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thetargaryenbride · 2 years ago

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Nail To The Coffin - S4 - Chapter 3

Warnings: self-h@rm and $uicid@al thoughts [I’m sorry about that. I don’t delve too deep into this tho.]

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 7810

𝐀𝐍: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘠𝘌𝘛 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘝𝘦𝘤𝘯𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘝𝘦𝘤𝘯𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭, 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥/𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭.

𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕: 𝑰 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒔𝒐 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒃𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 😁

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐎𝐎𝐂 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵! 🖤 🥀

Masterlist || Chapter 2 || Chapter 4

“Y/N, wake up. We’ve arrived,” you felt a hand shake your shoulder slightly and your eyes fluttered open, landing on Jonathan. “Come see our new home,” he smiled at you and you sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes and temples so you could properly wake up before exiting the car and joining your family.

It was a two-story house made of thick wooden planks, like most others, painted in a combination of white and navy blue. There was a medium-sized yard with a white picket fence. The porch had two comfy armchairs with a table in between and lots of plants scattered all over. The windows were huge, in places almost taking up the entirety of the wall. There were lots of trees – both normal and palms – down the street and all throughout the neighborhood, throwing nice shades. There was a big one in your yard, big and sturdy enough so you could make yourselves a swing and hang it up. There were two big balconies on the second floor, the railing of which similar to the fence around the house.

What you loved a lot was the big front door with gorgeous stained glass.

It was located in Santa Monica, Fraser Avenue, which was not far from Westwood, UCLA, and was only thirty or so minutes distance by bus. It was the perfect spot.

“Woah…Dr. Owens really outdid himself,” you let out and Will and El looked at you with sparkling eyes, which made you smile. You were glad and more than content to see them happy, even if you were tearing on the inside because you missed home and you missed Steve and Eddie.

You missed Hopper and Billy too.

You never did visit their graves after that stormy, summer day when you had poured your soul out in front of them.

You never got the proper closure you needed in order to fully move on.

So now, you felt stuck.

Now, this place was weighing heavily on your chest. It felt wrong being here away from Hawkins and everything you loved and needed. It felt wrong starting anew when people you cherished were rotting six feet under.

But at least you were glad to see Will and El smile. They needed this. Maybe to them, starting anew was something good, something to look forward to and explore, an adventure, something to aid their healing, even though they also missed Mike and the others.

“C’mon, let’s get in!” Will grabbed you by the hand and began dragging you towards the front door and shortly after, all of you piled inside.

The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior. It was very coastal style with lots of white and blue colors, wooden tones, and some marine and Mediterranean patterns. The kitchen, dining space, and living room were merged together. There was a bathroom on each floor, and there were two rooms on the first floor – the only ones that weren’t fully furnished – that you were going to transform into bedrooms for Jonathan and your mom. Meanwhile, there were three bedrooms on the second floor that were going to be for you, Will, and El.

But the moment you set foot in your bedroom, it wasn’t the nice, comfy-looking bed you noticed first, or the colors and the patterns on the walls, or the big desk you’d be able to use for studying, or the space you had to place all your figurines, canvas, and other art things. No. What you noticed first was the view from the balcony and the windows of your room.

The ocean.

Apparently, Dr. Owens believed that this would be therapeutical for you, that it would benefit your mental health because it was scientifically proven that the ocean, or water in general, helped a lot to soothe a troubled mind. He called it, the blue mind theory.

“This theory explains how being near water, even for just twenty minutes a day, has a great impact on our wellbeing,” had explained the man.

Yet for you, it turned out to be the exact opposite.

Instead, the moment you took a glimpse of the body of water, your whole body chilled to the bone and you got flooded with memories of Billy. You could almost feel his presence right next to you, you could almost hear him talking to you as if he was still alive and standing by your side, speaking fondly of the blue horizon, how much he missed the ocean, how much he loved to surf and dive. It was so overwhelming it made you dizzy, making you pull the curtains and block the view.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” came Will’s voice and you shut your eyes, taking a large, deep gulp of air in order to calm your racing heart, before you turned to face your brother, forcing a smile on.

“Everything is fine.”

At first, you thought of asking your mom to change rooms. But soon after, you came to realize that no matter what room you were in, you could always see the ocean. And as the days weaved by, this fact became ever the more frustrating to you. Every time you’d get a glimpse of the water, your mind would jump to Billy.

The more time went by, the more you were getting bothered by the view.

Everything around you served as too heavy a reminder that he was gone...Gone because he got mixed up in your messy world…and because you failed him.

It’s like the place was soaked in his presence. Sometimes, on the rare occasions when you’d go on the balcony and look at the nauseating blue, you even thought you were seeing him by the beach, swimming in the ocean, or riding the waves on his board. It’s like some invisible force that you couldn’t fight against wired your brain to think of this all the time. You thought of how he should’ve been here instead. How he should’ve gotten the chance to return to his beloved California and ride the waves again – one of the very few things that made him truly happy in this wretched life of his. The ocean and the waves were his companions and coping mechanisms against his father’s abuse. The water gave him peace of mind and made him feel happy. He was extra sour and angry when he was torn away from it and now he was never going to come back to it.

It’s like he was a ghost that haunted your every waking minute. And not only waking. Even in your dreams, you saw him and Hopper and relived the incident over and over again. You were mercilessly thrown into the dark depths of plaguing nightmares that tormented you every night.

It’s like the survivor guilt you had been battling against all summer returned in full force. It’s like something was digging into your very soul and carving out pieces to throw into that same ocean. It’s like all the progress you’ve made was for naught because your mental health deteriorated faster than a sinking ship once you moved out of Hawkins. In fact, it felt like ripping off a band-aid and tearing the scab off the healing tissue, causing it to reopen and bleed again.

Your family wasn’t blind to this.

They could see it all – the fear, the torment, the silent, simmering-within insanity and hysteria that overtook you.

And they were scared. They were scared that you’d get even more lost and that maybe you’d end up being swallowed by the same ocean you so feared to face.

For the longest of time, so did you, hence why you avoided it like the plague. Not once did you go to the beach since moving to LA. You were afraid that if you did that, you might just as well succumb to it and let it take you into its depths forever.

All of this was so overbearing that it sent you careening down a path of self-loathing and an even deeper survivor’s guilt. Coupled with the fact that you were away from Steve and the others, having to build your life anew, dealing with university, burying yourself in studying non-stop which had forced the return of your eye bags and dark circles, almost making you reach out for the sweet Ketamine, or something stronger, again, made everything all the more unbearable.

This resulted in you spiraling into suicidal thoughts that suffocated you, scratched you, and tore you apart so badly that at one point you actually began thinking of ending it all. Just slicing your flesh and bleeding out in the bathtub or maybe finally going to the ocean just so you could throw yourself off a bridge and let the water wrestle the oxygen out of your lungs.

During the first months after moving in, you had only two states of mind.

You were either utterly overwhelmed by everything and wanted something to distract you from the mess that was in your head, because it truly felt like someone was hammering nails into your brain, or you were just completely numb, not feeling anything both physically and mentally, and you wanted to make yourself feel something, to make sure you were still alive.

No adrenaline helped fix the numbness and no meditations and art therapies helped fix the chaos in your head. You were bouncing back and forth between those two states of mind and it was the most excruciating thing you’ve ever experienced – perhaps even worse than what you had to deal with after the damages inflicted by the Flayer, although this condition was also more of an extension of said damages.

You felt like a vase. A vase that got broken, then someone glued the pieces together but the glue wasn’t strong enough so at one point the porcelain fell apart again and the person was trying to glue the pieces all over again.

So sometimes, when you lay in bed, unable to sleep because of nightmares or the multiple thoughts in your head that didn’t give you peace, you thought of how much you wanted to escape the torturous grip of life and fall into the sweet release of death. You thought of how much you wanted to replace Billy. You wished he was here instead and that you were rotting in the ground back in Hawkins.

The thing is, you never did have the courage to go through with it.

You’d begin cutting but you’d always stop yourself and then you would cry your eyes out while bandaging your wrist as immense guilt and disgust would overwhelm you.

You did it three times.

On the fourth, you were caught by Jonathan.

Everyone had been keeping a close eye on you after moving to LA but Jonathan was extra insightful. He realized what was going on before anyone else did and one day he stalked you to the bathroom and caught you red-handed – figuratively and literally. He immediately slapped the razor away and cleaned and bandaged the cut through falling tears, not uttering a single word the whole time which made you feel even more guilty and horrible.

When Will, El, and your mom found out, because Jonathan refused to keep it a secret, they were devastated. Your mom especially cried her eyes out, secretly in her room without knowing you could hear her when passing by. That made you feel even more horrible for causing such pain to your family again. For letting them down. For thinking it was a good idea to abandon them. How could you do that to them? Especially to Will and El who were so young and traumatized beyond belief already. You didn’t need to throw more sorrow and trauma onto their shoulders.

That, and the amazing therapist your mother and Dr. Owens had found for you, made you give up on the idea of self-harm and death. At the core of it, though, it was all thanks to Jonathan because he was the one who caught you and thankfully he did so on time. Sure, you were in a state that was unstable, chaotic, messy, and troubled, but it was not irreversible and impossible to fix. It was all still in its beginning phase which is why you were able to begin your healing journey relatively fast after that.

The thoughts returned occasionally, tempting you, but every time it happened, you ran to your family for help. You shared your struggles and thoughts with them, and they did their best to help you win the fight against your demons.

It wasn’t until one night when you were passing by your mother’s desk that you saw a newspaper open on the page of properties for rent. Your mother was looking for a place to rent so you could move out. That had hit you like a rock-solid wave. You couldn’t believe that this chain of emotions and traumas was triggered by the ocean of all things and now your mother was thinking of moving away from it… for you. She was doing it all for your benefit and you knew the others were going to follow through in a heartbeat. But they seemed so happy in this house, going to the beach, having fun.

So one day, without telling anyone, you decided to take drastic action.

You didn’t want them to move to another house because of you. You had just properly settled into this one. You didn’t want your siblings’ time to pass by in constant moving and adjusting to new places. Once was enough.

You went to the beach and tried to fight against everything inside you that was screaming at you to run away. You tried fighting against the visions and thoughts of Billy’s decaying torso, filled with holes that gushed black blood. You tried to fight against the feeling of razors on the soles of your feet once they touched the sand.

But before your mind could win, before fear and trauma could overpower you, you forced your legs to move, and just like that you ran headfirst into the water and dived under. You felt your ears get squeezed and muffled by the water pressure and you could hear the frequency of your own heartbeat and blood circulation.

It was weirdly humbling… and soothing.

The water caressed your skin and had such an instant calming effect on you that it shocked you to the core. It chased away any previous feelings of fear. The chaos in your mind quietened and the numbness got filled with the sound of water and dolphins.

You hadn’t wanted to set foot on the sand and near the water, you hadn’t wanted to even look at them, and now you didn’t want to leave.

And it’s like something in your brain snapped at that moment. It was like flipping a light switch.

In fact, you actually almost ran out of oxygen when you felt strong arms grab yours and pull you out.

“Are you okay? Breathe with me! Just breathe!”

That’s how you first met Ronnie – the lifeguard everyone seemed to have the hots for, yet he seemed to talk and flirt only with you. Maybe because he saved you from almost drowning and was there to witness your moment of ecstasy so he became weirdly attached to you.

That same day, you got home absolutely drenched, clothes and hair wrinkled and clinging to you as you dripped seawater onto the floors and carpets. It was a rather ridiculous sight to behold as your siblings would inform you later on.

“Mama, you’ll never believe what just happened,” were the first words you uttered while she stared at you in complete bewilderment.

“Honey, what happened to you!?”

“I was swimming in the ocean,” you revealed just in time when everyone else ran into the living room and they could only stare in utter stupor.

“You did…what again?” asked Jonathan in disbelief.

“I swam in the ocean,” you repeated, a smile growing on your face. “I swam in the ocean!” you exclaimed and Joyce let out a baffled chuckle before sharing looks with the others.

And then all of you laughed.

Eventually, you were able to somehow turn the tide around and learned to look at the ocean with different eyes. Slowly, it did become a therapy for you, aiding the one you were already receiving, and a way to fondly remember, cherish, and honor Billy’s memory instead of agonizing over it. He would’ve absolutely loathed you for avoiding the ocean – the one thing he loved the most – and he would’ve smacked you across the head and scolded you for falling victim to such a mindset. You used all that to fuel yourself and even began learning how to surf. Every time you’d go to the beach, instead of seeing a dying, blood-gurgling Billy, you’d see a happy Billy. You’d see his charming, mischievous smile and you’d hear his laughter and the way he fondly spoke of the ocean and his surfing.

“I’ll surf for the both of us,” you had promised while painting and decorating your board, and true to your word, you surfed every day and as time went by, you became a great surfer, much to your family’s surprise. It’s like you channeled Billy and now you ruled the waves instead of fearing them.

So while your flesh was now scarred because of the rough first months you had, you were at least proud of yourself that even after being pushed to the edge, you didn’t topple over it and you were steadily walking the path of overcoming some of the darkest moments in your life.

Of course, you couldn’t help but still feel sad sometimes. It’s like that feeling came and went like an uninvited guest, never truly leaving you, because the path you were walking was long, tedious, and you still had a long way to go. You knew that nothing was or was ever going to be like it used to be. You would always carry the pain, the sorrow, and the bad memories with you which was something that prevented your smile from being as bright as it used to be and created a certain air of melancholia around you, but you were on your way to getting better and that’s what mattered most at the end of the day. You were trying your damn hardest and you knew that one day you’d be able to completely defeat the traumas and regain your bright smile. The broken vase was being pieced together slowly and steadily and this time you had hope that it wasn’t going to fall apart again.

Unfortunately, because the process of healing was far from complete, you still had moments of weakness, moments when insecurities took over, moments when bad memories and trauma took over, making you more sensitive, hurting you, forcing you to relive the pain you were trying to overcome. Like that time when your professor groped you. Sometimes it hit you when you walked down the hallways and saw people looking at you and whispering, thinking they were talking about you which oftentimes made you feel insecure about everything – the way you were dressed, the way you looked, whether the scars on your wrist were visible, etc.

You never did tell Steve about any of this.

You just didn’t want to worry him. You didn’t want him to know just how hard you had taken the moving and that the ocean had triggered a whole lot of problems and traumas for you that reversed all the hard work you had put into healing during the summer.

So you didn’t blame him when he grabbed your wrist and pulled it closer to himself so he could inspect it. You didn’t blame him for freaking out. You didn’t blame him for needing answers, or for worrying about your mental health.

“Can we…can we just focus on cleaning the wound, please?” you looked at him with pleading eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this. We’re dealing with something…really bad right now,” you tried to divert their attention onto the issue at hand but Steve shook his head.

“No…No! We’re totally having this conversation. I need to know what’s going on!” he waved his hands in a frenzy and you sighed.

“Steve, nothing is going on. Not anymore,” you revealed but his eyes still held onto the panic, looking at you with disbelief. “Listen, the first months were just…very hard for me, okay? Shit hit the fan in the most unpleasant way and this was the result,” you jerked your wrist. “But it’s over now. I’m…I’m healing…It was a rough moment of weakness…But I overcame it. The thoughts come back sometimes,” you admitted. “But they’re just an echo. They don’t have the same powerful grip as they used to during those first months…okay?” you looked deep into his eyes, making sure he got the message, and he nodded slowly, still unconvinced but he chose to put his trust in you either way.

“Okay,” he muttered as he grabbed the bottle of water and unclasped it, pouring some onto your palm to clean it which made you hiss. He continued to silently treat your wound and the stillness of the atmosphere was getting to you, so you decided to break it.

“Look, I would really appreciate it if you guys don’t walk on eggshells around me. I promise, I’m…fine,” you tried to reassure them even though you didn’t fully trust your own words, mostly because of the strange visions you were getting, and everyone shared concerned, unsure looks before nodding.

“No pity looks, worried looks, or hawk looks, got it,” agreed Robin, and you sent her a grateful smile.

“Okay, so,” you drawled. “It’s gonna get dark soon. I suggest we…rest for now?”

“I agree. This is too much to handle in one day,” sighed Max before standing up and grabbing her bag.

“Hey, hold on. I was going to offer we bunk up here,” you spoke out and she halted in her movements. “It’s gonna be…less lonely and scary if we’re all together.”

“I’m all up for that!” Dustin immediately agreed with a grin.

“I mean…sure, why not?” joined Robin and you smiled, turning to look at Max expectantly who fidgeted in her spot for a bit before begrudgingly agreeing.

“Great! Um, Eddie, you can take Jonathan’s room. Dustin, you can take Will’s, and Robin and Max, you guys can take mom’s. Her bed is big enough for two people to fit in,” you offered.

Before you could say anything else, Steve finished wrapping up your hand and stood up, wordlessly walking away and into your room. You let out a heavy sigh before you stood up as well and followed after him.

“Ookay,” drawled Robin awkwardly. “Who wants some sweets?” she asked with a tight smile and everyone lifted their hands.

You shut the door quietly as you hesitantly walked into your room, eyes worriedly running over Steve’s form. He had his back turned on you as he paced slowly around the room, hands on his hips, head down.

“Steve-“

“How could you not tell me about any of this?” he cut you off as he finally stopped in his tracks and turned to face you, suddenly making you feel even more nervous than you were before. “Y/N, this is serious. You were,” he gulped. “Y-you were thinking of-of…putting an end…to your life,” he raised his voice a little but it wasn’t all fueled by anger. It was mostly filled with worry.

He was upset. Rightfully so.

“I didn’t tell you… because I didn’t want to worry you,” you began as you wrung your hands, not being able to look him in the eyes.

“Y/N, don’t come at me with that kinda excuse-“

“It’s not an excuse. I’m serious,” you took a step forward and lifted your head to look him in the eyes. “If I had told you, you would’ve come running to California.”

“And is that such a bad thing!?”

“It is because you would’ve seen me at my lowest…again,” you admitted bitterly and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t understand.”

“You already saw me at my lowest once…after the Mind Flayer incident…and you were there for me, every step of the road to recovery. You suffered so much because of me. You took so much of my pain and burden onto yourself. It’s because of you, taking so much of my load, that I was able to somehow piece myself together. But who was there to take that load off of you?” you shook your head, eyes darting all over the room insecurely before settling back onto his. “If I had told you, you would’ve gone through the same hell again. And I just couldn’t find it in me to put you through something like this again,” you admitted and his face distorted into one of sympathy, understanding, but also pain.

“Okay, when you put it like that, I understand. But still,” he threw his hands in defeat. “Y/N, I’m your boyfriend. And I love you. I love you so much,” he confessed sincerely and you felt your heart melt at his vigor and determination. “I don’t mind shouldering your burden at all. I’m fine with it. Even if there’s nobody to take it off my shoulders. Actually, there is no need for another person to take the burden off. We’re together in this. You and I. We hold one another through bad times. We share the difficulties and overcome them together. You don’t need to worry about me shouldering your burden. They are mine to shoulder too and I will do it without hesitation,” he waved his hand categorically and your smile grew. “So please,” he shortened the distance between you and grabbed your hands in his, mindful of your bandaged one. “Don’t ever hide such things from me just because you want to protect me or something,” he pleaded with sad eyes and you shut yours, gulping the lump in your throat, before nodding.

You had been so afraid of his reaction, because you knew he was eventually going to find out, and you had expected him to be super mad and maybe not even talk to you for a while. But seeing him now, showing such understanding, made you realize how much he’s grown and it’s like he was getting wiser with each passing day.

“Steve Harrington, you’re made out of gold…and I’m the luckiest girl because I’m able to call you mine,” you whispered and his lip curled into a smirk, eyes rolling goodnaturedly before he leaned and pressed his lips against yours in a tender kiss full of love and desperation.

Your body flushed against his as you slowly began to push him back until his legs hit the edge of the bed.

“I know what you’re trying to do, and don’t get me wrong, I really wanna do it too, but are you sure we can, I mean, there are people out there,” he muttered against your lips in between kisses and you shrugged.

“It’s been almost a year, Steve,” you reminded him and he hummed.

“Fair point,” he stuttered out a second before the two of you toppled onto the bed and his arms quickly found their way around your waist, hands roaming over your sides before he flipped you around so you were the one lying under him.

“Can you keep quiet?”

“So we got, uh, some good news and some bad news,” spoke out Dustin and the atmosphere turned from somewhat cheerful into dreadful. “How do you prefer it?”

“Bad news first, always,” responded Eddie right away.

You and Steve, unfortunately, didn’t have the time to indulge in love-making, for you had been interrupted by Dustin knocking on the door, urging you to sort out your problems later because you had to go out and investigate what was going on with the police. And while Eddie had stayed at your house, hiding, everyone else decided to go out while you still had some daylight to spare. Robin, Dustin, and Max went one way while you and Steve went another, stopping at the supermarket at one point so you could buy all kinds of products to stock yourself with.

“All right. Bad news. We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you,” revealed Dustin and Eddie’s face fell. “Also, they’re, uh, pretty convinced you killed C-Chrissy,” the boy’s eyes darted nervously between you and Eddie as he said that and you folded your lips, leaving the glass on the counter and walking slowly over to the table.

“Like, hundred percent convinced,” added Max.

“And the good news?”

“Your name hasn’t gone public yet,” explained Robin. “But it’s probably a matter of time before they find out you’re hiding here and-”

“Let them,” you intervened and everyone snapped their heads to look at you in surprise. “Let them find out that he’s here... We can use that to our advantage and just say he’s been here the whole time.”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on,” Dustin waved his hands with a scrunched-up forehead. “You mean to say…we give them a fake alibi?”

“Yeah. We’ll just say that all of us gathered to celebrate so Eddie wasn’t home when the…when the murder happened,” you gulped.

“So you say we lie to the police?”

“Look, we can’t go out there and start hunting Vecna,” you shook your head. “We don’t know how long that’s gonna take and in the meantime, Eddie can get in serious trouble. Like, he might actually get convicted of murder, arrested, and thrown into prison, while right as of now he’s only a suspect. There’s still a loophole, a way to divert the suspicion away from him…Besides, even if we hunt down Vecna and kill him that may not be enough to prove Eddie’s innocence. So the best route to take is to just talk to the police and tell them Eddie’s been with us the whole time, away from his home.”

“But-“

“Hopper would’ve done it,” you reminded them with a bit of a bite in your tone which silenced them. “He wouldn’t have allowed an innocent person to be wrongly accused and arrested even if it meant achieving this through a fake alibi... I intend to follow his ideology.”

“Are you sure it’s going to work?” pressed Max and you sighed heavily through your nose.

“If I know Calvin…it’s going to work. But we have to go now.”

“Y/N?” Calvin’s eyes widened when he opened the door after hearing loud knocking and saw you standing there with a bunch of other teens behind you. “When did you get here?” he asked as his lip twitched into a fond smile and you gave him a quick hug before entering his office, urging the others to follow.

“Last evening,” you lied smoothly through your teeth. “I spent the whole day traveling. First the plane, then the bus, gosh, it was a nightmare,” you groaned and he let out a chuckle, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head.

“Missed you, kiddo.”

“Me too. I missed everyone. Pity I didn’t catch Flo and the others but…hopefully tomorrow…Listen, we heard the news of…of the murdered student,” you decided it was time for you to jump to the topic at hand and the man let out a heavy sigh.

“Look, Y/N, this is a very sensitive topic right now-“ his tone wavered when he finally got a good look at the group of teens you had come with, eyes landing on no other than Eddie and widening in surprise. “You’re Munson’s boy,” spoke the man, his body tensing. “The body of the girl was-“

“Uncle Calvin,” you drew his attention onto you. “We came here exactly because of that.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“When we heard about the murder we sort of…went to investigate and…we found out it took place at Eddie’s home,” you began. “But the thing is, Eddie wasn’t there the night this happened. We were all together, actually. The moment I arrived back in Hawkins, I went to see Steve and Robin. And after that, we went to meet with Eddie, Dustin, Max, and Lucas. We wanted to gather the whole group and throw a party for my return. So all of us spent the night together,” you described everything without stuttering once and prayed that you managed to sound convincing enough.

“Hold on, hold on,” waved his hands the man. “You mean to tell me that Munson wasn’t at the trailer when the girl was murdered?” he asked and all of you nodded.

“Yes, he was with us the whole time,” butted in Steve.

“When we woke up today and heard about all this, we got worried,” added Robin as she tried to suppress the nervous shaking of her voice by clearing her throat. “So we went to check what was going on and when we learned that Eddie was considered the main suspect-“

“We immediately ran here to tell you because we didn’t want any misunderstandings to harm Munson here,” finished Steve as he patted the boy in question’s shoulder, his hand staying there and squeezing encouragingly.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” muttered the officer, eyebrows furrowing deep in thought. “Then…who could have done it?”

“I don’t know, sir, but I can promise you that it wasn’t me and I can also guarantee it wasn’t my uncle because he’s been taking night shifts at the plant these past weeks,” spoke out Eddie with a slightly shaky voice and Calvin rubbed his chin.

“I bet that whoever did it chose Eddie’s home on purpose. I mean, it’s easier to frame a family who’s had clashes with crime before in order to get the police off their trail and misguide everyone,” added Robin while whirling to whisper a ‘Sorry’ to Eddie.

“Alright, kids, I’m grateful for your help and the information you provided but I think it’s time you went home,” said the man seriously. “Eddie, I’m not going to arrest you or anything but I’m afraid I’ll still need to keep an eye on you, so stay put and keep a low profile, okay? Meanwhile, I’ll tell the others to get off your back and investigate more.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Do you have a place to stay?” asked the man and Eddie fidgeted in his spot a bit.

“He can just stay at home,” you suggested. “House arrest will be funnier with friends, no?”

“Alright, but inform your uncle first. He’s quite worried about you.”

“I’ll call him right away.”

Next Morning

“This is the moment I was looking forward to the most,” you muttered and Steve hummed, cracking open an eye.

Last night, you, Max, and Robin had prepared a delicious dinner, with Steve and Eddie annoying you and butting in occasionally, trying to help but making everything messy instead, which resulted in you kicking them out of the kitchen. You had watched a movie because all of you wanted to distract yourselves with something, to take your minds off the current crisis even if it was for a while. You had talked afterwards, caught up, and shared interesting stories and experiences, with you having the most to share. Then everyone went to bed except for you and Steve who finally got the chance to spend the night together.

“You’re just the cutest when you’re all groggy,” you chuckled and he let out a huff.

“Only when I’m groggy?” he slurred and you ran a hand through his hair.

“All the time. But especially when you’re waking up.”

He took hold of your hand and pried it out of his locks, bringing it to his lips so he could place a kiss on top. He felt the rough surface of bandages instead of skin and he sobered up, lifting himself up and propping his upper body on his elbow while his hand was busy holding and observing yours, finally taking proper notice of the couple of scars that were lined on your wrist and the eight-pointed star tattoo that covered a small part of them.

“They’re ugly,” you groaned and he let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head as he lowered it to place butterfly kisses on your wrist. “I’m ugly. Like…I’ve lost so much weight because of…everything that happened…I guess…it just piled on and…you can see my ribcage now for fuck’s sake,” you huffed in discontent.

“If you say you’re ugly ever again, I’ll wash your mouth with soap,” he threatened and you snorted. “Y/N you look beautiful,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world while looking deep into your eyes, and you didn’t see a sliver of hesitation or wavering in his tone and the energy he exuded. “You’ll always be beautiful... You just look…more tired…” he uttered with pity and defeat.

“Well, after last night, how can I not be?” you tried to play it off and he would’ve laughed and smirked teasingly had this been under any other circumstances.

“You know what I mean.”

Just as you were about to say something, there was a knock on your door, interrupting the moment.

“Are you thinking of finally getting out of bed, lovebirds? Look at the time!”

“Well, well, well, look who decided to finally grace us with their royal presence,” greeted Eddie while he poured warm milk into his bowl and Steve rolled his eyes. “Good morning, King Steve. I hope you slept well,” he sang out with a sly smirk.

“Good morning to you too, little troll,” Steve quipped and Eddie put a hand on his chest as if he had just been deeply offended.

“Here,” Max handed you a glass of juice and you thanked her before grabbing it and taking a sip.

“So,” drawled Robin as she slithered closer to you. “Did you two make some royal babies last night?” she asked with a smirk, bobbing her eyebrows, and you choked on the liquid, almost spitting it out.

“Ew,” muttered Max with a face scrunched up in disgust as she took her plate and quickly left the counter, heading for the table.

“Are you trying to commit murder, Robin Hood? Because you almost succeeded,” you sputtered and cleared your throat while wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“I’m afraid regicide is not yet on my list but if I feel adventurous one day, I’ll add it,” she snorted out a laugh before joining the rest at the table.

“Okay, guys, seriously, we need a plan of action,” began Dustin, and just then, the phone rang.

You gulped as you left the glass on the counter and rushed to pick up the device, surprised to hear no other than Eddie’s uncle on the phone.

“Um, guys,” you called out after you finished the conversation and everyone looked on expectantly. “I think the plan of action has got to wait. There’s something we gotta check first.”

“What could possibly be more important than that?”

“Another victim.”

The moment Wayne had called you, telling you about a friend of yours who had interviewed him last night and who had ended up losing her partner in the woods which come morning was followed by sirens and police cars rushing somewhere, you had immediately jumped in Steve’s car while Dustin and Eddie, who had parked his van a bit further down the road which is why you and Steve hadn’t seen it the previous day, got into the van and all of you headed for the crime scene in an instant.

“Did you look into Victor Creel?” asked Nancy, unease lacing her voice, and the policemen shared a look.

“Sorry, what’s that?”

“Victor Creel. Wayne got it in her head that the old nut did this,” sighed Daniel and Calvin clicked his tongue.

“Victor is locked away. Don’t need to worry about him, alright?” tried to comfort her the man. “Now, you said last you saw Fred, he was by the picnic tables. Do I have that right?” he asked but Nancy’s attention was drawn by two vehicles that just arrived and parked not far from the police cars. “Ms. Wheeler?” he asked again and his eyebrows furrowed when he noticed her staring behind him, making him turn around and trail her gaze, eyes landing on your group who had exited the cars and were now heading towards the girl and the policemen.

“Officer,” you called out, choosing to stick with his professional title in front of his colleagues instead of calling him uncle which was reserved only for when he was alone or with Hopper and the others. “What happened?” you asked once you reached him and he shook his head, eyes darting between Nancy and you.

“I think Ms. Wheeler here will be able to tell you the story better than me.”

“Nance?”

“You’re saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it’s from the Upside Down?” asked Nancy after you filled her in and after she filled you in.

“If the shoe fits,” replied Steve.

“Our working theory is that he attacks with a spell or a curse,” explained Dustin. “Now, whether or not he’s doing the bidding of the Mind Flayer or just loves killing teens, we don’t know.”

“All we know is that…this is something different,” added Max.

“But it doesn’t make any sense,” you sighed. “Why is he targeting these people in particular? They have no relation to the supernatural whatsoever and they have nothing in common, nothing that connects them in any way. So why them?” your last question held more bite and poison to it and the others sent you sympathetic looks.

“Maybe there’s no particular reason,” offered Eddie with sagged shoulders. “Maybe they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“They were both at the game and near the trailer park.”

“And they both died during the night.”

“Uh, we’re at the trailer park,” reminded them Steve. “Should we maybe not be here?”

“There is something about this place,” agreed Robin.

“I felt uneasy since we arrived,” you muttered as you drummed your fingers against the wooden table, scratching it with your nails a bit, and looked around nervously.

You truly had felt quite heavy and uneasy the moment you had parked here. It was a familiar feeling, something close to what you had felt that night when Will was kidnapped.

“Fred started acting weird the second we got here,” disclosed Nancy.

“Acting weird as in?”

“Scared…on edge…upset.”

“Max said Chrissy was upset too,” blurted out Dustin.

“Yeah, but not here. She was crying in the bathroom at school.”

“Oh, God,” you muttered as you propped your elbows onto the table and buried your head in your hands. “It’s that wretched woman again,” you grit out and the others shared confused looks.

“Woman? What woman?” asked Eddie.

“Her mother,” you grumbled, arms dropping down in defeat. “She’s always pestered her, always body-shamed her, calling her fat, a pig, and whatever other bullshit,” you spat out and everyone scrunched up their faces.

“That’s just sick.”

“It is. Chrissy began forcing herself to throw up the food she’d eat,” you revealed bitterly and their eyes widened.

“What? You mean…she developed an eating disorder because of her mom?”

“Yeah. If that’s not trauma, I don’t know what is.”

“Hold on,” Max’s head shot up in realization. “When you said trauma, I remembered something...I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelley’s office. Maybe she and Fred saw Vecna and got scared. But if you see a monster, you wouldn’t go to the police, right? They’d never believe you. But, you might go to-“

“Your shrink.”

What followed was your group splitting into two squads.

Squad number one consisted of Nancy and Robin who decided to go and do some research in the library about a ‘shot in the dark’ that Nancy didn’t yet wish to share with the rest of the party.

Squad two consisted of you, Steve, Max, Dustin, and Eddie, who decided to head for Ms. Kelley’s house so Max could go in and try to wrench some information from her regarding Chrissy and Fred’s cases.

Steve had cleaned your cuts and re-wrapped your hand while you waited. Lucas had tried contacting you at one point and you had tried explaining to him that Eddie was innocent but for some reason he cut off, making you all wonder what was going on with the boy. Then, Max bolted out of the woman’s house and jumped into the car, urging him to drive away.

So now, you found yourselves entering the school, having broken into it because it was evening and the building was closed and locked.

“It’s like a mini Watergate or something,” commented Dustin after you entered Ms. Kelley’s office. “Hawkinsgate.”

“Didn’t those guys get caught?” asked Steve as the boys observed something and you shone your flashlight into their faces, making them squeeze their eyes and recoil from the harsh light.

“Hey, can we focus?”

“Alright, alright, just get it off my face.”

“Holy shit,” let out Max which drew everyone’s attention and all of you rushed to her side.

“You found it?”

“Yeah, and not just Chrissy’s file. Fred was seeing Ms. Kelley too, just like we speculated,” she said as she pulled a couple of thin folders and everyone shared a look while she sat on a chair and slapped the papers onto the desk, quickly skimming through each and every one of them.

Your heart plummeted when you saw everything written on Chrissy’s file, realizing that her physical condition and mental health had only deteriorated since you left Hawkins. It hurt that she hadn’t shared this with you. It made you feel worthless, and helpless because maybe if she had turned to you, you could’ve helped her somehow, because being surrounded by people who loved you and being showered with positivity usually managed to do the trick and help chase away the sorrow and the struggles.

And now you knew how Steve felt when he learned you’d been struggling without telling him anything. And you wanted to smack yourself for not confiding in him.

Trauma was complicated, much like the humans bearing it.

“Can I see Fred’s file?” asked the girl and you quickly handed the document to her, eyes widening once she opened it and revealed the written inside. It was the same as Chrissy’s – severe headaches, constant nightmares, nosebleeds, past trauma.

“Max, what is it? Max? Max!?”

And as Dustin was calling out for the girl, who seemed to have fallen into a state of shock, staring blankly at the papers, it all began making sense.

The pieces of the puzzle had begun taking order.

𝐀𝐍: 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇-𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒂𝒙, 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔/𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒍. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕𝒚, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒕. 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉.

𝑰 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝑺𝒐, 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓’𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆…𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇.

𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 :)

Tags: @anxiousbeech @ashstorm24 @leireggsworld @ooenjoythesilenceoo @we-out-here-simping 🖤

#stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things reader insert #steve x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #billy hargove x reader #max mayfeild x reader #jonathan byers x reader #reader #reader insert #vecna x reader #Spotify

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venus-vault · 5 months ago

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Hero Worship

Dr.Jonathan Fraser × Fem!(20s)Reader(18+)

Synopsis: (y/n) endures a day of unexpected run-ins...

A/N: Here it is!! The Jonathan Fraser fic!! Finally!! More fluff/crush than I would've liked but it's here!!

⚠️TW: Mentions of injury & Traumatic Situation, Age Gap, Hospital Setting, Medical Language, French Spoken, Light Sexual Contact, Doctor/Patient dynamic, General Tension.

My own breathing, my own heart beat are all I can hear as my ears ring. What is that? Cars. Honking. . . Echoes. . . Voices. . . Snapping. . .snapping? Snapping.

"Hello? Hello, can you hear me? If you can hear me, all I need you to do is move your head, just a little, can you do that for me?"

Everything is dark but I think I manage to turn my head towards the voice I'm hearing.

"Good, good, that's good. Now I'm going to ask you to open your eyes, alright? I bet you have very pretty eyes, I'd love to see them,"

Wincing, I manage to open my eyes and there's a light being shone into one, the other, just momentarily.

"Lovely. You're doing great. Now I'm going to ask you to do something a little harder, okay? Blink once if you think you're up to it."

I blink slowly, intentionally, my eyes beginning to focus on the face attached to the voice I'm hearing. An older man, maybe in his fifties? With short grey hair, bright blue eyes...

"I need you to try your very hardest to wiggle your fingers."

I do, and quickly. My body feels weak, strained, but he's asking me to do things that are easy.

"That is brilliant, look at you go, Toyota Camry be damned." He smiles.

"Are you... a doctor?" I croak, speech slurring, and is that my voice? What happened? My head pounds with sudden and searing pain and I wince, gasping sharply.

"I am. My name is Doctor Jonathan Fraser, and you are going to be just fine. You were struck by a car just now. The paramedics are on their way. We are going to Price-Norbury Memorial to assess and treat your injuries. Can you tell me your name, dear?"

I can mentally trace where that is but still don't know how I got hit by a car. What did I even do?

"(y/n)..." I mutter, confused.

"(y/n)." He repeats quietly. "Everything is going to be alright." He nods, as if to seal this promise and the paramedics do arrive, lifting me onto a gurney. Dr. Fraser joins us in the ambulance, answering the EMT's questions for me with all sorts of confusing medical terminology I don't understand, they take my vitals and as the sirens blare out overhead I feel myself starting to lose conciousness again.

"(y/n)? (y/n)!"

Blackness.

When I wake up I'm in a fluorescent-lit hospital room, and as I gain greater awareness of my surroundings I realize I'm in a hospital gown, an IV has been jammed into the vein on top of my right hand, as well as a heart rate monitor that's been clipped onto my index finger. This new outfit and its accompanying accessories are uncomfortable, I bruise easily and what happened? What the hell happened to me? Am I okay? Where's that doctor from earlier?

A smiley nurse in pink scrubs bops into the room "Oh, hey. You're up." She takes the chart from the end of my bed and looks over it briefly. "Struck by motor vehicle, likely concussed...abdominal bruising...partial or total fracture to Left ribs T5 through T9... partial fracture to left illiac crest, Jesus..." she looks up from her mumbled description of my injuries "Looks like you've had quite the day. Do you remember anything about what you were doing prior to being hit by that car, miss..." she checks the chart again "(y/ln)?"

I try to think and the only thing that comes to mind is how much my head hurts right now and where is the doctor that helped me in the ambulance? "N-no, I don't, I- where's doctor...Jonathan? I think his name was? I forget his last name... he had an accent... British..."

"Doctor Fraser," she grins, nodding. "He's in pediatrics right now. I can page him in..." she checks her watch "45 minutes to check in on you if you'd like. He won't be your primary doctor but he did insist you be treated by our best trauma unit, headed by Doctor Rosenfeld."

"Pediatrics?"

"Doctor Fraser is Price-Norbury's leading Pediatric Oncologist."

"Oh. Okay. Yeah. If you could page him, that'd be great. He saved me, so I'd really like to thank him properly."

"Gladly. Just gonna check your vitals, I'll page doctor Rosenfeld, and shortly after his assessment, doctor Fraser should be able to pop in for a quick visit, sound good?"

She grins at me and I have to wonder how someone can be so full of pep, of joy, while constantly surrounded by disease and brokenness.

"Yes, thank you."

"Of course, honey. Don't mind me, just gonna get this situated on ya," she wraps the blood pressure cuff tightly over my right bicep, it begins constricting "and... deep, slow breath? Great. One more? Awesome." It finally loosens and she sets the cuff aside.

I watch as she scribbles down a few figures on the chart, simpers at me and leaves the room. In the moments I'm left with my thoughts all I can do is attempt to remember.

I was... walking... there was... someone yelled something... and then there was-- I don't know. What came after that? Why don't I remember? What the fuck happened?

A balding man I estimate to be in his late forties strides into the room and picks up the chart, glancing my muddled expression. "(y/n), I'm Doctor Rosenfeld, it's nice to meet you. The circumstances on the other hand... less nice. Let's dive right in, huh?" Doctor Rosenfeld lists my injuries in that complicated medical language I don't like then explains what happened via Doctor Fraser's statement to the paramedics.

I was walking across the street, not looking out. Some poor woman was speeding and hit me, I rolled up her windshield and back onto the pavement. He insists that had she been going 5 more miles per hour, I would be on a slab and not in a bed.

"Oh. Uhm... Okay. Well, Shit." I let out an awkward laugh "I feel kind of stupid. What type of idiot doesn't look both ways before crossing the street, right?"

"The kind that keeps their face buried in their phone," Doctor Rosenfeld states, not missing a beat "Listen, (y/n), it's New York. You can be as prepared as you want and things like this still happen. We see a huge uptick in these types of collisions every year around this time. Especially up here. You're not stupid. You're human. And sometimes humans accidentally hit eachother with heavy machinery."

He chortles and I have to join in.

Dr. Rosenfeld tells me they're going to run some tests to make sure my organs are okay but that my overall prognosis is very good and in the meantime he'll have a nurse bring me some food.

He leaves the room and now it's just me and the low beep of the heart rate monitor as I await Doctor Fraser.

I'm feeling... nervous? Which is weird, he's just a doctor, it's not like this is a date or anything. I only glanced him for a minute or two, but if memory serves -50/50 chance- he was handsome... Maybe it's just the way he spoke? His voice was so soothing to me in a moment of anxiety and shock, and I'm making things out to be more than they are...

Regardless, I should thank him. If he hadn't been there, who knows what could've happened?

And he cures children's cancer? So selfless...so noble... but I supoose that's a requirement of people who get into medicine... I need to see him again. Something about him... I just need to know.

I hum to myself as I wait and wonder when that nurse will be back with food... How bad could this hospital's food be given its location? if I can get my phone I might be able to have someone drop off something. My phone. Shit. Wait. No one knows I was hit by a car. Fuck. Shit. I need my phone. My eyes search the room and I don't see my stuff anywhere. Dr. Fraser finally strides into the room, his smirk infectious and I was right. He is hot.

"So then, how's the luckiest girl in New York doing?"

"Tired," I simper at him, just momentarily. "I'm having some trouble finding my things, is there somewhere I should be looking? I don't have my phone and no one knows I'm here, so-"

Doctor Fraser reaches an arm under the end of my bed and holds up an enormous clear plastic tote containing my stuff. "These things?"

"Yeah, where was that?" I laugh

"One of those cruel nurses must've placed it on the end of your bed, next to your chart, speaking of which, may I?" He gestures to the chart, setting the bag of items gingerly next to me. "Sure. Maybe you can translate it to layman's terms?"

I rifle through the bag and find my phone. It's cracked, but usable, and the battery is down to twenty percent.

I watch him read through it breifly and his eyes flick up to mine. "A car bumped you, you've got a couple rib fractures and a very small partial crack in your left hip bone. But you're going to be fine in a few weeks. Your bruising makes everything look, and feel, much worse than it is."

"Doctor Rosenfeld said if the driver had gone any faster I'd be in the morgue and not here."

"Doctor Rosenfeld says a lot of things. He thinks if he gives you a scary ultimatum like that you'll try even harder to keep safe in future. Good intentions, bad execution, excellent clinician. Keep on with his treatment plan and you'll be set."

"Doctor Fraser?"

"Please, (y/n), call me Jonathan."

"Jonathan," I smile, "Thank You for being there... for helping me."

"Of course. A beautiful woman gets hit by a car in broad daylight, you do something, it'd be downright evil not to."

"Beautiful?"

His eyes widen then narrow at me, investigative. "Do you not consider yourself beautiful?"

"I mean, I think I'm alright, I just would never have thought you would-"

"Well, I do. To be entirely honest, (y/n), I find you incredibly attractive. Even when you've just been hit by a car." He smirks and I feel myself blush some as he situates himself at my bedside.

"I think... the same of you, that you're handsome, I mean-" I stammer.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah..."

"And if I were to, do something about that..."

"I'd like you to."

"You would?"

"Yes... is that.. do you want t-"

His gaze wanders down to my lips, just for a second but I notice, and a jolt of heat runs through me as he leans in, fingertips timidly settling into the hair at the nape of my neck.

He touches me like I would a wounded animal, cautious, light, reserved only to my unscathed side.

I feel his other hand moving under the blanket, softly shifting the hem of the hospital gown up my thigh and his eyes are on mine, apprehensive, questioning, as he leans in.

His kiss is slow, gentle, and I melt as his tongue enters my mouth. Fingertips find the front of my underwear, I hear myself moan, and my hips shift of their own accord.

This triggers a searing pain in my left side and I wince, drawing in a sharp breath as Jonathan breaks our embrace. I pout at the immediate absence of his hands and he looks me over, worried.

"We should probably hold off on the physical. Just while you heal. I want to know you better, and eventually, I'd love to take this... further, but I can't... allow myself, to be the cause of your injuries worsening... it'd be unethical." He breathes.

"Understood.." I blink up at him.

"May I see your phone?"

I hand it to him and he taps at it frantically for a moment, handing the open Contact screen back to me.

"This, is my cell. I'm not the world's best texter, but I'll try. Anything you need; edible food, someone to talk to, errand boy, a doctor's note, you let me know. I'll figure it out."

Jonathan gives me a wink as he makes his way out of the room and I have to giggle at the idea of a renowned oncologist as my 'errand boy', but he's sweet.

The smiley nurse is back in minutes with a feast of orange jello, a turkey sandwich and a small cup of half-congealed potato soup. Looking over the... assortment, I now understand Jonathan's offer to find me some edible food. I take this opportunity to snap a photo of the tray and text it to him.

Me: opinions?

A typing bubble appears, disappears. 4 minutes later a response comes through.

Jonathan: Fantastic jello here, inimitable, they peel the lid off and everything. I'll drop you a couple courses of real food in the morning. Majorelle ok?

Me: Majorelle???

Jonathan: French. It's on my way. I'll surprise you. Rest.

Rest. I got hit by a car, nearly fingered by a hot oncologist, and I'm supposed to rest. Not think. Not fixate. Just Rest. Maybe the most eventful day I've had in the last two years... but.. rest. Yeah, okay.

The remainder of the night is bland as I watch the news, recieve an outpouring of 'get well soon' texts from friends, family, coworkers, and finally figure out how to get out of bed and shuffle around without harming my left side. After I'm confident I can walk almost normally, I'm ready for that rest these doctors are so adamant about.

I pass out around 2am, only to resurface at 7:04, finding a black paper bag on the tray table beside my bed. Checking my phone breifly, I'm surprised to find a notification this early. A text from Jonathan.

Jonathan: J'espère que ces offrandes seront suffisantes, ma chère?

French? At this hour?

I run the text through Google translate, inspect the contents of the bag and tap back:

Yep, thx so much! 🩷

Jonathan: Of course. Parlez vous?

Me: non

Jonathan: I'll quit showing off then. Are you bored? Can't imagine you slept much.

Me: extremely, could use some company, if you know anyone interesting... 👀

Jonathan: I might. In fact, he may just be on his way back to your room.

And he is. A bright-eyed Jonathan strides into the room looking refreshed, looking good.

"Morning, you."

"Doctor Fraser." I smile.

He takes a seat on the edge of my bed, pulling the tray table into place, and begins arranging the French feast he brought me.

A breakfast of coffee, orange slices and orange blossom cookies tastes better with him and as we talk I get the sense that his interest in me extends beyond the superficial, that he sees me in a way most people in my life just... don't.

"So...last night, I figured out how to walk without my hip hurting."

"Did you? That is fantastic, (y/n)! Come on then, let's see it."

He pushes the tray table aside, stepping back from the bed and extending a hand to me. I don't need it as I cautiously sit up on the edge of the bed, push my feet to the floor, and stand up. He backs further into the room. "Can you walk to me, then?"

"Easily." And I do, stopping about a foot ahead of him.

"Very impressive. You may need a crutch, but the fact that you've been standing this long should be enough to have them shorten your stay and put you on bedrest at home, I'd say."

"Yeah?" I beam, craving the quiet comfort of my apartment.

He takes a step closer "I don't see why not."

"Promise?" I blink up at him, hopeful.

Jonathan narrows his eyes at me for a moment, internally debating.

"Yeah. Yeah, alright. Promise. I'll talk to the nursing team, have them send a memo to Rosenfeld, and we'll get you on your way tomorrow."

"Really?"

"Really."

He smiles down at me, eyes scanning my face as he leans in to press a small kiss into the top of my head.

"Jonathan, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

I nip at my lower lip, nervous. I'm unsure how he'll take this, but it's worth a shot.

"Do you do house calls?"

A beat.

"Not typically, no. But for you..."

#dr. jonathan fraser x reader #jonathan fraser x reader #the undoing hbo #the undoing fanfiction #hugh grant #oh my god i thought i would never finish this one JEESH #em.fic11

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