hey guys so uhhh folks keep going back and forth between will being a baby or will being a bad*ss and i'm just so tired of it.......

like he is so much more nuanced than either one... (if you're going to read, please read the whole thing! thank you!!)

there are the baseline observations that will is quiet, sensitive, maybe a little shy; he's sweet and loyal and incredibly selfless; in addition, he's frequently a victim of terrible circumstances, with unfortunately little agency to fight for himself. none of these observations are objectively incorrect, even if they're just a fraction of the observations that can be made.

some fans flanderize how shy and sweet will is, framing him as a cute crybaby in need of protection (which is ironic, as will canonically hates when people treat him like that). to them he's a sad gay boy, a soft little angel with teary doe eyes; they attribute a stereotypical femininity to him, a helplessness, making him a fragile damsel in distress. these fans take the canon aspects of will's personality and warp them, not only making them larger than life but also romanticizing them.

an opposing interpretation of will seemingly came about in opposition to "baby will" - many fans were reasonably unhappy with this belittling take on him, and so highlighted other aspects of his personality.

great, right? it'd be nice for people to perceive will as a whole person as opposed to a list of stock traits... it'd be nice for people not to ignore character traits of his that don't align with their perception of his character...

but alas, these fans traded in "baby will" for "bad*ss will" - a take i don't like either.

"bad*ss will" comes in two varieties: bad*ss villain will and bad*ss hero will. the latter is better than the former, but not by much. both involve will being uncharacteristically violent and confident, standing up for himself in a way that often involves firearms.

before delving into either of these varieties i should point out that yes, will isn't just a sweet shy little boy. he's incredibly brave and incredibly resilient, able to survive the upside down for a week and stand up to the mind flayer - and yes, he canonically knows how to operate a gun. will is also shown to be stubborn at times; he's an annoying little brother, perfectly willing to point out how his siblings have no friends; he also does curse, even if that cursing is nothing compared to the constant swearing of his friends. will's a strong kid. i can't accept "baby will" because he simply isn't a baby.

...but does that make him a bad*ss?

some people really want will to stand up for himself in st5, to finally have agency, to fight back against everything that's harmed him; i completely understand that.

some people think that will should become the villain in st5, getting revenge on the people in his life who have demeaned him, neglected him, and bullied him. they think that will has been through so much that he'll snap, his kindness being broken down by pain. they want will to be a villain, a tortured soul with a traumatic backstory who deserves to give everyone the hell he got condemned to - they want him to be a bad*ss villain.

others think that will should become the hero in st5, getting revenge on the upside down for ruining hours life and the lives of his loved ones. they want to see him confidently wielding a gun against vecna, unfazed by the circumstances that would've caused him to run and hide in his younger years. they want will to rise up from adversity and stop being the victim - they want him to be a bad*ss hero.

what really bugs me about these interpretations is that they completely gloss over the aforementioned observations of will being gentle and cautious - even though they're true. saying that will is timid, that will is kind, or that will is scared is not the same as saying he's a baby - because being timid, kind, or scared doesn't make you weak. after all, there is no bravery without fear.

all of these bad*ss whatever wills are conjured up only after scouring off any trait picked up be "baby will" truthers, instead favoring vague notions of will's "sass" or the fact that he can operate a gun. they make will completely out-of-character all for the sake of a fantasy in which the victim miraculously becomes confident and powerful. yes, i want will to gain confidence, but nothing i've seen contributes any ideas about how that would happen - especially considering how in st4 will's self-esteem was as low as ever, tearing up when his best friend and brother say they care about him. if he's that surprised that they love him you can't seriously expect him to suddenly love himself.

not to mention how a lot of this "bad*ss will" stuff revolves around will using a gosh darn shotgun. the only thing being addressed is the fact that there is an association between will and the accursed weapon, and the fact that he has aimed it at an upside down monster before - while completely sidestepping the trauma the gun carries with it. will only learned how to use it because of lonnie's homophobic coercion, and only actually dared to use it when scared half out of his mind by an interdimensional stalker in his garden shed. in no world could will ever be slinging a gun casually, confidently, suavely - if he's going to be aiming the gun at vecna (which he would only do if completely necessary) he's going to be anything but calm while doing so. if you wanted that, you already have nancy gosh darn wheeler. (will does not need to be your girlboss.)

my point in saying this is that will is kind. he's stubborn. he's brave. he's hesitant. he's sarcastic. he's sweet. he's shy. and none of that is contradictory. will is a character, sure, but he's complex; if you dislike will's corners being rounded off so he can be called a baby, you have to understand why i dislike will's curves being sharpened so he can be called a bad*ss. i want will to triumph, of course i do, but i want it to be him triumphing. his whole self.

will was the victim. and he can be a hero. but he shouldn't need to be a different person too.

Our Whiskey Lullaby

Rating: Non-Explicit Word count: 1.9k~ Warnings: Major angst w/ a little bit of happiness at the end, crude language, mention of character death. (Joel x f!reader) Author’s Note: This prompt was heavily inspired when I listened to the song Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley ft. Alison Krauss. I recommend you listen while you read~ :) “Yeah, give me a moment!” you shout from the shed door. You grunt from the heavy weight of the old metal door, finally managing to open it. The dust swarms around your head and you cough from it entering your lungs. “Ellie, I thought you said you cleaned it out?” you yell back towards the house but no response came back to you. You sigh before turning to walk inside the shed. Tools, guns, and wall posters decorate the old shack and you couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t believe all this stuff is still here.” your hand caresses the old wooden workshop table against the wall with band posters hanging above.  On top of the table lays a guitar case and a confused expression draws on your face as you wipe the dust off of it. Your hands are slow and precise when you reach to open the case, the top coming up with a ‘pop’. “Is this...?” your voice trails off when you recognize the familiar shimmering instrument in the black case. You pull back like you were burned by the sudden image and your breathing turns short. “Shit...” you curse, covering your mouth and throwing glances back to the house. A pained groan escapes your lips from swallowing the lump in your throat, turning back to the guitar. The lid is lifted up a little more and you take in the gorgeous design. You remember all those haunted, sleepless nights where Joel would play you a soft lullaby to bring you serenity. The lingering thought made your heart squeeze in your chest when you bring the guitar out. A shaky breath escapes you lips, pulling the stool close to your body to sit down. All was quiet as your eyes glare down to the guitar in your hands and you prop it up on your leg. You strum a little with the strings, not really knowing how to play but remembered the basic chords Joel showed you. There was a chord sheet and you hesitate. Whiskey Lullaby, a song that Joel had played for you.  The notes were soft and clear, echoing in the small shack. You swallow nervously as you felt the pressure of messing it up but you did as Joel always told you. Take it slow. She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette She broke his heart; he spent his whole life tryin' to forget. Joel’s eyes burn into you as you stand before him. You huddle close to Ellie, feeling the pressure start to settle down on you. “What the hell is this?” Joel growls, looking to Marlene. Tess had the same sort of expression, a demanding glare at the wounded woman. Marlene gasps as her wound festers and burns under her hand, panting softly. “Listen...I know this isn’t something you signed up for...” “Damn straight it ain’t!” Joel shouts, making Ellie and you flinch. “I didn’t sign up to become your fucking babysitter. Have someone else do it. C’mon, Tess.” he goes to walk out, Tess lingering behind. “Tess?” Tess glances to Joel, biting the inside of her cheek. “And if we do it?” “You get the weapons.” Marlene answers her immediately. “You’ve gotta be fucking-” Joel grumbles in annoyance, before looking to you and Ellie. “this better be worth the trouble.” The memory floods your mind as you continue to play the song, tears already burning at your eyes.  We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind Until the night Ellie raises a brow as she pulls one of Joel’s guns out of his backpack. You smirk right next to her. “You should probably put that back, El.” “Hold on, I just wanna hold it a little- hey!” she shouts as the gun was ripped from her hands. “What the fuck, dude?” Joel towers above you and Ellie with an accusatory finger pointed at the both of you. “Don’t be goin’ through my things. Theses ain’t for kids.” he stuffs the gun back into his backpack. “Hey,” you jump up to defense and march over to face Joel. “you need to stop treating us like fucking kids. How are we supposed to defend ourselves out there? With our minds?” Joel stares down at you before brushing past you. “I don’t have time for this, kid.” You scowl at him with a huff and incoherent mutter, asshole. A shuddered breath pushes through your lips as you play in raw emotion, all you could think about was Joel’s face. It felt like he was right there beside, a comforting hand on your shoulder. He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger And finally drank away her memory Life is short but this time it was bigger Than the strength he had to get up off his knees “How could you just leave her like that?” you shout at Joel, pointing back down to where Tess had stayed behind to hold the military back.  Joel ignores you as he continues to trek on, Ellie standing in between you two with a worried expression. “Hey! I’m talking to you asshole!” you scream at him as you run up to him and shove him harshly, tears gathering up in your eyes. “How...could you just leave her behind like that?” “She was infected! We couldn’t help her anyway so I gave her what she wanted! She didn’t want to be turned!” Joel yells back at you, making you take a step back. “You think I wanted to leave her behind? I didn’t have a fuckin’ choice, y/n!”  Your chest rises and falls quickly as tears stream down your face. Ellie rushes to your side when you feel your legs try and give out. “C’mon, let’s go.” Joel voice cracks and he turns to walk on. We found him with his face down in the pillow With a note that said 'I'll love her 'til I die' And when we buried him beneath the willow The angels sang a whiskey lullaby “Joel?” you shout his name, sprinting as fast as you can from the pack of runners trailing behind you. “Joel, do something!” Joel grabs your hand and pulls you to run faster, taking you by surprise when a runner nearly tackles you to the ground. “Just keep runnin’! Don’t look back!” he instructs you and you nimbly nod, fear racking your whole body. “Don’t worry, I won’t let go.” The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath She finally drank her pain away a little at a time But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind Until the night You wake with a sudden jolt as you felt the pain flash before your eyes. The living nightmares that haunt you every night broke you down and you let out a blood curling cry. “Y/n?” Joel’s voice bursts through your room and he hurries to your side and kneels down beside you. “Y/n, y/n, what’s wrong?” he asks you softly as you rock back and forth. “It hurts, Joel...it fucking hurts...” you whimper as you cradle your head to block the screams and voices out. “make them stop.” Joel frowns at how much you were in pain and he brings you into his arms. “It’s okay, baby girl. It’s okay, I’m here.” he whispers to you, his fingers brushing through your hair. You held onto him as you cried.  She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger And finally drank away his memory Life is short but this time it was bigger Than the strength she had to get up off her knees You lay there on the cot, watching Joel as he strums away on his guitar, trying to remember all the notes. “Are you sure you know how to play?” you tease him. ”Haha, very funny. It’s been awhile, okay.” Joel scoffs, glancing back at you. “Give me a minute.” You hum, rolling onto your back as you listen to him play around with the chords. Soon enough he starts playing a song and it nearly knocked the breath out of you. You say nothing as he plays you the song, tears pooling in your eyes as it spread peace over you like a blanket. Joel stops singing but turns to look back at you. “How was that?” You nod your head, already feeling sleep consume you. “What’s...it called?” you yawn and curl up into a ball. Joel strums the chords on the guitar, silent for a moment. “It’s called Whiskey Lullaby.” he didn’t see it, but you were smiling. We found her with her face down in the pillow Clinging to his picture for dear life We laid her next to him beneath the willow While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby You didn’t know you could run so fast. Your legs and lungs burned but you didn’t care as you ran as fast as you could push yourself. All you had on your mind were Ellie and Joel. “Ellie? Joel?” you call for them as you burst into the base, looking around for them. You hear something in one of the rooms and you jog over, slamming the door open. Ellie was laying on the floor, trying to push herself up off the ground. “Ellie? Are you okay? What happened?” You couldn’t understand what she said but all she could do was point and you look in the direction she was trying to tell you. Your heart dropped all the way down to your feet as you slowly stand up. You were nauseous and your ears were ringing. “J-Joel?” The image of his body on the ground, bloody and beaten were engraved in your head as you fall to your knees. “J-Joel! Get u-up!” you crawl over to him, shaking his cold body to wake up but nothing happened. “Joel!” Your hands come to a stop, the chords hanging over you head. A hand flies up to your mouth, to stiffle your sobs. The guitar falls from your lap and onto the ground as you hunch forward. It felt like you couldn’t breath. You cry out in desperation for him. In that moment, you could feel a hand on your shoulder and you quickly recognized who it was. You regain control over your sobs as you sit up straight. “I struggled for a long time with survivin’, and no matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.” His words rattle in your head and you felt that same kind of peace when you were caught up in the darkest of nights. You wipe your eyes, a smile growing on your face. “Okay, Joel.” you pick up the guitar and place it back in its case. The chord sheets for Whiskey Lullaby lays there and you grab a pencil, writing something down quickly before laying the pencil down. “Y/n, is everything okay?” you hear Ellie shout to you from the house. You smile, turning your head slowly towards the door. “Yeah, everything is just perfect.” you turn the lights off and walk to the door, looking back inside one more time. The door closes with a soft click and the chord sheet flutters from the blocked wind. Our Whiskey Lullaby.

So I'm wondering if you could write something where the reader is feeling pretty depressed and Steve comforts them?

warnings: mentions of depression, death, anxiety, all around angst with some comfort at the end

word count: 1.8K

a/n: to anyone reading this, if you’re feeling down or need anyone to talk to, my inbox is always open. I’m here for you guys through everything and love you all. if you need them, here are some rescources for mental health. you are not alone in this fight

Sometimes, it’s hard to get out of bed. Sometimes, there’s no hope and it feels like nothing will ever go right. Sometimes, Y/N gets lost in her thoughts and can’t even bring herself to give her boyfriend a ring on the phone.

Today was one of those days. She felt so low and hopeless, like there was no way to get out of the hole that she’d dug herself. Days like these were hard enough as is, but today was extraordinarily tough for her. She knew she’d done it to herself, she’d ignored the bottle of antidepressants on her bathroom counter for about a week now and the old feeling of guilt and resentment had finally caught up to her. It was almost 2 in the afternoon and she hadn’t even thought about getting up, only about what could’ve happened on that fateful night and what she could’ve done differently.

She’d let herself go in the last week and Steve could tell. He tried to care for her and he tried to ask if she’d been taking care of herself and taking her medications, but she always put on a fake smile when asked questions like that. She hadn’t worn anything but sweatpants and one of his sweatshirts in three days, she hadn’t picked up any calls, she’d barely eaten except the meal her mother nearly forced down her throat the night before.

Six months had passed since the battle of Starcourt. She should’ve been recovered by now, right? She made it seem like she was, for the most part. That night had brought Steve into her life, and she’d be forever grateful for him. But right now, it was exactly six months had passed and she felt like she lost all progress that had been made. She was regressing to old habits that she’d developed in July, like sleeping all day, overthinking, putting herself into isolation. One day, she told herself, she could be sad and mourn for one day, for the six month anniversary. Deep down, she knew it wouldn’t just be one day, and so did Steve. Usually, he knew better than to come over unannounced, but this time was different.

It was almost two in the afternoon and she hadn’t even thought about getting up when she heard a knock at the front door. Her mom would answer it, she knew that. But a sense of dread filled her stomach as that sinking feeling crept up in her throat. She felt like she could vomit but had no will to move from her stop underneath the blankets. She knew who it was, but she didn’t have any desire to talk. The bedroom door creaked open after a small warning knock, signaling that he was coming in no matter what she wanted.

She didn’t need to look at the door to know who it was, the familiar smell of cologne and hairspray hit her nose as soon as he opened the door was all she needed to know it was Steve. The bed shifted beneath her as he sat on the edge of it, the sound of springs creaking making her want to hide beneath the comforter to avoid him. Before she could, Steve’s hand grabbed the edge of the blanket, he didn’t say anything as she whined in protest while trying to yank the blanket from his hands. When she finally looked over to him, she could see the pain in his eyes. As if it wasn’t already, guilt rushed through her veins once more and her lip quivered, she was the cause of his sadness.

She tore her eyes away from his gaze, choosing to stare at the fitted sheet beneath her instead. Steve didn’t know what to say, honestly. He knew why she was so sad, but he also knew she wouldn’t talk about it. She wasn’t ready to, she was never ready to talk about it.

“It’s January fourth.” she said eventually, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve sighed, craning his neck to get a look at where she was buried underneath the blankets. “It’s been a rough day.”

She didn’t know what to say to him now, probably because she couldn’t stop replaying those last moments of July 4th in her mind. She could’ve stopped it, she could’ve saved him. She could’ve helped, but she just had to get herself into a fight. If only it would’ve been her instead of him, she’d be in less pain, she’d be free.

Steve was in pain now too, but she was the cause once again. He wasn’t hurting like she was about Hopper, he wasn’t like an adopted child to the man. She’d grown to love the gruff man that Hop was, and she’s grown to love the man that El had made him even more. But he was gone, he’d been gone for months now and there wasn’t anything she could to take it all back anymore.

“It’s my fault.” she whimpered, an anxious feeling spreading through her fingertips as she began to go numb. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault, I could’ve—I should’ve—“

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Slow down.” Steve said frantically, eyes wide as he saw her begin to curl into herself even more underneath the blanket. “What are you talking about?”

She had never told anyone about what happened in the base that day, it had been a secret between her and Joyce for six whole months. Six damn months of bottled up emotions, guilt, self-pity, all of it. She hadn’t spoken of the moment she woke up, just to see Hopper disappear into thin air in front of her. She never wanted to think about it again, but thought repression only worked for so long. It was all bubbling to the surface now, she couldn’t stop the words of panic from escaping her lips anymore.

“I—It’s my fault. I killed him.” she croaked, shaking her head profusely as Steve tried to claw the blanket down to pull her to him. “All my fault, I could’ve saved him. But I didn’t. I—“

“Hey, hey, please look at me.” he said as she sat up quickly, still covered in the sheets as if they’d protect her from the outside world. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, you didn’t kill anybody.”

“Hopper.” she cried, tears brimming her eyes as Steve cupped her cheeks. “He—He’s dead. And I killed him, I should’ve been there to save him. But I got knocked out instead, the—the guard. He—He threw me into the wall and knocked me out, I was supposed to help. I was there to keep lookout and save them if something happened and I—I fucking failed. I should be dead. I don’t deserve to be here.”

“Stop, don’t say that.” Steve said, dropping his hands from her cheeks in disbelief of her words that dripped with malice towards herself. “You should not be dead, do not say that.”

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” she said hopelessly, tears finally spilling down her cheeks as she let out a gasp for air.

She wasn’t thinking about anything else in the moment, she wasn’t thinking about how her words could break Steve’s heart. She didn’t realize what she’d done until she locked eyes with him once more, seeing the look of defeat on his face as a single tear slipped down his left cheek. God, she was so selfish. She couldn’t even comprehend what those words would do to him until she saw him cry, she felt so selfish and she hated it. Honestly, it wasn’t her that was selfish. The depressive thoughts storming through her mind were, they wanted to destroy everything in their path, even if it included herself and her relationship with Steve.

“I—I’m sorry.” she said apologetically, wondering why she was even apologizing in the first place.

“You didn’t kill Hop, Y/N. Nobody killed him, he died saving all of us, alright? You and Joyce did everything you could to save him, that’s all we could have asked for.” he said while tracing his fingers along her hand soothingly. “You were brave, and you still are. And I love you for that, I love you and I—I don’t wanna lose you because of this guilt that you’re feeling. You deserve the world and I’m going to try my best to give it to you. I know it’s hard, I know that. But you gotta work with me, we can get through this, okay?”

“O—Okay.” she said softly, mustering up enough strength to give him a weak smile. “I’ll work with you.”

“I love you, please don’t forget it.” he said with a similar small smile, brushing some of her hair behind her ear.

“I love you too, Stevie.” she replied quietly, leaning into his embrace as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I brought you some candy, actually. If you want some.” he suggested, beside the bed to grab a grocery bag that was completely filled. “I might’ve went a little overboard, but I knew you were probably upset and I didn’t know what you wanted.”

She giggled for a moment as he sat the bag down in front of her, but faltered for a second after realizing she had lost all appetite about three days before. It felt like her stomach had been replaced with a gaping hole only to be filled by guilt and sadness, she had no desire to eat or do anything still. But, she had to try for Steve. She knew him too well and knew that he might actually break if she said no. So, she reached for the bag but his hand stopped her from reaching into it.

“Have you taken your medicine today?” he implored and her eyes widened slightly, his voice was filled with genuine concern. “Or at all this week?”

As soon as she shook her head, Steve was out the door. He came back in a few moments carrying the bottle of pills and a glass of water. He was struggling with trying to understand her problems, but all he really knew was that he needed to be there for her. She took the bottle from his hands hesitantly, but she knew it was for the best.

“I’m gonna get you one of those pill organizer things.” he said, watching her closely as she swallowed the pill. “And you know what? We’re gonna put candy in there with each pill so you’ll want to take it every day.”

She giggled softly at his suggestion, but knew he only wanted her to get better. He would do anything for her to get better, she just had a hard time seeing how much he loved her. The sting of guilt in her gut wasn’t going away any time soon, but Steve could be her temporary fix.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @jxnehxpper @queenofthehairharrington @heart-eye-harrington @daddystevee @charmed-asylum @lemonypink @igotmadskills @a-magey

Kill the Lights // Chapter 13

Steve Harrington x Original Female Character

Read chapter 12 here!

Summary: After Violet- formally 003, a telekinetic, electrokinetic, and clairvoyant 19 year old- loses her first family, her first love, nothing is the same. She finds herself taken in by Hopper and El, struggling to find her footing and meaning to keep fighting. The Party, especially Steve Harrington, try to show her where her strengths have been hiding all along, and that no one has to fight their battles alone. Sometimes you don’t need to be rescued, but someone’s love and support while you rescue yourself sure doesn’t hurt.

Word count: 2,624

Content warnings: cursing, soooome season 3 spoilers?, angst???, a whole boatload of eMoTiOnS*~*~*

Author’s note: we’re coming to the end!! Soon!! I’m kinda sad about this ending, and it’ll be either next chapter or the chapter after that. Don’t wanna drag it out too long but want it to fall in the timeline of season 3. Speaking of- I said it before, I’ll say it again- the dialouge isn’t perfectly canon, in fact, not even close in this chapter. Tweaked it for Violet’s storyline. Hope y’all are cool with that lol, and hope you enjoy it!! Chapter title is from ‘born to lose’ by sleigh bells btw!!

Chapter 13: Born To Lose

Violet was handed the babysitter title for Steve and Robin as they crashed down from their high, and she was less than thrilled. All she wanted was to rest, but the two idiots she was stuck watching over wanted anything but.

Sprinting out of the theater to follow her looped up friends, Violet was more than ready for Dustin and Erica to meet back up with them so they could all just go home already. She watched Robin and Steve fight over the water fountain like children, stare up at the glass ceiling of the mall like absolute ding dongs, only to get sick from the drugs and run to the bathroom from there. Violet reluctantly followed, hoping this was the start of the end of their high antics. She also secretly wished the drugs she was given had that effect on her instead of all this pain.

“Guys? You two okay?” Violet asked as she opened the door, finding Steve and Robin in two separate stalls, slumped over the toilets as they puked any remainder of the chemicals in their bodies. Violet winced at the sight, suddenly hyper aware of the lights in the bathroom and how painfully bright they were. She ducked under the sinks, hoping the little bit of shadow would ease her oncoming headache.

Silence passed for a bit before Robin was the first to speak up, trying to take her mind off of the dizzying feeling that still lingered. “So... Vi... you’ve had those powers all this time?”

Violet, now laying on the dirty yet refreshingly cold tile floor, tilted her head towards her friend. “Mhm” She hummed. “For as long as I can remember now.”

Steve turned to look at his girlfriend, eyes growing wide at her state, in clear view under the bright lights. “Violet, what the hell happened down there?”

“I don’t- I’m not sure, really. I was barely conscious for most of it... and when I was, it was a nightmare.” She whispered, not wanting to talk about it but knowing she had to. “The dreams were right, they came true. They were flashes of what ended up happening to me. What happened to you guys. They were useless, because I couldn’t even use them to prevent any of this from happening.”

“That’s not your fault, Vi.” Steve reassured her, still keeping his distance in case he became nauseous again. “How did you even end up there?”

“I don’t really know that either. I think I was attacked before I tried to go home, and then I woke up down there. I think someone had been watching me. I’ve been so reckless with my powers, I should have known better. I- I thought I was back at the lab, at first.”

Steve pushed himself across the floor, not caring about how he was feeling anymore, and reached for Violet’s hand.

“You couldn’t have known. Even if you did fully know, it wouldn’t have stopped whatever the hell they’ve been doing down there.” He tried reassuring her again. “I should have been protecting you, and I fucked that up.”

Violet sat up quickly, shaking her head, hating to hear that kind of blame spill from his lips. She grabbed his face, forcing his eyes to fall on hers.

“Don’t you dare start. You had no idea either. I didn’t keep anyone safe, but if I can’t blame myself and throw a pity party, you can’t either, Harrington.” Violet sternly stated. Steve tried to look away, but Violet’s gentle shake brought his eyes back. “I’m just glad you’re okay. All of you. I don’t know what I would have done if I would have lost you guys.”

“Yeah, thanks for not killing us down there, either.” Robin, now leaning against the tile wall, spoke up again, breaking the tension between the couple. “You kept us safe then, give yourself more credit.”

Violet turned to face her, eyes glassy. “I was so scared I couldn’t fight off the drugs anymore, I thought they could control me still. I think I used the last of my energy on them and the guards... otherwise I’d offer to heal either of your injuries- I can’t even heal mine-“

“I dunno, I feel pretty badass with this swollen eye.” Steve joked, and a smile finally appeared on Violet’s face as she playfully swatted his arm.

“Hey, while we’re having honesty hour in here, can I tell you guys something?” Robin asked as the laughter between the three of them died down. Silently, both Steve and Violet nodded, signaling Robin to continue. She took a deep breath, shutting her eyes, afraid to see their reactions.

“I’m scared you guys will hate me-“

“Robin, we could never,” Violet said, and Steve furiously nodded, worried about his friend.

Robin looked to her shoes, afraid to look either of them in the eye as she whispered out, “I’m... gay.”

A beat of silence passed before Steve spoke first, “Wait, really?” Robin nodded, biting her lip, and finally looking up, still nervous, but glancing over at Violet now.

It hit Violet like a freight train, though. Happy, at first, for her friend for being so brave, but short lived as she became horrified and embarrassed thinking back to a memory- a very certain memory in June- and buried her head in her hands.

“Robin, I just realized- I- I’m so sorry-“

Steve, confused, kept glancing back and forth between the two, bringing laughter out of Robin again. Steve asked, “Okay, what am I missing, here?”

“Vi- it’s okay-“

“I was so drunk!-“

“So was I! It’s really okay-“

“Wait-“ Steve interjected, finally putting the pieces together, “is this what I think it’s about?”

Robin, now hysterically laughing at how utterly ridiculous this entire situation was, could only nod. Giggles bubbled up out of Violet, face still beet red as she was embarrassed, finally uncovering her face. Steve’s jaw dropped.

“This is so fucking funny.” Robin laughed out, and Violet ran a hand down her face, a mannerism she picked up from living with Hopper the last few months.

“It wasn’t serious-“

“I know, I was just drunk and bored too.” She giggled, then turned to Steve. “Sorry, man, Vi’s just really pretty.”

A beat passed before Steve began laughing loudly himself, falling back over on the floor. “I can’t believe you kissed my girlfriend before I did! And you still were a solid wingman!”

“Wing woman, excuse you.” Violet corrected him, the embarrasment finally rolling off of her back.

At that point, all three of them were lost in laughter, genuine laughter, something they needed after the hell they were just through and back. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation was almost enough to make them forget they had worse troubles waiting for them on the horizon.

The door slammed open, with Erica and Dustin staring at the trio, bewildered by the sight of them literally rolling around the floor in fits of giggles.

“Okay, what the hell?” Dustin snapped at them. “Did you guys forget we have Russian soldiers we still have to sneak past?”

That seemed to be enough to sober the three of them up, silencing the contagious giggling. Violet crawled out from under the sinks, Steve and Robin standing up next to her.

“So, what do we do?” Violet asked the younger boy.

“Wait for the movie to let out, then try to blend in with the crowd.”

And that they tried, blending almost successfully with the crowd of moviegoers as they exited the theater. That was, until, they noticed the frighteningly tall guards checking IDs at every exit of the mall.

“Go, go, go!” Dustin yelled, sprinting past the guards while everyone followed. Violet shot sparks out from her fingers with whatever energy she had left, trying to hold them off. She didn’t care if anyone else saw, her main priority was protecting the people she loved. It didn’t seem to phase the guards, though, even if they were hit.

They slid down the escalator, making their way to hide behind one of the counters in the food court. All five of them fell silent, trying as best as possible to stay hidden. Violet began to panic, knowing how depleted her energy was, not enough to manifest into using her powers to take them out. Steve noticed the fear on her face, and grabbed her hand, squeezing it, trying to reassure her that whatever the outcome, it would be alright. They tried their best, Violet did her best.

Squeezing her eyes shut and praying for a quick death, Violet held her breath, only to gasp as yelling and a loud crash echoed just a few feet away from them. As silence fell again, she cautiously got up first, the rest of the group following her, seeing as it was safe. Violet saw a car toppled over onto the guards’ bodies, lost as to how it took them out, until-

“Eleven!” Violet cried out as her eyes landed on her little sister, surrounded by her friends in the second floor above. They rushed down to the first level, and Violet noticed El was struggling to walk, let alone run like some of her friends did. She sprinted over to her sister, stealing her into a bear hug.

“I was so scared you were gone. I saw you- but I couldn’t find you- I thought you were back at the lab-“

“I know, so did I, I’m so sorry kiddo. That Russian base was just as terrifying as the lab” Violet squeezed her sister tighter, afraid like letting her go would separate them for good.

El’s eyes were glassy as she pulled back a bit, “I’m just glad you’re safe, Vi. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me the hell too.” Violet exhaled, noticing El’s leg, and her face winced again. “You don’t look too good, though. What the fuck happened?”

“She got bit, bad. Something is in the wound.” Mike spoke up. “Can you heal her?”

Violet frowned, “I’m not sure- I used up my energy, I think. I’ve never had a moment where my powers haven’t worked before. Not ‘til now, at least. I can at least try?”

Mike helped El lower to the ground, and the rest of the group crowded around her as Violet began trying to heal the nasty gash on her sister’s leg. The familiar, soft glow radiated from Violet’s palms, but wouldn’t hold. She tried again, but it began to dim with each attempt.

“God dammit!” Violet shouted, frustrated with her body for giving up now.

“We’re going to have to get it out of her another way, we need a knife or something-“

“No! What the fuck?” Violet snapped, not even paying attention to who suggested it at that point.

“Violet, it’s okay, I- I think I can do it.” El spoke up, voice shaking. She put her bravest face on, trying to hide how terrified she was herself. Violet knew there was no better option at that point, and reached for El’s free hand, grasping tightly.

El outstretched her other hand directly above the deep wound, using her powers to pull out whatever the hell didn’t belong in there. She let out a bloodcurdling scream, squeezing Violet’s hand as she continued to reach further into the cut. Finally, whatever it was came free, and El screamed as she threw it across the room. Violet tucked her arms around her sister, trying to help her calm down as she sobbed in pain. Neither noticed Hopper, Joyce, and Murray come in, until Hopper’s foot slammed down onto the small creature once trapped in El’s leg.

As the adults began to fill in the teens and kids on what happened on their end, and vice versa, Violet began to feel relief finally wash over her. It was like she held her breath since being stuck in the underground base, and she finally exhaled again.

Violet was surrounded by friends, surrounded by her family. Safe, safe, safe. It was okay now, things were okay, at least in this very moment. In her heart and her mind, though, she knew worse was waiting for her in the very near future. Nothing could brace her for what would happen next.

———

While discussing their next steps in the plan, whatever the hell that plan was going to be, Hopper took his girls aside to talk to them alone. Sitting away from the others, he pulled them both in a bear hug.

“You both know how to scare the shit of me. Ain’t nothin in those parenting books about that.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Where the hell have you been?” He asked Violet, frowning at how exhausted she looked.

“Where you guys are headed. You were right, Hopper. I should have been more careful with my powers. They knew, they saw me and used me for their sick plans-“

“Hey, hey, hey, none of that.” He hugged her again, stopping her flow of thought. “You two are both here and okay, and I’m grateful for that. You made it back out, Violet, and you helped your friends. Don’t know many kids your age who would do the same.”

Violet nodded, taking his words to heart, trying to calm down.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but you two need to look out for each other, alright?” He spoke, glancing down at El, then back at Violet, and watched confusion spread across their faces.

“What? Why are you talking like that?” El asked.

“Just in case. We don’t know what all could happen. I don’t say it enough how much I love you two, and how proud of you girls I am.” He said, shrugging, as if his concern was nothing.

“Shut it, dad.” Violet spoke up, shocked in herself for calling him that the first time. “You’re gonna be fine. You have to be. We still have to annoy and scare you until the end of your days.”

Hopper laughed, ruffling his oldest daughter’s hair. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right kid.”

Violet gave him one more hug before giving him and El space to talk on their own. She tried her best to shake what he said, but it anxiously sat in the back of her mind as she made her way over to Steve.

“You should go home, go rest.” Steve said, wrapping his arms around her. Violet pulled back, brows furrowed.

“What? No way, no fucking way.” She replied, confused as to why he’d even suggest it.

“Vi, you’ve been awake for too long now. Your powers are drained. You need sleep.”

“Yeah, but I’d be damned if I left your side tonight. No way, Harrington.”

Steve sighed, hand coming up to cradle the side of her face. Violet leaned into his touch.

“You, Violet Hopper, are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

“Maybe so, but you, Steve Harrington, love me anyway.” She playfully shot back, and Steve’s eyes widened.

“Shit. Did I say something while drugged?”

“Yep-“ Violet smirked. “You told me, and I quote: “You could snap my neck any day, and I’d still love you.””

“Fuck.” Steve sighed, ducking his head into her shoulder. “I definitely wanted the first time to be more romantic than that.”

Violet giggled before gently pulling him into a short, sweet kiss. “You could snap my neck any day too- even though I highly doubt you actually could- and I’d still love you right back, Steve.”

Steve’s face blushed up before he pulled her back in for another kiss, filled in with smiles from the both of them. They held each other close, cherishing the moment and safety between one another, before the worst they’ve been expecting was just nearly there.

I Wish You The Very Best

Kara Danvers x Reader

Words: ~ 2,023

Summary: "She'll say 'we happened and we were important but you let me go, I'm sorry, but you let me go'." - Azra. T. | She was scared, and now it cost her everything.

 Warnings: fighting (verbal)

 A/N: I don't even know, my dudes. Something came over me and made me write sad things. This is based on a poem I read a few years ago and it still makes me emotional. Someone tell me how I can make my writing better. Join the hangout and see the chaos unfold asdfghjkl, https://discord.gg/bxHfTtD .

It's the moment when Alex tells her that you're seeing someone and that you look so happy after a coming back to the apartment from mission one day that Kara stops in her tracks. The ice cream filled cone in her hands shatters into pieces from the sheer force of super-strength, the dessert falling to her lap as she processes her sisters words. She snaps out of her stupor when she realizes Alex has been calling out her name.

"Are you okay?" She asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern as she gazes at her younger sister.

Am I okay? Kara questions herself, forcing her eyes to meet Alex's gaze, nodding her head while plastering an obviously fake (face it Kara, you know you can't lie to Alex) smile on her face, one that doesn't completely reach her eyes. It's been months since the two of you ended things, weeks since anyone has mentioned your name around her. How Alex knows about your new relationship, she doesn't know but Alex was telling her now. Because Alex loved you too. Like you were her own sister after seeing just how much you cared about Kara.

"Yeah, of course! Why wouldn't I be?" She lies despite the evidence that was quite literally in and on her hands saying that she was anything but okay.

It's only when Alex leaves for the night and she's laying in bed with her phone in her hands, swiping through the old pictures of the two of you that she allows herself to remember everything she's ever loved about you. Everything she still loves.

-

You were loyal and honest and everything she had ever wanted to be. You were a book that was made for Kara's eyes. You smiled against her mouth when you kissed, you let her ramble on and on about her day, you held her tight when being Supergirl was too much. You were her home.

You made her so happy. You made her happier than Mon-El ever could. The way you treated her outshone his best days even on your worst days. It was like Rao had created you just for her. Like the two of you being together had been the plan this whole time, that the universe conspired to make sure that you would be hers and that she would be yours.

But for whatever reason, she let you go. Because she thought it was the right thing to do. Because things seemed to easy, became comfortable too fast too soon that it felt like she was suffocating. Maybe it was because Mon-El came back, but he was married for christ's sake, but he was here and he was offering her an out to what she was feeling. 

For a little while she thought she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You're always with him, Kara. I never see you anymore. You're always busy with work or saving the city that when I get a single moment with you, you always end up ditching me for him. Did you forget that he left you? And suddenly now that he's back it's like we never even happened! He's married Kara, he has a wife."

You didn't mean to start an argument, especially on the one night that Kara didn’t have to chase down a runaway criminal or alien. But you couldn't help it, it'd been weeks since Mon-El and Imra arrived on Earth and ever since then it felt like you had to make an appointment to see your girlfriend.

"Why are you getting so defensive? I know that, Y/N."

She brushed you off like what you were saying was nothing and you knew, simply by the way her arms crossed against her chest and the look in her eyes that she was preparing to defend herself.

"Because you're acting like you wouldn’t even care if I left and never came back!" 

"Then leave! I don't care where you go and I certainly don't care if you come back or not."

You whimpered at her words, tears falling from your eyes as you shake your head. All the anger had dissipated, the last thing you wanted was for your relationship to fall apart but now it seems like it was doing exactly that.

"You don't mean that Kara, please don’t say--"

"Clearly I mean it, Y/N! Rao, you're suffocating me. You always want me to be here, or whenever we're around Mon-El and Imra you get so defensive that I can't take it anymore. I can't be by your side all the time, I have responsibilities too."

It hurt more than you wanted to admit hearing those words come out of her mouth. You knew you couldn't stay. You weren't one to give up so easily but the distance and the tension between you and Kara had taken all the fight out of you. She had her mind made up, and nothing you say would make any difference. It was time for you to protect your heart.

Maybe it was the adrenaline rushing through her veins that wouldn't let her lower the glare that was fixed on your crying eyes, which normally would soften immediately at the sight of seeing you so upset. So the glare stayed, it stayed even after you had packed a bag with all the things you could take with you in the moment, it stayed long after you closed the door after whispering ‘goodbye Kara’, after you gave her one final heartbreaking glance, it stayed until the only thing left was Kara standing in her living room.

-

She closes her eyes as she remembers the words she yelled at you, unable to accept the fact that she had raised her voice at you and said things she didn't mean. She could've stopped you. Could've stopped you when you were packing your bag, could've called out your name as you walked out of the door, out of her life. But she didn't. 

She snapped at Mon-El weeks after you walked out, the finality and reality of the situation crashing down on her. She wanted someone to blame, so she did just that. She blamed him, because he was the reason to why she pushed you away. It was because of him that you felt that you weren't loved, weren't wanted, weren't needed. She blamed him because she didn't want to blame herself.

So now she has to live with the fact that she can never touch and hold you the way she used to, can never come home from a day of being Supergirl to you sleeping on the couch because you tried to wait up for her, can never make you laugh so hard you cried. The fact that she made you cry and hurt because she refused to see what was right in front of her when she had it.

You promised never to hurt each other, but in the end that was your undoing. Promises were always made to be broken but you wanted to believe that Kara, your Kara, would never do something like that.

She can't stop herself from thinking about the 'what ifs'. What if she didn't give you up to be with Mon-El? What if she fought harder to get you back? What if she didn't tell you to leave and never speak to her ever again? What if, what if, what if she can still fix it?

 -

Glancing at the phone in her hands, she knows what she has to do. It's late, but she knows that she has to try.

-

You pick up on the third ring and suddenly it's like she forgot how to breathe.

"Hello?"

"Y/N… Hi."

Hearing your voice on the other end of the line brings the smallest of smiles to her face. Cradling her phone against her ear, she leans back against the cushions. 

"Kara.. What can I do for you?" You ask her, voice gentle and soft. Just like how you spoke to her when the two of you were wrapped up in-between the sheets, legs tangled together with your fingers running through her hair as you whispered goodnights and I love you to each other while you waited for sleep to take you under.

"I… I miss you, Y/N. It's been months and I know, I know that what I said the last time we spoke things weren't great but I miss you." She lets out in one breath. It's silence on your end, and for a moment she thinks that you've hung up on her. Just when she's about to check, you say her name. Her heart soars that you were still there and still willing to listen to hear what she had to say, but then again, you never could deny yourself on all things related to Kara. 

Her heart breaks at the tone of your voice. It's too soft and too gentle, too much like how a parent would speak to their child when explaining something serious. You sound gentle, but not in love with her anymore. Not like before.

"Kara… We happened. What we had was so important to me, you were so important to me, you were home to me. I loved you so much, Kara…" Loved. Past tense. As in, you loved her back then, but not anymore. Not like how she loves you now. She feels her heart crack even more at the word, tears welling up in her eyes as she stays quiet, knowing you had to say your piece.

"…But you let me go. You told me to leave. You left me because of him. Because you wanted to defend him. I saw the way he looked at you. I'm not stupid, Kara. He was still in love with you. But I loved you too and that wasn't enough for you to choose me. I'm sorry Kara, but we both know that it was over the moment you chose him over me."

Once the first tear fell, there was no stopping them. Just like how you cried so many months ago, there was no one there to wipe away her tears. You hear her choke back a cry as she tries but ultimately fails to regain her composure.

"No, I'm sorry. Of course, what was I thinking?" She says with a watery chuckle but you could hear the sadness seeping through. The tables were turned now, and it was you turning her down. You apologize to her once again, because you hated when people cried because of you. And that’s when she knows. That there was no returning things to how there once were, there was no getting you back.

You had moved on. Sure, it had taken you months, but you were letting yourself be happy, something that you were afraid that you would never be able to feel again. Someone else was making you happy. Someone that wasn't Kara.

It wasn’t an alien that took you away from her. Not a freak accident that tore you from her side. Not Mon-El. No, it was just her. She was the one who pushed you away when she should've fought for you and in the end, it led to her own heartbreak.

"I wish you the very best, Kara Danvers." Is all she hears before the call drops. It was over.

I already had the best and I was stupid enough to let it go. She thinks to herself. I was stupid enough to let you go.

Thinking With His Heart [Karamel Fanfiction]

I started writing this fic a couple weeks ago, and I promised myself that I would post it before the new year, so I'm pretty proud of myself for actually meeting that goal lol. Warning, angst ahead cuz I just can't help myself. Tagging everyone who shared their interest in the teaser (this is a lot of people I'm sorry): @emarasmoak @theleticiathings-blog @facepalming-since-chernobyl @ms-jane-darcy @whovianlunatic @busysciencegeek @jedelmanss @lostin-the-desert @cant-forget-karamel @notsomildmanerred @imtiredof-waiting

Thank you for your enthusiasm.

SUMMARY: "Mon El thought he knew what fear felt like... But in that moment, as he walked into the DEO med bay, he realized that he was wrong. Mon El had never really, truly felt fear until the moment he saw Kara on the table, fighting for her life while Alex tried desperately to save her."

[Picks up from the end of 3x09 and includes speculation for 3x10, told from Mon El's POV]

WORD COUNT: 3,263 words

NOTE: So my thoughts have been spinning since the midseason finale, and since the trailer for 3x10. Not only did we get our first peek of the Legion rings on the members, and our first glimpse of Brainiac 5, the end of the trailer seemed to have Kara in one of the stasis tanks on the Legion ship! This fic is pure speculation on what may happen for Kara to end up there. This fic also follows the theories that the marriage is fake and that the Legion's objective is to save Kara from Reign. With that said, enjoy!

Now available on AO3!

[Feedback is welcome. Hate will be blocked. Thank you!]

Mon El thought he knew what fear felt like.

His life had been marked by that emotion. He felt it first when his planet died, and he was shoved into that little pod and shot out into the vastness of space. Then, when he landed on a strange planet, not knowing anyone, and finding out that he was the sole survivor of Daxam. His encounter with Parasite, being captured by CADMUS, getting shot, almost dying from Medusa. Gaining the courage to kiss Kara for the first time, and then having to admit his feelings to her, and then falling in love with her. Finding out his parents weren't really dead, losing Kara, traveling to another Earth to save her from Music Meister's spell. Almost going back to Daxam, getting locked up by his parents, the Daxamite invasion. Each moment had been scarier than the last, and none of it was more terrifying than almost dying when the lead was released into the atmosphere, and having to leave Kara again.

When he crashed into the 31st century, he was met with an almost calm acceptance. The feeling of crashing onto a strange planet was somehow familiar. His life was constantly filled with new beginnings, with pain, with fear. He knew the feelings well.

But in that moment, as he walked into the DEO med bay, Mon El realized that he was wrong. Mon El had never really, truly felt fear until the moment he saw Kara on the table, fighting for her life while Alex tried desperately to save her.

He felt panic rise up in his chest, and he was sure that his heart would collapse under the weight of it. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Kara, and he knew that the image of her would be burned into his retinas for a long time.

Her skin was paler than usual, and it had a thin layer of sweat. She had blood dripping down the side of her head and into her hair, staining her locks a dark, rusty color. She had tubes all over her, monitoring her vitals, and she even had one sticking out of her mouth.

Mon El had to remind himself to breathe. It wasn't right. She looked so helpless, so vulnerable, so human.

He couldn't even hear himself think over the sounds of the machines. They were beeping over and over again, reminding him and everyone else that something was very, very wrong.

His frantic thoughts were interrupted by a weird feeling in his mind. It felt almost as if someone was caressing his thoughts, turning them from shouts to whispers.

Imra. She was using her powers on him, trying her best to soothe his fear and calm him down. This was one of the reasons he had recruited her for this mission in the first place. Not only was she dedicated to the cause, but her unique power served as a safety net for whenever he strayed from the objective. She was there to give his mind a gentle nudge and make sure he stayed focused on the task at hand.

"She'll be okay," Imra told him aloud, squeezing his hand slightly as she spoke, while continuing to soothe his thoughts as best as she could. His eyes flickered down to hers briefly. He could tell that she wasn't worried. In the back of his mind, he knew that there really was no reason to be. They had seen this all play out in the history books, and Imra was right. Kara was going to be okay.

But it didn't matter. No amount of mind control could take away his worry for the woman he loved.

He was taken away from his thoughts by Alex's voice. "Stay with me, Kara," she muttered to her sister, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke. Her terror was evident in her eyes as she looked at her. "Stay with me."

As she spoke, one of the machines started beeping again, indicating that what Alex and the other medics were doing wasn't working. All he could do was watch in silent shock.

This wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to die. She can't die.

"We need to get her under a yellow sun lamp," one of the medics told Alex, but the agent was already shaking her head.

"No..." Alex replied, not taking her eyes off of Kara as she spoke. "We need to stabilize her before we can do that. The sun lamps will only help her if she's stable. Otherwise they won't heal her fast enough and..." She trailed off her words, not having the strength to finish her sentence.

He could tell that Alex was starting to lose her patience, seeming to get more frustrated with each beep of the machines.

He knew that the other medics were speaking, but he couldn't hear them over his own thoughts. They played in his head like a mantra.

No, no, no, no, no...

"This should be working," Alex exclaimed. He could hear her unshed tears in her voice, and her frustration was evident.

Mon El was no doctor, but the look on Alex's face scared him. It was one full of uncertainty, of fear, of worry. It told him that she didn't know what else she could do to save Kara's life.

It was Alex's look that shocked him into action. Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind, and before he even had a chance to think about it, he voiced it aloud.

"Put her in cryosleep."

The room fell silent with his words; the only sound was the noise of the machines. Alex didn't look up from her work, but the expression on her face showed him that she was open to suggestions at this point. From the corner of his eye, he saw Imra snap her head towards him, but he ignored her.

"What are you talking about?" J'onn asked. He had been standing next to Mon El in silence, watching Alex with worry evident on his face. Now, he looked at Mon El with skepticism.

Before Mon El could respond, he felt Imra in his brain, harshly tugging at his mind. This went against their entire plan, but he didn't care. Kara's life was more important, and he couldn't just stand there and do nothing. He focused all his energy on ignoring the pull in his mind before he spoke.

"The stasis tanks on our ship. If you put her in cryosleep, the ship will repair the damage to her body and stabilize her. It should work as long as you can get her there."

Mon El made eye contact with Winn as he spoke. Terror was plastered on his face, and he ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself down. He was too scared to speak, but Mon El didn't miss the small glimmer of hope that appeared in Winn's eyes, mixing with his panic and worry. He could tell that Winn was on board with the idea.

J'onn thought about it for a moment before directing his attention to the agent. "Alex. Your call."

She chewed on her lip, weighing her options as she looked down at her sister. One look at the machine, however, and her mind was made up. "Okay." She whispered.

Mon El was about to turn around and leave the medbay when he felt Imra in his head, stopping him dead in his tracks. She had a vice grip on his mind, holding him in place.

"Mon El," she hissed, just quiet enough so only he could hear.

He looked over at her, pleading with his eyes. He knew that she disagreed with helping Kara right now, but surely she wouldn't stop him, right?

Please, Imra, he pleaded in his mind, hoping that she would listen to him. He knew there was no mistaking the desperation in his thoughts. Please.

As Mon El thought the words, he saw her eyes soften, and he knew she had caved. She let go of his mind with a sigh. Once he had regained control of himself, he snapped into action.

"Let's go," he ordered, turning around and leaving the medbay, the squeaking of Kara's stretcher echoing behind him.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Mon El stood silently in front of one of the stasis tanks on the ship; the one that he had just helped Alex, Winn and J'onn put Kara into. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, but even that couldn't prevent them from shaking.

There she was— her eyes closed, her skin pale and her hair floating around her head in a golden halo. She had a white band secured to her forehead to help them to track her vitals while she healed. Kara. His Kara.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He had to be there for her when she woke up, and he worried that he would miss that moment if he looked away.

That's why Mon El was surprised when someone came up to him, grabbing his left bicep and spinning him around to face them. Once his eyes settled and he registered the face, he let out a sigh. He knew this was coming.

Imra.

He had a lot of explaining to do; that much was for sure. He was supposed to be the leader of the Legion. He wasn't supposed to be the one messing up their mission.

He was about to try to fumble his way through an apology when she interrupted him.

"What the hell, Mon El?"

He almost wanted to chuckle at her words. He had missed this Imra in recent days. Now that Alex, Winn and J'onn were immersed in their own conversations, Imra could finally drop the "sweet and docile wife" act. He had to admire her commitment to the job, because the Imra he knew was anything but docile.

It was only now that they were alone that he saw the Imra that he had known in the 31st century. She was fierce and she was determined and she was empathetic and she was passionate.

And she was pissed at him.

Her eyes were ablaze with anger, and in that moment, Mon El was thankful that she didn't have heat vision.

"Imra, I'm sorry," he started, his voice sounding exasperated already. He knew this conversation was coming, but that doesn't mean he was ready for it.

Imra just scoffed at him before continuing. "You should be sorry." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You're putting everything we've worked for at risk."

"I know," he muttered.

"We've been planning this for months... for years! You've been planning it!" She threw her arms up over her head. pacing back and forth as he talked. She stopped moving and dropped her arms to her side. "I... I just don't get it, Mon El. Explain it to me. Please."

Mon El opened his mouth, ready to answer, but nothing came out. He didn't know how to explain his reasons to her, because truthfully, the answer was quite simple. He did it because it was Kara, and he couldn't stand to see her like that. He had to do something.

She sighed when he said nothing. "We're lucky that we didn't mess anything up when she found you on the ship, and we're already trying to do this job while we have men still asleep. We've analyzed every point of this, and found the exact point to interfere where we have the greatest chance for success. History says that Supergirl fights the first battle with Reign, and yes, she gets injured but she lives. I just don't get why you would interfere now..."

"We've already interfered!" Mon El interrupted, unable to hold back anymore. She looked at him with a shocked look on her face, but stayed silent, so he continued. "Every day we're at the DEO we're interfering. And we've already messed things up. Kara was supposed to get injured, not beaten within an inch of her life. I couldn't let her die."

"She wouldn't have died." Imra retorted. "You know we would have known immediately if anything had changed that much."

He ignored her words, not wanting to admit to himself that they were true. "We already changed things. She was off her game in her fight with Reign because of us."

"You don't know that," Imra stated, starting to sound frustrated with him. "We didn't know how injured she got in the first fight. All we knew was that she survived."

Mon El stayed quiet. Imra was right, but that didn't mean he had to be okay with that.

Imra's eyes softened, and her voice was quieter when she continued. "Why can't you just admit it was a personal decision? That you did it because you were worried about her?"

Mon El was about to say something before he stopped. He wasn't expecting that question. He wondered briefly if she had read his mind. She had a habit of doing it unconsciously, but he shook the thought away, still trying to find an answer to her question.

She smirked a little, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "You know, you're lucky I'm the one that woke up. I've been in your mind. I've seen firsthand how much you care about her, and I understand. If it was Brainiac who woke up, he'd be trying you for treason right now."

Mon El wanted to chuckle, but he felt a sickening feeling sink into the pit of his stomach, because Imra was exactly right. Brainiac had an unparalleled intelligence, but it made him see things as black and white, with no area for gray. As a leader, that was what he should have been doing, but he had let his fear guide his decision instead.

He couldn't admit it was a personal decision. This wasn't the time for him to be thinking with his heart. If he was letting his emotions guide him, then he shouldn't be leading them on this mission.

But Mon El couldn't think of anything worse than sitting back and leaving Kara's fate in someone else's hands.

Instead, Mon El clamped down hard on his thoughts before speaking. "I had to make sure there was a Kara to save in the future. If I hadn't saved her now, the entire mission could have been ruined by her dying early. I intervened because I thought it was right."

The look Imra gave him let him know that she didn't believe him, but she didn't question it. "I'm going to go," she told him instead, and he didn't miss the weariness in her voice. "I'm going to make sure nothing changed too much from this."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He feared that if he spoke, he would spill all the words that he was trying to hold back. He knew that Imra knew how he was feeling anyway, even if he didn't want her to.

Before she turned to walk away, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "We're going to save her, Mon El. I know it. This isn't your burden to bear alone."

Yes it is, he thought before he could stop himself, and he knew that Imra had heard him by the look of pity she gave him. She looked like she was going to say something else, but then thought against it.

Imra started to walk away, but Mon El called out to her before she could. "Hey Imra," he started, and she turned back around, looking a bit surprised. "You could have stopped me back in the medbay, but you didn't. Why not?"

Her face was unreadable, her eyes hardening as she responded. "I may not agree with you, but that doesn't mean I would stop you. I'm not that kind of person."

Mon El couldn't help but think that he had insulted her with his question. As a telepath, many people expected her to be cold-hearted and manipulative, and he knew that she struggled with that perception. However, he knew that she was anything but. If anything, her power made her more empathetic, and her response made perfect sense to him. Despite not agreeing with his choice, and knowing that he could be endangering their objective with it, Imra still wouldn't use her power to forcefully take his free will away. She would only control him if he asked because that was the type of person she was, and even then, it had been a struggle to convince her to control him when he was around Kara.

She turned on her heel and walked away without another word, and even though Mon El knew that he should probably stop her to apologize, he let her go. He thought it would be better to let her have her space first.

And even if he had wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to move. He wanted to stay by Kara's side until she woke up. She needed to wake up.

"Hey, Kara," he muttered. He relished in the feeling of being able to talk to her freely, without all the baggage surrounding them right now. He knew that all of the tension between them was his fault; it was because of all of the lies he was telling in the name of saving her life. Even though he knew he was doing it for the right reasons, he still couldn't stop his stomach from churning with each lie he told.

Her pain. Her heartache. Her sadness. It was all because of him.

"I know you can't hear me," he continued, walking closer and pressing his hand against the glass of the tank. He wished that he was able to grab her hand, to touch her, to look into her eyes, but he couldn't. Instead, he pressed his head against the glass as well, squeezing his eyes shut. "But I need you to wake up. I need you."

He felt tears coming, and he tried his best to hold them back. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself before continuing.

"And when you wake up, I'm going to be here for you, even though you hate me right now. And I promise, I will do everything I can to protect you. To save you. And, once it's all said and done, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I will love you again, with everything that I have."

He felt a tear escape him, silently sliding down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, cursing himself for not being strong. "So please," he said, his voice hoarse from the tears left unshed and all of the things that he wanted to say but couldn't. "Just wake up."

He sighed, backing away slowly from the stasis tank, fixing his eyes onto her face once again. Imra was right. He wasn't thinking clearly. He couldn't think clearly when it came to Kara.

One good thing had come from his conversation with Imra. He had realized that this wasn't going to work. They wouldn't be able to complete the Legion's mission in their current state, with only him and Imra awake. He was too close to Kara, despite his better judgment. And Imra, she was too good of a person to keep him in line. He needed someone calloused, someone with a one track mind, someone who wouldn't be afraid to keep him in line, even though he was their leader.

He needed to wake another Legion member, and he knew just the one.

Brainiac.

[NOTE: Imra may seem to be a bit ooc from what we've seen on the show, but that was done on purpose. I think Imra is playing the wife role right now, and I'm hoping to see her drop the act and show Imra, the soldier, a bit more in the future.Despite that, I do think she actually is a good person at heart, and I do like her character a lot (and she was fun to write.)]

[Feedback is welcome. Hate will be blocked. Thank you!]

to love, to die chapter 3

The Magicians, Quentin and Eliot

Chapter 3 of 3

You can also view it on ao3

Thirty eight is wrong, all wrong.

It starts out the same, with Quentin and his stupid hair and shining eyes trudging up through the grasses. They do everything the same as before, desperate to defeat the beast, unaware that their plan has failed before.

That's when it goes wrong. They're in Fillory, Quentin and Eliot tense with left over anger from an emotional one night stand that neither of them are really ready to talk about, and everyone else is stressed and afraid. They're still not sure where to go, but they're desperate for answers. They're on the precipice of something, they just don't know what.

That's when the watcher woman banishes him from Fillory, and he finds himself in the cottage again. Quickly he gathers the materials to watch through a mirror, to watch where they go and to be there for them during the battle. He watches desperately as each of them come up with plans that can't possibly work.

He knows they're going to lose.

He goes to the dean, demands answers Quentin couldn't get before. Spikes his tea with a truth serum, and the dean laughs, "that's usually Quentin's trick."

And then he explains that there's a time loop resetting itself. Eliot asks how he and Jane are immune. The dean summons the strength to refuse an answer, and Eliot frantically searches for a way to remember.

And he finds one, the Emerson's Alloy Repellant crystal. He tucks it under his shirt and goes back to watching his friends.

They die.

Time is reset.

*

He finds himself sitting atop the stone again, staring across fields of green. He remembers everything this time. When Quentin falls fast face first into the grass, he nearly jumps up to check on him, but the guilt from the last loop weighs heavy on him, keeps him steady in his seat while he waits for Quentin to get up and make his way to him.

He reaches for a cigarette, frowns when he realizes he doesn't have any, and as if a second thought, he reaches up to his chest to feel for the Crystal.

It's gone.

He curses mentally, reminds himself to find it later.

Quentin smiles at him as he approaches, all confusion and innocence, and it nearly knocks Eliot off his seat. Something in his stomach flips. Last time he hadn't thought to remember Quentin like this, fresh and free, before everything went to shit and he lost him to disaster.

He barely remembers to say it. "Quentin Coldwater?" And he forces himself to say it like he doesn't know. Because Q doesn't remember him. Doesn't remember any of it, and if Eliot is going to fix everything this time, he can't fuck it all up in the first few minutes.

Quentin nods up at him. "Where am I?"

Eliot blinks at him before jumping down from his perch and wiping his hands off in front of him. "Home," he says simply. Because it is, Quentin just doesn't know it yet. But he will. When Eliot fixes everything.

"I don't understand."

Eliot shrugs, turning to lead him towards the exam. "You will." When he doesn't hear Quentin follow after him, he pauses and looks over his shoulder. "Well, you won't if you just keep standing there like an idiot. Come along, Quentin Coldwater, there's much to do." And he starts walking again, slow, careful steps until he hears a confused sigh and hurried footsteps behind him. He smirks to himself.

Quentin will always be Quentin, he thinks. At least there's that.

Later, he realizes someone is missing. Perhaps this is why they wipe their minds each time around, so they didn't feel the weight of the past, and the present. To feel the missing pieces clinking softly in the distance.

It's Margo. She's not here. It comes to him when he crosses the threshold of the cottage, when past and present collide. Margo was expelled three months ago. The weight of this revelation nearly makes his knees weak, and he takes a moment to sit down. The version that he's supposed to be, he can feel it beneath the memories he's desperately grasping onto, is lonely and angry. More empty than anything.

It’s enough to make him forget to search for the crystal for the time.

Quentin falls in love with Alice, and it breaks Eliot's heart. To know what he had, and to see it now in Alice's hands hurts beyond words.  But he doesn’t let that change his mission. He skips classes, borrows notes to pass the tests later on, and spends all his time in the library. He uses what he knows from the past life to spur him on. But, it doesn’t take long for him to realize that he can’t do this alone.

He has to tell someone.

So he goes to the one person he has no personal feelings for, no connections, nothing that could potentially ruin this for all of them. He goes to Penny.

Who’s first, predictable, response is to call him delirious and, “Man, get the fuck out of my face,” until Eliot brings up things that he couldn’t know unless they were at least on some sort of good terms. He tells him he’s a traveler, a week before he’s supposed to discover it.

Penny agrees to help him, confused and angry.

Two months later, the Beast is hungry for death, and they have no choice but to tell the others. They want to know who they were in the past life. Want to know everything that’s changed between now and then. Everything.

Quentin, always so observing, notices when Eliot hesitates, and so unlike himself, he brings it up in front of everyone. Eliot breath hitches and he tells them, “Some things need to stay buried. It’s not relevant to this.” But they don’t let up.

Luckily, Penny, for once in his life, decides to take pity on someone other than himself, and rescues Eliot for the moment, saying, “Look if it’s not important, it’s not important. Can we focus on what actually is?”

Eliot doesn’t miss the confused determination on Quentin’s face that remains until they all decide to call it quits for the night. He tries to sneak away while everyone is saying they’re goodbyes, but once they’re all gone, and he’s safely tucked away in his room with a bottle of the strongest alcohol he could find, Quentin reappears in his doorway.

“Do you knock?” Eliot finds himself asking.

“Not when you’re hiding something.”

It’s a bit much, Eliot thinks. Having Quentin in here, watching him like he knows him, when he doesn’t know the half of what he thinks he does. He doesn’t know what they were before, what Eliot lost when Quentin died. What he lost when time reset and Quentin was still Quentin but not his.

When Quentin moves into the room and closes the door behind him, Eliot pulls the blanket up and over his head. If he can’t drink his problem away, he can sure as hell hide from it. But Quentin, stupid, determined Quentin, sits down on the edge of the bed, and a hand rests softly on Eliot’s shoulder above the blanket.

“What aren’t you telling us?”

And the voice is so quiet, so reassuring, that Eliot, for just a moment, thinks that Quentin knows. But then the hand squeezes his shoulder, “You can, you know. You can tell me, El. Whatever it is you - you did. Back then.”

Eliot’s heart stops for a moment, as he slowly pulls his shoulder away from Quentin’s hand and sits up, letting the blanket slide down and bunch up on his lap. There’s a rage so strong and violent rushing through him that he clenches his hands around fistfuls of blanket and glares at Quentin. “Get out, Quentin.”

“Eliot -,”

And suddenly, he can’t contain it, with Quentin staring at him with big doe eyes, like he understands. “You died!” He said, voice rising on each letter, “Do you not get that? You all - each and every fucking one of you died, while I was banished here, forced to do nothing but watch! I -,” He seals his lips shut and looks down. He has to make himself say it, before he lets this drag everyone else down with him. “I loved you. We - ,” He licks his lips, and decides to hell with it. “We had a brief fling, it wasn’t a big deal. Didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

Quentin stares at him for a long moment before nodding and leaving without another word.

Eliot’s not sure whether he’s glad, or if the growing pit in his stomach is opening up and forming a black hole to eat him up and spit him out who the fuck knows where.

It had been useful in their last try, so just a few days later, they bottle their emotions and practice battle magic. Eliot does it despite remembering every agonizing moment from the last round, practices with them. Has short, vivid flashbacks of Margo swallowing down her emotions and breaking down, clinging to him in a rare moment of vulnerability. He realizes he misses her just as he puts the bottle to his lips, and it all comes roaring back to him in manic hysteria.

He locks himself in his room and drinks himself numb.

Quentin, of course, comes to find him.

And they become another drunken mistake.

The next morning, as Quentin seems to look everywhere but at him, he wonders if they’ve ever been more than this in one of the past loops.

Then he remembers the crystal.

When he goes looking for it, he runs into a woman that looks too much like the watcher woman. “I’m sorry, Eliot,” She says, the crystal clutched her hand, “You can’t remember again. I thought it might work, but it doesn’t look like anythings going to go differently.”

“We’re still alive,” He argues.

But she shakes her head, “He’s waiting. Go, keep trying. But I don’t think this will be our time to win.”

“Why are you even telling me this?”

“Because I want to believe that you’re the hero.”

And they spend the next few weeks, working out every kink Eliot can remember from the last loop, every mistake they made. And he thinks he’s finally fixed it, but Alice ruins it.

Alice ruins everything.

She tries summoning her brother.

He’d managed to stop her when she first arrived, hidden the book in a place he was sure she couldn’t find, but somehow she finds it. Somehow she figures out a way to destroy months of perfecting.

And the Beast comes, and, there’s one name on his lips when he appears in the cottage full of students. “Quentin Coldwater,” He says, as he stalks across the room. Eliot’s not sure how he does it, but he screams through the paralysis and the Beast stops in his tracks and turns towards him. “And who are you?” He asks.

But Quentin does something wonderful and amazing and stupid. A pocket watch appears in his hand, and the beast is pulled back the way in which he came, but he manages to drag Kady with him.

Everything goes to shit from there. Penny, desperate to save her, travels to Fillory. He doesn’t return. Neither of them do.

Alice cries, apologizes nonstop. Quentin comforts her.

Eliot spends most days, when they’re not finding a way around losing their traveler, wishing he hadn’t gone for the crystal. And though Quentin is still alive here and now, he keeps having flashbacks of his death. Over and over and over again.

Quentin comes to him one day, when he’s near comatose from all the alcohol, and lies down on the bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling. Neither of them say anything for a few long moments, until Quentin turns his head and watches him instead.

“If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, go.” Eliot mutters.

Quentin looks up at the ceiling. “Tell me about us,” He murmurs.

“What?”

“Before. In the loop. Tell me about us.” He turns towards him again, “The truth, Eliot.”

He’d lie, but he doesn’t have the energy or sobriety to make up a story, so they lie there together, both staring up at the ceiling, and Eliot tells him the truth.

When he comes to the end, he can barely get the words out, so Quentin turns on his side, and pulls Eliot into him, pulling his head to his chest, soothing him with his heartbeat. A hand warming through Eliot’s curls, and another on his arm, making careful shakes with his fingers.

They stay like that until the next morning when Julia comes barging in and says they’ve found a way to Fillory, and it’s back to business. But before they follow her out, Quentin grabs Eliot’s arm, and pulls him back into a soft kiss that has Quentin standing high on his toes, his hands on either side of Eliot’s jaw. Then he pulls away and looks at him for a breath of a moment, and lets go so he can follow after Julia. Eliot takes a moment to compose himself, forcing the small little smile away, and willing himself not to reach up and touch his lips like a sad little school girl.

He follows after them and they get back to work.

The plan is a failure from the moment they step foot in the neitherlands. They don’t even make it to Fillory; Quentin, Eliot and Julia.

He doesn’t know what happens when everything goes black, he just sees red, red, red, and then . . .

Time is reset.

*

The final time Eliot Waugh see’s Quentin Coldwater for the first time, he’s late. Eliot’s resting, poised and perfect, up on his stone, waiting for his pupil, who is somehow late. Part of him wants to stand up, pace just so he can destroy the poor bastard whenever he decides to show up to the single most important exam of his life, but spite and pride gnaw at Eliot’s insides, so he lies back, poised like a perfect model, and he waits.

This kid had better be worth waiting for, he thinks as he pulls out a cigarette and hangs his head back, letting the warm sun shine down on his face.