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harrington-stevie · 21 days ago

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soft place to land | S.H.

Summary: You're his soft place. You're the one he turns to when things get difficult, the one who cleans him up when he gets into a fight. He's the broken guy who carries scars because of his problematic parents, but you are there to help keep him calm.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

Word count: 9.6k

Steve always knew when he was going to snap. It started with a simmering heat blooming in his chest. His ears would start ringing and his knuckles always became white from balling his fists too tight.

Most people assumed he was the cool, caring, loving guy. The one with the hair, the silly jokes and the effortless confidence. But behind those hazel eyes, there was a raging feeling that boiled his blood every time he had to hear his father talking shit about him straight to his face. And sometimes it only worsened when Jason Carver stopped by Family Video only to try and pick a fight. Because he knew Steve had a short temper.

But that wasn't always the real him, not really. And you knew that. Robin knew that too. But with you– it was different with you. He felt better when he was near you. He felt like himself most of the time.

Even though you were inside the convenience store with Robin and Eddie, he still lurched forward and punched Jason in the face, hitting his jawline. The jock moved backward and quickly jabbed at Steve's cheekbone.

His fists were still red when you saw him outside the old gas station, with his knuckles scabbed and a smudge of blood across his cheekbone. He was panting, there was a trace of dried tear that trailed his cheek. You crouched beside him, one hand on top of his shoulder, the other one carefully cradling his face to scan the injury.

Your heart shrunk at the sight of his trembling hands, at the way he was trying to avoid eye contact, because he knew he was supposed to get his shit together and he just couldn't. You gently brushed away the hair that was sticking to his forehead.

“Jason?” You asked in a low tone, and he let out a dry, bitter laugh. His teeth were pink with blood.

“Jason.”

You took a deep breath as you helped him up and leaned against the hood of his car, waiting for Robin and Eddie. They didn’t ask what happened but exchanged a knowing look with him before getting into the car in complete silence. You went back inside, grabbed some toilet paper, and moistened it to clean his face. It wasn't the most sanitary option, but it was enough to remove the smeared blood from his skin.

He winced at the touch, so you tried to avoid putting too much pressure on it. One hand supported his chin while you gently dabbed his cheek. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was in pain. Unable to meet your gaze, he felt ashamed of what had happened. Steve was reluctant to admit that he still struggled with controlling his anger, but you always assured him that you were there for him.

“I'm sorry” He rasped, his voice could barely be heard. His eyes were still roaming around a blank spot, avoiding you.

“Hey” You say, your fingers delicately lifting his head to face you “Don't do that. You know I'm always here.”

He tried to look away, but you ensured he looked at you.

“Yeah, but that's not who I want to be. That asshole keeps bringing up my parents all the fucking time.”

“I know, and he's a loser for that. But you need to remember that this is what he wants.”

His hazel eyes kept following yours, searching for comfort. Steve always found solace in you. He gave you a small smile and leaned into your touch. One of his hands found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze before he went back to his car.

At Robin's, you cleaned his injuries and took care of them. As you always did, whenever it happened. A few times it would be his best friend when you couldn't be there to help. You set the cloth down and reached for the first aid kit under the sink, one you had used more than once on him over the years. Cuts, bruises, swollen jaws– all pieces of Steve that his parents never noticed or cared enough to ask about.

“You ever gonna stop throwing yourself into fights for an asshole?” You asked lightly, squeezing ointment onto your fingers.

“Probably not” He said, shrugging “Not if it means they get away with saying crap like that.”

Your fingers were soft when they touched the corner of his lip, cleaning off dried blood with a tenderness that made Steve's chest ache. He hated how his voice sounded too quiet in these moments. He didn't want to feel vulnerable.

“Does it scare you? When I get like this?”

You blinked, surprised by the question, feeling your hands still for a moment.

“No, it never has. Because you don’t get like this with me.”

Steve met your eyes without fear this time, seeing a curve on your lips.

It wasn’t a romantic moment. Not yet, but it was the kind of moment that found its place in the silence between the two of you. It felt quiet and raw, as if it were etched in the space separating you both. All he wanted was to hug you and hold on for just a moment.

You returned to cleaning him up, brushing your thumb along the edge of his jaw where a bruise had started to form.

“You’ve gotta stop letting your parents’ voices live in your head. They don’t get to take up space in there forever” Your voice was tender, and it echoed in his head.

Steve’s throat tightened, but he nodded. He didn’t say thank you, he actually never did. Not because he wasn’t grateful, but because he didn’t know how to say it in a way that would do justice to you. Instead, he let you patch him up in silence. And you did. Carefully, as if it mattered.

Later that night, after you had fallen asleep next to Robin and Steve was lying awake in her guest bedroom, staring at the ceiling, he thought about how you had looked at him. You weren't afraid; you never were. It was as if he wasn't a wreckage you had grown accustomed to cleaning up. He thought maybe he’d tell you one day; not in the middle of a fight or after another busted lip, but on a regular, nothing-special day. He would tell you that he noticed, that he always did. No one else had ever made him feel less of a mess just by being there.

But for now, he let the silence settle, let you stay asleep, safe from everything, even from the worst parts of himself. For once, Steve Harrington didn’t feel like he was on the verge of breaking down. He just felt... intact.

Because of you. Because you always appeared when he was falling apart. And because, little by little, he was learning that maybe he didn’t have to break alone anymore.

He looks at you differently when he thinks no one’s watching. It’s neither dramatic nor obvious. He doesn’t linger like some guy in a teen movie, nor does he stare enough for it to get awkward. But in those quiet moments, or when you’re laughing with Dustin at the arcade, chatting with Robin behind the Family Video counter, or even just standing beside him in line at the gas station. His eyes find you like a magnet.

For example, you tuck your hair behind your ear without realizing it, or when you chew your lip while scanning the back of a VHS case. You don’t notice, but he does. Always. His gaze is soft, warm, and almost worshipping. Not because he’s trying to memorize you. He already knows you.

He just likes seeing you be… you.

He’s the only one who notices the small things. How you always tap the rim of your coffee cup twice - only ever with your left hand - before taking a sip. Or how you can’t stand milk in your coffee but still add exactly half a spoonful of sugar. Just enough to get the bitter taste off of it.

He never asked about those things. He just remembered. So every time he hands you a cup after school or during a shift at the video store, it’s perfect. You raised a brow at him the first few times, narrowing your eyes like you were trying to catch him off guard.

“Steve” You would say suspiciously and amused “How do you keep getting it exactly right?”

He’d just shrug, with a crooked smile “Magic. Or maybe I’m just very observant.”

You started calling it the “Steve Standard", almost playfully. But you always smiled when he handed it to you. To Steve, that smile felt like sunshine. Unbeknownst to you, he saw you as a safe haven during his difficult moments. And maybe, just maybe, he was becoming the same thing for you. There was something about sitting beside him when he broke down that created a special bond.

You never tried to pry, never forced words from him. You just sat there, too close to him, reaching out a hand for him. Sometimes you handed him a drink, sometimes you played with the edge of your sleeve until he could look you in the eye again. When his anger exploded, quick and hot as it always did, you never flinched. You weren’t afraid of him. You knew it wasn’t about you. And you never treated him like a broken person. You just… stayed.

Every single time.

And that's what made him so captivated by you. Not just because of that, but the entirety of it. He just wished he wasn't misreading the whole situation.

He was driving you home, throwing glances at you from the corner of his eyes, watching the way you would draw circles on your jeans. His hands tightened around the wheel, he urged to reach over and take your hand so bad that it hurt. But he didn't, not yet. Maybe it wasn't the right time for that yet. Because whatever this was. it wasn’t some high school infatuation anymore. Not after everything.

Then there was that night he called you. You could hear it in his voice before he even said a word: something was wrong. So you grabbed a movie, a six-pack of root beer, and showed up without asking. You sat on the floor together, your backs against the couch. The movie played, but neither of you really watched. He cried quietly, his shoulders shook. He was angry and ashamed. He told you about his dad’s latest blow-up that made him feel humiliated. How he had looked his son in the eye before slamming the door and muttering “no wonder everyone leaves you.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You just pressed your hand flat against his chest, showing you could hold all the broken pieces together.

“I'm still here” You promised him. And he kept sobbing, his head resting on your shoulder.

Your hands played with his hair. His hands held your back tightly, as if he was about to break anymore than he already had.

“Thank you, Angel. I love you.”

He loved calling you Angel. More importantly, he loves you more than he could admit.

He remembers that moment more than anything. Maybe more than he should. On a Saturday morning, you walk into Family Video smiling, your hair all disheveled from the wind. He feels like someone just punched him gently in the chest. That’s what you do to him. You ruin him in the most careful way. Sometimes, he imagines telling you everything. Just blurting it out like an idiot.

You’re the only one who makes me feel like I’m not ruined.

But it always feels too much. Too soon. So instead, he memorizes the sound of your laugh. How your voice softens when you’re tired. The crease between your brows when you’re trying to finish a crossword puzzle. How you always reach for his hand when you’re crossing a busy street, even if neither of you ever acknowledges it.

He holds onto those things like a lifeline.

Because with you, it’s never been about impressive gestures. It’s about the late-night drives, the playlists you build together, the quiet understanding in your gaze when he lies and says he's fine. Even though you know he's the farthest from being fine. You treat his silence, in a way that it’s a sacred matter. Not something to fix. He doesn't need fixing, he needs reassurance, he deserves to know no one is going to leave him just as his parents make it look like that's the truth.

He knows deep down that he’ll never be the same after you. Even if he’s not ready to say it out loud yet, he knows it in his bones: you are the only person in his life who makes him want to be better. Not to prove something. Just to be worthy of the space you’ve opened for him in your world. You are the calm after his storm. And he’s learning, even if slowly, quietly and patiently how to be still in it.

You love snapping pictures whenever you hang out with everyone. They always make funny faces and strike poses to get the best of it. Most importantly, you love capturing Steve and memorizing every moment. He doesn't even complain, he just leans into it. He likes it when you take pictures of him.

You're in the parking lot of the gas station just outside Hawkins, the golden sunrays cast highlights in his hair, his sunkissed freckles glow. Steve’s leaning against the driver’s side door of his car, his hair perfectly brushed, almost as if he knew what was about to come.

You lift the camera, and he doesn’t even need direction. He crosses his arms on top of the car and leans his chin against them, as if he knows exactly what kind of picture you’re trying to take.

“You always get this look in your eye. Like you’re gonna steal my soul with that thing” He says before you find the best angle.

You snap the photo.

“Too late” You murmur with a smirk, and he flushes red under the fading sun.

He keeps a shoebox in the bottom drawer of his dresser. There are dozens of Polaroids in there. Him, blurry in motion at the arcade. Him shirtless, cooking eggs, flipping you off playfully with a spatula. Him holding up a kitten you found near the lake. Him asleep in your passenger seat, mouth open, lashes curled ridiculously long. And in one corner of the box: a photo of you holding the camera. You’re not even looking at it– you’re smiling at him instead.

It's the one he chooses one night to put on his fridge along with many others of you and his friends. When he's sitting alone in the kitchen and catches a glance of the picture, a smile tugs at his lips.

You never meant to memorize him. It just kind of… happened. Somewhere between the first time you cleaned up his busted lip and the third time he made your coffee exactly right without asking, you realized you knew him in ways that didn’t make sense to anyone else. How he only faked a smile when his parents were around. Or how he’d crack a joke and change the topic whenever someone mentioned their families, always playing up the “only child” thing like it was a joke instead of a wound.

He never talked about them. He didn’t have to, and you just paid attention. And apparently, you weren’t the only one. It started one night at Nancy’s. She had this idea for a “normal night” for once- without the Upside Down, no monsters, no trauma bonding. Just junk food, dumb movies, and way too many people packed into one house.

Robin. Eddie. Steve. Dustin. Lucas. Mike. Nancy. Jonathan… and you. You came late, work had you stuck there until past ten, and by the time you got there, someone had already claimed the best spot on the couch. You ended up near Steve on the floor, your legs stretched under a shared blanket, a bowl of popcorn balanced randomly between you.

“Hey,” He said as you settled down beside him. His eyes flicked over you, soft and familiar, his voice was like honey “Wasn’t sure you’d come.”

You smiled, nudging his knee with yours “Miss movie night with you guys? Not a chance.”

And just like that, his shoulders dropped. The tension melted from him like ice under the sun. That’s the thing with him: he carries tension as if it’s a burden. But when you show up, he always lets some of it go, as though maybe you’re a reason to breathe again. By the second movie, someone turned off the lights completely. The room faded into that sleepy kind of chaos that only happens around 2 a.m. Half the group passed out in random positions, the rest whispering or hardly watching the screen from under heavy eyelids. You were curled on your side, barely watching the TV with one arm under your head, when you felt Steve shift behind you.

This wasn’t just a dream.

At first, it was nothing. There was a kick on the blanket and a heavy exhale. Then something deeper filled the air. A low, broken sound escaped from his throat, a mumble between a breath and a word, and your whole body tensed. You turned toward him slowly, his face was strained in sleep, his jaw clenched, his hands fisting the blanket like he was bracing for something.

You knew that look. You had seen it once when he fell asleep on your couch after a fight, after a night where he had almost gotten slammed into concrete again and came home bleeding. You had heard the way he whispered “don’t go” in a pleading tone.

You sat up on your elbows, reaching out to him “Steve.”

You whispered gently, fingers brushing his forearm “Hey. You’re dreaming.”

He flinched hard, his whole body became rigid, his breath was ragged and he kept mumbling under it.

“No, no, get off me—” He muttered with a cracked voice “Please…”

You pressed your palm flat to his chest, right over his heart, as you always did when he spiraled. One hand went right up to his face, your fingers gently cradling him “Steve. It’s me. You’re okay. You’re here, with me.”

His eyes snapped open as if he had been yanked from another reality. They seemed wild and barely focused, his hands latched onto your wrist instinctively.

“It’s okay, It’s just me” You whispered, both hands holding his face forcing him to look at you.

He blinked. Once, twice. His breathing slowed gradually, your voice was an anchor to him. He stared at you as though he wasn’t sure how he got there, like you were the only thing that looked real. Robin stirred across the room, voice groggy but alert.

“Is he okay?”

You glanced up and gave her a small nod “Yeah. Just a bad dream.”

She rubbed her eyes, watching you for a moment longer. Then her expression changed and her gaze flickered, just realizing what it really was. She knew that look as well, but she didn’t say anything, just lay back down and rolled over.

Steve was still staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts, trapped in his own mind. He was still heaving from the nightmare.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out” He muttered, letting out a quiet, but dry huff.

“You didn’t,” You say softly, brushing your thumb in a slow circle over his sticky cheek “You never do.”

He turned his head toward you, his eyes were bloodshot, his brow creased, almost as if he was embarrassed to be seen this way.

“I hate that you see me like this” He admits with a bitter tone, his voice low and hoarse.

“I don’t. I see you, Steve. Not the nightmare version. Not the one who flinches in his sleep. Just… you” You nod, meeting his gaze without flinching.

He swallows hard, trying to get rid of the lump stuck in his throat “You always show up. Even when I don’t deserve it.”

He always feels you’re about to disappear every time he has a nightmare, or when he snaps. Because he thinks you’re worth something better, not a broken man with problematic parents and a short temper. But you’re always there for him, and he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to keep you around.

“You don’t have to deserve me. That’s not how this works.”

He looked at you and felt something shake inside his chest. He felt it fluttering, his face burned and his fingertips keep tingling.

“Why? Why do you care so much?”

You didn’t look away, your thumb kept pressing his skin “Because you’re worth caring about.”

For a long second, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, tentatively, his hand reached under the blanket and brushed against yours. It felt like a jolt of electricity running through his veins. It was enough to say ‘I’m still here if you want me’. You didn’t pull away. You laced your fingers with his. And even in the dark, you saw how his whole body softened. As if your hand was the only proof he needed that he was safe.

The next morning, Robin handed you a coffee mug- black, just the way you liked it, and raised an eyebrow.

“You know... If you guys are gonna keep pretending you’re just friends, you should at least be a little less obvious about it” She said casually and you almost choked on your coffee.

You blinked a few times at her “What?”

She smirked, sipping her coffee as if it wasn’t a big deal. “He looks at you like you hung the stars for him. And you touch him in a way that he’ll fall apart if you don’t.”

Your mouth opened and closed, but you had nothing to say.

She shrugged, nonchalant “For what it’s worth… I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look more like himself than when he’s around you.”

And honestly? You felt that too. That night stayed with you, it etched inside you. Not because of the nightmare, or because he reached for you. But because when the worst parts of him showed up, when the ghosts came creeping in, he let you be there. He let you stay. And maybe he wasn’t ready to say the words yet. But he didn’t have to.

Because he reached for you in the dark, and you didn’t let go of him.

He’s up not long after you, but he misses the company. He misses your warmth, and he holds his breath for a second before closing his eyes for a moment, trying to memorize your touch. You’re sitting with Dustin and Mike outside, you’re sharing the huge wooden swing as they talk about nerd stuff. He likes to see the way you try to understand whatever they say, the way you always crack up when Dustin gets too loud or too excited about something.

He sits beside you and stirs you when his arm brushes against yours. You immediately glance at him with a soft smile and it melts him completely.

“Hey” You murmur.

He offers you a small, tired smile “Hey.”

There’s something different about him in the daylight. He’s always been handsome, sure, but like this? His hair is tousled, eyelids heavy, mouth tugging at the corners in a way that doesn’t feel performative? Like this, he’s soft, and it feels domestic. And it almost makes you dizzy.

“You okay?” You ask, brushing your thumb along his knuckles, casually, but intentional.

Steve nods slowly, then sighs.

“Didn’t think I’d fall apart in front of everyone. Guess that’s a new record” He says quietly, almost as if he’s too ashamed of his friends hearing him.

They're deep in the conversation, but you get up from the swing and walk with him to the other one a few feet away.

You shake your head “You didn’t fall apart.”

His eyes flick toward you, and there’s bitterness in his voice “Felt like it.”

“You were sleeping, having a nightmare. That’s not a weakness, Steve...”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifts onto his side so he can look at you fully. His hand slips and rests on your wrist, thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point.

“I just–” He stops and his lips tightens “When I woke up and you were there... It grounded me. Like I didn’t have to explain anything. You just... knew.”

You swallow. Something fragile catches in your chest.

“That’s kind of the point. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I get it, I get you.”

His thumb keeps tracing your wrist in slow, distracted circles. His mind does that funny thing again. The action of just looking at you short-circuits his brain.

“I used to dream about my dad throwing punches. Not even at me, just at walls. At air. But the sound...”

He clenches his jaw as he cuts himself off. He doesn’t like the feeling of seeing his father punching anything, or someone. Because one of these days, if he talks back, he knows it’s going to be him.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers again.

“I’m sorry” You whisper.

He shakes his head and huffs a laugh “It’s not your fault.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t hate that it happened.”

Steve stares at your hands, at his fingers brushing your delicate skin, in a way that he’s memorizing the way your fingers fit between his.

“I don’t talk about this stuff... Not with Robin, not even with Nancy, back then.”

You nod “I know.”

“But with you... With you, it’s different. Feels different” He exhales slowly, he feels something building up in his chest and he feels it burning.

You wait, you don’t fill the silence. You let him find the words.

“I’ve never had someone see me like this and stay. You never run, you never flinch, you never retreat. You just… stay.”

You can feel his pulse in your palm. It’s fast and uneven, and you feel your own pulse reciprocating the feeling.

“Of course I stay, Stevie.”

You bring your hand up to his face, your thumb stroking his skin as he leans into the touch, as he always does. He lifts your other hand to his chest, pressing it over his heart.

“You make me feel safe” He says it so softly that it’s barely audible.

You’re not sure what to say to that, not right away. Because in all the time you’ve known Steve Harrington, he’s always been the protector, the shield. The one who throws himself in front of danger first and worries about his own bruises later. But this? Letting you hold the softest, most breakable parts of him? This is something else entirely, this is him showing you his most vulnerable side without feeling embarrassed for doing it.

You lean forward, resting your forehead lightly against his.

“You’re safe with me. Always.”

He closes his eyes, and breathes you in. He takes in your words, and hopes to God you stay safe as well. And even though he doesn’t say it out loud, you know what he means when he squeezes your hand a little tighter. You know what lives in the spaces between the words.

He’s trying to say: Thank you. He’s trying to say: You mean more to me than I know how to admit. He’s trying to say: I think I’m falling for you. His heart skips a beat when you call him Stevie, his stomach ties to a knot and his knees wobble. It’s not much different when it’s him calling you Angel, because that’s how he sees you. You’re not only like an anchor to him, grounding him, you’re also an angel who protects him and makes him feel safer.

And you’re already there.

Steve has always been overprotective, especially when it came to you. He likes to say he’s your lucky charm while you’re his angel. Eddie often grimaces when he hears the way Steve talks about you to him. As the closest thing to a brother for each other, both Steve and Eddie are very cautious with one another after everything that happened in the Upside Down. You’re their sweet little treasure. Since you weren’t with them during those events, they want to make sure you stay safe.

You’re at The Hideout with Robin, watching as Steve and Eddie perform together for the third time. Although Eddie has his own band, he enjoys doing gigs with his best friend every once in a while. You’re sitting in a booth with Robin, sipping your drinks and whispering to each other during their break. Suddenly, someone approaches and leans against your table.

The man isn’t old; he looks to be in his 40s. His hand rests on the table, fingers tapping the surface, while his other hand holds a glass of whiskey. He attempts to make contact, trying to grab your attention. When he lifts his hand to hold yours, you instinctively pull it back. Robin immediately turns her head to glare at him, her elbows resting on the table.

“I’m sorry, but we’re not interested” She says confidently, which is the opposite of how you're feeling.

He grins, takes a drink, and clicks his tongue “I was just about to talk to the other lady.”

Robin scoffs and wraps an arm around your shoulders “She’s not interested.”

“You heard my friend, she’s not interested.” His voice cuts in deep and sharp. You didn’t even have to guess to know who it was.

You and Robin look up and meet Steve holding his waist. God, it’s almost as if you knew what was about to happen. You couldn’t handle another bar fight. You didn’t want to clean his injuries and patch him up again. You have been doing your best to keep him calm.

“Oh. You must be the boyfriend” He drags the word, measuring him from head to toe.

“I’m gonna give you a second to walk away,” Steve said, his voice flat but steady “That’s me being nice.”

The man laughed like it was a challenge “Relax, man. We were just talking.”

“She didn’t want to talk. That should’ve been enough” He says, his tone stern.

For a second, you saw that flicker behind his eyes. The growing rage, the urge to throw a punch, that old familiar feeling he tries so hard to hide. Instead, Steve took a breath. Closed his eyes, and rubbed his face slowly. His palm dragged down the stubble along his jaw, trying to ground himself. And then he counted, not out loud. You and Robin looked at each other, your foreheads wrinkled with confusion.

“Is he having a mental breakdown?” She asks and you shake your head.

“Hey, Dingus” She calls out.

The man stared at him with the same confused expression. Steve’s shoulders dropped and his fists unclenched.

“Dude, what are you even doing?” The guy asked, laughing awkwardly now, trying to act as though he wasn’t starting to feel dumb.

And they were calm.

“I’m not gonna hit you,” he said clearly. “But you’re gonna leave. Now.”

There was something about the way he said it, too low and calm, that made the guy finally back off. You all watched and the man turned on his heel and muttered something under his breath, walking off toward the bar. Only then did Steve look at you.

“You okay?” He asked softly. He felt lighter, almost as if it had wore down to concern instead.

You nodded, feeling your heart still thudding “Yeah. I was trying to handle it, thank you.”

“I know” He said, offering a small, sheepish smile “I just… couldn’t not come over.”

You reached for his hand under the table, lacing your fingers through his

“I’m glad you did.”

“What happened there, by the way? Looked like you were having a blackout” Robin asked and he huffed an embarrassed laugh.

“Thought I’d try something new. It helps me think, I guess.”

And you two shared a smile.

“Nice restraint, Harrington. The countdown’s new” She says as she pats his shoulder.

“Figured… if I want to be the kind of guy who doesn’t lose it in bars anymore, I should probably take it seriously.”

That knocked the air out of you in the best way.

You squeezed his hand “That’s… really good. Seriously.”

He smiled, finally really smiling, and it hit you again how gorgeous he was when he wasn’t carrying everything on his shoulders.

“Hey” He said as he leaned down, close enough that only you could hear “You sure you’re okay?”

“Better now” You said honestly, a shy smile painting your face.

His lips twitched “I don’t like it when people bother you.”

“I noticed.”

“I really don’t like it when they assume they can touch you or talk to you like that.”

“Then maybe” You murmured, pulling him just a little closer “You should give them a reason not to.”

Steve blinked, then laughed softly, brushing a knuckle under your jaw. “Careful, Angel. You’re gonna make me forget I’m trying to be good.”

Something inside of you coiled at his tone, at the way his eyes glinted with something mischevious.

“You’re already good, Harrington” You whispered back.

And you saw it. The way he blushed, trying to bite back a grin as Eddie called him from the stage.

“Gotta go” He said, standing reluctantly.

But before he left, he leaned down and kissed the side of your head, right close to your ear “Stay close to Robin, okay?”

You smirked “I can handle myself.”

“I know. But I like handling things for you.”

Then, before seeing your own cheeks blushing, he jogged back toward the stage, grinning, with his guitar hanging low across his hips.

Robin elbowed you and whispered in your ear “So, you didn’t deny when that creep called him your boyfriend.”

And only at that moment did you realize how you barely noticed when it happened.

“And he didn’t deny it either” She giggled.

You groan and take another sip from your drink “Just shut up, Robs.”

“Oh, this is so adorable. You know he likes you.”

You blush so hard, it’s difficult to pretend your cheeks aren’t burning. And when she sees it, she laughs and gives you a side hug, resting her head on your shoulder.

Eddie always catches a glance of his friend playing the entire time focusing on you. He sees the way Steve rarely leaves your eyes and even though you don’t stare right back at him all the time, you can’t help but think how you wished he looked at you. Eddie knows he loves you. He knows he cares so much about you that it makes him a better person.

He grins to himself when he looks at Steve again and witnesses a blush, a small fraction of a shy smile. He’s definitely whipped.

Steve Harrington didn’t just love you. He was learning how to protect you without breaking himself.

And that meant everything to you.

Sometimes when he’s not working, he likes to come over to your house and just... stay. No plans. No parties. You never ask him to come over, not really. He just shows up with a soft knock on the door with a lazy grin, a bag of chips or takeout swinging from his fingers. Like it’s instinct now. As if he knows when you need company. Tonight’s one of those nights.

You’re stretched out on the couch, one arm over your eyes to block the flickering light from the TV, your body finally relaxed. Steve’s on the floor again, leaning back against the edge of the couch, with the acoustic guitar in his lap. His head is thrown back just far enough to rest against your thigh, as if he’s been doing it forever. You can feel the slow rise and fall of his breath, the steady warmth of him.

His fingers move across the strings, strumming at something slow, like an unfinished song. A little dreamy, a little sad. You don’t recognize the tune, but it settles into your chest with something familiar.

“You always write your own stuff?” You ask.

Steve hums, not looking up “Yeah. Mostly.”

You smile behind your arm “Why haven’t you ever played me anything all the way through?”

“I do play for you” He says it just as if that should be obvious.

“Not real songs. Just little bits and pieces.”

He pauses, fingers frozen over the strings.

“Maybe that’s because they’re not done” He shrugs.

“Or maybe it’s because they’re about someone” You tease, lifting your arm to glance down at him.

He’s already looking up at you. His expression shifts, just slightly. Like you almost caught him.

“Maybe.”

You’re caught with surprise in your eyes, and suddenly it makes him chuckle “Wait… seriously?”

Steve shrugs again, smirking now, trying to play it off “Everyone writes about someone.”

You turn on your side, propping your head up on your hand “Yeah, but you get all intense when you write. Like ‘don’t talk to me I’m creating art’ kind of intense.”

“I do not” He grumbles.

You grin “You totally do. You get that furrow between your eyebrows and everything.”

Steve huffs a laugh “Okay, well maybe I do. Are you saying you keep staring at me?”

That makes you pause.

You reach down and gently flick at his ear, just enough to make him swat you away with a half laugh “So who’s she, huh? This mystery girl you’re writing all these secret sad boy songs about?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just leans forward to scribble something into his notebook resting beside him on the rug. You glance at the page, but his hand covers most of it. All you catch is a line: she walks like she doesn’t know I’m still watching.

You feel a flutter in your chest, but try to brush it off.

Steve clears his throat, still not looking at you “She’s… someone who knows me. Even when I’m kind of a mess. Especially then.”

Your smile softens.

“That’s sweet.”

He glances up at you, and the expression on his face makes something in your stomach twist. For a moment, you wonder if you’re the only one who doesn’t understand. Then, his head drops back onto your thigh as if it never left, and he strums a few more chords, this time quieter.

“You want me to finish one?” He asks after a minute. His voice is low, the honeyed tone makes your heart flutter.

You nod, your fingers absentmindedly brushing through his hair “Yeah. But only if you let me name the album.”

He groans dramatically “God, that’s a terrible idea.”

“Why? What’s wrong with ‘Songs for My Favorite Girl Who Steals My Fries and Thinks I Don’t Notice’?”

Steve laughs so hard his hand slips off the fretboard “Please. Never say that to a record label.”

You smile and run your fingers through his hair again. He doesn’t tell you that every song he’s written in the past year is about you. He doesn’t mention that when you lie on the couch like this, the words come to him the fastest. You’re the reason he even started writing again; half of his notebook is filled with little pieces of you, the way you fidget with your rings when you’re anxious, how you hum under your breath while brushing your teeth, and the sound of your voice when you’re sleepy and trying to pretend you’re not.

He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he plays, and it’s quiet and steady. It’s a song you’ve never heard before but that somehow feels like home. And you lie back, close your eyes, and let him write you into another night without even realizing it.

It was one of those pretty lazy golden Indiana spring afternoon where the air smelled like grass and the whole group stretched out on picnic blankets, passing around warm sodas and salty chips. You were all there. Steve, Robin, Dustin, Eddie, Nancy, even Jonathan. For once, the laughter rolled around easier. It hadn’t felt like that for months. Steve had been smiling, joking, and tossing grapes at Dustin as if everything was fine.

Until he saw his father’s car parked across the street. He was wearing a suit as always, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses hiding raging eyes. He tried to avoid the staring, pretending he wasn’t there. Tried to focus on your attempted tongue twist, forced himself to listen to what Eddie was telling Jonathan about weed. But eventually, he stood and walked off behind the trees with tight shoulders and clenched fists.

You watched him go. Ten minutes later, he came back pale and shaking. He didn’t say anything at first, sitting down heavily at the edge of the blanket and stared at the grass, as though it was the most interesting thing to look at. Robin noticed first, leaning in, nudging his shoulder.

“You good?”

Steve didn’t answer. Then you moved closer, voice soft “Hey, talk to me.”

He opened his mouth. and for a second, you thought he’d brush it off like he always did. But instead, he said, too loud and too sharp “He said I’m pathetic.”

The group fell quiet, there was a few exchanging of glances. His eyes were wide, wet, blinking too fast.

“He said I’m wasting everything. That I’ll never be anything but a failed babysitter with no ambition. Said it was embarrassing that I haven't gone back to school. Embarrassing that I hang around a bunch of teenagers.”

His voice cracked on the word embarrassing. No one moved. Steve looked around, as he suddenly realized what he was doing, breaking apart in front of all of you. He swiped a hand over his face and tried to laugh it off, but the laugh broke into a sob.

“I- I didn’t mean to lose it. Sorry. God, I’m so...”

“Stop” You said quickly, already kneeling beside him “Don’t apologize.”

He looked at you, his eyes full of pain and glossy “He doesn’t get it, none of it. He never wanted to.”

You put both hands on his face, gently grounding him “He doesn’t get you, Steve. But I do, we all do. Look around you, there’s a whole group who’s here to support you.”

He leaned forward before he could stop himself, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as if he were exhausted, as if he needed a place to rest. You held him close, not caring about who might be watching. Behind you, someone began quietly packing up food, giving you both some space.

The others started murmuring soft apologies, walking away and scattering toward the parked cars, sharing knowing glances as if they understood that you needed a moment alone.

When you looked around again, it was just the two of you under the trees.

“I thought I was okay. I thought I had gotten past needing anything from him. But every time he talks to me like that, I feel like I’m ten years old again, begging him to look at me.”

You wrapped your arms tighter around him “You don’t need anything from him, Steve. Not anymore.”

He pulled back just enough to see your face “I thought maybe if I was someone good, someone better, he’d see me. Maybe if I kept my life as he wanted and tried hard enough, he’d... I don’t know. Care.”

“You are good. You’re more than good.”

He studied you, his hand came up as if he wasn’t thinking about it, brushing your hair back, fingers trailing against your jaw.

“I thought maybe I saw something in the way you looked at me. Like maybe I wasn’t imagining it. But if I was wrong...”

“You weren’t” You didn’t let him finish. He didn’t get to feel like a failure because he thought he was misreading it.

His brows knit “I wasn’t?”

You shook your head slowly, heart pounding. Your hands were shaking, but you managed to smile.

“You weren’t wrong. I feel the same. I’ve felt it for a while.”

He blinked, in a way that he didn’t quite believe you “You do?”

“I do.”

You leaned your forehead to his, with eyes closed “And I hate that he made you feel as if you’re hard to love. Because you’re not. You’re not, Stevie.”

He let out a shaky breath, with half a laugh and half a cry, and cupped your face as if you were something he couldn’t actually believe was real.

“I thought maybe I crossed a line” He whispered.

“You didn’t. If anything… I was hoping you’d cross it.”

He leans in slowly, like he’s giving you time to stop him, but you don’t want to. You want this. You want him. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is warm and careful. The kind that says I’ve thought about this. A lot. It doesn’t rush.

His hand curls gently around the back of your neck, fingers tangling through your hair, pulling you closer as if he’s trying to memorize how perfectly you fit against him. Your hands grip the sides of his jacket, holding on as if you never want to let go. You sigh into him, and that’s when he deepens the kiss, just a little.

It’s soft, yet it burns, slow and sweet. When you finally pull apart, with your foreheads resting against each other, he’s breathing as if he just ran a mile. His eyes are still closed, but he’s smiling. A real smile this time, an honest one at that.

“Wow” He whispers.

You smile back “Yeah.”

He nudges his nose gently against yours “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Me too. You have no idea.”

His fingers graze down your arm and find your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, squeezing once.

“I think I do now.”

And for the first time all afternoon, maybe after a long time, he doesn’t look lost. He looks found.

You thought everyone already knew about you and Steve, especially after that afternoon at the picnic. At least Robin and Nancy were aware of it. They kept asking you to share details about that day and how everything happened. They wanted to know when you first noticed your feelings and what it was like. They seemed genuinely excited to see that Steve had finally found someone who liked him for who he is, flaws and all. Nancy, in particular, looked more than happy to know it was you, one of her best friends.

You and Steve are sitting on the hood of his car just outside the arcade. It’s not a date-date, but it kind of is. His thigh is pressed against yours, your coffee is in his hand because he always finishes it when you forget it in the cupholder, and he has his pinky loosely hooked around yours in a way that says “this is new and I like it here”. His heart leaps every time you look at him and smile. His throat tightens when you laugh loudly and throw your head back. His knees buckle when you pull his lip between your teeth during a kiss.

You’re in the middle of teasing him about losing Galaga to Dustin again when you hear it. A loud, very theatrical gasp. You both turn, already knowing who it comes from. Eddie Munson is standing frozen on the sidewalk, a bag of Funyuns in one hand and the other dramatically clutching his chest.

“What in the Upside Down hell is this?” He shouts, pointing between you two like he's witnessing a crime scene “Am I hallucinating? Did I die? Is this my personal version of hell?”

You burst out laughing, while Steve just gives him a look.

“Oh my God,” Eddie breathes, walking toward you in slow motion like he's approaching a wild animal “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like. Tell me this is just... You tripped, and she's holding you up, and the eye contact is accidental and deeply misleading.”

You grin, not moving from your seat in the car “What do you think it looks like?”

Eddie stares at you, then at Steve. Then at your hands, then back at you.

Steve raises an eyebrow “You good there, Munson?”

“Good? No, Harrington, I’m not good. You, you are supposed to be emotionally stunted and painfully repressed and terrible at love!”

“Wow” Steve mutters, offended but also amused.

“And you” Eddie says, spinning to face you “Are supposed to have standards.”

“Hey!” Steve protests.

You’re laughing so hard now that you nearly spill your coffee “Eddie, breathe. It’s not that deep.”

He holds up a hand “Okay. Okay, no. I just, how long has this been going on?”

You glance at Steve. He shrugs, sheepishly “Kind of… recent?”

“But not today recent” Eddie says, narrowing his eyes “You’ve got the look.”

“What look?” You and Steve ask at the same time.

“The look” Eddie says dramatically, his bag of snacks long forgotten “The soft ‘I’d die for you’ eyes. He’s practically glowing, and you’re sitting in his personal space like he doesn’t hate it. Don’t try to fool me, I’ve seen rom-coms.”

You roll your eyes “It’s… kind of new, okay?”

Eddie crosses his arms “Does Robin know?”

“Yes” You both say in unison.

“Dustin?”

Steve winces “I don’t think so.”

Eddie gasps again “You mean I found out before Henderson? Oh, this is the greatest day of my life.”

Steve glares “Please don’t make this a thing.”

Eddie smirks, but there’s something softer in his eyes now “Hey. I’m just surprised, not mad. A little horrified, sure, but mostly…”

He pauses, then gestures vaguely between you “It makes weird sense. In a ‘sun and storm cloud’ kind of way.”

You nudge Steve “See? He gets it.”

Steve just grumbles under his breath, clearly flustered. Eddie softens a little more, shrugging his leather jacket higher “Look, I give you crap because I’m me, but seriously… if you make each other happy, then I’m happy for you.”

You smile “Thanks, Eddie.”

He holds up a finger. “However. I will be running an extensive interrogation at your house next week. And if you break her heart, Harrington, I will write a very pointed rock ballad about it.”

Steve groans “Of course you will.”

Eddie grins like the devil “Working title: ‘Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow’ You’ll be immortalized.”

You toss your empty coffee cup into the nearby trash can and hop off the hood “Come on, lover boy” You tease Steve “Let’s go before he gets out his guitar.”

Steve stands too, sliding an arm casually around your waist now that the secret’s out. Eddie just stares at you both with a baffled smile.

“You’re kidding me” He mutters again, but this time it almost sounds as though he means finally.

The sun warms your skin as you step onto the grass of Lover’s Lake, the breeze with fresh hair hits you with the scent of wildflowers. Steve is already there, waiting by the edge of the deck, his eyes lighting up the second he sees you. He grins, hair tousled perfectly as if he just rolled out of bed, but in a way that somehow suits him. There isn’t a day where his hair is actually awful and you hate it. Mostly because you always spend too much time on your hair while he barely brushes his.

“Hey” he says, reaching out to pull you into a hug that’s tighter than usual. His chest is warm against you, and his arms linger longer than it should. You smile, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Miss me?” You ask, pulling him by the collar of his shirt and he giggles.

“Yeah. A lot” He admits, his lips ghosting over yours.

You wrap your arms around his waist and press him closer to you “Good, because I definitely missed you too.”

You walk together slowly along the shoreline, his hand finding yours. His fingers curl tightly around yours, as if he's afraid you might disappear. It feels a bit clingy, but it's also sweet, and you like it. You appreciate that he wants to hold on to you. Suddenly, he stops and gently pulls you toward a blanket he laid out earlier. The sun casts playful dots of shadows above you, dancing on your faces.

Steve’s hand never leaves yours as he pulls you close, his thumb is always tracing small circles on your skin. He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes searches yours as though he’s memorizing every detail. After your picnic, he leads you toward the edge of the water and you can feel the cool, soft mud beneath your bare feet. The lake sparkles in the afternoon sun, but there’s there’s a sharpness in the spring air that makes you hesitate for a moment.

“You cold?” He asks with a playful teasing grin playing on his lips.

“A little” You admit, wringing your hands together.

He just laughs and grabs your hand, gently pulling you forward “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

The water laps at your ankles, cold enough to make you gasp but not enough to stop you. Steve steps closer, pressing his chest against your back, his arms wrapping around you like a warm shield. You feel the goosebumps on your skin, mostly because of the water temperature. The feeling of having his bare chest brushing against your back is overwhelming.

“See?” He whispers, his breath tickling your ear “Not so bad.”

You take a tentative step forward, then another, until the water reaches your knees. Steve squeezes your waist as he secures you. The cold shocks your skin, but it's bearable when he's holding you. He splashes you lightly all of a sudden, and it takes you by surprise. You squeal, wiping your eyes and grinning.

“Oh, it’s on” You say, gathering water in your hands and splashing it back at him.

He laughs, stepping back to dodge the splash but tripping slightly and pulling you down with him into the shallow water. You both come up laughing, dripping wet and breathless. Steve’s hands are everywhere– on your shoulders, your waist, your back. He's clinging like he never wants to let go. You cup his face, wiping a stray of water droplet from his cheek, and he leans into your touch in a way that it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You smile, brushing your fingers through his wet hair “Yeah. You were right.”

He pulls you close again, and this time there’s no teasing, no laughter, just quiet warmth and hope hanging between your lips. The water still laps gently around your legs, but all the chill has faded away, replaced by the heat radiating between you and Steve. His hands slide up slowly, cradling your face with surprising tenderness. His thumb brushes your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw. You lean into the touch, your lips parting just a fraction, like an invitation.

Steve leans in too, his breath is warm against your skin. The space between you closes until it disappears entirely, and then your lips meet. The kiss is gentle at first, you’re both testing the water, but then it deepens. His mouth moves with careful hunger, he’s memorizing the shape of you, savoring the softness and your taste.

You close your eyes, letting yourself fall into it. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until there’s nowhere left to go but into him. Your tongue laps against his and you hear a soft groan in the back of his throat. The cool water presses against your legs, but all you can feel is the warmth spreading through your chest. When you finally pull back, breathless and smiling, Steve rests his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, definitely the best part of the day.”

You laugh softly, fingers tangling in his wet hair “Agreed.”

The sun has dipped lower now, casting golden lights over the lake’s surface. You sit side by side on the blanket Steve spread out earlier, your legs stretched toward the water, fingers still intertwined.

He is quiet for a long moment, watching the gentle, slow sunset. Then he finally speaks, without looking at you first, his voice carrying roughness as the same time it's steady.

“You know… I don’t say this much” He starts, swallowing hard, feeling like he’s holding something heavy in his chest “But… you mean a hell of a lot to me.”

You squeeze his hand gently, encouraging him. You feel your heart thundering in your chest. He takes a shaky breath, eyes finally meeting yours, they're vulnerable and honest.

“I still get these… these moments where I feel like my heart’s breaking all over again because of my parents. It’s as if there's this weight I carry, even when I’m supposed to be past it.”

A flash of pain crosses his face, and you see the way his eyes glisten, as though he’s barely holding back tears.

“But… when I’m with you? I don’t feel so alone. You make all the hurt… less scary.”

You shift closer, brushing his cheek “Steve…”

He smiles “You’re the best thing I never knew I needed.”

You lean in and rest your forehead against his “You’re the best thing I ever wanted.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and for the first time in a long while, you see something peaceful settle over him.

@kellyxo1 @sammybrrr @zafetycar @andvys @hellfire--cult @skeltnwrites @ghost-proofbaby @eddiesxangel

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harrington-stevie · 3 months ago

Text

trust you | anakin skywalker: episode XIII

Summary: They're fighting Grievous, again. Anakin and Obi-Wan team up for a trade. Or at least that's what they told the general.

Warnings: Death, mentions of blood

Word count: 4k

⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

NO POV:

Anakin looked over to his side and glanced at Obi-Wan, both sitting beside each other in the cockpit, while his former Master fidget over the navigation computer. Even though he looked calm, the younger Jedi couldn’t help but notice how harsh his features looked. Anakin’s lips were formed on a thin line, there was a dreadful feeling of not knowing if the mission was going to work or not.

Cal was in the back, examining his weapons, making sure they were all ready, his ginger hair was slightly disheveled. All while (Y/N) was sitting on a crate, carefully watching her friend. They haven’t really talked to each other ever since the last heated conversation they had, and going on a mission together wasn’t making it any easier for her.

Now, Obi-Wan Kenobi was not the kind of man who fidgeted. Always the balanced, disciplined and steady Jedi, this time he couldn’t stop poking switches, checking coordinates, adjusting every control button. From his side, he could sense his former apprentice almost burning holes through his skull, narrowing his eyes as he tilted his head.

“You know, Obi-Wan, usually I’m not the one obsessed making sure everything runs smoothly, but you sure are overexaggerating here.”

“I simply want to ensure that we don’t drop out of hyperspace directly on top of Grievous’ fleet. I still believe in being cautious.”

Anakin rolled his eyes and smirked at the same time “And the way you’re poking at that panel isn’t at all a sign that you’re a little on edge?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” He smiled as soon as he turned to look at the boy with a calm expression.

“You keep telling yourself that” He pushed.

“Arrival is only in a few minutes. Once we land, we move quickly and quietly through the lower sinkhole tunnels. We cannot alert Grievous before we’re ready.”

From the back, Cal nodded and fixed his lightsaber on the strap of his belt, finally throwing a glance at his friend. He could sense her nervousness and the way she felt uneasy was kind of bothering him “You good?”

She rolled her shoulder and took a deep inhale, looking up at him “Not really. But I volunteered, so I’m going to help as much as I can.”

They exchanged a look, and he could feel his heart almost skyrocketing at the way she kept her gaze at him. He cursed himself and Anakin, he didn’t want to admit he had feelings for her. Cal just couldn’t accept he was in love with his best friend, knowing his jealousy is the cause of their distancing.

“You have our back, we’ll be looking out for you.”

As soon as the ship entered the atmosphere, they felt the rattling of it, landing next to the tunnel they were about to walk in.

“Hey, you know” Poe speaks up from his comm “I’ve been thinking. If I survive this mission, I might just retire and open up a nice little shop. Maybe a diner. I’ll call it ‘Poe’s Place’”

Finn snorts dryly, and they could hear a small commotion through their comlink “Is that really the time for jokes, Poe?”

He doesn’t care that no one likes when he makes jokes, it’s his defense mechanism when he’s nervous. He could almost hear Anakin letting a small imperceptible chuckle, not really sure it was real.

“Did I just hear Skywalker chuckle at my joke?”

“If I make it through this mission, I think I’ll need more than just a good snack. You better not give up on the idea, we need fuel to keep ourselves standing” Anakin spoke through his comm, adjusting the gilt of his lightsaber, looking over at Obi-Wan “Let’s do this.”

Cassian and Jyn were the first ones to leave their starfighter. The wind howled through the eerie atmosphere of Utapau. The team was hiding in the shadows, waiting for their call after debriefing the plan, rehearsing each detail. Standing at the forefront, Anakin scanned the cavern intensely gazing at it, his ragged breath almost echoed through the place. His hands were unsteady and he focused on every small sound surrounding the area. Obi-Wan stood behind him, one hand up on his shoulder, as both of them stayed alert for any incoming, channeling their senses.

Cal kept (Y/N) in front of him, his blaster in one hand as he used the other one to hold the datapad as the screen displayed the signal of the approaching ships. It was him.

“They’re coming in”

At the far side, Cassian also scanned the place, his eyes didn’t miss a single detail, and his usual quiet intensity was matched by his readiness. He had never worked with the team before, but the man earned the respect of everyone after his fight with Jyn to destroy the Death Star. The woman next to him checked her blaster, sharing a look with him before staying on command.

Now that they’re finally in Utapau, Poe was on his seat, hovering his hand over the yoke of the control panel, ready to fight them. They were gliding over the air from a far distance, waiting for the call to explode the cargo for the fake trade.

Anakin still kept his eyes wandering at the dark horizon, right where Grievous’ fleet was expected to come from. He could feel the weight of the mission pressing down on him, there was this ingrowing pound in his skull, a pressure that was making his eyes strain. He heard (Y/N) shift slightly, her hand resting on her blaster. He knows she’s calm, but this time there was something she was carrying and it made him feel uneasy.

She raised an eyebrow, placing her soft hand over his shoulder “You alright?”

He looked over his shoulder down at her, his brows furrowing with something unreadable “Just… focusing. Trying not to overthink”

“You know what they say, overthinking gets people killed” She watched as he chuckled lightly. The rumble his chest made could be heard from how silent the place was.

Everything seemed very odd to him. Not just the interaction, but the deep feeling that something might go wrong in this mission, that something might happen and he won’t be able to prevent it. He couldn’t feel his fingertips, and the light buzz in his ears was the signal that they had finally arrived. Obi-Wan stood beside him, exchanging a look with him, both knowing that it was the moment.

“Signal's coming in” Poe’s voice emerged through the comms. “Grievous’ ship is just on the horizon.”

“Steady,” Obi-Wan replied, his tone calm.

Anakin’s fingers brushed against the hilt of his lightsaber, but he held back from igniting it. It wasn’t time. Not yet. The moment had to be perfect. The fake trade vessel drew closer, and the unmistakable sound of droid fighters began to echo through the cavern. Grievous’ forces were approaching, just as expected. Anakin’s grip tightened on his saber hilt, but he stayed still, watching. Cassian walked (Y/N) out along with Jyn, setting around the perimeter, while Poe and Finn watched the area from up high.

The figure of the cyborg igniting his red lightsabers could be seen from afar, and Anakin could feel the tension the more Grievous stepped closer to him and Obi-Wan.

“You know, General" Anakin took a step forward "this deal might actually benefit you for once. A clean trade, no tricks. We both get what we want."

“Because you don’t have many options. The war isn’t turning in your favor, General. You need resources, and we’re offering them” Obi-Wan crossed his arm, bringing all the attention to himself

The cyborg let out a wheezing laugh “Skywalker, do you take me for a fool? The Jedi have never dealt in good faith. What makes you think I would trust you now?”

“Kenobi” Grievous sneered “I must admit, I never expected to see you crawl out of whatever hole you’ve been hiding in. After all, it’s easier to survive when you run, isn’t it?”

“And yet here I stand, while Dooku, Ventress, and so many others have fallen. You must find that frustrating, General” He pressed.

Grievous let out a low growl “You will not escape this time, Kenobi. I will enjoy watching your bones break”

“You do talk a lot for someone who’s lost to me every time we’ve met.”

The cyborg felt his limbs tensing, towering himself over both Jedi “And what... exactly... do you expect in return?”

“Just a little information. Strategic movements. Locations. Nothing you can’t spare. After all, you’re winning... aren’t you?” Anakin smirked as he mocked him “You can play the prideful warrior all you want, but you and I both know how this ends if you don’t take the deal. We both walk away with something valuable, or you risk losing it all.”

While the Jedi tried to keep Grievous occupied, (Y/N) moved carefully through the corridors, tracing the walls as Cassian walked slowly behind her. She started to think the mission was going smoothly, too smooth for her liking. Looking over the modified data slicer in her hands, the screen displayed the downloading information from the control panels.

“If this thing has a self-destruct sequence, I swear, I will lose my mind” She muttered under her breath.

While the intel downloaded the data, (Y/N) popped the panel open and stared at the mess of wires inside it. She fidget with the circuits, figuring out a way to sabotage the navigation system, disabling the emergency stabilization, rerouting the thruster controls and programming the ship to make it look like it has enough fuel. She unplugged the device from the panel and rushed back the way she came, feeling her heart pound against her chest, listening to the chaos that erupted outside the ship. Cassian and Jyn were behind her, taking cover as they blasted through the corridors, firing at the battle droids.

“You just had to mess with the controls, didn’t you?” Jyn glared at her, ducking right as a bolt hit the metal wall next to her head.

(Y/N) shouted back, managing to fire her blaster at another droid “Hey, you’re welcome! That ship isn’t going anywhere now! You two wanted a way to slow Grievous down, and I delivered.”

“Yeah, but now they know someone’s been messing with their systems” Cassian covered for her, peeking around the corner.

She retorted, replacing the power cell of her blaster “That was kind of inevitable. Now, can we focus on the whole getting out of here alive thing?”

Cassian tapped his comm to reach out to the others "Poe, Finn, if you have an exit strategy, now would be a great time to share. We’re getting pinned down here”

Finn was the first to speak up “We see you on the scanners. Hang tight, we’re cutting through the east corridor now. Can you hold out for another minute?”

The captain exchanged a look with Jyn “No promises, but we’ll try”

(Y/N) gritted her teeth, cursing her own idea of helping them out. They were getting close, but the battle was getting worse.

The team was moving quickly, blasting at their targets with precision. Anakin was a blur of motion, streaking his lightsaber, deflecting the blaster bolts as he moved with intensity. He couldn’t stop worrying about (Y/N), but he had to try focusing. Obi-Wan was effective just like him, striking the battle droids deliberately.

“Keep pushing forward!” Obi-Wan called the others out.

Poe and Finn were firing shots at the incoming battle droids from above “This is going well” He ironized through the chaos “I’ve got a few droids left on my six. Need some help!”

“I’ve got you covered” Cal called out over his comm, slashing through a few droids that lined up on the ground. His green lightsaber glowed bright as he moved as he took down the enemies without effort.

Alongside Cassian, (Y/N) was trying to fire her blaster without missing her shots like she did every time. She didn’t need to think, her darted between enemies, each movement calculated to keep her from being taken by surprise. The man beside her weaved between formations for cover “We need to keep pushing, or we’ll never get to Grievous in time. I’ll lead the way.”

Anakin could feel the pressure building even though they were still pushing forward. Grievous’ footsteps could be heard through the cavern, and it was impossible to ignore his presence as his lightsaber hummed while he slashed every junk the Jedi threw at him.

“I’ll take care of Grievous” Anakin’s voice was tight with determination, but Obi-Wan shook his head.

“Not without me!”

“We’re not leaving anyone behind. Let’s go” Cal was already moving in the same direction.

Anakin only had time to look back over his shoulder, flicking his eyes over the ginger boy. There had been tension between them ever since their last confrontation. Cal knew he had been a pain in the ass lately, and he knew the curly haired man was right about his feelings. Cal watched as he stepped beside him, blocking an incoming shot before taking down a droid.

“You still mad at me, or are we calling a truce?” He asked, eyes focused on the fight.

He didn’t answer immediately as he struck a commando droid, shoving it back with his force “I still think you’re unhinged. And you take too many risks.”

“And I still think you like her.”

Cal scoffed but didn’t deny it. Instead, he gave a small nod “But you’re good at what you do. And right now, I could use the backup.”

“Glad to hear it. Let’s finish this” He spun his saber and launched himself forward.

As soon as they stepped forward, Anakin’s lightsaber was already blazing “We’re not too late, Grievous. We’re just getting started”

“You think you can defeat me so easily?” He snarled, whirring his limbs as he struck with speed. Grievous spun, flashing his four lightsabers “I’ve fought Jedi before. You’re nothing more than flies in my web”

Obi-Wan and Cal helped Anakin with their assault, moving in sync as they tried to overwhelm him with speed. But his metallic body moved like a predator. Cal pressed forward, clashing against one of Grievous’s blades. Every strike was met with a deafening clang, the force of the hits sending shockwaves through their bodies. Suddenly, the cyborg stepped back and forced his lightsabers together, making Anakin stumble back. He reached out with his powerful mechanical arms and grabbed Anakin by the neck, lifting him off the ground with ease. Anakin’s feet kicked in the air as Grievous’s grip tightened.

“Let him go!” Obi-Wan shouted, stepping towards his opponent.

“You’re too late” He pressed, red eyes glowing at Anakin “You should have stayed away, Jedi. You’ve lost this time.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes and twisted his body in anger, using his force to push Grievous back, sending him flying back to the stone walls. He recovered quickly, standing up again “Impressive, Skywalker. But it won’t save you.”

The three jedi continued to press the attack, but it only made them become defensive. Cal knew they couldn’t keep up this level of intensity forever, but he wasn’t about to let Grievous escape. All the while, Poe and Finn struggled to cover the others, shooting down the droid who were trying to regroup. Cassian, Jyn, and (Y/N) were holding their ground too, fighting off any reinforcements that came their way. Cassian, (Y/N), and Jyn sprinted down the narrow corridors of the ship, the alarm blaring behind them.

They rushed out onto the landing platform, running towards the nearest exit, while the battlefield outside still raged.

“We’re almost there!” Jyn shouted, glancing back to make sure (Y/N) was keeping up.

(Y/N) pushed forward. Her chest was heaving “I told you, messing with the controls was a good idea.”

Cassian looked over her with a smirk in his lips, about to respond when a metallic dropped in front of her after landing. Grievous stood stall against them, his yellow eyes locked at theirs.

Cassian and Jyn immediately raised their blasters, but Grievous was faster. He sweeped his arms, knocking both of them to the side. The captain grunted and gritted his teeth over the pain as Jyn rolled to the ground. (Y/N) couldn’t even react before he closed his fist around her arm, yanking her off the ground, making her kick and struggle.

“Let her go!” Cassian snarled, pushing himself up, his blaster raised again.

Grievous only laughed, his mechanical lungs wheezing. "Foolish Rebel. You are of no concern to me. But she… She is the one I should be worried about this time”

Cassian felt his muscles tensing, hesitation rushing over him as his mind raced for a solution. But Grievous walked back to his ship, disappearing with (Y/N) in his grip. Cassian clenched his fists, rage and frustration burning in his chest as he watched the cyborg disappear with their friend.

As soon as the cyborg reached the cockpit, he caught up on her sabotage too quickly.

“You thought you could sabotage my ship and simply walk away? You are gravely mistaken” He hissed and tightened his metallic hands.

She tried to look unfazed, straightening up. But her voice wavered at her response “It wasn’t personal. I just wanted to make sure you'd have a sort of delay”

“Delay? You’ve caused me far more than that. Now, you will pay the price.”

At that moment, Anakin’s focus snapped sharply at the ship, his mind becoming hazy as he could feel the danger, stilling as he reached out through the force and realized it was (Y/N). The name echoed through his mind like a scream, and with it came an overwhelming sense of dread. His breath hitched his throat, the sharp feeling of her fear could cut through the hair and he knew. He knew she was exposed.

He felt his heart racing as he scanned the horizon, his body immediately jolting forwards rushing to her. Pushing through the chaos, he blew the battle droids with his force, taking each step harshly on the ground. He could hear the echo of Grievous' menacing laughter in his mind as he fought, the sound urging him to find (Y/N).

“You will make an excellent prize, young one. And your fate will be a reminder to anyone else who dares cross me” He threatened.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes, feeling trapped inside this ship like it was a cage. He was ready to activate his lightsaber when he raised his hand, but a force energy hit him from the side, making him jolt backwards. Anakin appeared and ignited his saber, focused on Grievous and her.

“Let her go, Grievous”

“Ah, Skywalker. Always late to the party. You will find this will be your last mistake” His eyes glared at the Jedi, and they clashed their lightsabers. Anakin would flicker his eyes over (Y/N), who was still struggling in the cyborg’s grip.

“Don’t even think about it. You’ll have to kill me before you can save her, Jedi” He spat.

Time started to slip away and (Y/N) felt her life at stake with each passing second. The battle between Grievous and Anakin intensified. The standoff was tense, and in that moment, time seemed to slow. Anakin’s mind raced, there had to be a way to save (Y/N). They couldn’t let her be taken. Just as Grievous prepared to retreat, dragging (Y/N) with him, a voice cut through the tension.

“Let her go, Grievous.”

It was Cassian.

Without hesitation, he rushed into action. He charged forward, weaving through the fight with a speed that was almost unexpected for someone of his usual tactical demeanor. He reached for his blaster but quickly realized that it wasn’t enough. He needed to get closer.

From behind him, Jyn shouted but it was too late. He was already halfway to get to Grievous. The cyborg turned just in time to see the man coming, but he was too quick. In a movement, Cassian reached him and pulled forward, throwing a grenade at him. In that split second of distraction, Cassian grabbed (Y/N), yanking her away from Grievous' grasp. But he wasn’t going to let her go that easily, so he swung one of his lightsabers toward Cassian, slashing through his side with rage.

Cassian’s breath hitched, but he didn’t stop. He shoved (Y/N) behind him, his hand gripping the blaster that was now holstered on his side, aiming at Grievous.

“You won’t get away with this” His voice was straining, and he stood his ground, even though he was injured.

Grievous snickered “Foolish”

Anakin’s heart skipped a beat as he watched the scene unfold. Cassian, wounded, was standing between Grievous and (Y/N). But before any of them could react, Grievous struck again. With a swift motion, he struck Cassian with one of his lightsabers, the red blade piercing through the side of his body. He let out a grunt of pain, but his expression remained focused. His hand dropped the grenade he was holding, and it rolled a few inches towards Grievous’ feet. A moment later, a second explosion blew in the cavern, sending Grievous stumbling backward. The blast knocked the cyborg off his balance for just a moment.

The captain dropped to his knees, blood staining his shirt immediately. His breath became shallow, but he never left his gaze at Grievous.

“Cassian, no–” (Y/N) tried to reach for him, her hands trembling and her eyes were wide in shock.

“You’re not… alone” Cassian muttered, his voice barely audible “I’m… fine…”

She didn’t have time to escape, and Anakin was too absorbed in his mind to recover and run out of there. Grievous watched Cassian’s lifeless body, glancing at both of them.

“No one takes one of ours!” Anakin sneered, his lightsaber blazing again as he felt Obi-Wan and Cal rushing right behind him “You’ll pay for this, Grievous”

“Pay? You think you can stop me, Jedi? You’re too weak, too slow” He scoffed.

He launched himself at Anakin, spinning his blades towards the Jedi. Obi-Wan and Cal attacked from the sides, their sabers flashing as they tried to corner the cyborg general. He fought precisely, his movements guided by rage. Anakin felt a surge of rage again, his vision started to become blurry as he knew what was about to happen again. Obi-Wan took a step forward, aiming a strike at Grievous, but he was still too fast. He spun around, knocking Obi-Wan’s saber out of the way with one of his own, and then used his mechanical legs to push Cal back.

“You think you’ve beaten me?” He snarled.

The general was moving fast, pulling her away from the Jedi and towards the closest exit. Obi-Wan rushed towards them, but Grievous was already at the threshold, glancing back at the Jedi as he jumped onto a waiting vehicle. He held (Y/N) tightly against him as he activated the engine.

Anakin stood frozen for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to process what had just happened. They didn’t win, that’s for sure, and he could feel the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth. She got taken. (Y/N) was gone. Obi-Wan stood beside him, stunned just like him.

“We’ll get her back. We always do”

His words just hung in the air. They failed, again. He failed, again.

“Anakin..." he began softly, but Anakin was already walking away, his mind clouded with the aftermath of the fight.

“Don’t” He warned his former master, his voice filled with bitterness and regretfulness “I don’t want to hear it, Obi-Wan. I told you. I told you this would happen.”

He stopped in his tracks, carrying a pained expression over his face. There was nothing else to say. Anakin knew he couldn’t trust him that much anymore, but he had to try, he had to give Kenobi the benefit of the doubt.

“This is all your fault” His chest was tight, and there was a weight of everything pressing down on him. .

He walked back to the ship, his feet stomping against the floor as he balled his fists tightly. There was a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow down. His eyes were still hazy with rage, and the moment Poe and Finn stepped into the scattering battlefield, they saw it. They have never seen the yellow eyes before.

As soon as they tried to approach Anakin, he pushed them back with the force, both of them lurching backwards to the floor.

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