#fearedr0t

❛   𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓  𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒉  𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕  𝒊𝒔  𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒕.   ❜         there's  a  smirk  clear  as  day  in  his  tone  ,  even  if  @fearedr0t  can't  see  his  face.         steve's  currently  on  pushup  number  329  ,  all  with  bucky  sitting  on  his  back.         james  has  been  reading  aloud  from  the  newest  book  in  his  collection.          it's  reminiscent  of  a  time  long  past  ,  when  steve  was  sick  &*  bucky  read  to  him  at  his  bedside.        his  accent  sucked  back  then  ,  too.         ❛    you  sounded  more  like  miss  franco  from  105.     you  remember  her  ?       nasally  jewish  lady.     my  ma  did  laundry  for  her.    ❜

@fearedr0t

"you're not alone anymore," the hybrid chose to stay with her. there was something between them—a pull to be close. like they were destiny or soul mates or some other thing that michael hadn't ever believed in before now. "and i was the same," his days in budapest had been spent alone, save for his time at the hospital. it now felt as if all that time, he'd been waiting and searching for her.

@fearedr0t wrote in the files: " you could start by coming closer. " / from jill

Chris  is  still  hesitant  and  rightfully  pissed  about  this.        Leon  is  traversing  a  territory  that  neither  of  them  know  what  will  happen;  most  of  the  others  have  voiced  their  opinions  and  are  almost  desperate  for  her  to  be  removed  from  the  team.          Like  she's  some  kind  of  monster.          Like  she  hasn't  saved  their  lives  countless  numbers  of  times  and  paid  her  dues.            It  doesn't  excuse  what's  happened,  but  he's  sane  enough  to  know  that  it  was  never  her  choice.            It  was  Zemo  pulling  all  the  strings,  corrupting  her  mind  until  there  was  nothing  left  but  the  mind  control.              He  knows  too  much  about  that.          He  knows  too  much  about  what  it's  like  to  be  unmade,  to  not  be  in  control  of  your  own  actions.              The  Las  Plagas  hadn't  been  kind;  Saddler  had  pulled  every  single  string  he  could  in  order  to  make  both  him  and  Ashley  comply.            He  remembers  the  feeling  far  too  well;  his  skin  crawls  at  night  when  he  tries  to  sleep,  a  haunting  voice  constantly  calls  him  a  lamb  inside  of  his  own  head.

He  won't  turn  his  back  on  her,  not  like  the  others  have.          No,  he  knows  all  too  well  what  it  means  to  be  unmade,  and  what  the  isolation  for  it  can  do.          He  won't  let  her  drown  in  that  same  fate.          She  deserves  more  than  that.

Steven would probably blame it all on pure adrenaline — the fact he hadn't noticed the cuts and bruises he'd acquired through their stint in the Upside Down. Hell, how was he supposed ot notice anything other than them finally defeating that wrinkled up bastard? Finally being done with it all, officially, forever. It felt like a weight Steve was too scared to let lift off his shoulders. As if anything could bring it all crashing back. Maybe it was that same adrenaline that allowed Jonathan, of all people, to talk him into finally taking a break after it all. Stop moving, slow down, catalog all his injuries. their talk on the way to defeat Vecna played in his head, over and over. They were. . . okay now. It was an odd thing to realize. Just as odd as hands gently cleaning him up. A wet rag here, a press of bandages there. " This crap really makes you good at first-aid, huh? " Words just to say them to fill the air. It didn't help the sensation building. The weird, eclectic spark every time Jonathan leaned too close to get to a scratch or two. Left Steve to almost hold his breath, wondering if letting it free would somehow give away his thought process.

Jonathan's lashes were longer than you might realize, unless you were as close as they physically were in that moment. His features tired, probably the same as Steve's, but softer somehow. Every glance as the other worked felt like thicker fog settling over their heads. Was he the only one that felt it? Again, adrenaline rush could excuse it, but how long could he use that as things settled? The fact dark eyes kept dancing over the other's features. The fact when their eyes met Steve was left a little breathless. Looks lingered. Tension seemed to build and build. when the other's hand faltered on a cut across Steve's lower lip, the brunette couldn't seem to stop the twitch forward. Too easy, weirdly natural, just a jerk inwards until said lips were smushed right to Jonathan's own. Well. . . shit.

Maybe Larry sometimes forgot just how much umph hid behind a guy like Sal. The fact you could look at him and not expect much, but at the end of the day he was pretty damn intimidating when he wanted to be. Even stood there, possibly a foot shorter, if not a little less than that. Like his body could physically shield Larry from the onslaught of admittedly fucked up words being thrown his way. The metalhead was used to it, admittedly. Words kinda didn't hurt his feelings like they used to, if he were honest. However to see the dickheads back off with Sally staring them down, that one eye peering through his mask like a warning. . . " Yo, man. . . you're kinda scary good at that. They didn't even have shit to say to you. "

Steve had done a lot of shit in his life. Which went to say something, considering it wasn't as if he was that old to begin with. From parties, to drinking, to making a damned fool of himself. Hell, he'd done it all, really. What he never expected, though — was to find himself crammed in his own bathroom, at one of his own parties. With Jonathan Byers. Granted, their beef was. . . well, it had come, it had gone. Come back again a smidge, gone again. Here and there, fading and returning and fading again. By that point, Steve wasn't even sure holding the grudge was worth it. Assumed they were both just stubborn assholes at the end of the day. Still — to be basically hot boxing in his rather large bathroom was definitely not on his bucket list, that was for sure.

" Where the hell do you even get this stuff. . ? " No, Steve wasn't some. . . some noob when it came to pot. However he wasn't exactly an expert either. Reason numero uno as to why he had not taken a single hit yet.

Mike felt as if he truly, honestly — had lost his touch when it came to comforting those around him. But not just that. . . especially Will. Something about things had shifted, at one point. They weren't kids anymore, it wasn't as easy as coddling his best friend and making sure the world around him couldn't lay a finger on him. Mike had no control over anything, and sometimes that was a little scary. Sometimes that made him want to spiral because what the hell was he supposed to do? He didn't have the ' superpowers ' he always claimed Eleven did. He was just. . . Mike. However just Mike was still Will's best friend. So when it seemed like the other male was also fighting that spiral, Mike hadn't thought much about it when taking a seat next to him. Reached a hand out almost awkwardly, like he was going to pat a shoulder, maybe. However something in his core told him that wasn't really enough in the moment. Not when Will looked close to collapsing in on himself.

" Hey — hey. . . We'll be alright, yeah? Will, seriously, it's — we're okay right now. . . " He tried for calm, hoped it landed where he wanted it to. That hovering hand instead moving towards Will's face instead. Just kinda near his jaw to maybe get the other to focus on him and not the downfall.

Ellie knew she was on thin ice. Hell, she was kinda fucking shocked Dina hadn't tossed her ass out after her latest spiel about going on to find out just where the hell Abby might have wandered to. . . Ellie knew she was pushing her luck, and deep — deep down she knew this whole seeking revenge thing was just an excuse. Just something to occupy her mind where everything else always wanted to eat away at it. Something to do with herself. She knew she was one foot in a very steep pit when it came to Dina. . . so the fact she'd hidden the injury so long was probably not doing her any favors. Ellie thought it had just been a sore muscle from one of her little stunts out on her own. Testing her damned luck when they'd found such a nice, secluded place to stay. Away from raiders, away from the infected — the clickers. However now her shoulder was smarting like a motherfucker and she realized she probably needed the help. Which is what lead her to be there now, sat on the edge of their bed, carefully tugging her shirt up over her head so Dina could really get a peek. " Look — before you lecture me about hiding it just know I was. .. totally gonna come to you about it. At some point. . . "