#truly the real mvp | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysteryshoptls · 3 months

Text

SSR Idia Shroud - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Idia: Look at all these dynamic brushstrokes that can only truly be appreciated because they're from a real painting… Fheehee! This is the real thrill of seeing one live!

Idia: ―Ah! Th-Th-Th-This is…! A PAINTING OF THE LORD OF THE UNDERWORLD ON HIS CHARIOT!!!

Idia: It hits so hard～ In order to rescue a captured comrade, the king himself rushes to the front lines… Oooowee～ Doesn't that just get your heart pumpin'?

???: Indeed… However, is it appropriate for a dutiful commander to leave his base and head to the front lines?

Idia: Eeek!!! Silver-shi!? D-Don't just cut in when I'm talking to myself like that. This is why I can't deal with extroverts…

Silver: My apologies for startling you. I found your comment to be interesting, so I could not help but chime in.

Idia: E-Even if you think it's interesting, don't you think your impression of him was pretty shallow just from this one anecdote...?

Silver: Meaning?

Idia: I-If he was just a minister or something, he coulda just split after setting up the strategy, leaving it to his subordinates to execute everything.

Idia: But he still went to such a dangerous place to stir up morale, because that mission would be the linchpin of the whole battle. So, basically…

Idia: That means his responsibility meter is through the roof!! Wheeew, he's a totally different breed than any naïve and useless politician who just hoists their title around.

Silver: So you're saying that he himself went out there because it was a crucial situation. I would say that he does have an overwhelming sense of responsibility, indeed.

Silver: Hearing your opinion on the matter has allowed me to delve deeper into understanding this painting and its story. You are quite wise.

Idia: S-Sure, yeah～! You should follow my example and study up on things a little better, Silver-shi!

Silver: I will do just that. …However, it feels as though what you said about how other leaders may act had some weight behind it.

Silver: I had heard that you took up the title of Housewarden after being recommended by the previous Housewarden...

Silver: Was that because you had had previous experience as a leader, and were thus therefore chosen for the position?

Idia: Huh!? N-No, nuh-uh, wut are you even talking about? No way, no way… 'Sides, I'm more of a solo player even in my online games, y'know?

Idia: I mean, sometimes I've taken the lead of a party when I absolutely had to for a raid, or something…

Silver: As I expected, you do have experience in leadership.

Idia: It's not that big a deal… I mean, I got a reliable battle buddy who tanks and usually takes the lead.

Idia: Generally, I go for healing or DPS roles. Or more like, I just stack as many buffs as I can to increase firepower.

Idia: But it's not like our schedules always line up, so whenever he's not around, I take the lead… Because I have to!

Idia: It's usually the high-level players with great skills that take on the leader role. And in that case, I've basically maxed out all my stats in every position, so…

Idia: And I can grasp what the scenarios call for, see? And I can also play the tank roles to take charge on the front lines, right???

Idia: "Thanks to you, I was able to clear this high-level quest! I'm so thankful to have joined this party!"

Idia: …THEY SAY, ELECTING ME MVP OVER AND OVER AGAIN!

Idia: And I was just taking on the leader role because I had to. I'm just way too good…

Silver: So, those who fought alongside you showered you with gratitude. That just proves even further your leadership capabilities.

Idia: I-I wouldn't go that far― …Or maybe, just a little bit further? H-Hee Fheeheeheehee!

Idia: But also, I don't want to deal with failing a quest because some loser was placed in charge, so.

Idia: So I guess next time I have to put together a party, if my friend isn't available, I'll just have to lead them all again!

Idia: Wheeew, it's hard being so awesome～!

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Silver: This is a painting of a lion, warthog, and a meerkat, I see. The three of them are singing a song and seem to get along well.

Idia: Ain't they waaay too upbeat, to be able to sing while walking like that? Like, this painting shows the lion crown prince that was forced to leave his own country…

Idia: It's showing him singing along with some friends he ended up making, while he tries to ignore that pain, right?

Idia: Lucky him, that they chose to glorify his hiatus from his royal duties like this. Tch!

Silver: I've heard that singing can raise one's spirits. Perhaps they all wanted to brighten their own moods.

Idia: Speaking of singing to take your mind off stuff, there was this one time when I was a kid when my little brother was too scared to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night…

Idia: So we would go there while singing the theme song of our favorite anime together.

Idia: Eh, anyway, whatever their reason for singing, having that moon in the background composition like that's super moving. Kinda like what you'd see in an MV.

Silver: Em-vee…?

Idia: Eh… Y-You don't know what a music video is? It's a video recording that goes along with music and lyrics…

Silver: Ah, so you call those MVs. I understand.

Idia: I-If you feel like checking out some MVs sometime, I'd recommend the idol group "Precipice Moirai."

Idia: Premo's MVs are so awesome that you could watch them 100 times and never tire of them…!

Silver: 100 times… That's quite a lot. Is that generally something you'd watch so often?

Idia: A true fan would absolutely! More like, it's way too insolent to think that you could truly appreciate their MV with only one watch!

Idia: The first watch is all about enjoying the song and video in its entirety. The next three times the focus is shifted to checking out each of the three members' dance moves and expressions one by one.

Idia: Next, there's the actual composition of the MV, and digging deep into the actual message of the video… At a minimum, it should be watched ten times.

Idia: On top of all that, Premo's super casual MVs can put even a film director to shame!

Idia: There's no way to fully comprehend their art with only a couple viewings. That's why it needs to be viewed hundreds of times.

Silver: I had no idea their work was that deep… It may prove useful in training me better in emotional expressions, and perhaps could even be incorporated into the academy's music courses.

Idia: N-No, I mean, you don't gotta go that far… But it's great that you know just how awesome they are.

Idia: Even between us Premo fans, there's always those who still don't understand their art at all…

Idia: Every time a new MV comes out, there's always people saying stuff like, "She got the most screen time," or "She's definitely the manager's favorite," and the like…

Idia: But does that have anything to do with the quality of their work? It doesn't, right? They don't care about understanding the heart or essence of the songs.

Silver: I see… I feel as though I have learned a lot from you, Idia-senpai.

Silver: When we return to campus, I will look into, hm… Premo? Yes, Premo's music videos.

Idia: Eh, no way!? S-S-Seriously!? They have all their latest MVs on their official Magicam account!

Idia: P-PLEASE WATCH THEM! YOU WON'T REGRET IT!

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Idia: Ooh, here's the Sea Witch floating in the darkness… She's got a nice, bewitching smile going, too.

Silver: This is a painting depicting the scene of when the Sea Witch drew up a contract.

Silver: If I recall, it was said that the contract was so unbreakable that even a powerful spear couldn't rip through it.

Idia: I mean, you'd think that just having a contract that doesn't tear apart or bleed ink in water is strong enough...

Silver: Perhaps the contents of the contract was dire enough she did not wish it broken.

Idia: Who cares about the contents, the material of the contract is way more interesting. How high of a defense stat did it even have to not get ripped up by a spear?

Idia: But I totally get it, everyone wants to make invincible things every so often.

Silver: I cannot say I understand, but… What sort of thing would you make, Idia-senpai?

Idia: Like a "game console power cord that can never be taken away," or something like that… A-Actually, I tried to make something like that when I was a kid.

Idia: Whenever I'd play video games all day and into night, my mother would end up hiding all my cords.

Idia: If all she did was hide them, I could just make myself a new one, but she'd hide the cord materials as well. Totally overboard!

Idia: So I had a thought. I had to do something so she couldn't hide it!

Silver: I can only imagine your mother was concerned for your health… Did you never consider quitting your games?

Idia: Why would I? Ahh, but I really did burn the midnight oil like a little worker bee back then.

Idia: Like, I'd put a motion sensor on it, so that the cord could automatically run away from whoever was holding it...

Idia: Or I'd make the cord transparent so it couldn’t be found, or attach a homing function to it so it'd come back on its own…

Idia: And finally, after many failed attempts… I finally did it…!

Idia: I MADE A TRANSPARENT POWER CORD THAT ONLY RECOGNIZES THE AUTHORIZED USER!!

Silver: I do not really comprehend what that is, but… It is amazing that you invented something with your own two hands.

Idia: Nope, not at all.

Idia: My family also has a real stubborn genius, and every time I came up with some tech, it'd quickly get shot down by some kind of countermeasure...

Idia: And it took me a few months of that game of cat and mouse before I realized I should just convert my game console to wireless.

Idia: Hmph… But the peace and quiet that came from switching to wireless didn't last long at all...

Idia: Soon after, the Final Boss appeared: a device capable of disabling all wireless tech within a 10-meter radius!

Idia: Well, all the experience I got developing the motion sensing and automatic functions helped when I was putting Ortho together…

Idia: So I guess all that trial and error wasn't for nothing.

Silver: Even if you can picture your ideal outcome, it is rather difficult to actually put into action.

Silver: However, you have made real many of your thoughts. I can respect that.

Idia: Wai― What're you trying to say all a sudden? Getting complimented to my face randomly like that is a little scary… W-Wait, is this all a plot to beguile me!?

Silver: A plot? ...Hm, I see it has gotten late. I have kept you for some time. My apologies.

Silver: I am grateful to have heard such wonderful stories from you. Well then, I shall be on my way.

Idia: Whew… I'm exhausted having to actually talk to people for the first time in a while… Ah, this is…

Idia: It's the hero from that one myth. Look at his sparkling expression… He looks like he totally believes the future ahead of his is bright.

Idia: Life doesn't always go as swimmingly as you hope, though… Hope he doesn't get too excited that he gets carried away by the river of the underworld!

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #idia shroud #silver #twst idia #twst silver #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: ortho

164 notes · View notes

we-out-here-simping · 8 months

Text

Wasting Time.

(s.h. x gn!reader)

summary: given everything happening in Hawkins, Steve ends up pushing you away too far.

word count: 6k+

warnings/tags: no pronouns used (gender neutral reader); no y/n used; sad; i dont plan on writing a part two to this; s4 stuff; insecure reader; death; loss; injuries; mention of steve's parents; ollie is the real mvp in this tbh; unresolved? yay;

a/n: based off of Lizzy McAlpine’s song, “..what are we?” This was meant to be below 2k. I fought it to keep it below 2k. I lost, immensely and pathetically so. but that's okay.

as for my other stuff, I truly don't know when I'll post it. I've got pretty important things I have going on in life and i really need to do well in a life altering test next year so everything else is on the back burner rn. sorry to those who are really looking forward the next parts but don't u worry I will post them ;)

my masterlist

You shouldn't be at the store alone.

Considering the recent murders in Hawkins. You really, truly shouldn't be alone.

It isn't like you wanted to be. But the owner of the store you worked at did not necessarily give two shits about you. Refusing to pay you if you didn't show up for a few days. So, it isn't like you had much of a choice.

You sat on the rickety old swivel chair, that your asshole boss wouldn't change. The news was playing non-stop in the background– never in your entire life have you had the news channel on for so long.

The new chief of police was being interviewed by the reporters, telling the viewers to stay calm and assuring that they had it all under control. It didn't help to ease your mind.

You were not calm. Not one bit.

With each movement you made, the rusty metal of the chair groaned underneath you.

You were thinking of calling him again.

You rotated a little. The chair screeched again.

Why hadn't he even bothered to call you back yet?

Your leg bounced. The metal creaked.

Frustrated, you abandon the stupid chair with a pathetic scoff. Opting to just sit on the counter, facing away from the door. You gripped the edge of the surface, teeth gnawing at your lips as you looked at his jacket draped atop the chair you were occupying just seconds ago. His jacket.

What if he didn't want you to call him? Your grip tightened.

You haven't heard from your boyfriend since thursday.

You both had planned to go out on friday— the boy hadn't exactly told you where he had planned for you two to go. He had instead told you to, “Wear something cute like you always do. Bring Ollie with you if y’wanna and I'll pick you up from yours at 5?”

You had bought a new outfit, a couple weeks prior. you had put all your last month's salary into it. Your favourite colour.

You did your hair, a little bit of your face as well. Looking in the mirror, you had looked….. nice.

Something about that realisation had conjured up a lump in your throat. It was rare that you considered yourself good looking. Which is probably why you barely ever dressed up. But at that moment, as you looked in the mirror, a smile grew on your face, one that couldn't be contained.

You couldn't wait for Steve to see you.

You were ready before the clock even hit 4:35.

You waited. No sign of him.

When the clock hit 5:15, you went out onto your driveway, your dog, Ollie following behind you. You waited, pacing the concrete.

6:05, you were sitting on the stairs infront of the door, your dog's head on your lap. You waited.

6:45, your shoulders were slumped, your own head rested on your knees. Ollie napping beside you. You waited.

7:27, it was dark, Ollie whined to go back in. your eyes stung a little. But you scratched him behind his ears and decided to wait out just a little more.

When the clock hit 8:00, you finally got up, dusting the dirt and dust off your brand new clothes. Blinking back the salty tears, you quietly went back to your room after giving your dog his food and water. You changed into your ugly PJs, not bothering with anything else, as you buried yourself in your blankets.

Soon, you heard scratching on your bedroom door, your dog waiting to be let in.

You smiled with a sniffle, letting him jump onto the mattress with you despite your mom’s strict rule to not let the dog onto beds, sofas or carpets. the dog whined a little before laying next to you.

Ollie loved Steve. They had not exactly started on the right foot when Ollie almost bit the boy when you had tried sneaking him in one night. But after some time, they both warmed up to each other– to the point where it became common for Ollie to tag along with you and Steve on dates.

“I'm sorry bud”, you stroked the fur on his head, "i know how much you like hanging out with him." He whined again, warm tongue licking your fingers.

You knew he didn't really understand, a dog couldn't understand insecurities and the utter disdain of being stood up by someone you loved. Yet here he was, sharing your sorrows and wordlessly warming up your blues. Not there because he empathised with you or pitied you but there because he loved you.

The next morning when you woke up, you went immediately to your bathroom, to try and clean the mess that you hadn't the previous night.

Your eyes were red and puffy. You did look like someone who cried themself to sleep. You tried to scrub it all off, not even bothering with being gentle with your poor skin.

You didn't feel pretty when you looked in the mirror now. You felt pathetic.

“Honey!” your mom shouted from the kitchen, downstairs.

“Yeah, coming”, you shouted back as loudly as you could– which wasn't very loud at all.

As you climbed down, you were met with Ollie, tail wagging, nails clicking against the floor.

“Would just not take the breakfast from me”, your brother commented, handing you the dog bowl that was filled with Ollie’s food, “What a dramatic son of a bitch.... literally”

The dramatic son of a bitch in question, looked up at the two of you with big round eyes, tongue out, drool spilling out on the floor. You held up a finger, the dog immediately sat down– wagging tail sweeping the floor behind him. You finally put the bowl down and told the dog to dig in.

“Did you make him sleep in the bed again?” your mother spoke from behind her magazine.

“Why would I do that?” you lied as you refilled his water bowl.

“Because when I came to call you for dinner last night, he was sleeping on your bed, with you.”

“Oh”, a sheepish expression over your face, “I'll clean the bedsheets, okay?”

“and why did you skip dinner–”

Your mother thankfully got interrupted by the loud sound of the front door opening, followed by quick footsteps. “Did you check the news?”, your dad panted, he moved towards the tv in the living room, not bothering to take off his running shoes.

“No, dad. It's only you who is boring enough to watch the news”, your brother’s joke landed flat.

“What happened?”, your mother asked, brows furrowed.

“A Hawkins student was found dead.”

The bell above the door rang, you turned to look at the customer and you felt as if your heart had hit a rib.

There was Steve Harrington, bursting in through the doors, wearing clothes you'd never seen him in before.

He wasn't alone. The boy was accompanied by Dustin Henderson, Max Mayfield, Lucas and Erica Sinclair, Robin Buckley, and Nancy Wheeler. Most of them looked to be covered in dust, grime and worse.

They, without looking in your direction, broke into groups of two, one led by the older girls and the other by Steve, moving frantically through the aisles to get what they needed. It must have been an emergency. Considering all the recent happenings, it might be.

After a few minutes, the group led by Nancy and Robin stood infront of the counter and you started billing everything. A couple minutes later, the group led by Steve joined them as well. It is when they are pouring the stuff onto the counter when Steve finally notices that it's you.

His movements stuttered a little as if he'd just remembered that you worked here and he opened his mouth to say something but closed it before anything could come out.

The silence was awkward and deafening– the others definitely noticed. The only sound that came was the beeps of the scanner. You wondered if Steve had told them about the both of you.

When you moved to put everything in a bag, Steve stepped a little closer to help with putting all the stuff into the grocery bags, it is then that you noticed the boy's skin.

The skin which you knew to be soft to the touch was covered in dirt. Slashes and cuts wound around his neck, a piece of dirty cloth peeking from under the hem of his camo shirt. Blood.

You didn't realise you were frozen stuck until you heard him clearing his throat.

You realised that that the boy had already paid the total, the crumbled up cash placed on the counter. The rustling of the grocery bags alerted you that were moving to leave.

“S– Steve?” your voice came out an unsure whisper.

They all stopped. He looked over his shoulder, then back to his friends, “You guys go on”, he said to them, handing the two bags he was holding to Lucas and Dustin, “ I'll be out in a minute” They silently nodded before leaving to get into a van.

You spoke up when the bell above the door rang on the door closing, “Wh– what is happening?”

He stood across from you, on the other side of the counter, not making any efforts to come closer as he normally would– maybe hoping that you wouldn't see the wounds that you had already seen. “Nothing”, he cleared his hoarse throat, “I'm– I'm sorry for friday–”

Sorry? Is that all you get?

“You're covered in blood and dirt”, you pointed out.

“Trust me it just looks worse than it actually is”, he let out a dry chuckle.

“Whose van is that?” your vision flickered to the winnebago parked infront of the store.

“A friend’s.”

“Which one?”

“Munson.”

“Munson? Like Eddie munson? Have you heard the news?--”

“Yeah I have”, his words came out quick, “and it isn't him.”

“How are you so sure?” your eyebrows drew together.

“I just.. “, he paused, “I just am.”

“And how did you get those? '', you said, nodding to his wounded neck. You wanted to touch him, to hold him, but there was still a counter between the two of you, and closing that distance felt.. wrong like you weren't supposed to do it.

“I got in a fight.”

“With what, a barbed wire?” it came out snappier than you had intended. You really tried to not hold his face in your palm.

“No”, his tone grew more frustrated with every question you asked.

“Then who?”

“No, why do you–”

“Cuz I'm– I'm worried about you Steve.” you interrupted to continue your rambling, “You could get like– tetanus or shit–”

“Hey, hey”, for a second you thought he was going to hold your face like you wanted to do to him, instead he placed his palm on your shoulder, “I’m fine, okay? I don't want you to be worried about me.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” you whispered. “I just want you to tell me what's happening.” his hands fell back to his sides. “Just let me in”

“Nothings–”

“No! Something is happening”, you interjected, angry, worried, “Okay? I know. I know you don't always tell me everything. And that's fine, y'know– I thought you’d tell me when you felt like telling me but don't–” you take a quick breath, slowing down your quick words, “Don't– do you not trust me enough to tell me?”

“I do. But there isn't anything to tell you”, he tried his best to shrug while trying not to pull on the scabbing of his bloody torso– he held back a wince, “Nothings happening.”

There’s a beat.

You can tell he’s lying.

“Why didn't you show up on friday then?” you barely give him a couple seconds to answer before continuing, “God, when I heard someone had died that night, I– “ you stopped before he could hear the quiver of your voice, you gulped. “I called you fifteen times”

“I was at work”

“I went there the next morning to check– it was only Keith there. Told me you'd left already." He opened his mouth before closing it up again.

“Why are you lying to me?”

“And what is Nancy doing with you–” you hated that you were jealous, you never wanted to be that person. Hell, you and Nancy were almost friends in high school. But you couldn't lie and say that it didn't hurt to see them together right after he had bailed on you.

“Well if you noticed, it isn't just me and her, y’know. No need to be jealous–”

“Yeah, I will be jealous, okay? I will be jealous if you start hanging out with your ex and start ditching our dates–”

“I didn't ditch you–”

“I waited for three hours steve. You didn't even call me after or give me heads up. And you already know about everything that's happening in town, so I'm sorry I was worried shitless and you didn't even pick up my calls. And now you're with all these people– which is fine– they’re your friends but your ex is a part of these people. And you're bleeding and definitely wounded, and you won't tell me anything.”

“I will tell you okay, I just–”

“So, not now?”

“I'm running a little late–”

“To what?”

“I'll tell you later okay?”

“When?”

“Just later! Okay? I need to go and you're wasting my–”he stopped himself, seemingly having dug himself a hole. He quickly tried to correct himself, “I need to–”

Your heart had surely stopped, “What did you just say? I'm wasting your time?” tears pricked your eyes, “Is that what this is? A waste of time? Is that what the last eight months have been for you?”

“You know I didn't mean it like that”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I didn't– I ….”, he trailed off. The horn beeped and you heard a muffled shout for Steve's name in Dustin's voice.

You sniffled, “are you gonna get those taken care of at the hospital?” you referred to his wounds, your voice was suddenly so much quieter.

“....yeah”, he said after a moment– lying.

You nodded. “You still need to clean it up and”, you picked up rubbing alcohol, a painkiller bottle from the shelf behind you and some bandages, “bandage it.. ‘til you go to the hospital.” you tossed them over to him.

The horn of the winnebago blared. Steve looked back at the door, he reached for his wallet but you stopped him, “you don't need to. It's fine.” Steve heard you sniffle again.

“Baby–”

“For the record… it wasn't a waste of time for me", your voice cracked, “But I'm really sorry if I wasted your time.”

He stepped closer, shaking his head a little but you weren't looking up, eyes trained on the grain of the wooden counter, trying your darndest to not let the tears fall.

“You should go now.”

“honey–” the horn blared.

“Just go, Steve.”

You only dared to look up when you heard the bell above the door ring. Your vision was blurry as you watched the vehicle drive away.

Honestly, you get it. you understand.

You understand if the guy you loved wasn't willing to let you in. And despite how much it hurt, you couldn't keep him to yourself. You weren''t sure what this entire thing meant. Did you just indirectly say that it was over? Did you want it to be over? Were you willing to let it be over? To let him go?

“C’mon”, he stood at your door with expectant eyes.

You scoffed before looking back at the clock— your parents werent coming home until another half an hour, “alright fine”, you gave in.

After you put your shoes on, you reached for the door handle to shut the door behind you but there was Ollie standing right on the threshold, tail wagging. The dog gave a soft ruff, looking up at you with expectant eyes.

“Please don't bring him along too.”

You smirked, “Ollie you wanna come for a walk?”, the boy beside you groaned playfully.

The dog barked happily before spinning around in circles. His nails clicked against the floor as he sprinted to where his leash and jacket were kept. “Alright, bud”, you moved to put Ollie's jacket on him and hooked the leash onto his collar.

The dog walked infront of the two of you. The sun had set and the three of you were walking under the warm yellow pavement lit up by the streetlights. Ollie would stop every now and then to sniff at a bush, tree trunk or lamp post.

“When will he stop third wheeling us?” Steve finally spoke up beside you.

“Never.”

“This was supposed to be a romantic walk in the snow and now he’s pooping and pissing all over the winter wonderland– wont be a white christmas anymore”

“Oh, shut up. You love him, I know it”

“Yeah, whatever”, he shook his head with a smile.

“By the way, to what do I owe the pleasure of a romantic walk?”

“Wha– ? babe, You say as if I'm not romantic”

“No, you are. But I thought you were going to that christmas party with your parents.”

“Yeah that was until my dad started being an asshole after too much egg nog. So, I booked it”, he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh, I’m sorry Steve”

“Eh, it's okay– Jesus Christ, Ollie, how much territory are you gonna mark, boy?’

“Steve..”, your fingers reached for his palm. You both stopped, he looked down at where your hands were intertwined before giving it a squeeze.

“I'm okay. Okay?”

You look at him for a bit. Despite wanting to, you dont push further. You squeezed his hand back, “okay.” his shoulders relaxed.

You started walking again, pulling yourself further into the boy's side, resting your cheek on his shoulder. It dawned on you then that you had forgotten to wear any jacket or sweater and now you were freezing.

“I’m cold”, you whined through your smushed cheek, the boy chuckled.

“Of course you are. You don't wear one, but make sure the dog’s wearing a jacket– great priorities babe”

“Well, I have you, don't I?” you said, giving him your biggest puppy eyes and the most over-exaggerated frown.

“Yeah, “ he sighs, handing you the leash he was holding, “you do.” He took off his jacket he was wearing over his his fuzzy sweater and helped you put it on. “Better?” he gestured towards the leash to take it back.

You returned it and nodded with a proud grin, “you've fallen under my trap”

“Yeah? what trap?” he muses while smoothing down the crinkles in his thick sweater.

“This…..”, you smirked, “is mine now”, you declared, pulling the material tighter around you.

“Oh, no! The jacket stealing trap! What will I ever do?” he brought his to both his cheeks, shaking his head in pretence worry. You laughed.

“Y’know…”, he started– the corners of his mouth curling up, “I would give you all my jackets if you…… Kiss me?”

“Oh, yeah? That depends…”, you crossed your arms, “How many jackets do you have?”

“Oh, so many– like a million” he shrugged. Both your steps slowed down to a halt. “Billions….. gazillions”

“Wow, babe, that's a lot of kisses”, you moved in a little closer to him.

The leash in Steve's hand tugs accompanied by Ollie whining, the dog came closer to the two of you who were leaning into each other. The dog started pulling on Steve's jeans.

“Hey! Dickhead, I'm having a moment here”

“Hey! don't call him a dickhead”, you admonished.

“Well, he’s acting like a dickhead.”

You glared at him.

“What? We were about to have a lovely romantic kiss before he so gracefully interrupted”

“Why do you have a rivalry with my dog?”

“He’s my arch nemesis”, he said with narrowed eyes directed towards the puppy.

You playfully rolled your eyes before taking the leash from Steve's hand and walking ahead. You laughed as you said, “Oh, please, you're just jealous because I love him more”

“I’m not jeal– what did you just say?”

“Wh– what?” you stopped in your track before turning around, brows furrowed.

“Oh, you just said something”

“What did I–”

“You said you love him more than you love me. That implies you love me.” he explained, walking closer to you. “You said you love me”, he stated with a shy smile as he stood directly infront of you.

“.. did I?” heat crept up your cheeks.

“Yeap, it was loud and clear. Even Ollie heard it. Right bud?” the dog barked in response as if actually had a clue of what was going on in the conversation.

“Oh, so now youre both working together? You know what? yeah, well, so what? I said it. I love you. You got a problem with that?”

“No… I'm pretty okay with it actually”

“Just okay?”

“More than okay. Perfect. Infact, I love you too.”

A shy smile grew on your features, same on his. The two of you leaned in but stopped mid-way when Ollie ruffed. You groaned, pulling away before saying with a stern voice, “Ollie, sit.”

“Little shit, only listens to you”, the boy infront of you mutters as the dog settled down and sat down. You glared at Steve. “Sorry”, he apologized, his head hanging low.

“Now, where were we?” you pull him in by grabbing a fistful of his fuzzy sweater, your lips slotting against one another. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other helped tilt your head. You too held his face back, the other hand snaking down to his waist where the fingers hooked through the belt loops.

You pulled away when his movements started to become a little faster and his hand started moving lower, “Okay, okay. I… its getting late– my parents are gonna be here soon”, you heaved.

“We were only getting to the good part” he whined through laboured breaths.

“Kissing me wasnt the good part?”

His eyes widened, “I– I mean”, he scoffed when he noticed the sly smirk on your face, “Stop messing with me.”

You tugged lightly on the leash to get Ollies attention who had started to dig a hole in the snow, “c'mon Ollie.” the dog’s tail wagged before he shook the snow off of him. The dog took the lead as the two of you ambled behind him.

Most of the walk back was holding hands silently, looking around at the christmas lights everyone in the neighbourhood had put up. When you were almost two houses away from yours, you spoke up, “you know. You could… stay the night?”

Steve looked at the pavement as the two of you walked, you looked at him with expectant eyes. He sighed before finally answering,“You know what? Sure.”

“But you would have to sneak out through the window later”

“Window? With these joints? I'm old.” he frowned.

“Oh, my poor, poor twenty year old boy”, you frowned back with a mock pitying look as you unlocked the main door and removed Ollie’s leash and jacket.

You and Steve wasted no time after that, running up the stairs to your room. As soon as the door was closed behind you, Steve was on you, plump and slightly cold lips moving fast against yours.

“Well, you're eager aren't you?”

“What? No…” he smiled against your skin, a giggle erupted from your throat as the sensation tickled you.

You were about to go back to attaching your lips to his when you heard a woof followed by the wood of the door scratching. The both of you sighed, foreheads touching.

“That little shit”, Steve huffed, “what an attention whore.”

You laughed through uneven breathing before moving off the door and then letting the dog in.

You heard the door downstairs opening and closing followed by your mother’s voice telling you she was home. You quickly went downstairs telling Steve and Ollie to stay quiet.

The boy took a seat at the edge of the mattress, the dog came to stand infront of him for a bit– tail wagging. The dog hopped on his back legs, front paws scratching at Steve's jeans. Steve reached down to scratch him behind the ears, “y’know Oliver. You're real cute and all. But you're one big cock block”

You really shouldn't have been alone.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were wallowing in your own self pity, the next moment, the lights were flickering and soon the ground started rumbling beneath you.

Now, as you were hiding underneath the counter of the store you worked at, the walls shook and ground rumbled. All you could think of was your family, dog and Steve Harrington.

Of course, the world decides to end today of all days.

There was so much smoke. All you could see was black, maybe your eyes were closed, maybe there was a blackout. But something was on fire– there was so much smoke. Your eyes were watering and your throat burned, coughs uncontrollably tearing from your throat. You felt light headed, soot stuck to your sweaty skin.

You really wanted to go home right about now.

Some rest sounded nice. Maybe some sleep.

You felt yourself succumbing to sleep, eyes drooping on their own accord. Breath slowing down. The corners of your vision went black.

It quieted down for a second. It wasn't too much for a second.

Sleep sounded like the perfect thing.

“Help!” a small terrified voice broke through the silence.

“Help!” it came again from somewhere outside the store. You somehow managed to will your muscles to move. You peeked from under the table and through your watery eyes you saw a boy who looked to be younger than you, flailing his arms in the air, limping.

Your body worked on its own accord. Muscles and bones working on autopilot. You crawled from under the counter, grabbed your water bottle and Steve's jacket. Your movements were jerky as you spilled the water onto the fabric, wetting it before putting it over your nose and mouth– a makeshift mask.

You ran. You left your safety bubble and ran. You ran despite the ash in your lungs, despite the shake of your fingers, lightheadedness, and the lactic acid settling in your tired muscles. In your disorientation and franticness, the stupid rusty chair hit your back, the heavy metal smacked hard against your skin but you still ran. You stumbled to open the door, shouted for him to run and pulled him in. You put your bootleg mask to the boy’s mouth.

The rumbling of the earth had quieted down a little; enough to allow you to help him walk over to the desk– your safe bubble.

You were just about to reach it when another wave hit, the ground shook and both of you lost your footing. The boy huddled to you, you moved to cover him to the best of your ability. The aisle next to you groaned and when you managed to look, it was swaying.

You tried to get away.

“Move!” you shouted, your voice barely audible over the rumble. The boy shook under you. In a last ditch effort, you pushed him away.

You tried to get away, trying to crawl away yourself, but the heavy metal shelves hit your spine. Your head smacked against the tiles.

You heard shouting, you weren't sure if it was the boy or you. Your ears were ringing. your limbs felt like jelly buried under the rubble. And you really didn't feel like you could get up. You couldn't really see anymore, the darkness from the corner of your vision had finally spread.

It hurt. It hurt so much that you weren't sure where it hurt or if it was still hurting. You tasted metal, felt a trickle run down the nape of your neck. You felt a little cold. The boys voice came in and out, none of the words truly registering in your brain.

God, you really missed your bed.

You missed ollie. You wished you could pet him again, give him his favourite treat, help him sneak into a bed again.

You missed your parents and your brother. What wouldn’t you do to have one more dinner together.

You missed steve. How you wished you could go back to that winter evening when you fell asleep in his warm arms. When you’d held his hand. You really wanted to hold his hand, hold him close, kiss him.

You felt fingers wrap around your wrist. “I'm gonna try to pull you out”, you barely heard the young boy say through a lumpy throat, you felt a tug on your arm. Pain shot through you. He pulled again, You didn't move. A scream of pain ripped from your chest.

“No!” you screamed, words coming out all slurred up. “No, stop! Just hide under the table and call the ambulance when it's over!” you still couldn't see.

“But–”

“It's okay! You’ll be okay, Ju-- just go!”

“I'm not– your– you're bleeding”, he gripped your shaking palm, “J– Just stay awake!”

“No, Go!” you tried your best to shout but it came out as only a whimper.

The warmth left your palm, you sighed in relief. You really didn't want a kid to see you dying.

A few seconds later, you felt a pressure on the side of your head, a hit of a familiar scent hit you– Steve's cologne. Steve?

“Steve..?”

The box in your hand was as heavy as lead as the lady led you through the Hawkins high gym which had now been turned into a makeshift infirmary for the people who had been affected by the earthquake.

You didn't remember much from the night of the earthquake, you remember falling and hitting your head, the pain and someone holding your hand. Your delirious brain in its haze had convinced you that it was Steve's warm hand. That he had come back and held you while the ground shook. The carbon monoxide poisoning had truly got to you.

Much to your delusional brain’s dismay, It was when you woke up a day later; your parents told you it had been infact a boy a few years younger than you. You later found out that the young boy– Andy, although overall fine, had broken his leg. He and his family packed everything up and moved out of town a week later.

Your muscles were still sore. The stitches and the bandaging over the big gash on your back was tight around your ribs. You had also acquired a wound on the side of your head and though you had bled, you were lucky enough to not bleed to your death or die of a haemorrhage. The paramedics had to shave off a part of the back of your hair to be able to apply the gauze properly. And you were a little embarrassed about it– you guessed you'd have to shave it all off now. You weren't sure how long you'd be willing to wear your brother old, musky baseball hat– you also weren't sure if it was a good idea to put that abomination anywhere near a wound.

"seems like you have clothes and blankets; that one", she pointed to a table with heaps of clothes piled on top of it. They looked to be freshly donated as they were in the middle of being neatly folded by--

"Steve, take these as well, will ya'?" the women beside you said.

He looked up, stilling for a second, “Hey.”

"oh, you seem to know each other. swell!" she clapped her palms before leaving the two of you alone.

“Hey… I uh– I came to donate these”, you put the cardboard box on the table infront of him, “Its uh– its mostly blankets”

“Oh, okay.”

“I– I have a couple more boxes in the car.”

“Okay.”

The walk to your car was a silent one, a little awkward. Surely, your last interaction playing in his head as well. As you weaved through the people, you noticed Dustin Henderson, limping as he gave water to some of the patients. And you had already noticed the scars on steves neck. You really wanted to ask what happened.

“Is everyone in your family okay?” he spoke up shyly, clearly trying to ease the tension even a bit.

“...yeah,”

My brother can't hear out of his left ear anymore.

“Yeah, everyone…”

My dog died.

“Everyones fine.”

“Are you fine?”

You nodded quickly.

You really didn't want to tell him about the giant bruise spread across your back and torso. You didn't want to tell him about the gash on your back or the bandages hiding under your baseball cap. You certainly did not want to tell him about how you were stuck in that rubble for hours with a kid holding your hand, while you had thought that it had been him in your half-conscious state.

“What about you?” you echoed, “Your– your neck?”

“Yeah, yeah– uh.. I’ll be fine.”

Your chest tightened, you swallowed. How did small talk become so hard?

The two of you approached your car, you popped open the trunk, and there were three more well-taped boxes waiting.

You picked one up. “Here, let me–” he picked up the other two. Both of your tried your best not to wince at the strain. “Wow this is a lot”, a half-minded comment as he slammed the trunk.

“Yeah, um– I mean, these people need it more. Plus, it would just be easier to give it away, anyway since we--”, you cut yourself off, trying to pretend you hadn't said anything.

“What?”

You look away silently, blinking, “um– how are you holding up?”

“Yeah, you have already asked me– I'm– I'm sorry… are you– what do you—” he stopped. You looked anywhere but him. It clicked.

“You…. you're… moving, aren't you?” he murmured slowly and as if saying it too loudly would make it real. You nodded.

“Why?”

“Why? Steve– look around. Everyone is moving. People are dying left and right. People going missing, never being found again?And now what, Murders?! My parents are convinced that it is the end of the world.”

“But it isn't– It was just an earthquake”

“An earthquake does not give you wounds around your neck Steve. Ever since the Byers kid disappeared, my dad has been planning to move… and then that night I– I almost ....”, you trailed off, not wanting to tell him more especially after you had just lied to him that you were fine. “I barely made it.”

“What?”

You took a shaky breath in, Steve's chest tightened. “I should–”

“When are you leaving?”

“.. today. Right now. This was the last thing I had to do.”

After that he quietly walked the rest of the way, helping you put the boxes where they needed to be put. As he did it all, his eyebrows were pulled together, the crease between them deep-- what was he thinking? you wondered.

Once everything was done, he finally spoke up, “Can I walk you back? To your car? For one last time, please?” the desperation in his tone was so clear and it made you want to cry.

You opened the door, Steve's jacket draped over the passenger seat. The piece of clothing that probably saved you. The thick material had stopped you from bleeding to your demise. You really had to thoroughly wash it to get rid of the stain. But you couldn't justify throwing it away.

It no longer had the bloody stain, or the smell of smoke in it. However it also didn't smell like Steve anymore.

“Here–”, you leaned into the car to pull it out, fighting back the tears and the waver in your voice, “your jacket… don't worry I cleaned it up”, you held it up between the two of you.

Steve, pushed the material back in your direction, “Keep it. It's yours, remember? It's yours.”

"Considering everything….” you gulped, “I hope I'm not asking for too much", you took a deep breath before finally whispering, "can I hug you… please?"

It was a tight one. It was a desperate one. You hated that you smelled like antibacterial ointment and sweat. You buried your face deeper into his shirt– he smelled like medical gauze, and medicinal cream accompanied with a faint yet familiar scent of his hair products, his cologne and that distinct scent of Steve.

You pulled away, words sticky in your throat, “Take care. Don't die. I'm…..”, you swallowed, “I'm gonna miss you."

You didn't wait for a response, you quickly sat in your car and drove away, not even stealing a look from the rear-view mirror. You only let the tears fall when you had turned the corner to your home.

It isn't like you had a choice of whether or not you were staying. But You hate that he didn't stop you. You hate that he didn’t call your name, to see your face one last time. You hate you still had his jacket in your hands, you hate how tightly you were gripping it.. You hate that there were tears in your eyes. You hate that there was a sob in your ribs. You hate that you said that you were going to miss him. You hate you imagined a life with him, holding hands on romantic walks.

You hate all that. But you don't hate him. God, it'd be so much easier if you hated him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader angst #stranger things #steve harrington x reader fluff #stranger things 4 #steve harrington x gn!reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington angst

278 notes · View notes