up his hair. “But what about your sister, huh? Don’t think I don’t see you trying to take all the credit”

“Oh, not at all!” He’s beaming again. “That’s the best part. Mabel’s the one who saved us from falling to our deaths. Don’t ever tell her I said this, but I think the grappling hook is the best thing she’s ever owned”

Stan nudges him with his elbow. “Yeah, last thing we need around here is both of you having giant heads”. Dipper glares at him, which only makes him laugh harder.

Stan wipes a tear from his eye with his wrist. “Alright, kid. You convinced me. If you two can come out of fighting a giant sci-fi monster without so much as a scratch, I trust that you and your sister know what you’re doing”.

Dipper’s eyes go wide. “Really?”

Stan nods. “Really. But you have to promise me you’ll still be careful, okay? I can go back on my word and hide that book away from you faster than you can say journal. Got it?”

Dipper nods. “Got it.” and then, after a short pause, “I promise”.

#gravity falls #my writing #stan pines #dipper pines #team brawn

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stevesnailbat · 4 years

Text

fear of the (un)known | steve harrington

chapter seven : happier

summary: Grace, or 007 as she had been called, finally escaped Hawkins Lab after seventeen long years. But, freedom is a lot harder than she thought it would be to maintain.

warnings: pining once again, a little angsty

word count: 2.0K

a/n: this chapter took forever so my bad!! but there’s a time jump and everything is about to get a lot more interesting after this one!! hopefully I'll be more consistent with chapters 8 through 12 :) gif by @harringtown

read the rest HERE!

-june 1985-

“So you’re telling me that you didn’t even know when your birthday was until you were sixteen? Like, not a single 'happy birthday' or any kind of celebration during the whole time you were there?” Lucas implores, plopping down next to Max on Hopper’s couch.

“They were in a lab, dipshit. It's not like they were at some fun summer camp or something.” Steve quips, shoving Lucas' shoulder lightly as he leaned against the back of the couch.

“The most fun I ever had in the lab was when they’d let me stay out of my room for the day, if you’d even call that fun. I found my own fun in messing with people’s minds when I was younger.” Grace retorts, a small smile passing over her face for a moment.

“What about you, El?” Max asks, facing the girl sitting next to Mike on the couch. “Did you ever get to celebrate anything?”

El only shook her head, looking from Max over to Grace, a sad look on her face. Grace rubs her hand along El’s shoulder for a moment, knowing that she hated thinking about the small details and bad memories of being in the lab.

“So, it’s settled then.” Max says, a smile lighting up her face as an idea crossed her mind.

“What’s settled?” Mike interjects snidely, making Max’s eyes narrow in his direction.

“Grace just said that her eighteenth birthday is this weekend, right?” Max snaps, watching the rest of them nod. “El said she’s never had any birthday celebration either. So, let’s give them both a birthday party!”

“You guys really don’t have to—“

“Oh c’mon, Grace! It’ll be fun!” Max pleads, and Mike, Lucas and Will nod excitedly.

“I don’t need a party, I can assure you that.” Grace insists, shaking her head while smiling kindly at the redhead. “But we can celebrate El’s birthday in place of mine.”

El’s eyes light up at the thought of celebrating with all of her friends, which warms Grace’s heart. She gives her a look as if to say ‘thank you’ for giving them the idea, and Grace ruffles her hair lovingly.

“Alright, enough talk about this, we can work out all the details later. Right now, I need to get you all home before I get yelled at or accused of losing you all.” Steve interjects, throwing his chin up as he points to the door, motioning for the kids to get up.

Everyone says their goodbyes and the kids head out the door to go towards the BMW in the drive. Steve shoots a small smile and wave in Grace’s direction before turning to leave the house, closing the front door behind him. Grace could feel her heart skip a beat merely because of the eye contact they just had. She knew she was in too deep to lose the crush she had on him to simply be his friend. She stared at the spot that Steve last stood for a little longer than anticipated, only breaking from her thoughts at the sound of El’s giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Grace asks, quirking her eyebrows questionably at the smiling girl next to her.

“You like Steve.” she replies simply, making Grace’s eyes go wide momentarily.

“Only as a friend, El.” Grace says calmly, trying not to blush at her blunt statement. “That’s it.”

El gives her an incredulous smile, as if to tell her that she’s not very believable. Grace huffs quietly at El, chewing on her lip as she wracks her brain for something to say to cover up her feelings. She didn’t want everyone knowing what she was feeling, even though it was quite obvious to everyone around.

“Even if I did like Steve, I would never do anything about it.” she said weakly, biting back the feeling of sadness she felt at the words she spoke. “He thinks I’m just the crazy girl who showed up in his backyard and got into his mind a few times.”

The look on El’s face showed that she didn’t believe a word coming from Grace’s mouth once again. El knew that there was some kind of feelings between the two of them. She’d seen the way Grace would sneak long, admiring glances at Steve while he was reading to her at the table, and she’d noticed how willing he was to do almost anything to help her. They kept coming back together, but neither of them wanted to admit why.

El only shook her head at Grace’s answer before standing up from the couch, heading towards her room without a word. Grace didn’t have the words to describe how she really felt, but she knew that, in her mind, El did.

For the next two days, Grace and El didn’t hear much from the party. Of course, El talked on the phone with Mike and would visit with him—with supervision by Grace or Hop—at the cabin, but that was the extent of it. They were both becoming a curious about the sudden disconnect. Little did they know, Steve and the kids were planning a birthday party for both of them throughout the course of those two missing days.

When the Saturday came, El got a call from Mike around 3 p.m., telling her that he was leaving his house to ride over to the cabin. She was excited as usual, just the thought of seeing Mike bringing a smile to her face. Seeing the way El lit up around him made Grace’s chest ache, but her heart swell. She wanted something like that, something that would make her smile the way seeing Mike made El smile.

Thirty minutes passed and there was a knock on the front door. El rushed past where Grace and Hopper were sitting in the living room, hurrying to open the door with a smile on her face. The smile on her face faltered slightly when she opened the door to see how many people were there. The party and Steve stood on the other side of the door, balloons, gifts, cake and pizza boxes in tow.

“Surprise!” the kids say in unison, making Grace and Hopper turn to see what was happening at the door.

They all walked inside, setting everything down as they piled into the living room and kitchen area. Grace stood from the couch as she looked over to Hopper in the recliner next to her, who had a small smile on his lips. She walked over to the kitchen, heart filling with warmth at the sight of El’s grin. Max looked over to her and El after setting the balloons down, watching as El skipped past her to talk to Mike. Grace had noticed that El ignored the girl, but had never brought it up. She pulled Max into a quick hug, a smile still stuck on her face.

“Thank you for doing this for her, I’m sure she really appreciates it. Even if she doesn't say it to you directly.” Grace says thankfully.

“Don’t thank me, thank Steve for putting all of this together.” she says, pointing at Steve, who was already digging into the pizza they brought. “He planned it all and even put your name on the cake and got you a present.”

Grace’s stomach was in knots now, the thought of Steve putting in that much effort for her making her feel nauseous. She looked over to him, locking eyes with him for a long moment. Steve smiled at her, completely skipping past the pain in her eyes as she smiled back. She walked towards him, reaching for a plate to grab some pizza too.

“You didn’t have to do that, y’know.” Grace says quietly to him, peering over at him with a hesitant gaze as he furrowed his brows. “You didn’t have to make the party for me too, I told you it should just be about El.”

“It’s no big deal, Grace. It is your actual birthday after all. You’re an adult now, you’re free. You deserve some kind of celebration.” Steve insists, nudging her shoulder as he continued to eat.

The pain in her stomach grew deeper as Steve said that she was free, because she knew she was far from it. She was far from being able to celebrate anything. But, she forced a smile onto her face to show appreciation for the nice gesture. Grace was truly grateful for everything he did, but knew it wasn’t just out of the kindness of his heart. She knew he was forcing his feelings down too. It was better that way. They both knew it.

The celebration continued with bubbly chatter and laughing. The kids carried on happy conversations about comics and new movies coming to theaters soon while Grace and Steve listened passively, neither of them saying much to the other. The scene in front of Grace was enough to make her smile, really. Seeing them all happy and content made her feel at home, like she was finally growing into a normal life again.

Steve couldn’t help but notice the smile on her face, and couldn’t help but stare at her longingly. He felt himself getting lost in her smile for a moment, a feeling of adoration spreading through his body as he did. A rough hand on his shoulder shook him from his thoughts, Hopper had noticed the trance he was in and had to break him from it. Steve’s cheeks grew hot at the thought of getting caught, but Grace didn’t notice the interaction at all.

“How about you bring over those presents you brought?” Hopper suggests to Steve, making Grace and El snap their heads in their direction.

“Oh—Right, yeah. I’ll get those.” Steve stammers, standing up from the chair abruptly to grab the gift bags.

Steve handed the bags to Grace and El, and each of them dug into them quickly. El’s smile grew even wider—if that was even possible—when she saw the comics and mixtapes inside the bag from her friends. Grace pulled out several movies and some mixtapes, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the mix of presents in front of her.

“You said Hop wasn’t too fond of you reading so much, so I thought you’d like some movies and music instead.” Steve says, picking up one of the movies from the table to look at it.

“You really didn’t have to do this—“

“But I wanted to do it. So, just accept the gifts, Grace.” Steve laughs bitterly, raising his eyebrows at the frown that crossed her face. “This is what friends are for.”

“Thank you, Steve.” she says, pulling him in for a quick hug. “You’re a great friend.”

There was something about hearing the word ‘friend’ slip from her lips that made Steve nauseous. Of course, he had just called her a friend, but it seemed all too real when she said it to him. He forced a smile as she pulled away, watching as she let her eyes flicker from his quickly to avoid his gaze. Steve felt like his heart was being ripped out by the thought of never being able to find out what life would be like with Grace, it was all he wanted. But it was better that way, things were better with them as just friends.

So, he sucked it up and hid his emotions, like he always did. He watched her from afar, seeing the smile on her face as she talked about the movies he bought with Max and Will. The only thing he wanted was for her to be happy, and this was how it had to be for that to happen.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @jxnehxpper @charmed-asylum @daddystevee @queenofthehairharrington @heart-eye-harrington @hystericalmedicine @a-magey @lemonypink @karasong @batbatsupermanme @used-avocado @letscici @igotmadskills @mikariell95 @anerroroccurrrrred @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @ilovebucketbarnes @bravest-at-heart

#fear of the (un)known #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x lab escapee!oc #steve harrington x lab escapee #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things x lab escapee!oc #stranger things x original character #stranger things x oc #stranger things x lab escapee #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfic

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