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tiredmamaissy · 5 months ago

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Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI

Labor of Love - Part I

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: this shit has zero smut, angst angst angst, did i say angst?, this is so dramatic i'm sorry, expletives, a bit of fluff, pregnancy, cliff hanger, let me know if i forgot anything

Word Count: 8k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: You are now entering angst town, please buckle your seatbelts and try to enjoy the ride. Jokes aside, GUYS. This chapter…is the most angsty thing I’ve ever written. I’m excited and nervous, and everything in between. There’s a lot going on in this chapter and I just hope to Eywa that I’ve written it in a way that flows and is easy to follow. I’ve had this idea brewing for months, it feels. Now…this shit was over 20,000 words long. That is a personal record and I will not be subjecting you guys to such a monstrosity. Therefore, this is part one of (at the moment) three. I apologise in advance for the cliffhanger, hehe. Also, welcome to my brain, because idk how I came up with this shit.

Synopsis: You didn’t foresee this, Ralak kept you in the dark for the sake of you and your baby’s safety. But now the time has come, it’s all too overwhelming for you to process.

<- Previous-> Next

Ralak never shared more than he needed to when it came to his duties with Tonowari. No matter how much you vowed to keep it confidential. He’s a man of few words, but when it came to his business he kept them fewer.

As much as you knew, his trips inland consisted of hunting and gathering bigger game that most warriors struggled to handle.

There's a few times you can count on one hand that he's come home a little more worn down. Each time you cursed Tonowari under your breath as you helped your mate unwind. You’d insist on knowing what the olo’eyktan had him doing to be so spent and why he had not entirely fulfilled his promise to lighten Ralak of his duties since the mating.

Ralak would be quick to shut you down in the most gentle way despite feeling irritable and sombre. It was always something along the lines of, ‘it keeps you safe, and that is my duty’, and that he’ll ‘discuss it when the time comes’.

It seems the time has come.

Another gloomy night, rain and thunder tear through the sky. These storms are more frequent in this season, as it’s Ewyas way of keeping the balance with the freshwater and seawater ratio for the mangroves.

But tonight it’s torrential. You’re in full bloom, ready to step into your new chapter of motherhood at any moment. The babe sits low in your womb and you’re swollen from what feels like head to toe. The rain isn’t helping with the soreness in your joints.

Ralak is seated next to the crackling firepit, stirring the bubbling stew with one hand and mindlessly rubbing your swollen ankles with the other. Meanwhile you lay snuggled in bed, wrapped comfortably in the thick shawl as you listen to the pitter-patter. It’s peaceful, despite the dull ache in your lower back. Maybe the rain isn’t so bad, after all.

Ta-toom!

The low-pitched sound of the war horn has Ralak's full attention, shredding him of whatever serenity he had in his being. Moving hastily, he stands and darts over to the marui door, slipping into his gear and fixing his largest spear on his back.

The scene unfolding before your eyes is a rare one. You’d only seen him in full gear on the day you first laid eyes on him. The day you arrived here in Awa’atlu. And it brings a sinking feeling to your stomach.

“Ralak… what was that?” You ask nervously.

You watch him aggressively tighten the strap of his tstalsena [knife sheathe; carrier] and chuck a bucket of water in the fire—killing the flame. A precautionary measure. He knows the time has come. He hears your voice but he also hears Tonowari's...

'When the horn sounds… you come. And that…is an order.'

In his head, he’s going through an array of possible responses but there’s simply no time for any of them. Using the frame of the bed to pull yourself up, you slowly come to your feet and waddle towards him.

“Ralak. What is going on?” You ask a little louder, a hand gripping his wrist.

Turning to face you, his hands fly to support your stomach as he looks you deeply in the eyes. Then he kisses you with purpose. Pressing his lips into yours like it would be the last time, forcing himself to pull away to briefly glance down at his unborn.

It catches you by surprise, leaving you looking up at him open mouthed. Now you’re really scared. It feels like he’s being plucked away from your fingers and there’s nothing you can do about it. “Ralak—”

“I will explain when I am back. All of it.” He already sounds out of breath, fixing the shawl over your shoulders. “You stay here. Stay warm. Do not leave. Do not answer to anyone. Understand?”

Your forehead wrinkles as you try to process this all.

Don’t answer to anyone? To whom? Why did he put out the fire? Why is he in full gear? What the fuck is going on right now? He said he’d be back…right?

“Y/n.” He booms your name, yet his tone remains steady and calm. “Understand?”

You nod hurriedly, “Yes. Yes.”

“I will be back soon.” He fixes your shawl a last time before stepping back and bolting through the door.

You follow behind him, keeping the marui flap open to watch him click for his skimwing. He makes the bond and mounts the beast hastily, and is airborne soaring towards the mainland at full tilt.

Befuddled, you waddle back inside, your back slamming into the marui stilt as you huff and puff to catch your breath. You nervously check the stew, and see that it’s almost done. The glowing charcoal should be enough to finish it off, so you opt to leave it covered and fidget with the prrsmung [baby carrier] you've weaving for the past couple days.

Anything to keep you busy.

——

Ralak effortlessly dismounts his tsurak, letting it glide past him in the water as he climbs up to the communal pod. This is a gathering place for important meetings and announcements to the clan. He watches as others assemble under the larger, woven marui, drenched with the water of the sea and sky. It’s clear that this was a signal for the warriors of the clan, from the elite, to the former. The young and the old.

Even Zu’té is present, standing lone far off in the corner.

War horn in hand, the olo’eyktan makes his presence known as he stands on the highest part of the pod. His mate, the tsahìk, stands next to him with her chest high and their children next to her.

Jake and Neytiri, along with Lo’ak and Neteyam, group together behind them at the back of the pod, observing the unfolding scene. The warriors begin to chant, defensively positioned with their tongues on display. They’re all armed and ready to protect their own from whatever the impending threat is. Ralak takes his place next to Tonowari, standing tall and still. He observes the uproar before him, his mask of indifference fixed tightly to his face.

“Mawey. Mawey. [Calm. Calm.]” Ronal speaks loudly over the heavy rain, hands splayed out in front of her.

But it makes no difference.

The uproar is growing even louder than the downpour. It was rare to hear this particular horn. It’s been years, ten, to be exact. And those who know exactly what it means are up in arms. Ralak knew this day would soon come, but he was hoping to Eywa that it would be after the birth of his son. Tonowari lets loose a throaty ‘gwah’, driving the butt of his spear into the ground. The crowd hushes down into a dead silence, acknowledging their leader.

“Warriors of Awa’atlu. I summon you for good reason. Ten years have passed and it is time to meet with the ash people once more.” Tonowari begins, only for the younger warriors to mumble among themselves, some of who are unaware of who the ash people are.

“Tìfnu! [silence!]” Ralak snaps through his teeth, “…the olo’eyktan speaks.” Tonowari nods to Ralak.

“The treaty has ended. We meet with them far inland to discuss the terms of a new treaty.” Tonowari’s eyes bounce among the sea of na’vi. “It will be no easy or short journey. We must make the trek by foot. Tonight.”

A few male na’vi are unable to keep their excitement to a minimum and siren a few calls, smacking their strakes together. Neytiri snakes her arm around Jake's upper bicep, tucked under his wing. Neteyam and Lo’ak listen intently, their heads tilted down as they grip their bows firmly.

“Not all will come. I have chosen a few to be at my side.” Tonowari glances at Ralak, and then the Sullys before continuing, “The rest must stay and protect the clan if needed.”

Ronal interjects, speaking of the ash na’vi and their horrid way of living—from their occasionally cannibalistic diet to their view of Eywa and the balance. She further reminds the people of the treaty, and that its tenets include immunity from their ‘hunting practices’ in exchange for a resource only attainable on the reef. The treaty is valid for a decade and then the terms are subject to negotiation based on the two tribe’s needs. She commences it by announcing the names of those who have been chosen by Tonowari.

“I need you by my side, Ralak.”

It was a direct order, and Ralak knows that. He knows that no matter what he says, the olo’eyktan’s order must be obeyed. But it doesn’t mean he won’t try.

“She is due any day now. You know that.” Ralak speaks crystal clear, stating exactly what his concerns are.

He doesn’t want to leave you alone, especially so heavy and full with his firstborn, who will come at any moment. Every bone in his body is telling him it’s the wrong move. But Tonowari glances at his own wife who is swollen with his fourth child.

“I know. I know, Tak. But we must do what we need. For the people.”

Ralak holds a stare with his superior—his father figure. He’s gritting his teeth to keep himself together, to keep his composure. To keep his thoughts just as his thoughts. The two communicate through facial expressions, and a quick tilt to Tonowari’s head has Ralak looking away in frustration.

It’s final.

“No.” Jake butts in, sharp and quick with his disapproval. “He gave me his word.”

Alas, a moment where father and son in law are in favour of the same thing.

“You have the sky people and we have the ash people. They demand his (Ralak’s) presence. If we fail in this, we will be at war. He comes with us.” Tonowari is stern with his tone, leaving no room for an argument.

“Ma’ Jake.” Neytiri chimes in, fright evident in her voice. She is tired of the war.

As a last resort, Ralak’s gaze shifts over to Zu’té. He knew Zu’té would also be chosen despite his...'retirement'. He was undoubtedly one of the best warriors the clan has ever had, wielding great strength and skill. Zu’té returns the stare, crossing his arms over his chest as he cocks a brow. Their brothership had strengthened after Ralak sought help.

Jake notices this, and shakes his head with his hands on his hips. “Nope. No. Who is that guy anyways?”

“My brother.”

“His brother.”

The two taller na’vi speak at once.

“Since when do you have a—You know what? I don’t care. Okay? You? I trust. Him? Not so much. I’d rather my boys stay with her.” Jake says sternly, glancing at Zu’té. “No offence, bud.”

“Good thing I care not for your opinion, koaktan [old man].”

“Zu’té.” Ralak whispers harshly, throwing a glare at his sibling.

“Look, if you got a problem—”

“What about tuk?” Neytiri cuts her mate short, tugging at his arm to remind him of who is watching their youngest daughter.

“Then they take turns or somethin’, I’m not havin’ one baby girl watched and not the other.”

“Toruk makto.” Tonowari lays a heavy hand on the former olo’eyktan's shoulder, drawing him away to break the tension. “They cannot step foot on our land with the treaty. She will be safe. Trust me…” Their voices drown out from the pounding downpour.

As they go back and forth, Ralak begins to process what Tonowari said.

‘They demand his presence’.

Tonowari had made this meeting the topic of conversation over the past few weeks, preparing him for this. But he never mentioned anything about them demanding his attendance in particular. The last meeting with the ash people happened when Ralak was a very young warrior, long before his iknimaya.

Back then, Tonowari had a different warrior at his side—a different right hand. She was strong and well known for being patient with her students. It was a frequent story at family dinner when Tonowari and Ronal took Ralak under their wing. And as Ralak became Tonowari's right hand man, he was thrusted into enforcing the tenets of the treaty, going inland with Tonowari to uphold the clan's part.

Ralak has only caught a glimpse of them once after delivering the resource to the agreed spot. He had just started these excursions with Tonowari, and his curiosity got the best of him. He looked behind him for just a moment, and caught the sight of a curvy, grey woman hastily gathering and stuffing everything into a satchel of some sort.

Her stripes were a deep, ashy blue, and her skin seemed almost scale-like. She was rid of any bioluminescence, as if the light within her was gone, and her hair was matted with what looked like burgundy clay. Tonowari then seized the back of Ralak’s neck and shoved him along, advising that he never looks.

“It is decided. Neteyam, Lo’ak and Zu’té stay.” Tonowari announces as he and Jake rejoin the group, looking at those who are left—Tonowari, Neytiri and Ralak. “We leave soon, make your arrangements.”

Ralak knew his last few words were directed to him. With that, Ralak strides towards Zu’té. “I know what I am asking of you, Zu’té—”

“I will do this for you.” Zu’té turns to face Ralak, who’s undeniably uneasy and concerned.

“Protect her.”

“You protect her. Get in and get out of there, baby brother.” Zu’té speaks, extending his hand out to Ralak. Ralak nods firmly. He’s right, your safety, along with the rest of the clan’s, depends on how this all plays out.

“Oe irayo si ngaru [I give thanks to you].” Ralak's hand meets Zu’té’s forearm with a smack. They tug back and forth a bit, silently wishing each other luck on their own endeavours before setting off on their skimwings.

They arrive, walking with haste along the beach towards the stairs to Ralak’s marui pod in the pouring rain.

“That’s...interesting.” Zu’té makes a comment about the railings for the stairs.

“She has a hard time without it.” Ralak responds, stopping at the bottom step, coming to the quick realisation that this man will essentially be replacing him for the next few eclipses. “She may need help using them.”

Zu’té nods, understanding what he really means. “Do not fret, brother. I will take care of your mate.”

Ralak releases a shaky breath as they make their way to the patio, finding shelter from the rain.

“Wait here.” Ralak speaks with his back turned, “I must speak with her first.”

——

A torturous hour has passed, and you’ve burned circles into your marui floor from pacing so much. He’s taking longer than you’d expected, and worry is really starting to set in now.

What’s going on? What did that sound mean? Why did he leave in such a rush? With all his gear, too?

You gnaw at the calloused piece of skin on your thumb, keeping a warm comforting hand on your bump to keep your kicking babe calm. Regardless, he continues doing somersaults in your womb.

Fuck it.

You rush towards the marui door where your gear hangs, and fight with the strap of your chest piece to slip it on you. It won’t fasten and it’s simply too tight to fit your body right now, but you continue to grapple with the stupid strap with shaky hands.

“Tanhì.” Ralak’s voice is rough and he sounds winded. “What are you doing?” He rushes over to you and quickly removes the piece off your chest.

“Ralak—oh, thank Eywa.” Your voice is shaky, but thick with relief. “I’m sorry, I just got s-so worried.”

“We must speak. Time is going.” Ralak carefully ushers you over to the bed, and assists you in sitting down, holding your swollen belly along the way. He takes note of his active child, feeling his little kicks and pokes. He comforts his young with a few strokes to your stomach. “Shh-shh, little one. Alright.”

He knows this whole ordeal must be stressing you both, and he’s really regretting not telling you all of this sooner.

“What do you mean?” You ask, urgency thick in your voice.

Ralaks demeanour is nothing short of solemn, tensed jaw and tightened lips. It seems serious, and this man is no person to jest on such matters.

"Ralak...What is happening?"

He takes a moment to reply, his gaze fixed on his hand that still lays firmly on your stomach. He then looks up at you, concern etched into his features. “It is time to speak about… my duties with Tonowari.”

You feel your heart thud against your ribcage, your eyes widen at the words. You’ve been eager to know, but now that he’s telling you, it implies that everything isn’t alright. It implies… the safety of your unborn is compromised. You nod slowly, trying to remain calm for the sake of your son.

“We reef people hold a peace treaty with another clan…” the giant begins, slipping his hand from your stomach to clasp yours tightly. “…the ash people.”

“Ash people?” Your voice is less than a whisper, tiny and croaky.

“They are a horrible people, tanhì. Truly wicked. Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted]. Much like the sky people.” He shakes his head as he mutters the words, not even wanting to go into any more detail. He didn’t want to taint your innocence. To stress your mind. Especially now that you’re heavy with his child. “The treaty keeps them off this land. It keeps you safe.”

“Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted].” You repeat through a gasp.

“To them, Eywa is nothing. Tsaheylu [the bond] is for control. Their diet…” Ralak catches himself, bringing his words to a halt.

“Their diet…?” Your bottom lip trembles.

Ralak just shakes his head, taking your other hand with his. “The treaty will soon end. I must go. Tonight.”

“What?!” You shout, wrenching your hands from his grasp to quickly stand up. A shooting pain sears up the side of your stomach, and your hand flies to clutch it. Ralak rushes to steady you.

“Careful, y/n.” He snaps, high strung and tense. “I will be back in a few eclipses.”

“What? No! No, no. It’s too dangerous.” You protest, gripping his wrists to stay standing.

“It is the olo’eyktan’s orders. I must.” He’s quick to respond to you.

This quietens you. Does Tonowari not know that you’re due any day? Or perhaps he doesn’t care. How could he rip your mate away from you at this time? Especially for something so…risky. You feel your fear bubble into something more hot.

Anger.

“Then I’m coming.” You announce, dropping your hands from his wrists to waddle over to your gear once more. Ralak stands in front of you, hands on your stomach to stop you.

“No. You're staying here.” Ralak orders sternly, backing you up to sit back on the bed.

“No. I’m coming. I’m safer with you.” You resist his pushes, trying to stand firm.

“You are heavy with child.” He grits his teeth, giving you another light push, “I cannot protect you there. You—agh—you are safer here.”

Ralak makes the confession, feeling like he’s failing at his duty as your mate. He shouldn’t even be leaving you, not when you're this far along. He should be by your side, tending to your every need.

“What? By myself? What if—what if something happens? What if the baby—” You’re cut short by the sound of Zu’té’s not-so-reserved entrance. He yanks the marui flap to the side, ducking under it and standing tall behind Ralak, by just a couple inches. He, too, is fully equipped with his gear and weapons.

“Brother. I can hear the war party.” Zu’té speaks with haste, keeping his eyes locked onto Ralak.

'Brother?' Your eyes snap back to Ralak, beady and full of tears. “You didn’t.”

It quickly dawns on you that Ralak had planned this out. Made these arrangements in anticipation things went south and he had no say in the matter. To ensure your safety, and the safety of your unborn by going to the greatest length of rekindling a flame that had been extinct for twelve years. Ralak has spoken casually of his brother before, but never in any great detail.

“Y/n. This is Zu’té, my brother. He will keep you safe.” Ralak speaks with shame in his voice, knowing this must be way too overwhelming for you. He hadn’t planned for it to go like this.

Zu’té finally allows his eyes to wander over to you. They widen when they get their first proper look of you, darting all over your body to take in your foreign features.

He caught a glimpse when your family first arrived in Awa’atlu, but never this close. His eyes land on your bulging stomach, lingering a second too long to make even himself a bit uncomfortable. He clears his throat and looks back at Ralak.

You look at Zu’té with anger in your eyes, and then back at Ralak as they begin to swell with hot tears. Zu’té tries to make himself smaller, feeling the thickness of the air now. He backs up into the marui flap, tempted to lift it and walk himself outside to relieve some of the pressure.

“How long did you say this would be f-for? What if I go into labour? Will you really allow another man to deliver our son?”

Zu’té quickly but silently excuses himself from the room, taking a spot on the patio with his arms crossed over his chest, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Oh, Toto. What have you gotten yourself into?’

Angry, you shot the words like an arrow and they pierced your mate’s chest with ease. He grimaces, as if he were actually in pain.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I—” You sob the apology, burying your hot face into your hands.

Ralak embraces you, wrapping his large arms around your body, hugging you close and tight. He sways a little with you, humming deep in his chest. “‘ts alright. You’re okay. Take a breath. I know this is frightening.”

He understands—it is not uncommon for a navi pair to remain close during the final weeks of pregnancy. It’s an unconscious mechanism, keeping them together for the birth of their offspring. Ralak feels it just as much as you but in order to truly protect you he must go— another thing that he understands.

“You c-come back to me, o-okay?” Your breath won’t stop hitching. “Come as s-soon as y-you can.”

“I will, I will. ” He coos, pulling back enough to look down at you. “Mawey, tanhì. Strong heart. For our baby.”

You nod, lifting your head to look up at him. He sees the terror in your eyes and his heart breaks with guilt. He gently presses his forehead against yours, slowly stroking your back.

“Nga yawne lu oer, nga yawne lu oer. [I love you, I love you]” He whispers longingly as he closes the distance between your mouths.

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]. S-So much.” You sputter, lips trembling against his.

He kisses you with force, pressing his lips into yours until it almost hurts. You both linger there, not wanting to part ways. But you feel him pulling away, knowing there wasn’t much time left. Instinctively, cling onto him when his lips leave yours.

“Please don’t go.” You mumble into his chest, knowing that he has no choice.

“I have to, my tanhì.” He mutters as he begins to pull away before letting go completely.

You follow behind him, thumb in your mouth as you nibble at the skin, hand resting on top of your bump. You watch him call for his tsurak for a second time tonight, and look back at you for a moment. He takes in the sight of you standing next to his older brother, trying to find comfort in knowing that you’re in safe hands. Ralak gives him a nod and mounts the beast, taking off towards the war party.

Leaving you in the presence of Zu’té.

“Y/n, is it?” Zu’té asks, already knowing the answer.

It’s awkward and he doesn’t do well in these types of situations. He knows comfort is what you need right now, considering you’re now sobbing into your hands again. You’re worried sick. Literally. It’s all making you feel woozy and lightheaded.

“Listen...” He goes to rest a hand on your upper back, but he hesitates, leaving his hand to hover. He retracts it completely, allowing it to fall back to his side. He sighs, droopy ears and tensed brows. “He will return soon.”

Among all the emotions that cloud you at once, anger still remains roaring at the forefront. You find yourself turning your heel and ignoring his presence, waddling away as fast as your swollen feet will allow it.

“Leave m-me be.” You spit between hitched breaths, ensuring the flap of the marui door shuts harshly behind you.

Despite feeling sympathy for you, Zu’té stands outside, finding solace in being alone. He chooses the driest spot, and sets himself up on the patio, getting ready for the stormy night ahead.

You waddle in to bed, wrapping yourself in the thick shawl that smells like your mate, and lay next to the prrsmung [baby carrier] you still have yet to finish. Feeling defeated and empty, you lay on your side in bed as you process everything, letting silent tears crash onto your bed.

——

You’re not entirely sure at what point in the night that you drifted to sleep, but you wake up in a groggy state. Dried tears make it hard to open your eyes, and your hair sticks to your face. You look around in a daze and realise that it’s still dark outside.

The pang in your bladder keeps you awake and forces you out of bed, making you wobble to the curtain. You pull it back and are met with the sight of Zu’té sleeping propped up against the marui wall with his spear tucked to his chest.

Seeing him painfully reminds you of the heart wrenching events of last night. That even though you were hoping and praying to Eywa for it all to be a bad dream—it was all very real.

An icy cold breeze gusts by, making you shiver under your shawl and Zu’té shift in his sleep. The rain had eased off into a light, continuous drizzle some time during the night.

Your ears droop with guilt for leaving him out here in the cold, damp night. You let out a sigh and grip the railing to the marui stairs, turning your body sideways to take your first step down. The wood squeaks when it takes your weight, Ralaks usual tell tale sign that you’re sneaking out at night without his help.

It seems to work for Zu’té too because by the time you reach the second step you hear a raspy voice.

“I was told you need help with these.” Zu’té offers his hand. You let out a sigh and take his arm.

You’ll admit, his helping hand is actually helping, especially now that you’re so far along.

“Irayo [thank you].” You mutter, holding on tightly as you make your way to the bottom step. Zu’té leans against the railing, waiting for you to finish your business.

You don’t take long, most trips recently have been false alarms—just the baby pushing on your bladder because he’s so low down. As you make your way back to the stairs, your lower back begins to warm up. It radiates to your upper and inner thighs, making them ache as you walk.

It’s nothing new, aches and pains are becoming more frequent as the days pass, and the cold certainly isn’t helping. Zu’té meets you at the bottom step with an extended elbow, and you take his arm without a second thought.

It starts to rain again, hard. The temperature easily falls by a few degrees and all you want is to be inside the warmth of your bed right now. Your feet move at a quicker pace and as much as Zu’té tries to be gentle as he can, his grip tightens.

“Take your time.” He says, keeping you steady as you reach the top step.

Once you get to the door, he immediately lets go of you, stepping aside to take his spot on the patio for the remainder of the night. You pull back the marui flap but find yourself hesitating to step inside. You look over your shoulder, watching Zu’té tuck his spear close to his chest and prop himself against the wall.

“Zu’té.” You say. He looks at you, brows raised as he listens. “It’s cold out here. You should come—”

“Don’t worry about me.” He cuts you short, closing his eyes.

“I’m not.” Your words are quick and almost defensive.

Zu’té chuckles a bit, if you could even call it that. “Sounds like you are.”

You sigh, getting a little irritated. “Whatever.”

“I’ll be alright out here.” He says nonchalantly, opening his eyes to look directly at you. Your heart skips a beat and you feel the blood drain from your face. You thought Ralak was intimidating, but this guy is something else.

“Sure.” It’s awkward, but a good awkward…if that were a thing. “Night.”

“Wake me if you need me. No more sneaky shit.” He’s muttering now, ready to go back to sleep. “And get some rest.”

You hold back your laugh, a little amused by the stark difference in his personality and Ralaks. How are they brothers? Or related, even?

“Will do, sir.” You match his sarcastic tone, entering the marui and laying down in bed, hoping to Eywa that sleep will find you soon.

——

Village life continues despite Ralak and the others' absence. You wake up earlier than usual, despite the exhausting circumstances. Your baby moves, letting you know he’s awake too.

“Daddy will be home soon.” You reassure your babe, gently rubbing your stomach.

Perhaps you were also reassuring yourself.

You feel empty, and numb. And as much as you want to lay in bed all day and wait for your mates return, you still have a few things left to do before your son’s arrival.

First thing being, getting some food in your system.

You get ready, and walk outside, noticing that Zu’té is no longer in his spot.

He wakes early.

Looking out into the distance, you catch sight of Zu’té crouching next to a small flame, cooking what seems to be squid. It’s hard to be sure of what it is—the sun hasn’t fully bloomed, and though the rain has stopped it’s still a bit gloomy. You make your way over to him, taking extra care when going down the stairs.

“Morning.” You say nonchalantly.

Zu’té’s ears spring up and he looks behind him—behind you—directly at the stairs. His brows lower and he sighs quickly, knowing there’s no point in making the comment. He looks back at his task, turning the slightly charred squid impaled by a sharpened branch.

“You’re up early.” The giant states, back turned to you to reveal his insanely intricate tattoo.

“Same to you.” You respond, staring at his back hard enough to burn holes into it. You see some scarring and thickened skin, presumably from his days as a warrior. That much you knew because of Ralak.

“Squid. Help yourself.” Zu’té says, handing you a stick of burnt squid.

Taking it from him, you hold it in front of your face, a little baffled at how he seemingly saw nothing wrong with it.

“Hm…thanks. Looks…well done.” You try to force a smile, to no avail.

You try to take a seat next to him, struggling to keep your balance as you lower yourself to your knees. His ears lay flat and he instinctively springs to his feet, helping you sit down. He didn’t think you’d join him here.

It’s silent. Uncomfortably silent. And awkward. You keep your extremities close and your tail closer, curled up in on yourself to remain as small as you can. Although, in comparison to your mate's brother, you were tiny.

He’s not taller by much, but still taller nonetheless. It really makes you wonder how their parents looked for them to turn out this way.

Zu’té eats hastily, shovelling the squid in his mouth as if it had the ability to slither away. It makes you look back at your own serving and suddenly your nerves go haywire. You didn’t want to risk getting sick, your bedside bucket is too far away to fetch. But you didn’t want to be rude—he’d obviously woken up early to make this for you.

You take an experimental bite and fight for your life to keep a straight face. You exaggerate a nod and cover your mouth with your hand, hiding the way you're smacking away at this blubbery piece of meat.

“Mm. Mhm.” You grunt, forcing it down and clearing your throat. “It’s—uhm, it’s not—”

“I am no ‘emyu [cooker].” He says, chucking his cleared stick into the fire.

“Ahem—yeah. Yup.” You twirl the stick between your pointer finger and thumb, bringing his attention to your five fingered hand. His eyes widen a bit before quickly looking away, and you tuck them back in between your thighs.

“Thanks for breakfast.”

“Sleep well?”

You both speak at the same time, unintentionally clearing the tension in the air.

“I suppose, all things considered.” You try to speak lightheartedly. “And you? Did any part of you freeze?”

Zu’té laughs and shakes his head. “No, not quite.”

“Well, that’s good.” You say, looking out at sea to witness the sun's emergence. It casts an orange hue over the water, illuminating the ripples of the oncoming waves.

He’s watching it too.

“Your tattoo.” You speak softly, witnessing his ears flutter. “…on your back.”

“Ah. What of it?”

“What does it mean? I mean—” You stutter, still adapting to the idea of inking being a symbolic statement. “What’s the story behind that?”

The story replays in his head—the death of the spirit brothers and family. It flashes before him, as if he were in that moment again. The guilt and pain inside him is eternal, something that’s never left him since. He’s never spoken of it, not even to the person he hurt the most through it all—Ralak.

His ears pin back and his jaw tightens. He shrugs his shoulders and mutters, “Felt like it.”

“So…you’re telling me you did that, for fun?” The surprise is evident in your voice as you look at the tattoo again. His skin is raised and it spans the entirety of his upper back. “That must have been really painful. Ralak did mine and it took days.”

“Didn’t hurt.” Zu’té says, turning his body to you yet keeping his eyes on the sun. But it did. It hurt—a lot. Self inflicted pain, to symbolise the pain he inflicted on others, even if it weren’t his intention.

Maybe they are brothers. You think.

“You going to eat that?” He asks, interrupting your train of thought, pointing at your squid on a stick.

“Uhh—I’m going to pass.” You answer, offering it to him, “…sorry.”

“Again. Not a ‘emyu [cooker]” He takes it gladly, biting off a decent chunk and chewing at it unbothered with a deadpan expression.

Nevermind.

Now the silence isn’t as awkward. You choose to sit here a while longer, enjoying this moment as much as you can before coming back to reality. The reality that there may be a war brewing. That—

Ralak isn’t here.

Well, that didn’t last long.

Sadness washes over you, making your ears droop and your tail heavy. Your baby gives you a sudden, hard kick in the ribs, as if he were telling his mummy to cheer up. You uncross your legs and shift your weight to the one side, getting ready to get up and be productive.

Zu’té seems to take note of that.

“Need to get up?” He asks, chucking yet another stick into the fire.

“I got it.” You grunt, shuffling to your knees.

Zu’té lets out a displeased grumble, understanding what his brother meant when he said you have a stubborn streak. He goes to help you anyways, supporting you by the elbow.

You’re just about standing when you feel a sharp stabbing pain in your back. It makes you jolt and grab onto Zu’té, whose slight irritation instantly turns into concern.

“Y/n.”

“I’m good, I’m good.” You repeat out of breath, steadying yourself before letting go. He seemed unsure if you really were okay. “Really. Happens all the time now.”

Zu’té nods, letting go and giving you a little more space. “Alright.”

——

The meeting spot is no other than the ‘head quarters’ of the ash people. It is only on this occasion that another clan may step foot on their land and walk away with a beating heart. That is, if all goes well. Tonowari is confident, however, knowing that the resource they provide the ash people is sufficient enough to prolong the treaty for many decades to come.

It is an ore that forms deep underwater, and can only be extracted by the most skilled divers. Divers that can hold their breath for up to half an hour. The use of this ore remains unknown to the reef people, but the ash people are quick to seize it almost instantaneously at the drop off point. The ore is plentiful among the reef, renewing itself as it is harvested—the act of the great mother restoring balance as needed.

Truth be told, although the reef people are a peaceful people, it is no secret that they hold some of the strongest warriors on Pandora. They are proud of their home, and will fight to protect it at all costs. Even the ash people know this. Which is the reason for their agreement on something as laughable as a ‘peace’ treaty.

Otherwise, what’s really to stop them from annihilating the reef people and taking the ore themselves?

Ralak meets with the others—Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri, and Ronal. They all set off far inland to the place the two clans met ten years ago. The trek is long and tiresome, leaving Ronal winded and in need of a couple breaks along the way. She is, too, heavy with child, but as tsahìk, she perseveres. Tonowari had tried to convince her several times to stay home, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“We are here.” Tonowari announces as the group nears the settlement of their natural enemy. It’s a rocky environment, much like the reef but with plenty of soil and clay. “Heads straight. Ignore them.”

——

Zu’té stays nearby the marui as he tends to some of Ralak’s duties, keeping an eye on you from afar. You sit comfortably on the bottom step of the marui stairs, concentrating on finishing your baby’s sling. Your fingers are a little swollen, making it more difficult to weave. Frustrated, you plop the sling to your side and bury your face into your hands.

Everything is just too overwhelming right now.

“Your technique is poor.” Zu’té’s voice booms over you.

You look up, seeing this tall man with his hands on his hips tower over you, shading you from the sun. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I have plenty of knowledge on—”

“This is a prrsmung [baby carrier], yes?” Zu’té picks up the sling and sits himself next to you, searching for the point in which you left off.

You watch intently, intrigued to know his next move. He carefully unravels all the wefts you’ve managed to do since sitting on this damned step.

“What are you doing? Stop!”

Zu’té sighs and demonstrates a weaving technique you’ve never seen before, entwining and knitting the fabric until it comes together in an even neater fashion. You look at him in awe, dumbstruck that he was able to do that. Ralak dislikes weaving, in fact, he loathes it.

“Try it.” He says, plucking the fabric away from itself to unravel it once more before handing it back to you. You hesitate to take it, caught off guard from his unexpected, skilled movements.

“My fingers are swollen.” You say, feeling defeated and a little embarrassed. He looks down, noticing your five-fingered hand again, not nearly surprised as last time.

“Not as big as mine.” He tries to hand you the sling again. “You got it.”

Reluctantly, you take the sling and slowly mirror his movements, replicating the technique perfectly.

“See?” Zu’té sounds pleased with himself. Looking down at the sling, it dawns on you.

“So, you’re a weaver?” You ask the question as if you had just struck gold. “Usually the women take on that role.”

“Not here, forest girl.” Zu’té defends his role proudly, “But yes, I am.”

“Nice. It is good to see that. My grandmother is a great weaver, she taught me all I know.” You begin.

For as long as your body would allow it, you and Zu’té sat on that step and wove together. You wove the sling and he went to fetch his satchel to work on a piece of his own. Though you did most of the talking, and found yourself dodging one too many snarky remarks, a bond formed on that step.

You told him about your past at hometree, your reason for seeking uturu to begin with.

The sky people.

The words wouldn’t stop flowing, especially when you got onto the topic of how you met his brother. You explained that Ralak was your karyu [teacher] and how that quickly morphed into something much more beautiful. How you broke past his walls—took off his mask of indifference.

But then that awkward silence came again. The silence that reminded you why this stranger was in your home to begin with. That he was playing watchdog because your mate had to leave your side whilst being heavily pregnant.

“I lied.” Zu’té fills the silence. It has your ears perked up and your full attention on him. Your heart picked up speed, almost expecting something bad. “About?”

“That tattoo hurt like a kalweyaveng [son of a bitch].”

His confession has you bellowing out in laughter, clutching your stomach to keep you from shaking up your baby.

“I knew it.” You finally say once you calm down from a much needed laugh. “No good comes from trying to pretend that things don’t hurt, you know.”

Little did you know these words weighed heavy on him. Heavier than you meant for them to. He falls silent, contemplating if he should say what he’s about to. The real confession. The real reason behind the tattoo.

“I killed our spirit brothers.” He blurts out, astonished by his own voice.

Did I really just say that? Shit.

“What?” You exhale, your heart now galloping in your chest.

“It was twelve years ago. I was…seventeen. Sent out to war. I had to keep Ralak out of it. I went alone…lead a group of warriors to protect the tulkun.” His voice seizes up, as if his throat were closing. He looks away, fixing his gaze to his feet. “I was still learning. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. The sky people…they slaughtered them all.”

“Hey, hey. That’s not your fault, Zu’té. You didn’t kill them. The sky people did.” You rest your hand on his back, feeling how raised and toughened the skin where his inking lay deep.

Zu’té just looks at you, eyes trembling with vulnerability. It’s the first someone outside of the family has ever told him that. It’s something that he needed to hear.

“Is that why you fled? Ralak told me you left him.”

Zu’té nods, looking away in shame once more. “I abandoned him.”

You shake your head, knowing now that Ralak has healed and no longer feels this way. “He has healed Zu’té. And now it is your turn.”

Zu’té only nods, allowing the silence to fill the space again. This time it’s needed.

Until it's broken by a familiar voice.

“Sister.” Neteyam greets you at the bottom step, throwing a smile your way, then to your stomach. “Little one.”

He’s checking on you per your fathers request. Of course he wanted to ensure you were okay, too.

“Tey.” You smile big, happy to see such a familiar, comforting face. “I thought you went.”

You reach out for the railing to pull yourself up, and both Neteyam and Zu’té go to help you get up. You side-hug Neteyam, finding comfort in your brother. It’s been a hectic night.

“No, someone’s got to watch Tuk…and you.” Neteyam chuckles. As you let go, your glances at Ralak’s brother. “Neteyam, this is Ralak’s brother. Zu’té.” You introduce the two properly.

Taught manners from a young age, Neteyam gestures ‘I see you’ to the former warrior, and he returns the sign.

“Uncle TeyTey’s got you guys for the day.” Neteyam coos at your tummy, and then offers you his arm.

“Right...Dads orders?” You ask, happy to go with him.

“Dads orders.” Neteyam nods firmly, looking at Zu’té to relay the message. Zu’té returns the nod, being present to hear your fathers concerns about the entire arrangement. Besides, it’ll give him time to hunt for something proper for dinner.

“C’mon guys!” Lo’ak shouts from the ocean, mounted on his skimwing with Tuk behind him.

“See you. Think about what I said.” You say to Zu’té, prompting him to wave goodbye. Neteyam walks you to his tsurak, helping you to get on. You had retired your tsurak for the time being, finding it hard to ride with your back pain.

“Hey Lo’. Tuk-Tuk.” You say with relief in your voice, finding comfort in the company of your family.

——

The ash people are impudent to say the least. They follow behind the five na’vi weaving their way through the growing crowd, right on their tails as they try to get a better look at them. They are particularly interested in Jake and Neytiri, seeing the forest people for the first time. But most haven’t even gotten a look at the reef people yet, despite having the agreement with them for so many decades already.

Some even dare to poke and prod, tugging at their tails and their hair to get a feel or whiff of their scents. Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri and Ralak walk in a formation that allows Ronal to be in the centre, safe guarded from any pointed fingernails or astray noses. Ralak is on edge, but one could never tell by a glance. His appearance is intimidating, a stature so tall he and Tonowari tower over the crowd.

“I do the talking.” Tonowari says discreetly as they near the entrance of the hut.

The room is made of some sort of red clay substance, seemingly burnt to a char until it has been hardened into what feels like rock. This one in particular is large, containing smaller sectioned off rooms, partitioned with thick leather curtains. It's all very bleak, rid of liveliness and colour.

As they enter the hut, two bigger ash na’vi guard the door on either side, blocking and guarding the entrance behind them. Two more ash na’vi lead the group with spears to their backs to a large curtain, and shove them towards it with a few harsh jabs to Jake’s and Ralak’s spines. Jake snaps around, throwing them a dirty look. Whilst Ralak keeps his gaze fixed to his feet. He feels deep in his gut that something isn’t right.

Whether it be here, or back home.

With each step he takes, the sense of impending doom only worsens. He has no desire to be here but he recognizes that this is what is necessary. Yet, he can’t help the way he feels. And when he finally raises his head all the pieces link together. It all makes sense.

Before them are five na’vi in total. Two women and three men. Four ash na’vi and one…reef na’vi. A female, reef na’vi. Her face is unmistakable—unforgettable. It’s been seared into his mind since he was a young boy.

And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished.

His karyu.

616 notes · View notes

stevie-petey · 9 months ago

Text

episode six: the spy

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows. “Shit…” “You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.” Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.”

Summary: dustin and steve haggle a butcher, you throw some meat at steve and then have a weird conversation about love, you stop dustin from becoming an incel, and then you wrestle some demodogs like any real woman would. side note: steve is hot protecting the kids.

Rating: general, violence and swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence and swearing, blood mention and ptsd mention, weapons, fire, probably more

Words: 17.1k (i fear how much longer these next few chapters become)

Before you swing in: its here !!! god, this chapter was ROUGH. the conversations between bug and steve took many rewrites and editing. i wanted to get it just right, and finally i think im satisfied with where they landed. bug and steve aside, i absolutely loved writing this chapter with the kids. i sincerely hope you guys enjoy, this chapter took blood, sweat, n tears lmao

You’re the first to break the silence as you all stare at the hole Dart created in the wall in shock.

An obnoxiously loud yawn escapes your lips, and Dustin and Steve shoot you simultaneous weird glances. You feel your face heat up in embarrassment. “Sorry… It’s been a long day.”

Steve huffs. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Dustin clears his throat before standing up. He wipes off some dirt that got on his jeans and then offers you his hand so that he can pull you up as well. You accept it and stand, your bones a deep, weary type of heavy that only comes from pure exhaustion.

“Okay,” Dustin begins, and you can already see a plan forming in his mind. “Steve, you’ll spend the night here so that way we can all get up bright and early to start our search for Dart.”

Steve attempts to argue, but Dustin puts his hand up to shush him and continues with his speech. The older boy throws his hands up in the air and gives you a look of disbelief over your brother’s antics. You stifle a laugh, which he only rolls his eyes at. Steve, whether he likes it or not, will have to get used to Dustin’s… Dustin-ness.

“If he escaped through the tunnel, then we have to assume that there’s an opening somewhere above ground.” Dustin finishes.

You nod your head slowly, still unconvinced. “Okay, but how do we find him? Better yet, what happens when we do? It took Nancy with a shotgun, my knives, Steve’s batting skills, a ton of fire, and almost dying a bunch of times to take down the Demogorgon.”

Dustin lets out a tired sigh. “I’ll figure it all out, alright? For now, let’s just get some sleep. Maybe it’ll come to me in a dream or something.”

“A dream? Seriously?” Steve looks at the two of you as if you guys will start laughing and tell him it’s all a giant joke. Unfortunately, it isn’t.

Steve spent all last year and most of the summer getting to know you. He’s used to your quips and soft spoken teasing, but Dustin? He’s uncharted territory and you’re secretly relishing in seeing Steve fumble around him. You’ve never had anyone else interact with your brother before, only Jonathan, so this change is odd, but welcomed.

Dustin pays no attention to you and Steve as he begins heading up the steps, back to your home. Once he disappears, you nudge your shoulder against Steve’s. “You know you don’t actually have to spend the night, right?”

“Ya know, I can’t quite tell if the kid will let me leave or not.”

You laugh. “He’s harmless… Mostly. I promise I won’t let him bite, but I also understand if you want to leave.”

Steve looks away, sensing the undertones of what you’re saying. You’re giving him another out, one last chance to leave and go back to pretending like everything's okay. You wouldn’t blame him, and you get a sense of deja-vu from that night at Jonathan’s. When you tried coaxing Steve to leave, to spare himself from everything he inevitably ended up suffering from.

After a minute or so, Steve shakes his head. “I’ll stay. You need my help.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say need–”

“Shut up and let me help you, Y/N.”

You sigh. There’s no arguing with him, he’s made up his mind and your truce that you shook on ten minutes ago burns your hand. He’s staying.

“A ‘please’ would’ve sufficed, but fine.” You link your arm around Steve’s and make your way up the cellar steps. “C’mon, Dustin is probably waiting for us with some new insane plan for where you’ll sleep.”

–

You know that your mom is safe, off at the other side of town, searching for your dead cat, but it’s still lonely walking into your empty home. Dustin is standing in the living room waiting, but you can see that it makes him uneasy as well.

Steve follows behind you and takes a look around. When he spots the lumpy, old, sagging couch in front of the window, he frowns. It’s barely bigger than he is, his feet would definitely hang over the edge. “This my bed for tonight?”

“It’ll have to be, unless you want to come snuggle with me in my bed.” Dustin says.

“I wouldn’t, he kicks in his sleep,” you tell Steve, attempting to make light of the situation.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he snorts. Then, as if he’s done this a million times before, Steve flings himself onto your couch and his feet do indeed hang over the edge. “Oh, yeah. This will definitely be cozy.”

You wince. “I’m sorry, you’re still free to go home. I completely understand and–”

“Unless…” Dustin begins to brighten up and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Pure horror washes over you; you know that look on his face. He’s scheming.

“Dustin, whatever is about to come out of your mouth–”

“Y/N has this giant bean bag in her room. Practically takes up the whole space, and, luckily for you, my new friend, it’s Steve-sized.”

Steve whips his head to face you, a curious look on his face. “You don’t say, Little Henderson?”

Both boys look at you, a matching glint of evil in their eyes, and you realize you’re trapped. When did they manage to sync up to make you miserable?

You weigh your options against your morals. On one hand, it’s your room and you and Steve are still warming back up to each other. However, on the other hand, Jonathan has spent countless nights on that bean bag himself.

Dustin’s right. Steve would fit perfectly.

Damn him.

You shuffle your feet, averting Steve’s eyes. “I mean, I guess you’d fit.”

“You guess? Steve, she’s had Jonathan sleep on that thing like a bajillion times.” Dustin waves his arms out, gleeful that he’s won. “In fact, I think our mom specifically bought it just for him.”

He now steps closer to Steve and eyes him up and down. “I’d bet money that you two are about the same size, so as I stated earlier: it’s Steve-sized.”

“I’m actually taller than him, so…” Steve mumbles to no one in particular, but quickly clears his throat and changes the subject. “And I’d finally be able to see Y/N Henderson’s room? Count me in.”

You blush furiously. He’s getting a kick out of all of this and he’s such a little shit, honestly. You’re not sure why the thought of having Steve Harrington in your room, eager to be in your room, makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks burn painfully.

Steve sees your blush and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, Y/N. It’ll be like a sleepover.”

“You’re far too pleased about all of this.”

“We can pretend to be back at Bookstrordinary. I’ll even stack some books that you definitely have in your room.”

Dustin stands between you and Steve, his face alight with joy and curiosity. “Can I please know when you two became best friends?”

“No, you hid Dart from me.”

“I’m not gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Steve clears his throat, clearly amused by your banter with Dustin but still unsure about everything going on. “So… What do ya say, Y/N?”

You bite your lip and look at him. He’s pathetically too large for the couch, it wouldn’t be fair to just force him to sleep there because of the weird way he makes you feel as if you’re floating yet falling all at the same time.

Exhaling, you give in. “Fine, but do not touch any of my books in the room.”

“Yes!” Steve high fives Dustin and you roll your eyes at them both.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. It’s late, can we please just go to bed now?”

Dustin sends you a wink, which thankfully Steve doesn’t see. “Sure, sis. Have a good night.”

And with that, probably because he senses you’re about to throw a shoe at him, Dustin flees the living room and runs to his room. As soon as he’s gone, Steve bats his eyelashes at you and playfully teases, “Take me to bed, Y/N.”

You snort, despite how exhausted you are. “Never say those words to me again.”

He laughs and stands up, following behind you as you guide him towards your own room. A part of you feels like you should give him a house tour, but logistically it’d be useless. You can’t imagine that Steve would be over at your house again once the Dart situation is handled.

You have to remind yourself that there are still roses for Nancy, currently wilting, in the backseat of Steve’s car.

They’ll work things out eventually, or maybe they won’t, but Nancy Wheeler still has Steve Harrington’s heart. He is her’s entirely.

Lost in thought, you almost miss the turn to your room and have to grab the back of Steve’s jacket and yank him towards your bedroom door.

“Hey–”

“Sorry, my room is here.”

“You Hendersons are just a delightful bunch, ya know that?”

“Be thankful you don’t have to meet our mother, honestly.” You fling your bedroom door open and gently push Steve inside.

As soon as he’s in your room, you watch as he takes it all in. His eyes scan every corner of the room, and you hold your breath as you wait for them to land on the Spider-Man poster he gave you for Christmas last year.

When Steve sees it, he smiles shyly at you. “I see you kept the gift.”

“Duh,” you walk over to your bed and sit down. “Still one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given.”

“One of?” He asks, tone light but curious.

Unconsciously, your fingers go to your bee necklace from Jonathan. You play with the pendant and smile softly. “Sorry, Jonathan kinda beat you to it.”

“I figured,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable. “I noticed the necklace the day I gave you the poster. Didn’t want to, uh, assume. I guess. But the necklace was from him?”

“It was,” you clear your throat, talking about Jonathan with Steve has always been such a foreign feeling for you.

Steve seems to be thinking the same thing and starts to wander around your room instead. You silently thank whatever god is up there for giving you the motivation to clean your room earlier that week. Normally you’re a neat person, but ever since Will started showing signs of post-traumatic stress, you’ve spent more time obsessively researching rather than tidying up.

Therefore, there’s still books strewn across your desk alongside some comics. Steve sees a Spidey one and holds it up with a laugh. “He’s everywhere.”

“He is.” You say proudly, now getting up to go into your closet to pull out the blankets and pillows usually reserved for Jonathan.

Steve wanders around some more as you dig through your closet. He lingers in front of your dresser, which holds photos of you, Dustin, and Jonathan.

“Here,” you hand the bedding to Steve and motion to where the bean bag is.

He looks up from a photo of you and Jonathan from last year. It’s your favorite of the two of you, he stands behind you in the picture with his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. You’re both smiling widely at the camera, the moment captured by Will because he wanted to try out the camera Jonathan had gotten that summer.

“You guys are really close, huh?” Steve asks.

You nod, although confused by his question. He spent half the summer with you and Jonathan at your job. You had conversations about your friendship together, but you suppose it’s different seeing the excess of love you have for the boy within your room. Jonathan is everywhere, if you look hard enough, you’ll find him.

Steve pauses for a second, as if he wants to say something else, but shakes his head and turns towards the bean bag. He arranges the pillows so that they’re flush against the wall facing your bed, which you think is an odd choice, but say nothing. Once he’s arranged the pillows and blankets, Steve turns to you and clears his throat.

“I hate to ask this, I really do, but I also don’t want to sleep in these jeans,” he waves his hands over his pants, which have always been a bit tighter than you thought was necessary. “Any chance I could wear something of Jonathan’s?”

You think for a moment and dig through your dresser. “I’m not sure, but if I can’t find anything of his then I think my old camp t-shirt can fit. As for pants, won’t your boxers work fine?”

Steve’s face turns red and he clears his throat once more, speaking in a slightly squeaky voice, “Y–yeah, I guess so.”

He’s stumbling over his words, which makes you pause. There’s no possible way that he’s nervous right now. He’s usually so confident and comfortable around you. Hell, last summer he offered to be your first kiss (by kissing his fingers and pressing them against your lips, but still).

“Are you shy right now, Steve?”

“What? No!” He scrambles to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between the two of you as he can.

You raise your eyebrows at him, but your cheeks are flushed as well. “Okay then, whatever you say.”

It’s painfully quiet after that as you continue looking for something for Steve to wear. You swear that Jonathan has left behind some of his things, and right before you lose hope, you spot a pair of gray sweats and an old The Clash t-shirt of his.

“Here,” you toss the clothes to Steve without even checking if he’s looking. You hear a crash and know that he, in fact, had not been looking.

“Gee, thanks.” He says sarcastically, but you giggle.

“No problem,” you begin to gather your own pajamas before pointing towards your door. “There’s a bathroom to the left, down the hall. You can change there.”

“Then our sleepover can commence?”

You wave him off, but you smile anyway at his question. You missed his boyish charms. “Sure, buddy. Go change.”

Steve salutes you and then leaves the room, softly closing the door behind him. You change while he’s gone and tie your hair up. After a few minutes, you assume Steve has had enough time to change and make your way over to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth. You’re so excited to go to bed.

However, the door is closed when you approach, meaning Steve is still changing. You knock on the door, “Are you almost done in there?”

“I’m having… problems.”

Your hand hovers over the door, mid knock. “Problems?”

There’s only silence for a moment, almost as if Steve is contemplating elaborating. Finally, after several seconds, he says “I’m definitely taller than Byers.”

You roll your eyes and begin knocking again, just to annoy Steve, until he finally swings the door open. Before you can even stop it, a loud laugh escapes you. The sweats are at least five inches too short on him, while Jonathan’s shirt is a size too small. He looks absolutely ridiculous.

“It’s not funny!” Steve whines, his face once again red. “I thought you gave me Jonathan’s clothes, Y/N!”

More laughter escapes you, making your ribs begin to hurt. Every time you try to speak, you laugh even harder, and it’s impossible for you to get any words out. Steve watches, not amused in the slightest, and crosses his arms as if to appear more dignified.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to gasp out, more laughs threatening to spill from you. “I guess they’re clothes from when he was fourteen.”

“I’m reconsidering our truce from earlier.”

This gets you to stop laughing, and you gasp and smack Steve’s chest. “You wouldn’t dare!”

He sighs, hanging his head low. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly,” his admission makes you giddy. “Now, either make yourself cozy in the bean bag or watch as I brush my teeth. Your choice.”

Steve shrugs and steps to the side so that there’s room for you to enter the bathroom. It’s a tight fit, but he ends up sitting on the edge of the tub and just watches as you begin the process of brushing your teeth. “I didn’t actually think you’d stay, ya know.”

“I know, but I’m bored and you’re here.”

You spit into the sink. “Fair, I guess.”

“Plus,” he picks at his nails, trying to look disinterested while wearing Jonathan’s too small clothes. “We still need to have that talk.”

You pause, toothbrush hanging from your lips as you stare at Steve, wide eyed, in the mirror. Honestly, you were hoping he would’ve forgotten about that. It’s not that you don’t want to know whatever he has to tell you, but you’re tired and still reeling over the fact that he’s spending the entire night in your room.

“Oh, right.” Turning the faucet off, you finish brushing your teeth and awkwardly wipe your face. Steve watches quietly, and once you’re done, you motion for him to follow you back towards your room.

As soon as you’re back in your room, Steve immediately curls himself upon the bean bag and brings the blanket all the way up to his chin. Dustin, as always, is right: the bean bag truly is Steve-sized. “Cozy.”

You laugh at him as you crawl into your own bed. “Yeah, I’d hope so. Jonathan has slept in it for years now.”

“Well, uh. Speaking of Jonathan…” Steve sits up a bit so that he can properly look at you. “I wanted to talk. Ya know… About you and him. Nancy, too.”

He pauses, furrows his brows, and then adds. “Actually, I want to talk about what really happened this summer. Everything. I want to know everything.”

“Everything is a lot,” you dodge, turning away from the boy.

Steve sighs. “Y/N… I missed you.”

Missed.

“I want to be friends again, be how we were before, but… I don’t know. There was a lot unsaid between us. Even from the start. I mean, I understand. I do.” His eyes never leave yours, despite how much you try not to look back at him. “You’re, well–If we’re going to be friends again, I want to start from the beginning.”

“The beginning?”

Now Steve is the one who looks away. “I don’t know, it’s stupid, I guess–”

“It’s not stupid, Steve.” You reassure him. He’s trying, he’s inviting you in after everything you did to him, and it’s all you could’ve asked for.

But you’re fucking terrified.

You and Steve became close before, sure, but it was something more surface level. An act between the two of you. While Steve was able to read you over time, learning and asking and paying attention to you, there was still so much you never let him in on. What you haven’t let anyone in on, besides Jonathan.

If you start from the beginning with Steve, someone you know has come to view you as this selfless and kind person, you’re scared that it’ll change the way he sees you.

But Steve is looking at you from the bean bag, looking ridiculously cozy with the blanket wrapped around him and his usually carefully curated hair has fallen in his eyes; his gaze is open and trusting. There isn’t a pressure behind it, he would understand if you backed down, but you promised him you’d try.

To try is to be human.

And you really, really missed Steve.

“I moved here when I was twelve. My family and I had moved all the way from Virginia after the divorce. I remember being really mean, back then. An angry kid with all this hurt within her that she perpetually displaced upon everyone else.”

“Angry?” Steve asks, his voice soft.

You shift uncomfortably in bed, but you remind yourself that you agreed to this. If you’re going to begin again with Steve, then he deserves to know the true person he’s befriending. “Angry. I didn’t take the divorce well. At all. I acted out a lot, closed myself off, and was just a fucking awful person.”

Shifting again, you take a deep breath. “My anger got to the point where Dustin, who was nine, had to practically plead with me to be nicer to him. He was a kid.”

“So were you,” Steve gently chimes in, but you roll your eyes at him.

“Being a kid didn’t give me an excuse to abandon my loved ones like I did. Like my father did. It wasn’t until Dustin called me out on my bullshit that I realized the irony of the situation. There I was, blaming everyone else for my own problems and running away, because I was so hurt by my father doing the same to me.”

Steve clenches his jaw, and you know he wants to say more, but you watch as he exhales deeply and decides against it. “Okay, so you were mean and then you became kind again after something traumatic… So what?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean,” the boy sighs. “I was a dick for like, ten consecutive years. It took losing a fight to Jonathan, embarrassing myself in front of Nancy at least five times, losing my bullshit ‘friends’ Tommy and Carol, and some blonde guy with a fucking mullet before I was even able to become a decent person.”

You frown. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that you came back.” Steve shrugs. “The second someone you loved asked you to, you came back to being the selfless angel that you are. Which, by the way, is an impressive feat in itself.”

He says this as if it’s obvious and that the months you spent hurting everyone around you can be redeemed. As if you haven’t spent every waking hour tirelessly devoting every piece of yourself to those around you to make up for them. To repent for your anger.

Steve takes your silence as more defiance, and he runs a tired hand through his hair. He’s merely a few feet from you, at the foot of your bed on the bean bag, and yet it feels as if he’s inches yet yards away. “I know I can’t change your mind, but… I think that’s what matters the most in the end, ya know? You became kind.”

“So did you,” you finally say, not quite ready to accept what he’s saying.

Now it’s Steve who looks away. “Still working on the whole ‘kind’ thing.”

“Isn’t that what matters in the end?” You tease, feeling yourself warm with pride when you get him to laugh.

“Touche.”

Silence falls over the two of you, letting the tension lazily slip away for now. Your body hums with energy; the only other person you’ve told about your father to is Jonathan. You both have long since bonded over shitty father figures. However, even when you had whispered these truths to Jonathan back when you were thirteen, you don’t remember feeling quite so raw and vulnerable as you do right now with Steve.

“I meant it, you know,” you catch Steve’s eye. “Back when you first drove me home last year. You’re alright. Not too shabby, honestly.”

This time a full body laugh cascades through the boy, He clutches at his stomach as he doubles over, breathless with joy. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Steve is still laughing and this is the happiest you think you’ve seen him in months. The realization makes all the warmth you’ve felt earlier, vanish. You remember the hurt on his face earlier this week on Halloween, the tears in his eyes when he confessed that Nancy didn’t love him.

You know how plagued Steve is about never being good enough, and for the first time since you’ve truly gotten to know him: you understand him in that very moment.

Your eye catches on Steve’s adam’s apple as he swallows. It’s a tragedy, really, how attractive he is. You suppose it’s what caused his downfall, in the end. A pretty boy, rich and popular yet easily able to be taken down; it must be a lonely life with all that vulnerability.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whisper, voice cutting through the darkness of your room as Steve seems to remember where he is, why and how the conversation started in the first place.

“Always,”

“I’m scared of the compulsive need I feel to take care of everyone. It’s like… I don’t know, this debt that I feel I owe for existing, for the fear I feel because of my father leaving. I overcompensate for this fear now, terrified I’ll become mean again.”

Steve stares at your ceiling. “The whole ‘debt’ thing, I understand. Believe me. Rather than being a perfect angel, however, I just try my fucking hardest not to disappoint everyone around me and make them leave.”

Nancy, as she always seems to do, lingers between you and Steve now; you both can feel her presence without him having to say her name. He told you what she did to him, you tried to reassure him that it hadn’t been his fault, but Steve isn’t an idiot.

Nancy never loved him. He knows this, now.

You don’t say anything, you don’t think he’d want you to. Giving him some time, you allow Steve a few minutes to collect his thoughts, sensing he has more to say. Then, softly, he whispers back to you, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always,” you echo.

“I just want to be loved.”

With just one confession, a string of six words in succession, Steve Harrington crushes you.

The words come crashing upon your chest and you wish you could tell him how easily you see yourself falling for him. How, even if you can’t admit it just yet, you’re already falling for him. You think you have been for some time now.

Somewhere, in between him driving you home last year and the way the summer sun kissed his face months later, you began to fall in love with him.

While you’re thinking this, Steve is laying in the bean bag, absolutely terrified of the words that have come out of his mouth. He’s always had the fear, deep down, that he was unlovable, but to admit the fear out loud… He’s never felt so weak before.

You’re silent and Steve thinks he’s finally done it. His pathetic need to be liked and loved by everyone around him has finally scared you away. How couldn’t it scare you away? You so naturally are loved by everyone while Steve compulsively demands it because he’s still that scared ten year old boy with a father who never showed him love.

Then, because you’re an angel, you give Steve the response he hadn’t even known he needed to hear. “It’s natural to want to be loved. We all do. It’s human.”

He exhales at your words, still staring at the ceiling as if to somehow lessen the impact of what you’re telling him. There’s something there, hanging in the air after your words have disappeared, that Steve can’t quite understand.

It almost sounded like you were trying to reassure yourself, as well.

“What’s the deal with you and Jonathan?” Though Steve’s voice is steady, you can tell that he’s trying not to sound too interested.

The question is a simple one, but it’s the hardest question you’ve ever had to answer. Everyone asks you, sooner or later, if you and Jonathan are together. You never blame them for asking, because ultimately the two of you are closer than the average friends, regardless of gender.

It doesn’t make the question any less painful to answer, though. It doesn’t make hearing Jonathan’s laugh cut any less deeper.

As for Steve, he’s asked this question before, albeit with teasing and disbelief whenever you’ve told him there’s nothing there. Despite the numerous times you’ve corrected him, he’s never quite believed you.

This time, it feels different. There’s a weight behind Steve’s question, and your silence is all the answer that he needs. “You love him.”

The words aren’t a question, and they harbor no malice. He says them as if they are a fact; you suppose that it is. You don’t say anything, but you do nod your head at him. “I do… I think I’ve always loved him, honestly.”

You’ve never, ever said those words out loud. Not to anyone.

And now, you’re confessing them to Steve, who doesn’t have to ask you why your voice now holds melancholy within it. He knows, he’s always somehow known. Jonathan doesn’t love you, a fact in which Steve has never been able to wrap his head around. He’s watched the two of you for years, how easily you love one another, and yet somehow the love never blossomed into something more.

Everything stills between you and Steve, allowing both your confessions to surround the two of you. “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s apology only causes you to shrug. “He’s still mine, at least for now. Is that so bad?”

“I mean, I guess not, but… Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

“God,” you squeeze your eyes shut, finally able to voice all you’ve been feeling to someone who can understand. “It feels like this crushing weight upon me every time I see him smile, like it’s a burden, carrying all this love within me without being able to express it freely. I just… I never thought that love could be so exhausting. ”

As the words start to come out, you find that you’re unable to stop. “I grew up with Jonathan, I learned the way he breathes and the way his hands feel pressed against my skin, but so much has changed and…” Your breath hitches. “He’s not someone I reach out to first anymore. It almost feels like I can’t. I love him, I do, but I also miss how it used to be before I realized everything.”

The pressure of tears builds behind your eyes and forces you to stop talking. If you say anything else, you’re afraid you’ll start crying. While Steve has been so lovely tonight, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to console you so pathetically.

Steve seems to hear the tears lacing your voice and speaks for you, having finally pieced together everything he’s been unable to articulate since November of last year. “With Nance, it feels like I’m always somehow two steps behind her and her feelings. Constantly playing catch up while the rules keep changing on me… I get the whole ‘love is exhausting’ thing.”

Though you know Steve means well, his words fucking terrify you. If he feels the same way towards Nancy, a girl who never ended up loving him despite how much he poured his heart out for her, what does that mean for you and Jonathan?

For the first time, you question if the exhaustion you feel surrounding your love for the boy is really something else. Something different, disguised as exhaustion.

You wonder, deep down, if you’ve started to fall out of love with Jonathan.

Who are you if you have?

The boy has become so intertwined within your life, the threads and strings and lines have tied you to him indefinitely. He’s the reason behind your everything. If you no longer love Jonathan, then who are you, really?

The realization washes over you like cold rain in the middle of winter. It spills over you and pricks at your skin and you suddenly want the conversation to end. While you’re so relieved to be talking to Steve again, the conversation has left you with more realizations than resolutions.

“It’s late,” you fake a yawn, desperate to cut the conversation short. “We should go to bed. Knowing Dustin, he’ll have us up at the crack of dawn to start looking for Dart.”

Steve sees right through you, he knows he’s somehow crossed a line and that you’re once again retreating. You’re closing yourself off from him again, but he’ll take whatever he can get from you. You’ve told him more than he ever thought you would, so for now he’ll play along.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says, watching as you reach for your lamp and turn the light off. Then, as soon as you’ve rolled over and closed your eyes, you faintly hear his final words. “Don’t we make a pathetic pair?”

You remember, before drifting off to sleep, feeling relief wash over you that Steve once again considers the two of you a pair.

–

You wake up the next morning to the faint sounds of Dustin getting ready. His shower can be heard from your room, and through the years it's become your morning alarm. Yawning, you roll over and rub your eyes and take a few minutes to let your brain wake up.

Bits of yesterday’s events come back to you.

Dustin confessing about Dart.

Locking the Demodog in your cellar.

Radioing everyone in the party for help and getting no response.

Going to the Wheelers for Mike and coming back with Steve.

Dart going missing.

And, most importantly, your bizarre conversation with Steve last night.

The boy in question lets out a loud snore from the bean bag, blankets haphazardly twisted around his legs, and you stifle a laugh. Even in his sleep, Steve Harrington somehow catches all the attention in the room.

You throw your blanket off and get out of bed, tiptoeing so as to not wake up the sleeping beauty, and head outside to your kitchen. If yesterday was any indication of how long today will be, then you need all the coffee in the world to get through it.

The coffee has just finished brewing when you hear Steve stumble into the kitchen. His eyes are bleary and his hair is the worst it’s ever looked. “I guess even Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington can’t escape bed head, huh?”

Steve acknowledges your quip only by grunting, still stumbling around through your home. So he isn’t a morning person, you think with a smile while bringing your coffee mug to your lips and taking a careful sip.

Eventually Steve makes it to your kitchen table and plops down, letting out a loud yawn and smacking his lips. He looks pathetically endearing, really, especially given his outfit that looks even worse after sleeping in it. The shirt has ridden further up, exposing a bit of his stomach (which you divert your gaze from, feeling yourself blush), and one of his too-short pant legs has ridden up to his knee.

“You really are a natural beauty in the morning, Steve.”

“Ha,” he says boredly, looking around the kitchen. “Do you guys have any food? I’m starving.”

You toss him an apple from the fruit basket on the counter, and Steve only just manages to catch it in time to avoid it hitting his face.

“Christ!” He exclaims, glaring at you when you chuckle at his reaction. Maybe it was a little mean, but you see the small smile he tries to hide.

“Is this all I get? An apple thrown at my face?”

You walk over to the table and set your mug down. “Were you expecting a home cooked meal?”

“You’ll have to earn a Y/N Henderson breakfast,” Dustin says as he enters the kitchen and joins the two of you. His hair is still wet from his shower and he drips onto the counter, which makes you cringe. He’s such a boy, sometimes.

He makes his way over to the fridge and rustles around, looking for something to eat. Truthfully, the reason you threw the apple at Steve is because there’s no food in your house at the moment. Your mom normally goes to the grocery store on Saturdays, and in her frantic rush to find Mews she hadn't left any money for you to go to the store.

“There’s no food,” you inform your brother.

He sighs dejectedly, grabbing a banana and then plopping himself next to Steve at the table. “All right, are you two awake enough to discuss the plan?”

You nod immediately at Dustin’s question while Steve slumps further into his seat, groaning. You run a hand through his hair to try and settle down his theatrics. Dustin sees this and raises an eyebrow at you, but you shake your head and motion for him to keep quiet.

“So,” he takes a bite from his banana and begins speaking with his mouth full, which you make a face at. “I was thinking we lure Dart with bait to a secure area that we can catch him in.”

“Wait,” Steve sits up a bit in his seat, careful to not knock your hand off his head. “That’s all you got? That’s the entire plan?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he begins eating as well, his mouth also full and disgusting to look at, “Do you know how we’ll lure him? Or where? Better yet, how will we even catch him?”

Dustin narrows his eyes. “Okay, so it’s a working idea. You got anything better?”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He pauses for a second before seemingly drawing a blank and closing his mouth; he sinks back into his seat in defeat.

“That’s what I thought.” Dustin says smugly.

You take another sip of coffee, enjoying the mug’s warmth around your fingers. “Well, we at least know what Dart likes to eat.”

“We do?” Steve questions, looking up at you.

“Oh, just wait until you hear this,” you motion over to Dustin. “Go on, tell Steve what you’ve been feeding Dart.”

Now it’s your brother’s turn to sink into his seat, embarrassed. He mumbles something that Steve can’t quite hear.

“What?”

He mumbles again, only a tiny bit louder this time.

“Little Henderson, I can’t understand you.” Steve says, smirking when he feels you laugh against him.

“I said he eats Musketeers Bars!” Dustin shouts, now incredibly defensive.

In sync, you and Steve share a look. While you have an exasperated fondness on your face, Steve looks like he’s questioning every choice he’s made in his life. It’s cute that he thinks this is the weirdest things will get.

“Okay…” Steve looks over at your brother. “Unless you plan on buying out an entire candy store, we need something else for bait.”

In the corner of your eye you see Mews’ cat bed laying against the window, and an idea pops into your head. “Dustin, did Dart only eat the candy bars before he killed our cat?”

“Yeah, why?”

As you walk over to the kitchen sink to place your mug in it, you begin explaining. “Then clearly he’s outgrown his sugar needs and would probably eat just about anything with flesh on it.”

Steve wrinkles his face with displeasure, not enjoying the thought of going after this monster that craves meat. He’s already done that, and call him crazy, but he really doesn’t want to experience anything like that ever again.

Dustin’s eyes light up, following along with what you’re saying. “Raw meat! You’re a genius, Y/N!”

“And then we can follow the train tracks to that old junkyard, the one that El brought you guys to last year. It’s a straight shot, Dart won’t get lost, and then we catch him.”

Dustin squeals. “That’s perfect!”

He stands up to hug you, which you gladly accept. “Yeah, yeah. We Hendersons are known for our genius,” you gently push your brother away and start exiting the kitchen. “I’m going to go shower and get ready. Steve, you’ll take Dustin to the butcher and see if you can haggle some raw meat out of him.”

“Uh… can I change first?” He asks, running a hand through his hair with displeasure.

Only now does Dustin notice Steve’s appearance and he lets out a loud cackle. “Oh, I think you look great!”

You shoot your brother a warning look, not wanting to upset Steve too much. He’s the only one with a car, and the party still hasn’t responded to Dustin’s calls, so he’s all you have right now. Plus, after last night’s conversation, you’re sure he’s feeling just as wound up and tense as you are.

“We can swing by your place on our way to the train tracks. Your house is right next to it, anyways, and Dustin and I can scout the parameters while you shower and get yourself all pretty. For now, just go to the butcher's shop, please.”

“But–”

“Please, Steve?” You pout, daring him to argue with you again. Steve is only able to stand his ground for about five seconds before he groans and nods his head.

“Fine–” You quickly hug him before running towards the bathroom to get ready.

Once you’re gone, Steve searches for his keys while Dustin stands in the kitchen, shocked. “I so need to know when you two became such good pals.”

“Go wait by the car, Little Henderson.” Steve waves him off, though he’s secretly pleased with how the morning is turning out so far.

–

“C’mon, man. It’s just chunks of raw meat, it doesn’t even matter what, uh, body parts they are, I guess.” Steve argues with the butcher, having no idea why you’ve sent him on this journey with Dustin. Neither of them have any idea about butchers and meat, so they’ve been arguing back and forth for a solid ten minutes with the guy.

“And I already told you, it’ll be $15. Take it or leave it, pretty boy.” Pat, the butcher, says.

Steve scowles at the name, “That’s insane for five pounds, you realize that? It’s just a bunch of meat chunks from god knows where, it’s not like we want prime rib you dirty sack of–”

Dustin cuts him off, snatching the boy’s wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a twenty. “Ignore him, please! Here, thank you so much for your lovely service, good sir.”

Pat narrows his eyes at the boy, and for a split second Dustin is afraid that he’s trying to figure out the best way to skin them alive, before he simply grunts and takes the money.

Relief washes over Dustin and he scrambles to grab the bags of meat, tugging at Steve’s sleeve in urgence until he gives in and begins to help as well. Within a few seconds, they’ve gathered all they need and head towards the car.

“Keep the change!” Dustin calls out behind him.

As soon as they’re in the car, he yells at Steve to step on it. It’s already been twenty minutes since they left the house, and he knows from experience to never keep you waiting.

“Okay, okay, god.” Steve complies, pushing down on the gas and speeding away from the butcher’s shop.

The smell of raw meat immediately infiltrates the car, so Steve rolls down the windows and sighs. This is definitely not the weekend he had in mind. He thought he’d apologize to Nancy, kiss and hopefully make up, and maybe even swing by your place to tell you the good news.

Instead, he has buckets of raw meat in his car and his head is swimming from his conversation with you from last night. While he’s happy it happened, there’s still so much Steve feels like you aren’t telling him. To top it all off, he hadn’t been able to sleep in his own bed, but rather a bean bag that Jonathan apparently has slept in a million times before.

As Steve is moping, he realizes that there actually wasn’t even a real need to spend the night.

“Hey, Little Henderson,” Steve gently hits Dustin’s shoulder to get his attention. “Why did I have to spend the night at your place?”

“Oh, you didn’t.” Dustin says as if it’s no big deal.

Steve turns his head towards him, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d actually spend the night if we’re being honest. I just thought it’d be funny to mess with you.”

“I tried arguing with you, but you shushed me!” Steve exclaims, putting both hands back on the steering wheel aggressively.

The younger boy shrugs, “What are you, seventeen? Eighteen? Why would you listen to a thirteen year old?”

“Well, I–” As much as he wants to, Steve really can’t defend himself on this one. Shit. It’s not like he can tell Dustin that he mostly stayed because his sister is pretty and makes him feel safe.

Dustin smiles, happy to have won the conversation at hand, and decides to really rub it in as they pull up to the house. “I also thought it’d be hilarious to pair you up with my sister. Hope you two made smart choices last night.”

And with those words, Dustin springs out the car, leaving a speechless Steve behind. He turns the car off and sits there for a moment, completely at a loss for words. He’s only spent a total of sixteen hours with the kid, and already he knows he’s in for a world more of trouble.

If you’re Hawkins’ sweetheart, then Dustin is the town’s horribly terrifying weasel.

Meanwhile, you’ve just finished lacing up your shoes when Dustin walks in.

“Where are the rubber gloves that mom likes?” He asks in lieu of greeting you.

“In the closet, second shelf, next to her cat figurines. Where’s Steve?”

Dustin rustles around the closet and pulls out three sets of gloves, “In the car, moping.”

There’s a crash and then he tosses two buckets onto the carpet. You crouch down and grab the buckets, placing them on the table. “Why is he moping?”

“Why is who moping?” The man in question walks in, throwing himself on the couch and narrowly dodging the third bucket that Dustin throws out. “Why do you guys keep throwing shit at me, jesus!”

“Language! There’s kids around,” You snap your fingers at Steve, who quickly cowers in shame. “And if it makes any difference, the bucket wasn’t intentional. The rest were, though.”

Just as Dustin is finishing up in the closet, you spot a can of gasoline and an idea sparks in your head. If you learned anything at Jonathan’s house last year, it’s that these Demogorgon things really hate fire. “Hey, grab the gasoline as well.”

He does as he’s told, no questions asked, and then hands it to you. You add it to the pile on the table, along with two backpacks from your brother and your beloved switchblade.

Steve gets up from the couch to investigate your stash, nodding approvingly. “Not bad, guys. What are we going to put in the backpacks, though?”

Dustin goes into the kitchen and begins grabbing the few items within it. The remaining fruits in the basket, a few pieces of bread, a bag of chips, and some water bottles. “One bag will have our food, the other will have our weapons.”

And with that, you guys are all set to head out. While Dustin is distracted with grabbing his backpack, you run towards Steve’s car and throw yourself into the passenger seat. Every man for himself.

“What– Y/N!” He calls after you, but he’s too late. You’ve already buckled yourself up by the time he and Steve get into the car themselves.

“She beat ya, buddy.” Steve teases, flashing you a proud smile.

Dustin grumbles in the backseat, unamused, and for a moment you think he’ll leave it at that. However, because he’s Dustin, you see from the rearview mirror as his eyes spark with revenge. “So, Steve.”

The tone in his voice terrifies you.

You place your head in your hands and sigh, mentally preparing for whatever your brother is about to say.

“Yes, Dustin?”

“How long have you been friendly with my sister?”

“Dustin!” You whip your head around, lunging towards the back seat to swat at the boy, but he quickly scoots over to Steve’s side and avoids your hands.

Steve, however, surprises you by simply shrugging and taking the question in stride. There’s no embarrassment on his face, no ounce of hesitation in his voice. “About a year now.”

“A year?” Dustin exclaims, having completely not expected such a response. “Y/N, how could you keep this from me?”

“She didn’t hide anything from you, buddy.” Steve defends you, eyes focused on the road. “I convinced her to be my friend after I saved her life–”

“You saved her life?”

“And then bought you boys snacks at the hospital afterwards. Then, because I really wanted to be her friend, I basically stalked her at work every day and annoyed my way into her life. We’ve been pretty close ever since.”

Dustin’s jaw is practically on the ground after Steve’s quick explanation, left speechless for the first time in his life. As for you, you’re admiring the way the early morning sun causes Steve to glow. You’ll never be over how often his beauty distracts you; you wonder how Nancy, or really anyone, could deny him love.

If you didn’t know Steve, if you passed by him on the street one day as complete strangers, you’re sure that a part of you would fall in love with him.

Even with pieces of his hair standing all over the place, his shirt still being too small, he was a delicate kind of handsome that made you feel a certain warmth.

“Did I forget anything, Y/N?” Steve’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, and you quickly divert your eyes away from the way his arms look while holding the steering wheel.

“No, uh.” You clear your throat, still recovering. Steve seems to be in good spirits for once, it’s a breath of fresh air seeing him so content, and yet it also serves as a stark reminder that you made the right choice when you first distanced yourself from him. He’s just too easy to love. “I think you pretty much covered everything. Unless Dustin has any questions?”

“Give me three to five business days to process this, please.” Your brother mumbles from the backseat, which you and Steve laugh at.

The rest of the ride is relatively peaceful after that, and a few minutes later you arrive at Steve’s house. It’s different in the daylight, only ever having seen it late one night driving the boy home from the Halloween party.

It’s a beautiful home, the smell of chlorine fills your nose. The pool, you remember Nancy mentioning his pool when she explained what happened to Barb. You shiver, now aware that you’re in the same place that your friend took her last breaths at, just a year ago.

“The tracks are just over on the other side of the street, and I shouldn’t be too long, so you Hendersons can start figuring out the plan in the meantime.” Steve instructs you and Dustin, getting out of the car and entering his house.

Dustin begins getting out as well, so you unbuckle your seatbelt and follow. Thankfully you decided to wear jeans today with a simple tank top and cardigan with your knit socks; though it was late October, it’s unusually sunny outside and the walk from Steve’s to the junkyard was easily four to five miles.

The two of you walk over to the tracks and you survey the area. You’re not sure what exactly you’re looking for, but you figure it’s best to look focused in case Dustin yells at you.

“We’ll need to go that way,” Dustin points in front of you, and you nod as you follow along. “We can drop the meat chunks every few sleepers so we don’t waste any of it.”

“Sleepers?”

“These.” Dustin’s shoe scrapes against the bottom wooden planks.

“You would know what they’re called.”

“Ha ha, any more quips or can I continue?”

You put your hands up in surrender and Dustin begins to speak again.

“Then once we get to the junkyard, we can dump whatever meat is left in a pile and put the gasoline on it. Once Dart is distracted and eating, we’ll light it on fire.” His words catch a bit at the end, and you suddenly feel bad for him. He clearly still cares about Dart, but you know your brother understands the risks of letting the Demodog live.

Without saying anything, you reach over and pull Dustin in for a hug. He fights it at first, but after a couple seconds he gives in and hugs you back. You aren’t the most affectionate pair of siblings, but you love your younger brother fiercely. Not for the first time, you wish you could’ve done more to prevent him from discovering the Upside Down.

You know it’s irrational to blame yourself and feel guilty, but maybe if you’d been more involved last year, then maybe he wouldn’t have so many nightmares.

“I’m sorry about Dart,” you say softly against his hat.

Dustin breaks away, shrugging his shoulders. “Gotta protect the party, right?”

“Right.” You flick his hat. “C’mon, let’s go back to the car and start putting the meat in the buckets.”

True to his word, Steve is ready to go after about twenty minutes. He walks out of his house, freshly clean and put together, right as you and Dustin finish preparing the bait. He approaches from behind you, and you can smell his cologne. Memories from when he’d have his arms around you and you’d smell the familiar scent now wash over you.

Clearing your throat, you turn to hand him gloves and a bucket, but almost drop it when you see him.

He looks good. Like, frustratingly good. His hair is back in its usual style, but he’s wearing a dark blue polo and a gray jacket that fits him criminally well. You almost feel underdressed standing next to him with your ratty old cardigan, which you know is ridiculous to be concerned about. Plus, you’ve always known that Steve was attractive, so it’s stupid to be affected by it suddenly now.

You guys had one emotional conversation.

“Y/N?”

Steve’s staring at you quizzically, and you quickly snap out of your thoughts and hand him the bucket full of bait and instruct him to put the gloves on. He listens, dutifully putting them on and placing the bucket on the ground and starts searching for one of the backpacks in the trunk. He’s seemingly in a much better mood now, which you’re thankful for.

“Dustin! This is Lucas. Do you copy? Dustin?”

Lucas’ voice rings out from Dustin’s walkie, and you perk your head up, relieved that he’s okay. The radio silence from the party was something that unnerved you immensely. With Dart on the loose, Will’s increasing episodes, who knows what else is happening in Hawkins at the moment?

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” Dustin responds, placing his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. You chuckle at him and continue helping Steve unload the trunk.

You hear Lucas sigh into the walkie. “Sorry, man. My stupid sister turned it off.”

“Tell Erica I say hi!” You call out, knowing Lucas will hear you. He always resented the fact that his sister is so nice to you. You’re the only living person who didn’t receive Erica’s insane insults, which is something you’re very proud of.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Lucas!”

Dustin shoos you away and continues to speak. “Well, when you were having sister problems, which really aren’t that hard to handle–”

“Says you,” you butt in.

“Dart grew again, he escaped, and I’m pretty sure he’s a baby Demogorgon.” Your brother finishes. By this point, you and Steve have pretty much unpacked everything in the car.

“Wait, what?” You’d kill to see the look on Lucas’ face right now.

“I’ll explain later, just meet me, Y/N, and Steve at the old junkyard.” As Dustin wraps up the conversation, Steve shoves his bat into the bag and you watch him with disappointment. He’s trying really hard to make it fit, and you almost pity the boy. Bless him.

There’s a pause before Lucas asks, “Steve?”

Dustin doesn’t elaborate, instead instructing his friend to bring his binoculars and wrist rocket. You suppose it’s a good idea to add more weapons to your arsenal. Better safe than sorry.

“Steve Harrington?” Lucas asks again, this time even more confused.

“He’s a friend,” you say, shoving your own weapons into the bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

Steve closes the trunk and says, “Damn straight I am. Alright, let’s go.”

You follow after him, saying goodbye to Lucas as Dustin tells him to be at the junkyard stat.

Dustin stashes his walkie in his own bag and then the three of you are off. Your brother and Steve walk a bit ahead of you as you all throw the meat chunks onto the ground, doing as Dustin instructed. It’s slow work, but you’re happy to have some time to yourself while the boys are distracted with each other. Their friendship wasn’t something you’d expect, but you’re incredibly happy about it.

You love the party, you’d do anything for them given all that you’ve been through together. However, as they grow older, you can’t help but notice how much they’re changing. Mike hasn’t been himself since El disappeared, Dustin is now hyper focused on science, Lucas is becoming his own person, and poor Will is just trying to recover from the trauma of last year.

It’s been hard watching them grow apart, in a way. Nothing will ever be the same after the Upside Down, you know that, but watching the party slowly drift makes you sad for your brother. You’re glad he’s seemingly found someone like Steve to bounce jokes off of and feel appreciated by. You know that someday the kids will all come together again, it’d be impossible not to with how strong of a connection they all have, so you try not to worry too much.

You shove the thoughts down, you need to keep focused on Dart and contacting the rest of the party. So, you dutifully place the bait down and follow behind the boys and feel the time pass by. After about an hour of nonsensical conversation between Steve and Dustin, you hear the older boy finally ask the question of why your brother even hid Dart in the first place.

“It’s complicated, okay?” Dustin defects, clearly uncomfortable with the change in conversation.

You keep your distance from them, but you keep an ear out just in case you need to intervene.

“You claim you wanted to get famous off of it or whatever,” Steve drops meat onto the tracks and kicks his foot. “Call me crazy, but you don’t hide something that supposedly makes you famous.”

He has a point, and Dustin scrunches his face up. He casts a glance your way and you do your best to appear distracted by the job at hand. You know Dustin’s guilty face well, so whatever he’s about to tell Steve will be good. When Dustin shuffles closer to Steve and lowers his voice, you get closer as well so you can listen.

You’re his older sister. It’s your damn job to be nosy.

“It was for this girl.”

Simultaneously you and Steve react. He hums in approval, almost proud, while you scoff. “I knew it.”

Dustin turns around, horrified. “You knew?”

“Duh, you’re awful at hiding things from me. After Max was just conveniently outside the AV room when Dart originally escaped, I pieced it together immediately. Also, side note: you’re too young to be impressing girls. I told you to just be yourself, dummy.”

Steve lets out a snort. “Pretty ironic coming from you, Y/N.”

Suddenly you feel uncomfortable with his attention on you.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is steady, but you can feel your hands shaking as you continue throwing the bait.

“Ya know, your massive crush on Jonathan ever since you were twelve.” He laughs, as if it’s the funniest joke in the world.

Dustin clears his throat aggressively, pointing to your hands. Steve sees the way that they shake, the tension you now carry in your shoulders, and he’s become familiar enough with you to know your anger cues. The teasing smile that had been on his face drops. He runs towards you so he’s now by your side, and Dustin sighs in disappointment.

“I didn’t, like, mean anything by that, you know. I–uh, I was kidding, Y/N.” Steve tries to catch your gaze, but you pointedly stare straight ahead and clench your jaw. He’s stumbling over both his words and the tracks beneath his feet, trying desperately to appease you. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.”

“Y/N, please, I said I was sorry–”

You finally face him, grabbing his elbow to ensure he doesn’t move. “I told you that stuff about Jonathan in confidence. You don’t get to throw it back in my face, joking or not.”

It doesn’t help that you’re already confused enough as it is about the boy and your feelings towards him. To have Steve tease you about it, especially because he knows how painful jabs about Nancy are… It really fucking hurts.

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows.

“Shit…”

“You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.”

Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.”

They walk in silence for a little while, Steve hanging his head in shame and Dustin leading the way, frustrated by being stuck with two overly emotional teens.

After a while the silence eats at Steve, so he decides to continue the conversation from earlier. “So, this girl… is she someone you’ve known a while?”

Dustin shakes his head, “No, she’s new at our school. She’s super cool, though.”

“I remember back when I based my attraction to girls on their coolness.” Steve mumbles.

“And look where basing it off their hotness has gotten you.”

“Ouch,” Steve rubs at his chest, wounded.

Dustin laughs and flings some bait at him. “I thought that if I showed her Dart, she’d think I was cool, too, and like me.”

Steve sidesteps the thrown bait and tries to comprehend what the younger boy is saying. “So, you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl who… you just met?”

“Alright, that’s grossly oversimplifying things. And anyways, who are you to give me girl advice? My sister is literally three hundred feet ahead of us because you pissed her off with one singular sentence.” Then, almost as if as an afterthought, Dustin adds, “congrats, by the way. I’ve never seen someone piss her off so quickly.”

“Look, this isn’t about me, okay? Sure, I messed up with Y/N, but it isn’t like I was hitting on her to begin with,” Dustin makes a disgusted face as Steve quickly continues, panicked. “So she doesn’t count. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard, man.”

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?” Dustin grumbles.

Steve shakes his head, slightly amused by the boy’s antics. He’s so much like you, and yet so different, and Steve is realizing it’ll take a lot to keep up with the kid. “It’s not about the hair, dude. Chicks dig more than just a good hairstyle.”

“You’re literally known as Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

“Hey, ‘King Steve’ is also there.”

Dustin flings even more bait at Steve, now annoyed with him. “Whatever man, it’s not like you’d be any help anyways.”

“Oh really? Well, Little Henderson, I’m about to blow your mind: the key to girls is just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Steve now brightens up, happy to finally be getting through to the boy. For Steve, he’s long since learned that the best way to avoid getting hurt is to pretend that he doesn’t care. “It drives them nuts.”

“Then what?”

“You just wait,” Steve looks ahead, watching you and feeling like a complete dick. He really hadn’t meant to hurt you, hell the two of you were finally starting to get somewhere and yet… Steve fucked it up. As always.

He can see that your shoulders are still tensed up, you’re walking faster than you need to be. He feels a heavy weight in his stomach, one that he’s never felt before; he doesn’t like it. “You wait… until you feel it.”

Dustin furrows his brows. “Feel what?”

Steve tears his gaze away from you and turns back to Dustin, beginning to explain the electricity between someone you’re interested in. Being the geek that he is, Dustin turns it into a scientific discussion and Steve does his best to steer the conversation back.

“No, like sexual electricity.” He explains.

As soon as the words leave Steve’s lips, you whip around and shout, “Are you seriously talking to my little brother about sexual electricity?”

Both Dustin and Steve freeze in place, dumbfounded. You let out a loud groan and continue stomping away, now even more aggressively throwing the chunks at the train tracks.

“How did she even hear me?” Steve whispers, terrified.

“I don’t know,” Your brother whispers back, also equally frightened. “Sometimes I think she has powers like El.”

Once you’re a safe enough distance away from them, Dustin hesitantly brings the girl conversation back up. “Hypothetically, what do girls like?”

Steve takes a second to answer, carefully rolling the question around in his mind. “It depends on the girl. Some girls want you to be aggressive, ya know? Go in for the kiss, make them feel protected. Strong, hot and heavy. Like a lion.”

Dustin hums to indicate he’s following along, but ‘like a lion’ has him a little worried about the reliability of the conversation. He knows that Steve is a lady’s man, but he’s also never seen him with any girl besides Nancy, and the one time he saw him with you, he had immediately pissed you off.

So for all Dustin knows, it could be lies.

Steve continues his confusing explanation. “But others? You gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy… like a ninja!”

“Okay, what type is Nancy?” Dustin asks, hoping to get the teen to stop making stupid analogies. Lions, ninjas… maybe it was all lies.

The question catches Steve off guard and he stumbles a bit, feeling the familiar sense of protectiveness, insecurity, over the girl as well as a new sense of loss. What type is Nancy? If he had been asked this a week ago, Steve would’ve told Dustin that she’s a nice girl, a girl he could happily bring home to his parents and proudly wrap around his arms. Now? He’s not so sure.

Not when he can still see the anger and disgust in Nancy’s eyes that night at the party.

“Nancy’s different,” he recalls his conversation with you from last night, how he’d confessed to always feeling two steps behind the girl and how exhausting it all is. “She’s just different. Let’s move on to the next question.”

Dustin notices Steve’s change in demeanor but doesn’t say anything. He supposes that you and him have a lot in common, then. “Okay, what type would you say Y/N is?”

Once again Steve isn’t expecting the question Dustin asks. “What–” he trips over a twig and just barely manages to catch himself. “Why would you ask me that? She’s your sister, and I don’t even like her–”

“Relax, Romeo. She’s just similar to Nancy and the girl I like, and I figured you’d know Y/N well enough by now considering you guys slept together–”

“I slept on her bean bag–”

“And have been friends for like, a year. Plus, she’s in love with Jonathan, you’re in love with Nancy, and coincidentally they’re in love with each other. Figures that there’s some type intermingling between the four of you.”

How the hell does everyone know about Nancy and Jonathan? Steve thinks bitterly.

He’s silent for multiple seconds, absolutely at a loss for what to say. He doesn’t know where to begin or what to even deny. Technically the boy is right, as much as it hurts Steve to admit. He’s all but lost Nancy to Jonathan, and you’ve lost Jonathan to Nancy.

In an extremely messed up way, you and Nancy do have the same type. On top of that, both you and Nancy are close to Jonathan, so it’s safe to assume there’s similarities to the both of you that Steve doesn’t even want to touch on right now.

Even more importantly, Steve has yet to really decipher why your presence alone can make or break his entire day. Why, after months of not talking, it now feels like he’s finally come home again with you back in his life.

He looks at you again, still angrily throwing your bait, and he supposes that you’re a lot like Nancy in certain aspects, and yet completely different from her. “Y/N is also different, I guess. She’s incredibly intelligent both emotionally and academically. Isn’t she like the top of her class?”

Dustin nods, proud of the Henderson intelligence, and Steve continues.

“Right. I’d say she’s like Nancy, except she’s softer?” Steve cringes at his own words, suddenly uncomfortable with comparing the two of you. In his mind, you’re both your own separate entities that infatuate him in different ways.

You both burn Steve; Nancy is like a shot of whiskey, the thrill that follows the burn. But you? You’re a fireplace after hours of being out in the cold, the burn of it warming his bones.

“Y/N is just… she’s special, but everyone knows that. Your sister is the most caring person I’ve ever met, and I know I’m a lucky son of a bitch to be someone she trusts.”

Dustin snorts. “Yeah you are.”

Up ahead, you finally slow down and face the boys, now waiting for them to catch up and call out, “C’mon, ladies! The sun sets soon, I don’t want Lucas waiting in the cold all alone.”

“Looks like I’ve been forgiven.” Steve says, relief evident in his voice, something that your brother doesn’t miss.

Dustin lets out another loud snort, patting him on the chest, “Oh, my sister may be forgiving, but she never forgets.” With that, he walks away to catch up with you.

“Well, isn’t that ominous.”

You greet the boys with a tired smile, knowing there’s no use holding resentment towards Steve. He couldn’t have known about your mixed feelings towards Jonathan, you know he had only been trying to get along with Dustin.

Things are still weird between you two, despite the conversation from last night, but it’s hard to stay mad at Steve and honestly, you don’t really want to be mad at him. It’s been so lovely having him around again, and your own confusing feelings can wait.

Steve leans in close to you, gently grabbing at your hand so that you don’t walk away. “Hey, we okay?”

His eyes are full of concern and his voice is sickly sweet like honey. With the honey, the remaining bits of anger vanishes. “Of course we’re okay.”

Steve exhales deeply and you giggle at him before remembering that Dustin is quite literally a few feet away from you two. Coughing, you hold up your bucket to point out how it’s almost empty. “I guess in my rage, I flung more than I intended. How are your buckets holding up?”

The two boys hold their buckets up, giving you a mock solute to indicate that all is good. You laugh, impressed by how synched they’ve become in such a short time.

“Alright, then. Let’s get going.” As you all begin to walk in line again, you ask, “What were you guys even talking about, anyways?”

The boys glance at each other in a conspiring way, which causes you to roll your eyes. They’re acting like you asked for their deepest and darkest secrets. They seem to have a silent conversation for a couple seconds before Steve finally speaks up.

“I was just giving Little Henderson some girl advice. Nothing serious.”

You raise your eyebrows, your heart swelling a bit at the idea of Steve giving your brother advice. It’s sweet, really. “Girl advice, huh?”

“Yeah, why do you sound so skeptical?”

“Because you’re terrible with girls.”

Dustin now butts in, “He told me to be aggressive.”

“I did not!”

“He also said that you’re softer than Nancy.”

You make a face. “Thank you? I think?”

Steve tugs at his hair in frustration. “You two are the worst people I’ve ever met. You know that, right?”

In unison, you and Dustin reply, “We get that a lot.”

Steve stares at the two of you with slight horror in his eyes. “Yeah, alright. I’m out.”

You grab at his sleeve, gently stopping him from storming away. You give him an apologetic look and pull him close so that your chest bumps against his. “You’ve gotta get used to the Henderson humor, Steve.”

He looks surprised by your tugging at his sleeve before he lets a smile cross his face. He doesn’t do anything else, but he also doesn’t back away, either, and you find yourself blushing a bit under his gaze.

You clear your throat and let go of his sleeve, stepping back a bit. “Anyways, why don’t you tell me what wise advice you have for my brother.”

The smile that was just on Steve’s face vanishes as he looks away from you. “I was just telling the kid to not fall in love with his little crush. He’s too young for heartbreak and all that other shit.”

“I’m not in love with her!” Dustin exclaims in disgust, but you’re too distracted by Steve’s words to assure your brother that you believe him.

“Well, I believe that love is something beautiful.” You say, your words only meeting Steve’s turned back. He doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know his indifference holds no malice. He’s still hurting, still in love with Nancy Wheeler. “Dustin, you may be too young to be in love, but don’t listen to Steve. To love and be loved is the luckiest thing we can ever do, regardless of how it ends.”

Dustin blanches at your words, grossed out now. “Okay, okay, stop! Love is gross. I get it.”

You softly mumble sorry to him, now suddenly remembering that he’s only thirteen. When you were his age, the idea of love also grossed you out. Now, love is a concept that you’ve found a comforting warmth in, even if it's burned you a few times and has left you more exhausted than exhilarated. One day he’ll understand (in the far off future, hopefully).

For now, you flick your brother’s hat and follow after Steve, finishing the rest of the bait journey in silence.

–

By the time the three of you get to the junkyard, it’s already about midday.

It’s different from how you imagined it, filled with old cars and a giant school bus. It’s more open, too, not as “junkyard” as you assumed.

You, Steve, and Dustin stand at the top of the hill, surveying the area. Your feet ache from the walk and the sun is hurting your eyes. Seeing you squinting, Steve wordlessly hands you his signature Raybans and motions for you to put them on.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, this will do. It’ll do just fine,” He says, satisfied as he begins to walk down the hill. Then, as an afterthought, he says to Dustin, “Good call, dude.”

Dustin beams with pride and you fill with so much happiness, seeing the boy getting along so well with Steve, that you almost regret not having them meet sooner. However, there’s no time to wallow in what-if’s and you put Steve’s sunglasses on to follow after the boys.

Immediately you and Steve get to work, working seamlessly together side by side, months of him joining you in Bookstrordinary finally being put to use. While you and Steve silently scatter more meat and grab supplies, Dustin surveys the area.

Just as you’ve dumped the remaining meat in the middle of the field, you hear Lucas’ voice call from a few yards away, “I said medium well!”

The boy is with Max, who looks slightly displeased, yet curious, to be here. Despite her still obvious hesitation, you still feel excited seeing the girl. You’ve been meaning to talk more to her, she seems like such a lovely girl.

“Who’s that?” Steve asks you.

“Max! She’s great, and–” You start gushing about the girl, eager to go and say hi, before you see the crestfallen look on Dustin’s face when he realizes why she’s with Lucas. You remember, then, the weird tug-of-war between the boys over her. Shit.

You grab at Steve’s hand and pull him aside. “Actually, Steve, why don’t we start finding some panels to cover the bus?”

Steve gives you a questioning look, but when you silently motion towards Dustin and he sees his despair as well, he catches on and just nods, following along. Without having to tell him, he understands that you want to leave Dustin alone so he can talk to Lucas.

As always, you’re forever thankful that he can read you so well.

After guiding Steve away, you and him begin to prep the junkyard alongside Max. While the boys are talking, you take this as an opportunity to get to know the girl better.

“So,” you begin, helping Max carry a large piece of wood over to the bus. “I see you’re back again.”

“Looks like it,” she shrugs, not really feeling like talking. Seems like she’s still mad at you for yesterday, taking Lucas’ side over hers.

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“That’s a first.” Again she deflects, but you know she’s doing it out of hurt rather than maliciousness.

“I know you don’t really like me right now, which I totally understand, I just wanted to let you know that while I don’t like that you’ve been dragged into this mess, I’m happy you’re here.”

Max frowns at you. “You guys act like I’m going to like, die or something.”

A scrap of metal that you’d been carrying slips from your hands. Steve hears this and comes rushing over to help, but you gently wave him away and focus on Max. “I don’t know what Lucas told you, but it’s all true. It’s dangerous, being here, and I just… If you ever get hurt, any of you kids, then it’d be on me and I’d never forgive myself.”

“Way to be a buzzkill, Y/N.” Steve nudges you, trying to get you to smile before your ever-present guilt bears down upon you.

Max bites her lip, still disbelieving, but she recognizes the pained look of protectiveness on your face. It’s not something that someone can easily fake, and from what she’s heard about you, your kindness is one of the few genuine things in Hawkins.

Before she can say anything else, Steve lets out a huff and grabs a chair to bang on the car that Lucas and Dustin are talking behind. “Hey! Dickheads! How come it’s only Y/N and some random girl helping me?”

“Language!” You chastise.

Steve sends you a thumbs up, not really listening. “We lose light in forty minutes. Let’s go!”

Dustin and Lucas reluctantly start helping, both calling Steve an asshole and throwing him dirty looks, which you can’t help but laugh at.

Lucas sees you laughing and points at you. “Are you the reason Harrington is here?”

“Mhm,” you respond, nailing another piece of wood to the bus. “He’s done more to help than you have, so either pick up some metal and help or go sit in a corner and sulk. Up to you.”

Steve high fives you. “Yeah! What she said!”

Lucas’ shoulders sag, completely at a loss as to how any of this has happened. “This is so weird.”

“Dude, I’ve spent all day with them. Imagine how I feel,” Dustin groans. “I think I died a little when I found out they’ve been friends for like, a year.”

“A year?” Lucas gasps.

“Guys!” You throw pebbles at the two boys to break up their little gossip session. “One, I’m incredibly hurt you two didn’t think I had any friends besides Jonathan. Two, start helping before I throw more rocks.”

“Yes ma’am,” both boys grumble in unison, which Max finds pretty impressive.

After that, the five of you get to work. You guys use every item available in the junkyard to secure the bus, hoping that with enough stacked against it, you’ll be safe from Dart once he’s lured. Barrels are rolled, more sheets of metal are placed against the bus, and within the next hour or so you’ve successfully managed to build a decent base.

All that’s left is to pour the gasoline trail, which you help Steve with as the kids watch from inside the bus.

“I’m getting major deja-vu right now,” you mumble as Steve pours.

“Gasoline at Jonathan’s?”

“Mhm. God, he wouldn’t believe what we’re doing right now.” You know he would’ve loved this bizarre interaction. You, Steve, and the kids all in a junkyard trying to lure a baby Demogorgon.

You’ve definitely had better babysitting days, and Jonathan would have a field day with this one.

Once you’re done with the gasoline, you and Steve return to the bus. He waits behind you, making sure you’re securely in the car, before he heaves the old bus door closed. As soon as the door is closed, you and Steve exhale together.

You share a look, both in silent agreement to keep the kids safe no matter what. It’s your guys’ job to keep them safe, to fight for and protect them.

Deja-vu again. You’re back in Jonathan’s house, holding a switchblade while Steve wields his bat.

“Ready?” He asks you, extending his hand out for you to grab.

You interlock your fingers through his. “When am I ever?”

Steve laughs, dispelling away any remaining uncertainty and fear. You know, that no matter what, that he’ll be by your side to help. With this in mind, you join the kids further into the bus.

Lucas climbs the ladder up to the top, something you’re not fully okay with, but he’s the one with the binoculars and you the switchblade, so it makes the most sense. As the boy climbs, you sit down next to Steve as he flicks his lighter on and off. You’re pressed shoulder to shoulder, his presence grounding you.

Dustin paces, and all you can do is watch him as you try to settle your own nerves. Max has seated herself at the other end of the bus, her arms crossed as usual.

After a few moments of silence, she finally speaks. “So, you really fought one of these things before?”

Steve nods and you hum in agreement. “Unfortunately.”

“And you’re, like, totally, 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“I mean, to be fair I also had that same thought last year–”

Dustin cuts you off. “Shit, don’t be an idiot, okay? It wasn’t a bear.”

You roughly grab at your brother, yanking him towards you to shut him up. “Dustin–”

“Why are you even here if you don’t believe us?” He sneers at Max, something you’ve never, ever seen your sweet brother do. “Just go home.”

Max clenches her jaw and you send her an apologetic look, but she rolls her eyes at you. “Geesh, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?”

“Max, wait–” She ignores you and climbs up the ladder to join Lucas. You groan once she’s gone, now more than ever wanting to strangle your brother. “Dustin, what the hell was that?”

“That was good, Y/N!” Steve says, a proud smirk on his face. “He showed her he didn’t care, just like I told him to.”

“Oh, so it’s your fault my sweet, innocent baby brother is now some woman hating misogynistic piece of–”

“I don’t hate women, Y/N.” Dustin tiredly says, before directing his next words to Steve. “And I don’t care.”

Steve winks at the boy, but immediately flinches back when you raise your hand to smack him. “Yeah, cower away, you idiotic and moronic–”

“Y/N, stop overreacting and Steve, stop winking at me.”

You raise your eyebrows at Dustin’s tone and he quickly clears his throat and steps away from you. Steve puts some distance between you two as well, scooting away a bit so that he’s out of hitting range.

It’s quiet again, both boys now scared of your anger, and you anxiously wait for Dart to show up.

Steve goes back to flicking the lighter, Dustin paces again, and you tap your foot nervously. The silence is killing you, it’s always been your least favorite part of the Upside Down. The waiting, hoping you’re prepared for when all hell inevitably breaks loose.

You flick your own blades out, admiring the way the blades catch in the moonlight, when you hear a loud growl come from outside. Instinctively you raise your blades to your face while Steve and Dusin scramble to peek through the metal sheets to look out the window.

“You guys see him?” Dustin asks as he crouches next to you.

You shake your head. “No,”

There’s nothing outside, only a thick haze of fog that has settled over the junkyard.

“Lucas, what’s going on?” Your brother calls up to his friend.

“Hold on!” The boy responds.

Your heart begins to beat faster, your blades never straying away from your face, poised for a fight. Steve sees the way your knuckles whiten over your weapon and he grabs your spare hand, gently coaxing you to calm down.

Your fingers tighten around Steve’s and you remember his words from last night, promising you that he’ll be there, and you believe him.

From the bus’ roof, you hear Lucas call down, “I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock–ten o’clock!”

There, in the haze of fog, you see a hunched figure stalk its way towards the bus. Seeing Dart, you’re filled with complete dread. He’s grown again, much bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

He’s practically the size of the Demogorgon from last year, the same one that almost killed you and Steve.

“What’s he doing?” Dustin asks, as if anyone else would have any more information than he does.

“I don’t know,” Steve sighs, his eyes never leaving Dart.

You squeeze his hand again and hold your breath as you watch the Demodog. He slowly approaches the bait, inspects the area, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in it. You send a silent prayer to whatever god is above that your plan will work.

It has to work.

However, Dart starts to back away from the bait and Steve leans even closer to the window. “He’s not taking the bait. Why isn’t he taking the bait?”

“I don’t know,” you want to cry from exhaustion and fear and defeat.

Dustin looks over at you. “Maybe he’s not hungry?”

Something seems to click, then, for Steve. His eyes light up with an idea, and before he can even get his words out, you grasp at Steve’s arm and try to talk him out of it. “No, absolutely not. You’re not going out there.”

“Maybe he’s sick of cow.” Steve tries to make you let go of him, but you quickly tighten your hold on him and fight back. “Y/N, let me go, I can run fast and–”

“You can’t just use yourself as bait!” You plead, but Steve has always been stronger than you and he drags you behind him as he makes his way towards the bus door. “Steve, listen to me!”

“Steve? Steve!” Dustin finally catches on to what’s happening and he grabs at the teen as well. “What are you doing?”

Steve ignores you both and with a quick jerk of his arm, he frees himself from you. As soon as you’ve let go, he runs towards the door and snatches his bat from the ground. You curse, knowing there’s no way in hell he’s going out there alone, so you follow after him.

Dustin sees this and panics. “Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re going–”

“Stay put!” You command, scrambling after Steve, who has now begun to open the door. He tosses you the lighter, which you toss to your brother. “Just get ready, Dustin!”

“Y/N!”

“I love you!”

Dustin continues to shout, his pleas laced with more fear than you’ve ever heard from him, but you force yourself to leave. Just as you’ve stepped outside and re-closed the bus door, Dustin pounds against the glass that you’ve locked, tears in his eyes.

You look away, despite how fucking hard it is, and it takes everythin within you to leave.

Steve saved your life last year.

Now it’s your turn.

It’s tense outside as you and Steve walk back to back, weapons out. He twirls his bat a few times, a move that you find yourself smiling at due to its familiarity. With your back against his, you whisper to Steve, “You look for Dart, I keep an eye for anything else?”

He nods, and together the two of you slowly follow the sound of Dart’s chittering.

“C’mon buddy,” Steve taunts, beginning to whistle.

“I know we named it a Demodog, but I don’t think whistling will help.”

“We could be about to die, and you’re seriously questioning what I’m doing?”

You shrug, eyes now on the skyline as the fog slowly thickens. “Habit.”

Steve chuckles, which brings some comfort to the fucking awful situation at hand. He whistles some more, continuing to taunt Dart. “C’mon. Dinner time.”

“Again with offering Dart meals while we’re near him,” you shake your head, not at all liking where any of this is going.

“What? At least human tastes better than cat.” Steve responds, now at the pile of raw meat.

You both stop here, Steve facing the bait and you facing the bus, still scanning for literally anything else that could possibly go wrong. Because you’re Y/N Henderson and nothing can ever, ever go right for you.

Dart lets out another growl, now having spotted Steve, and the teen swings his bat around. You spare a quick glance behind you and see Dart, who has placed all his focus on you and Steve.

Well, at least the live bait plan is working.

You turn away again, and as soon as you do, you see the other Demodogs now suddenly appear. Your blood runs cold when you see the two up ahead, one directly in front of you and one on top of the cars.

For a moment, your words seem to fail you and no sound comes out when you try to speak. All you can do is stare at them, overcome with fear. You’re back in Jonathan’s once more, the fear strangling you as the memories paralyze you.

From the top of the bus, Lucas yells, “Steve! Y/N! Watch out!”

“We’re a little busy here!” Steve yells back, eyes still on Dart.

The Demodog in front of you starts to approach, which finally seems to break you from your spell. Shakily, you tell Steve, “There’s more.”

“What?” He tries to turn around, but you shove at him to not lose sight of Dart. You can’t distract him now. Another Demodog has joined.

“Three o’clock! Right in front of Y/N!” Lucas screams, his voice cracking with fear.

“Y/N?” Steve fully turns around now when he realizes that you’re also in danger, and when he sees the three other Demodogs, he lets out a curse. “Shit.”

Suddenly, you and Steve are surrounded by Demodogs, more than you ever could’ve imagined. More than the two of you can even fight on your own.

Back at Jonathan’s, it had taken guns, fire, knives, and bats to kill a grown Demogorgon.

You don’t think your knives and Steve’s bat will be enough for Demodogs.

“Steve! Y/N! Abort!” Dustin has flung the bus door open, screeching for the two of you to get out of there.

It’s too late. Dart has opened his mouth and is running towards you two, his friends joining as well.

“I go left, you go right!” Steve has just enough time to direct you before Dart lunges.

You dodge, going right as instructed while Steve flings himself on top of a car to avoid the monsters. As Steve hits Dart with his bat, crouched against the car, you narrowly avoid the other Demodog and drop to the ground as it jumps over your head. “Shit!”

Steve swings his bat again and tries to make his way over to you, but you’re off the ground in a heartbeat and run to him instead. Two of the Demodogs are on him now, and there’s only so much damage his bat can do. Breathless, you run over and stab at their backs, doing everything you can to give Steve an opening to run.

Faintly, you hear the kids in the background cheering you guys on, urging you two to come home.

One of the Demodogs lets out a harsh screech as your blade pierces its skin. It crumbles to the ground, giving Steve just enough of an opening to begin running towards the bus. When he goes to run, you notice one of the Demodogs eying him, and before you can even process what’s happening, you’re throwing yourself in front of him and you feel nails tear at your ribs.

You scream, clutching at your side in agony, feeling blood quickly beginning to spill from your wound. “Fuck!”

“Y/N!” Steve starts to run toward you, pale with fear.

“No!” You shove him back towards the bus; you can’t let him get hurt because of you. “Go, I’ll be fine!”

He tries to argue, but you take a deep breath and grip his jacket tightly, practically flinging him inside the bus just before Dart lunges again. Together, the two of you stumble up the steps and barricade the door.

As soon as it’s closed, Dart begins slamming against it with his entire body.

Steve uses his legs to hold the door closed while you lay sprawled on the ground, trying to steady your breathing as more blood spills from you. The room is spinning and you’re pretty sure you can taste blood in your mouth.

Awesome. Cool.

The kids are screaming and Dart’s body causes the entire bus to rock as his friends now join, throwing their own bodies against the bus as well.

“Are they rabid or something?” Max screams, but everyone ignores her.

Steve, quick as ever, finds a spare piece of metal and wedges it against the door and uses his legs again to hold it in place. He looks over at you on the ground and feels his heart jump to his throat. You’re pale, a sheen of sweat now dotted across your forehead, and there’s now a concerningly large pool of blood where you lay. “Dustin, go help your sister!”

Dustin looks up and finally notices your injury and almost faints at the sight. In a daze, he runs over to you and kneels down, terrified of how much blood there is. “Oh my god.”

“I’m fine,” you wince, trying to clench your teeth and bear through the pain. “Honestly, this is like a paper cut.”

“Y/N–” The sound of glass shattering cuts Dustin off as a Demodog breaks through the window. Everyone screams, and your brother grabs your arms and drags you further towards the back of the bus to avoid any glass getting on you.

Wearily, you watch as Steve does whatever he can with his bat, and a part of you wants to laugh. He looks like he’s playing the hardest game of wack-a-mole ever.

Meanwhile, Lucas and Max have joined you and Dustin. When they see you, Lucas lets out a choked scream while Max covers her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Lucas kneels over you as well, and you find his sincerity endearing. He’s always been the sweetest in the group, the most comforting.

“Never been better,” you wheeze out.

Dustin instructs Lucas to stay with you while he tries to radio for help. “Is anyone there? Mike? Will? God? Anyone!”

“God would be pretty nice to have.” You remark, pain making you even more delirious than usual.

Max looks at Lucas. “She’s losing it.”

“I think I’m doing great, all things considered.”

Dustin continues to scream into his walkie for help while Lucas tries to stop your bleeding. Max is running around, looking for anything to help, and Steve is still stuck at the front of the bus playing wack-a-mole with Demodogs.

The situation is so fucking grim, and you’ve never wanted to laugh more.

Then, to make matters even worse, the ceiling of the bus starts to creak. You see the faint outlines of what suspiciously looks like Demodog footprints on the roof. In slow, agonizing footsteps, Dart makes his way over to the emergency exit on top.

He leers over, and Max, who is at the bottom of the ladder, screams.

Steve shoves the kids back and you try to get up, but Lucas pushes you down and shakes his head at you.

“You want some? Come get this!” Steve places himself between Dart and you and the kids, screaming at the thing and waving his bat around, and you’ve never been more attracted to him.

Dart lets out a blood curdling screech, his mouth full of rows of razor sharp teeth that killed your cat just the other day, and you cling onto Lucas’ hand. Another screech, and just before Dart strikes at Steve, it jumps off the bus and runs away.

Everyone freezes, unsure what to do, as more distant growls and howls can be heard from outside. Steve and the rest stand up, and you notice Lucas holding Max’s hand, and at least something good came out of this hellhole of a day.

“Any help here?” You finally ask after a minute or so, still lying helplessly on the ground as you bleed.

“Shit!” Steve drops his bat. “Where did it get you, where’s the bleeding? Dustin, did we pack any bandages, or–or an EMT stretcher or–”

“Steve,” you grab his hand, urging him to calm down. “It scratched the fuck out of my ribcage, but I’m not dying. I promise.”

“You’re not?” Dustin asks, tears in his eyes.

“I’m not. I just…” you shift, wincing at the pain. “I just really need a bandage and I’ll be good as new.”

Steve swallows, a frenzied look in his eyes, and nods. Without thinking, he tears a piece of your bloodied cardigan off and gently lifts your body up so that he can wrap the shred of cloth around you. He weaves it tight, his movements slow and delicate, his eyes never leave yours.

You can feel his hands shaking as he tends to your wound and ties the cloth with a knot. When he’s done, even though you’re aware of the kids’ eyes on you two, you bring his hands to your lips and kiss them. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” He whispers, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Dustin coughs, which seems to make Steve remember where he is, and he clears his throat. “Right, well. Try not to lose any more blood, yeah?”

“I’ll try,”

Steve nods and stands back up, knowing Dustin and Lucas will want a moment with you, and makes his way back outside. He knows that they’re all still in danger, even if for some reason the Demdogs seem to have left.

Once Steve is gone, Dustin and Lucas help you stand, and as soon as you’re up, both boys try their best to give you a hug without hurting you.

“Don’t do that ever again,” Dustin sniffs, squeezing your uninjured side tightly.

“What he said,” Lucas sniffs as well, though he tries to hide his tears from you.

You laugh, your own tears evident as you hold the boys tight. “I promise.”

“You saved Steve,” Max notes, though her tone is neutral, you can see she’s impressed.

“I had to even out a debt.”

“Guys,” Steve calls from outside. “The coast is clear.”

Slowly, you and the kids make your way out of the bus. It takes some help from both Dustin and Lucas, but eventually you’re able to walk on your own, holding your side, and walk down the steps.

“You okay?” Steve is by your side as soon as you’ve stepped down, holding you so that he’s not touching your cut. You’re thankful for his support, the pain still making you feel woozy.

“We’ll talk later,” you motion towards the kids, not wanting to worry them any further.

He nods, although he hates that you feel like you can’t focus on your own safety.

“What happened?” Lucas asks the group.

“I don’t know.” Max looks around, and you think she’s finally starting to understand what she’s gotten herself into.

Dustin points to you and Steve. “Maybe they scared ‘em off?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head. It couldn’t have been that easy. “No way.”

“They’re going somewhere.” You finish for him, confirming your worst fears. Suddenly, more pain shoots through you and you wince again, squeezing your eyes shut.

Steve bends his head down, guiding you a bit away from the kids so that they won’t hear. “Hey, we don’t have to follow them. We can go home, you know.”

“We can’t.” You clench your jaw as pain rings throughout your body. The goddamn Demodog got you good. “We have to follow. It’s all connected, Will and his episodes, Nancy and Jonathan with the detective, and I’ll be damned if I back down now.”

“So we follow?” Steve asks, trusting whatever call you make.

You nod, knowing you have to do this. While you guys are safe for now, you know that everyone else has to be in danger; you have to protect them. “Unfortunately.”

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

⌑ taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @myeclispedsun @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies @tagakalat @dcnerd98 @sucker-4-angst @kitdjarin1 @onecojg @innazra @areiofhope @spaghetittied @cultish-corner @g8sstuff @videogamesandpoorlifechoices

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #this chapter almost killed me #but bug and steve FINALLY TALKED !!!!#also ilu lucas ur my baby

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httpdwaekki · 7 months ago

Text

surprise | s.c.

summary: changbin shows you his new piercing.

w.c: 511

warnings: very short n sweet, not really sure what this is but it’s here LMAO.

a/n: now listen. i know the piercing is fake BUT LET ME HAVE MY MOMENT OKAY. also besties i will get to your requests i promise i just got really bad writer’s block so i wrote this to kinda get me out of it. but they are coming !! anyway, i hope you enjoy! remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

he stopped at the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, admiring the scene in front of him. you were propped up, against your plethora of plushies and pillows, legs stretched out in front of you. your eyebrows creased in focus, glasses slowing slipping down your nose.

he moved from the door frame, “hi jagi.” you quickly glance up, not wanting to lose your place as the plot intensifies. “hi bub,” you start, pushing your glasses back up to their rightful place. “give me one sec to finish this chapter.” he moves next to you, grabbing your legs, placing them on his as he sits down.

“how was-” you cut yourself off as he turns his head, a small refective light catching your eye. “woah!” you quickly slip your bookmark in your book before tossing it to the side. you quickly sit up, your legs sliding against his until your plush ones are atop his muscular ones.

you grab his face, squishing his soft cheeks in the process, turning his face to the side. you examine the two silver balls resting against his soft cheek, under his left eye. eyes wide in wonder as they dart around his face.

“you didn’t tell me you were getting a piercing.” you whisper, taking your free hand, gently touching the area under the reddened skin. “do you like it?” the question sounded slightly muffled since you were still squishing his soft cheeks.

you turn his head directly to you in surprise. “i love it jagi, it looks so good.” his cheeks redden under your touch. small smile etching into his soft features.

you gently turn his head once more, placing a soft kiss under the piercing. you finally let go, grabbing his arm that now laid in his lap. “did it hurt?” you ask, eyes still stuck on the reflective jewelry.

“not really,” he whispers, his hands fine your soft thighs, “do you like it bunny?” he asks gently. your gaze immediately snaps to his boba eyes.

“so much, it looks so good bub.” you smile, hand coming up to rest on the opposite cheek, thumb brushing his plump cheek.

“are you sure? it’s new, not something i’ve done before, it’s not too,” he pauses to find the words. “random i guess? or weird on me?” you immediately shake your head.

“not at all bin, it looks really good.” you smile, reassuring him. his ears start getting red from the compliments. “thank you, bunny.” he whispered, giving your thigh a squeeze.

you smile, pulling him into a passionate kiss. he moves his hands to your hips, pulling you into his lap fully before placing his hands back on your thighs.

you pull away slightly. “i love you.” he whispers against your lips. your smile widens, “i love you more pretty boy.” pulling him into another kiss.

do not repost

#seo changbin #changbin #changbin drabble #changbin x you #changbin oneshot #changbin fic #changbin x reader #changbin fluff #changbin imagine #stray kids #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids drabble #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #binnie <3 #ash's archive ‧₊˚✩彡

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joelmillers-whore · 1 year ago

Text

The Only Thing I Did Right

summary: after a patrol gone wrong, joel races to get you back to jackson. while the doctor tries to save you, he wrestles with the guilt of letting you down.

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 2.6K

series or one-shot

warnings: mature, language, joel x female!reader, no mention of Y/N, canon timeline (sort of), jackson era, post-outbreak, soft joel, hurt/comfort, minor descriptions of blood, joel thinking everything is his fault, tommy is there briefly, mentions of drinking and/or alcohol dependence, happy ending don’t worry, angst if you squint

A/N: i meant for this to be a short drabble because my creativity has been waning lately and i’m a little burned out to be honest, but i got carried away, but what else is new. anywho, enjoy this lil fic. let me know if ya’ll would like to see another part of this or maybe an interconnected one-shot series, i would be down. i really enjoyed writing this. also, i am still trying to power through this sickness i have suddenly, and i don’t think i’ll be able to post hard light chapter two this week.

I've Got Nothing Left To Hide

“Where’s it hurt?”, Joel asked, in a low, almost inaudible voice. He tried to keep his tone calm, trying to keep you calm, but his mind was flustered, and he was on edge, and he was pretty sure that you could see right through his charade.

He swallowed thickly, past a lump that was stuck in his throat. His eyes darted all over you, tracking every movement, every laboured breath, and wince.

It had been decades since he had felt like this; the constricting of his chest, the shallow and unsure breaths that he was letting out, and the staggering way his heart clenched, a silent prayer on his lips, asking any God who would listen to spare you.

It all felt so overwhelming and a little too familiar. Images of Sarah flashed through his mind, dredging up demons and emotions he had thought he had left in the past.

He had never been so afraid of losing someone he loved, not since Sarah, but here he was now, feeling like he was about to collapse at any minute, terrified of making the wrong move and losing you.

He swallowed again, harsher as he concentrated on his breathing.

He hadn’t let his mind drift to thoughts of his daughter in a long time, his chest burning in that familiar way each time that he did, squeezing to the point of pain.

He let an idle hand drift to his chest, right above his heart, and gripped it, trying to will it subconsciously to slow down. But it was no use.

There were very few things in the world that made Joel feel as if the ground was collapsing underneath him, and thinking of Sarah was definitely one of them.

Whenever he found himself thinking of her, thinking of how he couldn’t save her, the breath from his lungs evaporated, and guilt slammed into him with enough force to destabilize him.

But seeing you like this, the woman that he had promised Tommy that he would watch over and protect, writhe in pain as blood pooled under your shirt, that was another thing that he couldn’t bear to witness.

You looked so helpless, lying in his arms, looking up at him with droopy lids, a faraway look in your eyes.

He cursed under his breath, knowing that you were injured because of him, because of his carelessness.

You were going to be another person he couldn’t protect and he didn’t know how much more of that he could take.

“‘M fine”, you said, weakly, your breath coming out in stunted gasps.

Joel shook his head, tempered anger coursing through his veins, “Don’t pull that brave shit with me”, he bit out, harsher than he intended. He gripped you tighter in his arms, holding onto you for dear life. “I know it hurts, so just tell me”.

He watched as tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, you tried to blink them but the motion only made them fall, coating your cheeks.

Joel lifted a hand, wiping them away. He hated to see you cry, he couldn’t stand it, it broke his heart.

He left his thumb on the apple of your cheek, thinking that maybe the sensation would bring you some comfort, thinking that maybe it would bring him some comfort.

“Am I going to die, Joel?”, you asked, a slight tremble in your voice.

Joel shook his head, adamantly, “Not if I can help it”.

You faded in and out of consciousness as Joel debated his next move, trying to figure out how he was going to get you back to Jackson.

He clutched the hem of your shirt, the material sticking to your stomach as he peeled it from you.

He visibly cringed as he eyed your wound, the punctured flesh dispelling crimson red at a rapid and borderline concerning rate.

He couldn’t wait around any longer, couldn’t wait for the next round of patrol to find them, if they even came out this far. So, he took matters into his own hands, his muted internal clock ticking down the more he looked at you pale in his arms.

He scooped up your limb body, pressing you flush to his body, determination and adrenaline pumping through him, the driving force propelling him into action.

There was only one thought in his head; get you back to Jackson, by whatever means.

As he stepped out of the small cabin, Joel noticed that the sun was slowly starting to dip beneath the horizon, the pop of blistering orange making him anxious.

Night would come quicker than either of you wanted and then the real challenge would begin, trying to navigate through the dense forest and get back to the community in the dark.

You were trembling in his arms, shaking so violently, from either the bitter cold or the loss of blood, that he thought that he was the one who was hurting you.

“Can you ride?”, he asked, urgency in his voice.

“Dunno”.

Joel couldn't risk injuring you further, but he also couldn’t waste any more time, so he made an executive decision. He had been making a lot of those on your behalf today, and his most recent had gotten you in this position in the first place, it was his fault.

If anything happened to you, he wouldn’t ever forgive himself.

He placed you tentatively on the ground, his arm sneaking around your waist to stabilize you as he untied his horse from the post.

“Alright”, he bent slightly, grabbing your foot and placing it in his hand, “Nice ‘n easy now”.

He could see the strain on your face, the pellets of sweat sticking to your hairline as you used as much strength as you could, hoisting yourself up and onto the horse. You’d let out a strangled groan as you got situated.

Once he knew that you were on, he hopped up, grabbing the reins and digging his heels into Shimmer’s body, spurring her into a run, his motivation to get back to Jackson making his heart race.

The only solace that Joel took from not being able to see you from the position he was in, was that he could feel you gripping him from behind, your arms latching around his waist, your cheek flush with his back.

He could feel your chest rising and falling against him and his pulse softened, knowing that you were still fighting, still holding on for him.

He had pushed Shimmer to her limits, getting you both back to Jackson in record time. The sequence of events that followed had been a blur to him.

The gates had opened immediately, the guards recognizing him even in the dusk.

He remembered screaming his throat raw, begging someone for help as he carried you into town and to the doctor.

He’d watched on, helplessly, as they quickly began working on you. Blood and cloth blurred his vision, making his stomach twist with queasiness.

He had to leave the room, too overcome with emotion and nausea to be of any help to you.

When he stepped outside of the small makeshift clinic, the frigid air pierced his lungs, drawing out a long and aching breath, striking him so sharply that he stumbled forward.

He had gripped a wooden post for support, digging his palms into it for purchase, closing his eyes.

He tried to get a handle on his breathing, but it was no use. He felt the bile creeping higher in his throat, until he couldn’t hold back anymore.

It poured out of him, leaving his mouth dry and his head spinning. It was a visceral reaction, his worry over you, over what he had let happen.

He cursed Tommy for entrusting him with you, something so precious. He knew things could have turned out worse, and he was glad that they hadn’t been, but he couldn’t get over how bad they were right now.

How shaken to his core he was that he had allowed this to happen at all.

Joel couldn’t stand to be there anymore, just on the other side of the door that led to you, powerless while the doctor patched you up. So, he did the one thing he had always been good at, he left.

Snow crunched underneath his boots, growing louder in his ears as he walked away from the clinic. He thought that a drink might help calm his nerves.

A part of his brain wanted to forget that this day had ever happened, and another part told him that no amount of alcohol would repair the guilt that was nestled snuggly in his gut. But he could try.

Joel didn’t know how long he had been at the Tipsy Bison, he had lost track of time after the third or fourth whiskey. He blew out a shaky breath, letting a hand drift over his haggard features.

He had been running on adrenaline the whole day and now he was crashing, feeling the exhaustion settle deep in his bones.

But he couldn’t rest, he didn’t deserve to, not when he didn’t know if you had made it or not.

A jolt of horror shot through his body, making his stomach twist in knots. What if you hadn’t made it? He licked his dry lips, closing his eyes as he felt a prick form behind his eyes.

Joel was startled by a firm hand on his shoulder. He twisted slightly to see who it was, his face dropping further when he saw that it was Tommy.

He didn’t have to look at his brother for long to get a read on his expression. What he was thinking.

He was pissed and rightfully so. He had failed you and now he was waiting for Tommy to lay into him, chastise him for being so fucking stupid.

“She’s askin’ for ya”, Tommy said, keeping his voice soft.

Joel turned around in his seat fully to look at Tommy, surprised that he had gotten to his feet so fast. He snorted out a laugh, seeing the fucking relief that was surely on Joel’s face.

Tommy clapped his shoulder again, almost to stabilize him. Joel couldn’t look his brother in the eye, guilt bubbling and breaking the surface, making his skin sting.

“‘M sorry”, he mumbled, “I should’ve been there, I should’ve gotten to her quicker, I shoulda done something”.

Tommy shook his head, “You couldn’t’ve known that would happen, Joel. So stop blaming yourself”.

Joel scratched at his facial hair, running his hand along his jaw, pondering Tommy’s words.

He continued, “You protected her with your life, brother. I couldn’t ask for more than that”.

Joel felt emotion clog his throat. Tommy wasn’t angry with him like he suspected he would be, he was grateful even. Something unfamiliar unfurled in his stomach, something that felt like acceptance.

A long beat stretched between them, “Go see her”, Tommy finally said, a smile pulling at his lips.

He led Joel out of the bar, leading him back to the clinic to go see you. Tommy stopped short of the door, motioning for him to continue without him. Joel nodded curtly, slipping past and entering the small, single-room cabin.

Tentatively, Joel inched closer to the bed that you were in, walking on the balls of his feet, uncertain if you were awake or not. You were lying down, stretched out with your back to him, He sat on the edge of the bed, seeing you turn toward him, a grin on your face as you looked at him. Joel’s face heated under your gaze.

He didn’t deserve that smile, he thought, but he would take it anyway, if you were willing to give it to a man like him. He reached out, stroking your face softly with the back of his fingers.

“Hey, darlin’, how ya feelin’?”, his voice was throaty, raw.

His heart hammered below the surface as your eyes locked with his, pining him to where he sat. He didn’t want to breathe too loudly or make any sudden movements, too afraid that he would break the spell.

“Better now”, you croaked.

Everything collapsed at once inside of him; his resolve, his strength, his pride. He couldn’t fight it any longer, how fucking happy he was that you were still here, still with him.

“What’re you smiling at, hm?”, you asked, arching a brow.

Joel shook his head, his explanation dying on his tongue. He had never been one to lose his words but right now, being so close to you, he wasn’t sure he knew how to speak anymore.

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back to the moment. Your hand was freezing as it touched his skin but he didn’t mind.

His smile disappeared as your eyes scanned his face, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry—”, he started, but you shook your head.

“It was my fault, Joel. Don’t you dare apologize for my fucking mistake. I won’t hear it”, you said, your tone firm.

Joel wanted to argue, to tell you that it was his fault but he didn’t have the heart, not when you were only just beginning to heal up, still looking weak and pale.

He could wait for another day to have it out with you. He just nodded instead, and you hummed, content with him seemingly letting it go for now.

Your hand was still on his wrist and he felt a strange sense of calm.

“Come ‘er”, you whispered, tugging on his wrist lightly.

He wasn’t sure what was happening until your lips were on his, soft, pliant, and full. The kiss was sweet but it only lasted a minute. He pulled back, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Thank you”, you said, eyes shining as the light hit them, making them more beautiful than he thought was possible.

He nodded quickly, head still spinning from kissing you. It had been a thank-you kiss and he shouldn’t think more of it.

But goddamn it, he wanted more. He wasn’t mad or upset that you had kissed him, honestly, he had been meaning to do it for months now.

If a kiss filled with gratitude for saving your life was all that he could get, he would accept that, he didn’t want to push his luck.

You noticed the uneasy look on his face, shifting in the bed and using your dwindling strength to sit up.

Now you were the one with creased brows, your eyes darting over his face, trying to find your answer. Realization struck your features.

“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, Joel. I just didn’t know how else to say it”.

Joel felt like a jackass, that wasn’t what he meant at all.

“That’s not— that’s not it, darlin’. I just didn’t think you’d want to kiss an old man like me”.

His chuckle was thick with depreciation, but you just shook your head, eyes gleaming with something he didn’t recognize. You chewed your lower lip and Joel couldn’t help but stare.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while actually”, you admitted.

Joel’s head snapped up, searching your eyes. You were sincere and he knew it. That was the confirmation that he needed, the hope that lit a flame in his chest. You wanted him too.

A deep chortle escaped Joel’s throat, his face neutral as he leaned in closer to yours. “Then I guess we better make up for lost time then”.

Joel pressed his lips into yours, moulding to the shape of them as he gripped your face in his large hands, letting a groan slip into your mouth. You pulled back with a giggle, fisting the hair at the base of his head.

Your smile was a thousand watts and Joel couldn’t look away. His grip on your face tightened a little more, making sure that this was really happening to him.

He couldn’t believe it but he dove back in regardless, wanting to soak in as much of your love and light that you were willing to give to him.

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littlejuicebox · 9 months ago

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Shoutout Sunday

Here I am again with another recommendation list! This one is a bit different from the last, in that these recs are all fics written in third person rather than second person POV. Listed in no particular order. I wanted to include some smaller writers and newer pieces that may have not gained much traction yet!

I know I write a lot of second person POV, and I also enjoy reading this POV. BUT, I do want to encourage people to consider reading both first and third person work as well.

Some of these pieces are THE most compelling things I’ve ever read. Especially when someone’s OC is involved. Creators put A LOT of love into their OC work. If you like a creator’s second person stuff, I strongly encourage you to read their things written in other POVS… there’s a high chance it’s even better than their second person work, tbh.

All recommendations are below the cut. Happy Reading!

Thrice Before Dawn by @cursedhaglette- This is a smut piece set in Act 1. I promise you all that I thought about this fic for days after I read it. Physically made me blush. Top tier banter and the ending is chef’s kiss. It’s sort of a One Shot but I believe it’s also an ongoing collection/series.

Starlit Skirts by @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate - This One Shot is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff. This piece made me tear up. Every piece of Emi’s is divine. Astarion is working on creating Tav’s wedding dress and has been for months. The issue is, it’s requiring constant altering.

Blood in the Mortar by @bardic-inspo (tumblr) / bardic_inspo (AO3) - An AA One Shot that is beautifully written and exceptionally compelling, based on the concept of AA’s love interest being a vampire bride. Her OC Naomi is fantastic! OP hasn’t written smut in over a year and yet she does well, as if it’s her day job.

Memories of Us by @tallymonster - I maintain this is the only AU longfic I currently read and I adore it. There are a few chapters I am dying to catch up on. This version of Astarion is so interesting, I really like how she works with the concept of a vampire outliving all of his prior friends/contacts.

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room by @tragedybunny - Bunny is an OG, I’m certain most of you are familiar with her One Shots. She has a huge Masterlist, and surely you can throw a dart and any title it hits will be a win. But this AA series is a new longfic work of hers and I cannot wait to see where she takes it.

Loose the Arrow by pentuppen (AO3 only, unsure if the tumblr blog is the same person?) - This is the first BG3/Ascended Astarion longfic ever read and I was hooked. It inspired me to start writing myself! This storyline is compelling and the perfect blend of angst/comfort/smut. I’m not going to give away the plot, but the author’s summary itself is intriguing. Here’s a bit: “One night every year. She is always there waiting and he will always come.”

#READ THIRD PERSON POV DONT BE SCARED #littlejuiceboxrecs #astarion fic writers #fanfic recommendation #astarion fanfic recs #astarion fanfic recommendations #astarion fic #astarion fanfic

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hornyfor-redacted-onmain · 9 months ago

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Secret Secret Chapter 3

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist | Next Part

The next morning, you walked into the building with a pleasant smile, but the receptionist barely even looked at you. You considered the fact that he wasn’t judging you anymore as a win, but the indifference made you pout the entire elevator ride up.

The rest of the morning went by pretty smoothly. You weren't sure if your workload was on the lighter side because it would get harder once actually on tour, or if they were taking it easy on you because you were new, but either way you found yourself nearly done by the time noon rolled around. You were about to go make your way down to the cafeteria for some lunch, but as you passed by the stylist rooms, you spotted a lone figure.

The other stylist noonas must have already gone off to eat lunch, but Maya still remained at her desk. She was leaning against her desk, a forgotten half-eaten apple next to a pile of papers she was sorting through. She looked busy, so you quietly continued on. But her presence reminded you of the promise that Changbin had made the day before, and when you got to the elevators, you found yourself hitting the button for the practice rooms above instead of the cafeteria below.

You were second guessing yourself when you found an empty hallway, shuffling past the first few doors when a quick glance through the little glass windows showed empty rooms.

Maybe everyone had gone off to have lunch.

You had gotten to the end of the hallways when you finally spotted movement, making your way closer until you were pressed up against the door. The room inside was partially hidden from your point of view, but you spotted two men inside as they moved to the sound of music you couldn’t hear through the soundproof walls.

Even being unable to hear what they were dancing too, you were mesmerized by their movement, the fluidity and ease at which they danced along, and even the way they moved around each other like two pieces of the same puzzle. When one of the men suddenly stopped, hand jerking back and forth as if they had just forgotten the next move, the other pointed at them with a wide smile, shoulder shaking, and you could almost hear the laughter from the sight alone.

"Can I help you?"

You spun around in surprise. There was a man standing directly behind you, not only close enough for the scent of alpha to wash over you, but also close enough that you should have definitely heard them coming. That you didn’t hear him at all meant he was either the quietest person on planet earth, or you were just that distracted by the ongoing performance from inside the practice room. You felt your cheeks get warm at the realization.

"Oh, uh. No. Right, sorry."

You stepped to the side, assuming he wanted to get into the room. He just tilted his head at you.

"Who are you?"

You gave him your name without a second thought, but he obviously didn’t react to it. Not that you expected him to. The cold stare he continued to give you made you feel uncomfortable, so you took another step to the side, hoping to edge your way around him and back towards the elevator.

His hand darted out to grab your wrist, stopping you in your place. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just looking for someone," You told him with a harsh tone. It was one thing to be in your space, but the physical contact was drawing the line.

You gave a small tug to your still restrained arm, but he didn’t budge. Your heart rate began to rise, fear curling in your stomach.

"Who were you looking for," The alpha asked, his voice holding a strange sharpness to it. "How did you even get up here?"

You were close enough to smell the harsh edge to his sweet scent, the tightness in his brows, the way his eyes darted behind you in worry. You realized that this wasn’t just some random alpha looking to bother an unsuspecting individual. You thought back to what it must have looked like to him, creepily watching the two boys from the door window in an abandoned hallway. He probably thought you were a fan, at best. You felt your muscles slowly loosen at the realization that you weren’t in danger.

"I’m a staff member " You explained, thinking it would be enough of an explanation.

His eyes darted back to yours in surprise. "Staff? For who?"

"Stray Kids."

In hindsight, you understood the sudden shift in his face. The confusion quickly dropped into anger, and the grip on your wrist rightened.

"I know all the staff members for my group, and I don’t recognize you. Why don’t you tell me who you really are?"

Fuck.

"Look, it’s not like that. I’m new, I’m the new translator. I’m just here to introduce myself to the members." You reached up to your chest to grab your staff card, the one you had been given yesterday, only to realize you had left it on your desk. "My staff card is at my desk downstairs. I can go get it for you-"

"And let you wander the building by yourself? Do you think I’m stupid?"

Your heart dropped as the once sweet scent of maple syrup turned sour, burning your nose. Your pleading was doing nothing to convince him of your innocence, and he looked seconds away from dragging you out of the building himself. Even with the scent blockers and the pheromone perfume, you began to worry that your distress would start to become noticeable, and your eyes burned at the thought of losing either your dignity or your job because of a simple mistake.

He narrowed his eyes at you, gaze darting down to your neck for a split second before the elevator down the hall suddenly dinged, the noise echoing in your head.

As if the heavens themselves were answering your prayers, both Changbin and Chan stepped off the elevator, followed by an unfamiliar face. The leader paused at the sight of you and one of his members, bodies so close together your chests were practically touching, but Changbin seemingly didn’t notice anything was wrong. He waved at you with a smile.

"Hey, you made it! I was starting to think you weren't going to show. I see you've met-" You saw the moment he got close enough to smell the bitter scent in the air, step faltering. "Minho, dude. You're stinking up the hallway."

Minho dropped your wrist as if he had been burned, and it took biting down on your tongue to keep yourself from yelping at the sudden sensation that entered your numb hands. You subtlety tried to shake it out from behind you, giving Changbin a smile of your own.

"Hey, I didn’t want to interrupt any real practice, so I figured I’d check in during lunch," You said, lying through your teeth. You had completely forgotten.

He hummed, still giving Minho a warning look. "We actually just got back from getting some food. I see you met Minho."

Minho gave you a slow blink, and you noticed that as the air once again filled with sweet maple syrup (which mixed deliciously with Changbins own smokey campfire scent, but you were trying not to think about that), there was a hint of regret to it.

You also realized you were still standing way too close, so you stepped to the side, nearly hiding yourself behind Changbin.

"Yeah, I was just explaining to him that I’m the new hire. Just ... wanted to introduce myself."

Changbin placed a hand against your shoulder, squeezing it softly. "Hmm, he wasn’t too mean to you, was he? He tends to be a little intense to new people."

are you okay?

"Its fine, I’ve learned not to hold peoples first impressions against them." You told him, patting his hand.

im okay

"Remind me to introduce you to Maya when she’s not mad. I swear, she’s normally a total sweetheart."

Tropical breeze and lemonade filled the air as the other two joined you. You gave a strained smile to Chan, who was too busy having a stare off with Minho to notice, and then turned to the last male of the group.

"Hi," You introduced yourself with a quick bow.

The omega gave you an awkward smile. He had boyish good looks framed by soft bangs, but his eyes were calculating as he introduced himself as Kim Seungmin. He gave a curious look to Chan and Minho, who were staring each other down, only looking away when Changbin clapped his hands together.

“Right, you’ve already met Chan. Lets go introduce you to the others!”

Changbin opened the door to the practice room, allowing a blast of music and the sound of laughter to fill the hallway. He held the door open, signaling for you to enter, and you nervously shuffled in without waiting to see if the other boys would follow. Once inside the room, you realized that there were 4 boys in the room, not just two. The blond-haired duo were still dancing, although they had now been joined by a dark-haired man in an oversized hoodie, enthusiastically trying to pull off the worm.

You paused at the sight, a laugh escaping your mouth before you could stop yourself.

You immediately clapped a hand over your mouth in regret, and while the three dancing men didn’t seem to hear you over the sound of the music, the last individual did. He was sitting off on the sidelines, much closer to the door, and he looked up at the sound of your laughter.

He blinked at you in confusion.

Minho pushed past you, grabbing a phone from next to the lone duck and turned the music down. The other three boys let out noises of complaint, but once they noticed you, they all drew quiet.

A hand from behind led you forward, and you only had a split second to recognize that the man standing next to you wasn’t Changbin, but instead Chan, before you were bombarded with multiple new scents.

"Guys, this is the new translator." He introduced you to them, his hand still warm against your back. "Be nice."

The mix of smells was hard to differentiate, but as the one on the floor suddenly stumbled to his feet, the air shifted enough that you could tell he was a beta.

"Um, hi! Im Han. I mean, my names Jisung, but you can call me Han. Han Jisung."

The blond next to him bowed, raising his head to give you a blindingly handsome smile. "Hi, my names Hyun-"

"Wait, did you see- how long have you guys been there?" Han interrupted to say.

"Jisung, relax. She’s not the first person to see you do something stupid," The blond who never got the chance to introduce himself said exasperatedly.

"But I’ve never embarrassed myself in front of someone so pretty before!" His cheeks went red as he seemed to realize what he just admitted.

"Wait, are you saying im not pretty?!"

Chan sighed from beside you. "Guys, I said be nice."

"Yeah, to her. Not to this asshole."

"Oh my god, Hyunjin. You're very pretty!" Minho exclaimed.

"Thank you!"

"Now shut up!"

Hyunjin pouted, and Han had decided to hide his still red cheeks behind his hands, which only left the other blond and the brunette next to the door. The first introduced himself as Felix, giving you a tired smile, and the latter waved at you from the ground.

"Im Jeongin, but you can call me I.N.," he said.

"Or Innie," Changbin piped up.

"Or Baby Bread," Seungmin joked. You assumed it was an inside joke from the way Jeongin groaned in annoyance.

"All right, that’s good enough on the introductions. We have to get back to practice, so if you need to go to the bathroom, go now," Chan told the group.

The others let out protests, but you werent sure if its because your meeting was being cut short, or if it was because they had to get back to work. Some of them dispersed around the room to various belongings settled against the walls, Hyunjin immediately pulled Felix back into their silly dance competition, and Chan turned to you with a strained smile.

"Im sorry about them, they ... well I was going to say they usually arent like this, but that would be a lie." He sighed. "But Im glad you got to meet them."

"I still have a couple of other staff members to meet up with. Mostly just the wardrobe and makeup stylists. Changbin offered to introduce me yesterday-"

Changbin seemed to magically appear at your side. "We can go after practice is done. Do you think you can wait 2 more hours?"

"Well, I could probably finish up my work for today by then," You said, giving him a small nod and a smile. "Do you want to meet up here?"

"Nah, Ill come get you. Most of the stylists work on that floor anyways."

"Right."

As Changbin and you talked, from across the room, Minho called out for Chan. The leader turned slightly, but he hesitated to go. You could tell he wanted to say something, but it probably wasnt something he could bring up with his members nearby, and you werent sure you wanted to talk about it right now. You didnt want to think about the tension that still lingered between you.

So before he could ask you to talk later, or invite himself to your tour that afternoon, you bowed to the two boys and then said your goodbyes to the rest of the room.

Only a handful of them said goodbye in return, the other half occupied.

You made your way down to the now mostly empty cafeteria, deciding to get something to go and eat while you worked, since you had used up your lunch time talking to the group. With a moment of thought, you grabbed a second plate.

Once back onto your floor, you weaved past people who had gotten back from their break, the noise startling from the silence you had experienced before. As you passed by the room where Maya usually worked in, you took a second to wave at the blonde haired girl you never got the name of, and walked over to the messy desk.

"Maya?"

The girl in question looked up at you with a confused look, eyes widening when she recognized you.

"I noticed you didnt have time to get lunch earlier, so I brought you some food," You said. "If you want it," You quickly added.

Maya pouted adorably. "Oh my god, thank you. You didnt have to do that."

"I wanted to."

She accepted the plate you offered her, and after a second to properly place it on a free space so it wouldnt fall off, she jumped to her feet and gingerly wrapped you in a surpringly warm hug. The smell of honey and feeling of love surrounded you.

"Thank you, so much. And I want to apologize, for the way I treated you yesterday. I know it isnt an excuse, but I was tired, and so I wanted the conversation to end, and I knew if I was snappy it would scare you off-"

"You dont have to explain yourself-" You cut her off with a giggle. She joined you.

"But again, thanks. i want to make it up to you, both the being mean and the food." She looked down at her watch. "I dont have time right now, but maybe we can get coffee someday? Get to know each other properly?"

Her soft smile was contagious. "Of course. I'll see you later."

As you made it back to your desk, you found yourself pleasently calm and relaxed. The betas scent did wonders for your omega, even hidden as she was, and you could barley even remmber the earlier panic and distress that you had felt.

That was until Changbin dropped by to get you.

It was almost 2 hours exactly on the dot that he appeared next to your desk, leaning against the edge to look over the words on your screen. You laughed at the bewildered face he made.

"Is that Japanese?"

"Yup. Its for the announcement of your world tour. I have to translate it to english next."

"Wah," Changbin shook his head. "Thats so cool. Just how many languages do you speak?"

"Hmm, how many do you think I speak?" You teased, watching him closely.

Changbin's eyes darted from the computer screen to your face, brows coming together for a second as he considered your question. He titled his head to the side, and strands of dark hair fell right in front of his eyes. On instinct, you found your hand darting up to brush them out of the way, hand bumping into his own as he moved to do the same.

"Five."

You both jolted at the sudden voice that came from behind Changbin, and you nearly groaned audibly at the sudden recognizable scent that hit your nose. You had been worried that Chan might have tried to tag along, but you didnt even think Minho showing up would be a possibility.

Apparently, Changbin hadnt either.

"Hyung? I thought you stayed back with Felix to work on something."

Minho shrugged. "I told him we could work it out later. He didnt argue."

You both stared at the alpha as if expecting him to elaborate more (perhaps explain what he was doing there), but he didnt. Changbin let out a cough which then turned into an awkward laugh.

"Right. Well, I promised you a tour-" Changbin held out his arm to you, and you took it with a giggle.

"Thank you, kind sir."

He beamed, and Minho watched you two with a blank face as you made your way passed him. You pretended not to notice as he followed the two of you as you made your way down the hallway, close enough that you could hear his footsteps, which made your omega want to bare their teeth.

Changbin also didnt react, which made you wonder if the alphas behavior was normal for him, or if he just didnt want to bring it up.

You decided to ignore Minho in exchange for trying to learn the names of the four makeup stylists Changbin introduced you too, as well as the the other two wardrobe stylist (as you had already met Maya). Most of them were busy when you were introduced, and while they all gave you a smile and a nod of acknowledgement, you figured most of them wouldnt remember your name either.

One makeup artist did capture your attention from the way she flushed when she noticed Minho. Her name was Minji, and she was apparently Felix and Hyunjin's makeup artist. She had acted fairly normal and almost playfully with Changbin, so you wondered if she had a crush on the dancer for her to suddenly get so shy.

Minho didnt offer anything more than a nod to her as he trailed behind you two, and you found yourself thinking she could do better.

"Thats everyone. Of course, theres also Maya, but you already met her."

"How come you have 4 makeup stylists, but only 3 wardrobe stylists?"

Changbin paused outside the elevators. "Hmm, well the makeup artists have designated members they work with, but wardrobe kind of all have to coordinate the entire group with each other. Having less stylists makes it easier for them."

You nodded your head. "I guess that makes sense."

The two of you got on the elevator when it arrived, and you gave an unamused look to Minho as he casually followed, leaning against the opposite wall to you. Changbin gave the alpha an equally unimpressed look.

"Hyung, what are you doing?" He asked.

Minho raised his eyebrows. "Im not doing anything."

"You're being wierd."

"I dont know what you're talking about."

Changbin let out a sigh. "Minho-"

"I wanted to apologize," Minho interrupted, crossing his arms, and to your surprise, began pouting.

"Apologize for what?" Changbin asked in confusion.

"Not to you!"

You flushed under the sudden combined weight of both mens gazes. The elevator opened, and a random staff member you had never seen before entered, two floors before the lobby. The elevator was suddenly filled with silence, and realizing how awkward the conversation would get if you stayed, you ignored the boys until the moment the doors opened.

You turned to Changbin with an apologetic smile. "Thanks for the tour Bin. I'll see you later."

The rapper stuttered, and you heard Minho call out to you, but you booked it out to the lobby and practically slammed through the front doors.

Neither of them followed you.

-0-0-

Hands against your waist, lips pressed softly to your cheek. Your head felt heavy. Arms moving to lock themselves around you, chest pressed against your back. There was a presence in front of you, eyes soft and loving, but there was a voice whispering softly in your ear from behind.

"Tell us what you want"

You woke up with wet cheeks, your chest aching. You took in a deep breath, but it felt like someone was sitting on top of you. With your head still fuzzy, half asleep, you pushed yourself onto your elbows. You felt like you had just lost something important.

When you slid into Sooyoung's bed, she only cracked open one eye. "You okay?"

"Nightmare," you lied.

You didnt know how to explain to her that you had a dream so full of hope and love that it hurt you to wake up and realize it was just a dream. You didnt know how to explain that you couldnt even remember what the dream was about.

She hummed, pulling your head down so your nose pressed against the crook of her nose. It smelled like freshly made croissants, a strong but homey scent. The calming protection and reassurance of her alpha had your omega placated, head clearing and chest relaxing as you breathed in.

But you still found yourself wishing the scent was different.

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scintillasofbeomgyu · 6 months ago

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ᯓ★ from me to you — chapter seven: while you were sleeping

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader. genres: slice of life, social media au, body swap, fluff, angst. wc: 2,1k. warnings: language, anxiety, killing (humorously). an: sorry for the long wait! i hope you enjoy~

You remember reading somewhere that most dreams windows into the subconscious. They were like tools that the mind used to bring to the fore our innermost hopes, desires and fears.

You remember thinking how unfair it seemed; that other people got to have these things buried so far away they emerged only in the clutches of deep sleep.

You didn’t dream much after moving to Seoul. Mainly because you didn’t sleep much in the first place, but partly also because your innermost hopes, desires and fears always seemed to prance around you in broad daylight, with mocking expressions that seemed to scream: Here we are! What are you going to do about it?

When you did dream, your dreams were never really dreams at all either, but they were the seasonal reruns — the omnibus of troubling memories that you could not escape no matter how far you ran.

But tonight – tonight was different.

Tonight, it seems your subconscious believed you deserving of a break – a reward for all the anguish it puts you through otherwise.

“You have to answer us honestly, okay?” Yeonjun, the idol of the literal decade, your self-proclaimed bestie and role model, says with his eyebrows and lips set in seriousness. His eyes dart between you and Kai. “I promise we won’t freak out.”

You nod resolutely and they scoot closer to you with indecipherable expressions. Raising your eyebrows, you lean toward them in intrigue. “What is it?” you whisper.

Kai looks at Yeonjun, then takes a breath. “Who do you think is more handsome?”

You blink, registering the question, before gasping in shock. You smack their shoulders playfully. “How could you ask me such a thing? It’s not right! You’re both extremely handsome, like models – princes – angels! How could I possibly choose?”

They scream and fall back into the bed, cringing in embarrassment. “That’s just too much! Way too much!” Yeonjun cries through his hands.

“Seriously, Hyung,” Kai grimaces, rubbing the chill in his arms, “how did you get drunk enough to say such disturbing things.”

Their pink, blushing faces resemble the fluffy marshmallows you enjoyed as a kid, and it makes you laugh with joy. This is the best dream you’ve ever had. You’re unsure what your subconscious is trying to tell you with it, but you know you’re going to get Dr. Kim on the phone and ask if he had changed your prescription without you knowing and then thank him for it.

“Hey,” you pout and cross your arms, glaring at Kai, “I may not be as pretty as you, but I’m still your Noona, not your Hyung. And your Noona doesn’t drink.” Kai shudders in response.

“Seriously, you have to tell us what you drank last night,” Yeonjun shakes his head in amusement. His smile falters, then he crawls into the space next to you and links his arm with yours, resting his head on your shoulder. It feels so warm and comforting and real that your heart could burst. “I know you’re disappointed about the demo, but drinking this much is dangerous. At least let us come with you next time.”

You frown in confusion, turning to him. “What are you talking about? What demo? And I swear I didn’t drink,” you say, crossing your heart with one hand and holding up the other in solemn vow.

You try and think back to what actually did happen last night. “I guess moving into this new environment made me a little anxious, so I decided to take a walk. I… got a call from home that made it a little worse, and then I bumped into this really rude guy in the elevator. I was walking to the convenience store to get a red bean ice cream… and then I took my anxiety medication and I fell asleep on the couch?” you say, thoughts beyond that jumbled, and a nagging feeling at the edge of your mind calling on you to take another look.

“Anxiety medication?”

You find Yeonjun and Kai regarding you with eyes that swim with surprise, confusion, and deep worry.

“No, no!” you say quickly, waving your hands in hopes to draw them out of concern. “It’s not that bad! I mean, I can’t help that I have it, and it is a hindrance when I try and carry on with my life as per normal, but I’m fine. Let me show you the results of my last consultation.” you reach into your pockets for your phone, but find them empty. Your brows furrow in confusion.

For the first time, you scan your surroundings.

Instead of the tangerine walls you painted last night, you find yourself in a plain white room. Instead of your posters, the walls are bare. All the furniture and bedding in the room is black, save for a big canvas by the wardrobe with a big cherry blossom tree painted on it.

You begin to feel nervous, the events of the night before becoming more and more blurred. You remember the elevator and the convenience store and the sofa, but you also remember the sound of running water and the feeling of cold, wet clothes sticking to your body.

There is a sharp pain in your chest. You groan and grip your chest. Yeonjun and Kai rush to grab your arms.

“Hey, Beomgyu, are you alright?”

You force yourself up to reassure them, but eye Soobin’s black bomber jacket draped over a chair in the room, the one you remember slipping before stepping out last night. Hurrying over to it, the strong emotions you’re experiencing eases momentarily.

You search for your phone, but the pockets are also empty – except for a fumbled paper in one of them. When you unfurl it, you find it is a referral letter for Dr. Kim. You sigh in relief, but it comes too soon. Your hands begin to tremble as your eyes gloss over the patient’s name on the referral.

Choi Beomgyu.

Confusion, panic and fear grip your mind and you lean against the chair for support. Yeonjun snatches the paper out of your hands.

“What is this?” Yeonjun gulps, “You said Seungcheol-hyung’s tests only reflected an iron deficiency. What is this Beomgyu?” He says, looking at you with disappointment thickening his voice.

You shake your head. “Me? Beomgyu? No, you’re confused. I am (Y/n). And this is a dream.” Yet it all feels so real.

“Hyung,” Kai sighs, “Enough.”

“Look, I –”

You freeze.

Across from where you stand is a long, full-body mirror against the wall. In the mirror, where you should be standing, is Beomgyu. Your idol who you love so dearly, the reason you are motivated to strive for your dreams, is staring back at you with a face that should be yours.

When you walk, he walks.

When you frown, he frowns.

When you scream, so does he.

Yeonjun and Kai jump with surprise and you smack your hand over your mouth. Why do I sound like that?

Your fingers scour your face, pulling your cheeks and running though your hair. Eyes wide with disbelief, you turn to the two men beside you.

“Th-this isn’t a dream? This is real? You’re – real? Th-that,” you say, pointing a shaky finger to your reflection, “is me?”

“Dude,” Kai groans, dragging his fingers across his face in frustration. “Have you lost it? Of course that’s you.”

Yeonjun considers the referral one more time, then looks between you and Kai. “Maybe this is a result of the anxiety? Or the medication? You should have told us, Beomgyu.”

The hurt in his eyes sends a pang of guilt to your heart. “I’m sure he– I mean, I had a reason. He– I mean, I am not the kind of person that would keep it from you with bad intentions. Promise.”

They don’t look very convinced, but before you can answer, there is a banging at the door.

Yeonjun and Kai frown at one another, then their eyes widen. You arch a brow at them.

“Shit! Today’s schedule!”

Your face falls.

You had a feeling waking up in your bias’s body was just the beginning of your problems.

***

Beomgyu howls in pain as Taehyun hoists him into a room in the apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. His gut twists in fear.

“What the hell is going on here? Who are you people and why are you in my apartment?” he yells, waving a finger at Taehyun. He clutches his throat and frowns, coughing to clear his voice.

Taehyun rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “Why don’t you take a good look around you and try again.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but when he observes the environment his eyes widen. Large posters of his face are stuck against orange-colored walls instead of his white ones. At one corner of the room is what looks like a shrine: a framed photo of him is hanging off the wall, surrounded by photocards and fan-site photos, on a shelf of albums and a glass case holding a lightstick.

“We are not in your apartment. You are in ours.”

“Oh my God!”

Taehyun nods regretfully and gives him an apologetic smile. “Yeah, I know. I don’t know how –”

“You’re fucking sasaengs!” He screams, grabbing the closest thing to him – a hairbrush – and holding it like a weapon. “I swear to God, if you don’t let me go right now, I’ll call the police and sue you all into Hell!”

Beomgyu fishes in his pocket for his phone, but pulls out one that is very unfamiliar to him. The screen is cracked up, and the transparent cover it is in holds a polaroid of his face at the back.

Taehyun squeezes his eyes shut and sighs heavily. When he takes a look around himself, his shoulders drop in embarrassment. “Okay, wait. I know how this looks, but I swear it’s not what you think.”

“Oh yeah sure,” Beomgyu scoffs, tossing the phone onto the bed behind him and tightening his hands around the brush handle, “tell that to the six foot body pillow with my face on it!”

Taehyun considers the monstrosity against (Y/n)’s wardrobe and pinches the bridge of his nose as his ears burn red. “Yup, that’s fair.”

“I can’t believe this is the type of friend Yeonjun-hyung has! And aren’t you a doctor? You should be stripped of your license! I’ll see to it personally — my brother is a doctor and—”

“Excuse me?” Taehyun’s expression darkens. “You can threaten my life, and that of the person who’s room this is, but if you threaten my years of hardwork, I’ll have to kill you.”

Beomgyu shrieks, stepping back as Taehyun starts toward him. He aims to throw the brush in his face, but misses and the brush hits the vanity on the other end of the room.

Something there captures Beomgyu’s attention, and he is no longer bothered by Taehyun’s empty threats.

Taehyun stops and arches a brow, following him as he walks toward the vanity in a trance.

Taehyun watches as Beomgyu picks up the photo of him, Soobin, Yunjin and (Y/n) in Hongdae.

He turns to Taehyun with an expression that he has seen the owner of that face make when she was looking at photos of him.

“This girl? You know her?”

Taehyun nods, curiosity peaked. “I do. Do you?”

Beomgyu regards at the photo again with those glossed over eyes and chuckles softly. “I ran into her at the hospital. Does she always smile like this?”

The puzzle pieces click in Taehyun’s head and he laughs. If this gets out, Yunjin will never let him hear the end of it. And (Y/n)? She will sink further into delusion than she has ever gone.

He can’t wait to tell them.

He shrugs. “You’re smiling like that right now, you know.”

Beomgyu looks up into the vanity mirror for the first time and his jaw drops.

“I’m dreaming right now, right?” Beomgyu laughs in disbelief, but when he does, and sees his reflection do the same thing, the photo clatters to the floor and he screams.

“I wish.” Taehyun sighs, bending to it up from the floor. There are footsteps coming down the hall and Soobin bangs on the door. “Now that we’re on the same page, why don’t you tell me the last thing you remember? And let’s make it quick, that idiot will literally break down this door.”

“Why are you so cool about this!” Beomgyu yells, clutching his throat and groaning in frustration. He tries to make it sound deeper. “Has this happened before? Is this some voodoo shit?”

Taehyun rolls his eyes. “Let me stop you right there, Drama King. We’re getting carried away again. Someone needs to be with sane and rational thought, otherwise we’d probably give one another vasovagal syncope.”

“What?”

“Tell me the last thing you remember,” Taehyun says firmly. “We need to find (Y/n) and then figure out how and why this happened.”

prev. | mlist | next

an: i’ll be updating everyday for what’s left of this week!

life is rough for (y/n). after dropping out of college and moving away from her family to live life on her own terms, she struggles to keep up with the fast-paced city life in Seoul. she becomes a fan of the kpop idol, choi beomgyu. while his content keeps her motivated to strive for her dreams, she can’t help but wish she had the same luck he has had. but not everything is as it seems.

taglist: @yoonzinoswife @ameliesaysshoo @bgomtori @woncheecks @seodami @thing89 @stormy1408 @boba-beom @binluvsu @lillynval @nothingwithoutgyu @gyuville @tinhq @soobnuuy @031323o @damn-u-min-yoongi (send an ask to be added!)

#smau: from me to you 🎆#txt imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #txt smau #beomgyu smau #txt fluff #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader

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shortnspidey · 2 months ago

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CHAPTER FIVE: TRICK OR TREAT, FREAK

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 2.2k

A/N: this chapter is definitely my favorite one that I've written for this series! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it! This made me realize I'm SO ready for Halloween! 🎃

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"That's your costume?" Max's eyes were wide, a mix of surprise and the typical candor that Lyra had come to expect. There was no malice there, just the blunt honesty. Taken aback but not entirely shocked by her bluntness, Lyra's gaze dropped to her last-minute costume. The leather clung to her like a second skin, the fishnets adding a layer of punk rock chic that she had thought was perfect for the night.

Yet, seeing herself through her sister's eyes, she couldn't help the grimace that tugged at her lips. "It's that bad?" Her voice was a soft echo of doubt amidst the certainty of her sister's judgment. Max simply shrugged. "Neil's going to freak when he sees that nose ring." There was a hint of amusement in her tone, the kind that suggested she was picturing the scene already.

Lyra reached up instinctively, her fingers grazing the small, gold hoop that adorned her right nostril. It was a bold choice, but it was also a harmless rebellion. "It's fake." She replied quickly, the defense a knee-jerk reaction to the implied criticism. The nose ring was just another part of the costume, a temporary addition to her look that could be removed with the same ease as the leather jacket that hung off her shoulders.

It was all part of the night's facade, a character she could put on and take off at will. But for a moment, under her sister's scrutinizing gaze, it felt almost real. "You and Billy could be twins." Although she knew the redhead meant it as a joke, Lyra's stomach twisted into knots thinking back to what had happened a few hours prior. Max's voice cut through her reverie, pragmatic and laced with concern.

"So I take it you're still going to that party?" Lyra nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. "You know I have to go, Max. Billy's a completely different person when he's high and wasted," She sighed, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and protectiveness. It wasn't just a party for her; it was a mission to keep her brother safe from his excesses.

Max's expression softened, her teasing demeanor giving way to sisterly affection. "Just...be careful, okay?" She urged, reaching out to squeeze Lyra's hand. Lyra offered a small, determined smile. "Always am," She replied, though the promise felt as flimsy as the fake nose ring she wore. Tonight, she'd be the guardian angel dressed in devil's clothing, watching over her brother, hoping the night would end with nothing more than a hangover and a few good stories.

After trudging through the neighborhood for what felt like miles, their shoes scuffing against the cracked sidewalks lined with jack-o'-lanterns, Max turned to Lyra with a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine Trick-Or-Treating on my own if you want to go to the party. Knowing Billy he's already there." Lyra bit her lip, the streetlights casting long shadows as costumed children darted past them, their laughter a stark contrast to the unease knotting her insides.

She wasn't fond of the idea, the protective streak in her always on high alert during nights like these. Max could see the hesitation dancing in Lyra's eyes, the way she clutched her candy bag a little tighter. With a playful roll of her eyes and a dramatic sigh, Max launched into a full-on campaign. She promised she'd stick to well-lit streets, and, most importantly, be back before Niel got home.

After what seemed like an eternity of bargaining, Lyra's resolve began to crumble like the leaves beneath their feet. With a final, half-hearted grumble, she caved, extracting one last pinky promise from Max that she'd stay alert and stay safe. Lyra watched her sister disappear into the sea of costumes, the weight of worry settling in her chest. With a sigh that misted in the chilly night air, she reached into her jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against the crumpled edges of the orange flyer that had been burning a hole there all evening.

She unfolded it with trepidation, the bold letters announcing the party she dreaded. Unlike her brother, who seemed to thrive in the chaos of loud music and raucous laughter, Lyra found no joy in such gatherings. The very thought of the noise and the crowds made her skin crawl. But the image of Billy, with a drink in hand and his judgment clouded, forced a knot of anxiety to tighten in her throat. Their argument earlier that day replayed in her mind, the harsh words still echoing.

Despite their spat, her protective instincts wouldn't allow her to turn a blind eye. Especially not when she knew all too well the kind of trouble Billy could find—or cause—when alcohol loomed over him like a puppeteer. And if he didn't have her there to keep him in check, he'd either land himself in a situation they'd all regret, or worse, he'd come home to face their father's temper alone. The mere thought sent a wave of nausea through Lyra, her stomach plummeting.

She knew what she had to do.

As the crowd mingled in the front yard of Tina's house, ranging from Cobra Kai to Madonna lookalikes—the rumble of a motorcycle engine cut through the chatter. Heads turned as Lyra made her grand entrance, the engine of her cherry-red motorcycle purring like a beast ready to pounce. She pulled off her helmet, releasing a cascade of dirty blonde waves that caught the moonlight just right, giving her an almost ethereal glow. As she kicked the stand down and swung her leg over the bike, the crowd's awe was palpable.

Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire, and for a moment, it felt as if time had slowed down just for her. Lyra's confidence was magnetic, her presence commanding the attention of everyone around her. She tossed her helmet under her arm and strutted towards the party, her smile a mix of daring and delight.

The partygoer's eyes followed her every move as she walked past. As Lyra made her way through the front door, the chaos of the party hit her like a tidal wave. The house was teeming with teenagers whose inhibitions had been left at the doorstep. Raucous laughter and shouts filled the air, punctuated by the occasional pop of a beer can opening. She sidestepped a couple who were far too engrossed in each other to notice her, their lips locked in a fervent embrace against the living room wall.

Everywhere she looked, there were scenes of revelry and abandon: groups of friends clustered together, some dancing with abandon to the thumping bass that vibrated through the floorboards, others engaged in animated conversation that was mostly yelling to be heard over the music. The floor was a graveyard of empty beer cans and red solo cups, discarded without a second thought by hands eager for the next drink.

Lyra's eyes darted from face to face, searching for the familiar contours of Billy's features, but he was nowhere to be seen within the crowded rooms. The knot of worry in her chest pulled tighter with each passing second. Then, a commotion from the backyard caught her attention the unmistakable sound of a ruckus that Billy was so adept at causing. Deciding to momentarily ignore it, she walked over toward the kitchen island hoping to find a non-alcoholic drink.

Instead, she found a punch bowl that looked a little too intimidating for her taste. "Care for a drink?" A tall sandy-blonde guy in a football jersey asked, catching her off guard. She quickly shook her head, hoping he would get the message and move along. Upon noticing the helmet tucked under her arm, the sandy-blonde boy made the connection. "Shit, so you're the chick that owns the Yamaha FZR600 parked outside." Lyra nodded, surprised that her arrival had already become a topic of conversation in such a short amount of time.

With a confident smile, he introduced himself as James, clearly trying to make a good impression. "And what's your name, gorgeous?" He asked, stepping closer. "We've met before." She responded nonchalantly waiting for the jock to recall their encounter in the hallway. She watched as he quickly made the connection once more. "I remember you," He smirked, his tone dripping with flirtation. "It was pretty hot seeing you all fired up." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his comment, not impressed by his choice of conversation.

However, James was completely oblivious to her lack of interest. "Over Byers, though?" He laughed, making Lyra clench her jaw in annoyance. "Shit, he's just as much of a freak as Munson," Lyra rolled her eyes. "Believe me, you don't want to be seen around them. They're not worth your time, gorgeous." She didn't have a chance to respond due to immediately spotting Billy stride across the room, a look of determination written all over his features. She saw her brother corner a brunette boy, their standoff radiating of testosterone.

"We've got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington." She overheard one of the guys cheer tauntingly. "Suck it, King Steve." Another teased making a triumphant smirk appear on Billy's face. She could only guess that he was the 'King Steve' whom Billy had dethroned. Suddenly, Billy's eyes locked with Lyra's from across the crowded room, and a protective glint sparked in his gaze as he noticed James lingering nearby. Giving Steve, one final glare, Billy made his way over to his sister, not even acknowledging James with a word. "Beat it," He grumbled, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Lyra couldn't help but stifle a laugh as she watched the jock grab a nearby beer and saunter off, clearly intimidated by Billy's presence. The silence between Billy and Lyra felt heavy, as if they were both searching for the right words to say. Finally, Billy broke the silence, his eyes falling on the helmet in Lyra's grasp. "You brought the motorcycle?" He questioned, a mix of surprise and curiosity in his voice.

Lyra shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I wasn't gonna walk," She scoffed, reaching for a rogue water bottle on the counter. Billy couldn't help but comment on Lyra's attire, raising an eyebrow. "Dressed like that?" He deadpanned. Lyra's defenses immediately went up. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" She scoffed, her tone defensive. Billy let out a frustrated sigh, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "No surprise that dirtbag was hittin' on you. You're lucky I saw you in time," He mumbled, his concern evident. Lyra's frustration grew.

"I've told you several times before, I can take care of myself," She retorted which made Billy scoff. Fed up with the tension, Lyra couldn't help but snap, growing tired of his attitude that was giving her whiplash. "You know what, screw you. Go back to doing whatever the hell you were doing before I got here." She growled, her frustration boiling over. But before she could storm off, Billy reached out, his hand circling her wrist. "Lyra, wait," He called out, his voice filled with a mix of regret. "Can we just forget about all this? Just have a reckless night for once?" He motioned vaguely between the two of them.

Lyra looked at him, her expression softening. "This?" She questioned, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I only came to this stupid party because I didn't want you to get in trouble with Dad. Even if we fought, some part of me wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid. So, forgive me for looking out for you." She huffed in frustration and anger. Lyra felt the sting of tears threatening to spill, a mix of emotions swirling within her.

She didn't know whether the tears were for the sun-soaked memories of California. Or whether they were born from the unfamiliar strain between her and Billy. A strain that had been absent in their lives until they found themselves in the strange, unsettling world of Hawkins. "Sunshine-" Lyra's heart clenched at the nickname, a vestige of a simpler time. She shook her head, trying to ignore the warmth that spread through her despite the coldness she wanted to project.

"You're forgiven," Her voice was barely above a whisper, betraying the turmoil inside her. "I—I just need some air." She didn't linger to catch the look of relief that flickered across Billy's face, nor did she stay to see it quickly replaced by the familiar shadow of remorse. She pushed through the door, stepping out into the night where the chill wrapped around her like a much-needed embrace.

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eastwindmlk · 3 months ago

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Another dubbel dip for Jilyweek? Don't mind if I do! The continuation station will depart to a little piece of The Everything Else from TB(itb)US. This little gem does require having read the first 7 chapters for full context. If you want to the full thing is 19.6k and can be found here

Though can be enjoyed as a standalone with a little TL;DR

Lily left Hogwarts in year 3 because her parents emigrated. Years later, she is given a potions apprenticeship with one Fleamont Potter. She moves into the bedroom across the hall from James. With a little meddling of his mother, they realize their feelings for each other. But now comes the hard part. They cannot be together until she is no longer his father's apprentice.

Once again, thank you to @kay-elle-cee and @sunshinemarauder for making all this possible and enabling me to dip back into this.

1.5k under the cut!

It was one of those quiet nights where Lily wanted to do nothing more than waste away her hours brewing. Staring down a cauldron, working towards her graduation, towards not having to sneak around any longer. Afraid to be caught sleeping with her teacher’s son.

But tonight she was barred from the lab and under strict instructions of her her potions master to enjoy herself.

The problem was, she really had no idea what or how.

Initially the redhead had planned go down into town, have a drink at the pub and maybe beat some of the old men at darts. Something that she’d been known to do from time to time. Her name now standing proudly near the top of the leaderboard. But she was about to shimmy into her one dressy skirt as the sky broke open.

Now, could she still slip and slide her way down the hill and have a good time? Sure. But she also could slip and slide her way right into the A&E, which was not something that she was all too keen on.

Which meant she was going to have to make new plans that did not require her to leave the Potter estate.

Lily’d wandered the hallways for a while, making idle chatter with some of the paintings before winding her way up to the small library. In the hopes of finding James there, reading or playing chess with himself. She even found him playing with Sirius over an enchanted mirror once or twice. She usually would slip out of the room before either of them would notice.

But she had no such luck. The room was empty, the fire dying in the hearth.

That was something to do, she supposed, finding the little rack of tools beside the fireplace, picking up the poker. Hoping to bring some life back to the flames, watching the embers glow and crackle at her insistence. Slowly but surely they were spurred into coming alive.

It was then, with her eyes trained on the embers that she remembered James talking about being out for a Quidditch match. She’d even sulked about the the fact that he was going to be out the whole night.

Lily reached up, letting her fingers linger on the spot on her jaw he’d kissed before leaving her with the promise of more when he returned.

When the flames danced brighter now as she placed a few more logs onto it. The warmth of the flames pleasant.

Lily took a deep breath, letting the quiet warmth wrapping around her like a blanket and the crackle of the fire persuading her to stay here. To curl up with a book. Research was almost as good as actually brewing.

It would not even really be ignoring instructions. She enjoyed research and just this room had enough rare books to keep her occupied for years to come. If the house had not offered another, more enticing, distraction she might have made more headway.

But alas, she would have to settle for reading whenever the distraction was too busy to distract her.

And so, gathered some pillows and one of the large throws that were in nearly every room and settled in with a modest selection of books.

Chewing on the end of her pen, Lily was studying a particularly chapter on transmutation when a folly of footfalls pulled her from her reading. Her eyes flicking to the door.

No one should be home until tomorrow. So who was in her house?

Heart hammering in her chest, she reached for her wand before remembering that she’d left it in her room. Never expecting to actually need it when she wasn’t going to be going anywhere.

Shit

Lily’s eyes darted around the room trying to find something, anything, to defend herself with. Landing on the fire and the little rack of tools that stood beside it.

She jumped to her feet just as the door began to rattle and scrambled over to grab the cast iron poker, brandishing it like a sword as she faced the door. She was determined to get at least one good wack in before she would let herself panic.

The door swung open, Lily’s eyes squeezed closed as she charged the fire poker raised up, over her shoulder going for a wide swing.

“Oh ho, ho! Careful there Little Red,” said a familiar voice, a hand wrapping around her wrist and easily stopping the momentum of her swing. “What in Gaia’s green earth are you trying to do?”

Her eyes flew open and instantly narrowed at a incredibly amused looking Sirius. “Defending myself,” she replied with a perturbed pout.

“Maybe next time keep your eyes open?”

“-Gee, thanks for that enlightened titbit,” Lily bit back, masking her embarrassment with snark and an eye roll, jerking the poker from his grip and waving it in his directions threateningly. “What are you two even doing here? I thought you were staying in Oxford.”

Her eyes shifted from Sirius to James, who clearly made an effort to not make the same mistake Sirius had and keeping his features schooled into a mask of nonchalance though he could not quite keep the glint from his eye.

James pulled up a single shoulder. Too casual to not be practised, she decided. “You sounded pretty disappointed that I wasn’t going to be around, so I thought we’d move our evening here.”

He said this with such nonchalance, like it wasn’t the most thoughtful thing a boy – man – had ever done for her. And without her even having to ask. It filled her with a warmth that spread from her chest, like a tight embrace.

So distracted by the little gesture by the casualness of it all that she almost forgot that Sirius was there when she threw her arms around James, their lips smashing together unceremoniously for a desperate kiss with too much tongue and teeth but neither of them seemed to care.

It wasn’t until Sirius cleared his throat that she let her eyes leave James’, keeping an arm around him. “Can I help you, Padfoot?” she snipped, turning her nose skyward when he chuckled.

“No, no by all means go on,” Sirius teased in return and gave them a superior look. “I was just under the impression you two were waiting for after graduation. New plan?”

Lily nodded doubtful, James eagerly.

Sirius snorted, giving his head a shake. “Good to see we are all agree here.” He wrapped his arm around the pair of them, the fire poker now laying discarded by the door and he steered them towards the couch. Wedging himself between them, much to the dismay of both of them.

“You two get to cuddle up when you decide what the plan is,” he informed them. Lily couldn’t help but groan, knowing full well this would end up in another argument.

Still, she took a deep breath and answered. “The new plan is the old plan, just because we fell off the wagon once, doesn’t mean we can’t give it another try.”

She could hear James scoff and she knew he was giving her a deadpan stare, not that she was going to look at him and give him the satisfaction of her flustering as he added. “Right, once. Every other day, sometimes twice a day.”

He wasn’t wrong, but hearing him say it like that sounded so much worse than she had compartmentalized it as. Maybe they did have a problem. “Right, maybe it is a bigger commitment than we anticipated, but I am sure we can rise to the occasion.”

“I think James is rising to several occasions by the sound of it,” Sirius quipped and coughed as Lily elbowed him in the side. Offering him her best glaring side eye.

James just laughed and she wanted to be annoyed at it, but is was just too damn funny.

She had to stifle a laugh as she leaned her head against Sirius’s shoulder. “Damn you, Black,” she made a poor attempt at not laughing at the innuendo.

“As long as nothing rises while I’m still in the room, I don’t really see the issue,” Sirius added with a shrug of his shoulders. “You’re both adults, legally speaking,” he paused to give James a look that made her wonder what inside joke she was missing before continuing “, you can make your own decisions.”

Lily was about to say something about her degree when she was cut off with a hand raised. “I understand the academia side of it all. I am not saying run and tell. I am saying, maybe just stop pretending to each other.”

Lily couldn’t help but be somewhat surprised at the thoughtfulness behind the words. Somehow she never quite expected the Sirius Black she knew in third year to actually speak wisely. But people change.

Just as she thought that, he had to go and remind her that they might change, but not that much.

“And me. Not that you could, I could tell by this one’s stupid smirk,” he joked, wrapping an arm around James to pin him to his chest and mess up the already messy hair. Like it would make any difference.

This set the tone for the rest of the night. They filled it with cosy banter and no actual potions. Which maybe was actually what she needed after all.

#jily week 2024 #jily

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faerievampling · 8 months ago

Text

Killing Time

Chapter 6: Blind

Word Count: 4k

Pairing: Soft Ascended Astarion x Female Tav/Reader

Summary: After thousands of years together, Astarion and his consort go on another adventure. After Astarion is forced to return back to Faerún for the evening, Tav must attend a Githyanki banquet alone.

Link to Ao3!

Masterlist

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Next Chapter

Warnings: 18+. Mention of sex. Light Mind Control. Kidnapping.

You give yourself a look over just to ensure everything is in place: your hair was braided with such elegance it could have brought tears to your eyes, and the earrings that Astarion had suggested paired brilliantly with your dress. They were a simple diamond, likely dug out by kobolds or dwarves somewhere in Neverwinter. The gems hadn’t been particularly expensive and there was no great story behind their purchase: Astarion had simply bought them for you because he thought they would look nice on you.

You had wanted to pass on wearing a necklace; between the earrings and braids, there was just a little too ‘much’ going on with your look, but Astarion had insisted.

The necklace provided you with a gentle warding bond. The gem of the necklace twinkled when the spell activated.

“Lover, surely this isn’t needed,” You had said while Astarion nervously adjusted your ensemble, smoothing away wisps in your hair and ensuring your makeup hadn’t smudged, your lips swollen from his incessant kissing. Astarion had remarked that you should be thanking him for the natural lip plumper, which only added to your supernatural, earth-shattering beauty.

“Madame,” Cynthia says from behind you, her voice light and tentative. You couldnt stop thinking about how helpless Astarion felt before walking through the portal back to Faerún, leaving you, Ruth, and Cynthia behind at the crèche.

He will be back. Later tonight. He promised. He will be back, you thought to yourself. You could sense Astarion’s anxiety amidst his occupation. He had told you not to worry, as if that was even possible.

“Yes?” You answer, looking at Cynthia’s reflection. She also looked quite lovely, and wore a blue gown, which was lovely with her blond hair and grey eyes. She smiles at you.

“Master wants me to remind you to blink and smile. But there is a certain ‘statuesque’ beauty about you when you aren’t thinking about it.” Cynthia’s eyes dart away from yours in the mirror, afraid she has been too casual with you, but you give her a little smile, as friendly as you can muster on that ancient face of yours.

“How interesting of you to say,” You reply, your voice even and light. You try your best not to be too robotic, reminding yourself of Astarion’s suave ease at mortal communication. “Are you excited for the banquet?”

Cynthia beams behind you. “I am. Very much.” Her heart is racing. You can sense her excitement.

You turn to her, nodding your head as her eyes drink you in. “Any last adjustments?” You ask, knowing Astarion would want you to look your best. He had told you to represent your family well in his absence, and you intended to do so.

The distance almost makes you feel pain, which is unusual; but you remember something you read in a book, once, about physical manifestations of emotional pain. You wondered if that idea was applicable to vampires with telepathic bonds, too. Astarion had been nearly distraught having to leave you. But you really couldn’t dwell on that now.

Cynthia takes a moment to thoroughly inspect you. “None. Master did well to do those himself, the expert that he is.”

You nod before opening the door to your chamber(if you could call it that; your room was certainly better than the last, but nothing quite like your boudoir at home), allowing Ruth to come in. His eyes were on you first, simply because he couldn’t help it: the two of you smelled distinctly of Astarion, which would always be attractive to you simply because he was your creator.

Ruth nodded to you. “Stunning, Madame,” he says politely before turning to Cynthia, the true object of his desire, you realize. You can smell the arousal on them alike, and Cynthia’s beat has gone between her legs.

Looking at the two of them reminds of the ‘before’ times. And that reminds you that you’re about to go party with a horde of gith without your husband. You think about reaching out to him, because surely he feels your growing anxiety; you are beginning to get angry, feeling as if he’s ignoring you.

But the rational part of your brain knows your anger is misplaced. You take a deep breath, startling both Ruth and Cynthia in the process, who’ve become lost in each other's eyes.

You take the crook of Ruth’s arm as you exit your chamber, Cynthia trailing behind the two of you. This was the way of the court: since you were absent your husband, any male escort would do. Servants, like Cynthia, don’t get an escort. Simply, your royal life was far more valuable than hers.

But you aren’t in court, are you? You think before turning to Cynthia, letting go of Ruth’s arm as you wave her closer. You promptly switch places with them, choosing to walk alone as the couple strolled in front of you.

Walking down the long hallway, you quietly observe the pair; when Cynthia rests her head on Ruth’s shoulder for a moment, snuggling up to him for a quick hug, you realize how happy your underlings probably were that they had their own room now. A quick look into Cynthia’s mind confirms your theory: although their relationship was in its infancy, these two made love often, and Ruth regularly fed from his darling.

Cynthia hadn’t been the first of Ruth’s lovers. Ruth did this often: he would devote himself to one human after another, and be entirely distraught upon their death. He never asked Astarion to turn any of his lovers, because that was against the rules.

Ruth seemed to rather like Cynthia, you think, but you had never paid attention to the others, so you couldn’t really say if things were different for him and your new lady servant.

The other spawn weren’t so monogamous as Ruth. You knew Marwa had a string of lovers but never a steady relationship. Astarion’s other two spawn, Ygritte and Apholso, often tangled together. If there was ever any drama between the two, neither of you heard of it, which was another one of Astarion’s rules: the lives of the spawn needn’t ever disrupt the lives or relationship of either Astarion or his consort.

You’ve lost yourself in a memory when you nearly stumble into the pair in front of you as you reach the ballroom of the spire.

It was far grander than you had imagined: the walls were smoothed, but still a rocky crystal that seemed to illuminate on its own volition, reflecting off of the milky white floors which resembled ice.

The gith are dressed up, and much to you and Cynthia’s dismay, pink was surely in-style among the gith women. But it was no matter: the moment you walked into the room, many eyes were on the three of you.

“Tav,” A familiar voice called from beside you, and you turn to see Lae’zel, reaching her hand out towards you to take your arm. You accept, allowing her to lead you towards a more intimate corner of the hall, Ruth and Cynthia on your heels.

There was a lot of gith here. You and Ruth are already looking at each other nervously: him moreso than you, even though you had missed your second feeding. The spawn’s vampiric hunger was far greater than your own, far more painful and constant. That didn’t really change your discomfort, but it certainly made Astarion feel better about the whole ordeal.

You knew the two of you needed something to occupy yourselves; excusing yourself from your group, you grab two glasses of wine from a serving table, handing one to Ruth as you begin to nurse on your glass of red.

Ruth does the same, and Cynthia is looking at him as if she’s worried. This strikes remembrance within you, when you once worried for Astarion’s hunger.

You notice Lae’zel is wearing a rather pretty dress, one that shows off her lovely neck; Lae’zel’s cleavage peeks out of the hem slightly, and you can’t help but steal a glance. The dress is a dark chocolate color, complimenting her green skin and orange hair well. She looked so much softer than normal, and you wonder if you had ever seen her this way.

You think maybe you should compliment her, but instead you focus on your red wine and try to stop thinking about how her skin would taste on your tongue as you slide your fangs into her—

“Where is Astarion?” Lae’zel asks, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

As your eyes sweep the room, you start to feel a disturbance, and you know something is wrong. You still for a moment, time seeming to slow down as you focus your senses on the world around you: the smell of sweat and perfume and blood beneath skin, the warm moisture in the air touching you behind your ears, beneath your breasts, the sound of the casual music and the chatter mixed with laughter. You wait.

Ruth answers Lae’zel’s question. Because you are waiting.

“My lady –“ Ruth begins, but you bring your hand to his shoulder, patting him.

“Shh.”

But nothing happens. The banquet continues on like normal and you decide to return to the others, giving them the fakest smile you can muster.

“Darling darling darling darling darling.” You’ve involuntarily reached out, feeling Astarion’s quiet presence. He acknowledges but doesn’t reply, understanding that you’re both rather antsy.

Before you know it, your warband descends on you. Ziir’o, Quinel, and Joss wear a traditional Githyanki garb, an elegant suit tailored with thread made from intelligent beings rather than cotton or silk. It was an old tradition, one that existed far before Vlaakith or Orpheus ruled, where a young warrior would skin their first kill, using its materials to create a garb in a show of honor.

You thought it was a rather vicious tradition, one you admired. The boys looked handsome, and the three of them blush when you say so.

Marg’o and Chae each wore gowns; you and Cynthia shoot each other a look after taking in Marg’o’s pink gown. Chae, despite how stern she usually was, looked rather soft and lovely in a golden gown. The other five, who weren’t so keen on you, lingered about, greeting you curtly.

“Where’s your husband, Tav?” Marg’o asks with a blush. You couldn’t blame her for having a crush on Astarion, and you thought it rather cute.

“Not far. Just handling some business. He’s never truly away from me.” This was a lie, of course, but nobody needed to know that.

“Will he arrive in time for dinner? He knows Orpheus expects him.” Lae’zel says; it would have knocked the wind out of you if you hadn’t been undead. Instead, you were merely shocked.

You think for a moment nobody told you of Orpheus’s coming, but you knew it was more likely you had heard of it and hadn’t thought it important.

“I’m not sure,” You say as you reach out to Astarion, who is feeling nothing but frustration and anxiety. You can sense how badly he wants needs to be with you.

There is more small talk, but you ignore it, holding onto your connection with your husband. You know Astarion really doesn’t give a shit about Orpheus at this moment: surely, he wanted to please him, for alliance purposes or whatever, but what was going on at home took precedent.

He told you not to worry about that pesky war the mortals are having. Men and women (and some children, you are told) from all over Faerún are engaged in conflicts; but you have seen many nations rise and fall, so how different could this next one be?

But maybe your wealth was being threatened. And with Lord Geldon Moth in the mix, the Ancunín power and fortune was in need of not only defense: you think you should start to fight back. Maybe Astarion should create that spawn army, gather a few Githyanki forces storm the gates of wherever the hell Moth’s estate was, kill him, his consorts, all his spawn, all his thralls, and fuck your gorgeous husband on whatever excuse of a throne Moth sat on.

When the feast was finally called, you took Ruth by the arm, Lae’zel leading the two of you to the grand hall. There were rows of long tables filled with gith bodies as the banquet was brought to a semblance of order: in the back of the room, atop a platform, was a long, elegant table with a grand chair at its center.

The table and throne were made from wood and bone, carved magnificently; the legs of each resembling the tail of a dragon.

You take Astarion’s seat, directly next to the throne, and Ruth takes your seat next to you. Cynthia is made to stand behind you: you almost feel bad for her, but it was to be expected. The dinner felt more formal, more serious, and when everyone was largely settled, the dinner hall was hushed. There was a little quiet chatter, but hardly the assault of the ears that was the hall when you arrived.

The heartbeats of many thrummed in your ear, slamming against your eardrum amongst the quiet. You realize you’d never let go of Ruth’s arm, gripping it with such strength that you drew blood with your long nails. Ruth, equally if not more so bothered, gripped you back in kind, his hand covering yours. It takes you a moment to realize he’s trying to get your attention.

Ruth could telepathically communicate with Astarion, who could play telephone with you, if he so chose. But you could also easily read Ruth’s mind, and he knew this, so he signaled to tell you to peek inside.

‘We shouldn’t be here without Master Astarion. Too difficult, too difficult. Not enough blood. Cynthia is so delicious. Eat her whole.’ Ruth’s thoughts accidentally waved to Cynthia’s neck and breasts; ignoring his more lewd thoughts, you shake your head at him.

You try urging him to keep still, to stay calm, and to follow the rules of ‘Master’. But that feeling of apprehension in your gut hadn’t left, and you felt that little lump in your throat get bigger the more you lied to Ruth.

“It shall be alright, but we musnt make a scene. We would be punished,” You think that you would probably enjoy your punishment and Ruth decidedly wouldn’t. But the lying thing seemed to work, and Ruth was calming down.

“Think about your darling. Think about Cynthia. When I think about my husband, I do better to behave.” You’re still lying, but you know this is true for Ruth. You often did what you wanted, regardless of what Astarion thought. “You don’t want her to think you're a monster.”

Astarion didn’t care if you were a monster – as long as he could love and adore you, he would. But this wasn’t the case for Ruth. The look on his face signals understanding, and he nods with you in agreement.

“Don’t tell me something is the matter. Now is not the time,” Lae’zel rasps from beside Ruth, leaning over him. The royal procession was beginning, and everyone who had a seat stood: you and Ruth quickly followed suit after a single dirty look from Lae’zel.

You and Ruth continued to grip each other as the resplendent Orpheus was finally seen, his blue eyes fixated on you the moment he saw you.

“Orpheus is here,” You direct to Astarion, a strained reluctance in your message you knew your husband couldn’t ignore.

“I can only imagine how lovely you look right now. Haven’t stopped thinking about your perfect tits since I arrived in Faerún. You know what to do, my love.” Sadly, this signaled the end of your correspondence, because Astarion’s attention was quickly stolen away from you again. But you had greater things to worry about, like the Githyanki King standing before you.

But you did know what to do: throw on the vampiric charm, ignore that strange inkling of your psychic abilities, and do your best not to eat anyone. You regurgitate this back to Ruth, minus the psychic thing, of course.

Orpheus nods to you as he finally takes his seat, and the rest of the room relaxes. There are no great speeches, only the clanking of classes and the sound of music playing in the background as the room was brought to life.

Your discussion with Orpheus happens in a blur. You hardly remember him, your knowledge being from Astarion’s memory of the event, but Orpheus certainly remembers you.

“Time passes differently for us in the Astral Sea. It feels like not so long ago you and Lae’zel freed me from Vlaakith.”

You smile politely, careful not to show too much fang. “I apologize for my Lord Husband’s absence. There was…business to attend to.”

“It’s quite alright. Your Lord commands the Ancunín fortune and the armies and governments of Faerún, but you were the one I was keen on seeing. You were the one who slayed a devil and a ghaik ally to free me.” You think your vampiric charm is working a little too well on Orpheus. Peeking into his mind, this King was thinking of how delicious it would be to put you on your knees and stuff his cock in your mouth right in front of your husband.

Despite his lewd thoughts, there was a glitter in the man’s eyes, and it was clear he still admired you greatly.

When the food arrives, everyone digs in, except for you: one of the two vampires in existence who could actually enjoy the taste of food, but you didn’t care for it. The servants and other underlings ate in the kitchen, and as the movement in the dining hall increases, you find yourself sitting next to Lae’zel, Ruth having gone to the kitchens to sit with Cynthia.

“How has your evening been, so far?” Lae’zel asks as she sips on her wine, her eyes sweeping over you in lustful praise.

“Without Astarion?” You shake your head, pushing the food around your plate. “Any event without him is a bore.”

This was simply the truth: you had nobody to gossip with, nobody to laugh at others with, nobody to bother with bratty complaints or loving touches.

‘I shouldn’t be surprised a spawn loves her shackles, it’s in their nature…’

“Is it really so unbelievable to you that I simply love my husband? That I am happy with my arrangement?” You blurt, decidedly not caring if you were being rude or not.

Lae’zel is looking at you deeply. Thump. Thump. Thump. “Must you read my mind?”

“Must you think such terrible things of me?”

“I won’t forgive him for how he treated you. How he turned you into a spawn. How he made you kneel for him. I never –“ Lae’zel looks away, and you smell the coming of her tears. “I never would have done the things he did. I loved you. I respected you. To watch you tolerate that was your folly.”

Despite her words, Lae’zel’s thoughts were clear as day to you: ‘I still love you, Tav. I want you. I want you to still want me.’

It would be so easy to drain this one: you knew Lae’zel would be putty in your claws as you sucked her dry and caressed her lifeless body.

You blink at her, your mind feeling hot with a flash of anger. That was so long ago. Things are different now, you think, but no words come out of your mouth. You stand gracefully, turning only a few heads as you make your way out to the side of the hall, avoiding having to walk down the center of the room.

You hardly have time to process your aggravating conversation when you are overcome with a wave of nausea, your mind assaulted by a vision of utter darkness, one that is so black that it reminds you of nothingness. You only know you haven’t lost consciousness because your sense of awareness never leaves.

Taking a deep breath, you try to collect yourself, leading yourself around the corner to a secluded walkway. The smell of alcohol is pungent in your nose as you hear the shuffling of footsteps behind you: you know there is a familiar group of warriors coming down the hallway, and one is already calling out to you.

“Tav! You must try this, it’s a rare ale made in the Astral Sea –“ The smile on Ziir’o’s boyish face drops at the sight of you. “Tav?”

“Are you alright?” Joss asks, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

As the group gets closer, your mind flits to that vision of nothingness. You feel a great surge in your connection with Astarion, and you know he is already on his way to you. To protect you from whatever it is that is happening. He’s racing towards you, but…

it’s

already

upon

you

Your thoughts become fragmented as that nothiness swarms you. You hear those familiar voices call out your name as you feel a strange sensation behind you, like you are standing at the edge of a cliff and you can feel the harsh winds at your back, threatening to knock you over the edge: you are unsteady, you are uneasy, and you are alone.

Astarion is calling out to you but you can’t discern his message; you can only feel his panic, his horror as his deepest fears are realized, and you feel your cheeks wet as even your vision goes dark.

“Astarion. Astarion. Astarion!” You’re screaming out to him, but you have no idea if he can hear you, because you receive nothing in response. The words seem to bounce around your empty mind.

Nothing: there is something about the absence of existence that is instinctually frightening to a vampire. Nothing is both a feeling and a state of being that vampires try to avoid.

You feel the world of the créche slip away from you as you finally fall off the cliff edge, into that strange breeze that violently whips around you.

“Astarion?” You keep reaching out to your bonded mate, desperate for him to respond.

Even your nose is blind. You start to think that maybe you’re dead when you no can longer feel your body. You don’t know how long you stay like this for, in this state where only your consciousness seems to exist with itself. You don’t think about much other than Astarion, who will surely come and save you at some point, even if you are dead.

Your hearing is the first to come back to you: someone is shuffling around you, maybe even pacing. For a moment, you think maybe it’s Astarion, until your sense of smell comes back online: nothing about wherever you had been taken smells remotely like your husband.

On the contrary, it smells distinctly like another vampire. This is when you start to panic. Tears are already sliding down your cheeks once your sense of touch comes back to you, realizing that you are wrapped in the arms of another man.

His skin is cool, scaley, his large arm coiled around your body as you try to squirm away from him. You realize now that whatever spell had been placed on you was wearing off.

Your entire body is trembling, and there is a stabbing pain in your chest and your temples at the realization that you are alone in your head.

“Tch tch, my little darling. Mage, again.” The man’s voice is deep, rumbling, and you feel the flicker of a long, thin tongue lap at your cheek. You won’t forget how he loves the taste of your tears.

****

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Masterlist

#ascended astarion #ascended!astarion #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #soft ascended astarion #ascended astarion x you #spawn tav #astarion x you #ascended!astarion x reader #ascended!astarion x tav #Killing Time

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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 1 year ago

Text

You're waiting for a train...(11)

Go to sleep, Miss Y/n

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Robert learns the truth of the plot to infiltrate his dreams...well...Cobb's version of the truth.

word count - 1.6k

warnings - betrayal, shitty fathers

a/n - I've realised the chapters are getting shorter and I think it's because when I'm writing I'm finding natural stopping points and I find I get more productive if I'm writing small chapters frequently than stressing about getting a large chapter finished.

Previous Chapter Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

We arrived on the fifth floor, exiting out of the elevator, Robert first with a gesture from Cobb in faux attentiveness. I lagged behind, the tremendous terror I felt in combination from my last encounter and whatever was about to befall us buzzed within me. Even as the two men entered before me, my stride was shyer than theirs. Every so often Robert would chance a peak behind him at my frame. So I was ready at a moment to right myself once again.

With only his back to look at, I still managed to discern the shudders that racked Robert’s body. As I saw one sliver down his spine, the same feeling was repeated on my own. As if our hearts were actually the same, being passed back and forth between the two.

Silhouettes appeared out from the end of the hallway and Robert stumbled at another presence, the memory of our previous encounter merely one picture away.

“They’re with me.” My dad assured with a hand on Robert’s back. Offering a comfort I had yet to know. “Go on.” With this confirmation Robert’s eyes darted around the room numbers in search of any sense of familiarity. His body moved faster than his mind could comprehend. His eyes ended up bearing the brunt, shooting back and forth to catch what his mind had missed the first time.

Feeling dismissed in my current position I found my feet shuffling towards Arthur. I clasped his arm in mine, leaning into his body to inhale his scent. The embrace I’d shared with Robert had cured my aching heart but to truly be healed I needed the feel of something I’d known before. In Arthur’s arms I could feel safe, whilst being undoubtedly assured no harm could come. He raised his arms so he could meet my hand with his. He clasped them together and brought them back down, my two fitting in his one. He looked at me, and I willed myself to meet his eyes. I gave a gentle nod. No more words were required before he met my hairline and christened it in his kiss. Unfortunately, I was unable to convey the platonic nature of this interaction before I saw Robert’s head fall low upon witnessing the two of us. I so badly wanted to jump back out into his arms but my sense of duty to the team and to my own promise held me still. Upon pondering this I also failed to catch the steel glare that landed on my father and the fist clenched close to where my own were being comforted.

The door labelled 528 stood before us. Robert’s panic grew as the familiar numbers jumped out to him. His head flicked back and forth from the door to my father in a silent agreement of what they both knew. Cobb gestured for Robert to stand with Ariadne and I as him and Arthur brandished their guns. They kicked the door down in perfect choreography for the scene they were trying to convince. They were led in by their weapons and they scoured the room in search for imagined intruders. Arthur paced towards the bathroom in perfect timing to ‘discover’ the briefcase.

“Mr Charles,” He announced. I did wonder if Arthur was going to do a different voice, remembering fondly when he would try different accents to make the jobs more fun.

“Do you know what that is Mr Fischer?” Dad asked.

“Yeah I—I think so, yeah.” Robert stuttered out and I sensed how close he was as he had gravitated towards my frame. My pinkie extended in search of something to hold. It was rewarded as I felt his own curl around it.

“They were trying to put you under.” Dad hurriedly uttered out.

“But I’m already under.” Roberts confusion spread through his adrenaline, linking the two.

“Under again.”

“What do you mean, a dream within a dream?”

An intruding sound alerted the room and we became aware of the fact we were no longer alone. For Robert he feared the oncoming consequences. The rest prepared for the next arrival.

“Shh.”

Cobb was aimed at the door as Arthur approached from the side. The door was unlocked, and Browning entered with his own key card. Arthur swiftly grabbed his arm in order to subdue him into compliance.

“Uncle Peter?” Robert appeared desperate to go to his godfathers aid, but I held him back with a slight tug on his sleeve. He responded to my action and remained still.

“You said you were kidnapped together?” My father asked.

“Well not – exactly – they –they already had him.” Roberts stutter was starting to become more prominent in the high-pressure environment and I had to wonder whether this was something he had been prone to before. Returning when he is placed in an environment which strains his heart. “They were tor—torturing him.”

“You saw this happen?” He breathed heavily when the question of sincerity was placed on the table. His eyes flitted to his godfather and seemed to truly focus for the first time. His conclusions became fully formed in the slight slouch of his godfather.

“The kidnappers are working for you?” Robert managed to push out in a whisper of disbelief.

“Oh Robert.” Browning sighed out as if in shame of the boy before him. The situation may have been an allusion but in Robert’s fallen expression I sensed that a scene like the one before was not unusual in his memories.

“You’re trying to get the safe open?” Robert’s voice shook. “To get the alternate will?”

“Fischer Morrow has been my whole life.” Browning said. “I can’t let you destroy it.” I had never had more of an urge to punch a projection in my whole life. And Robert knew it through the hand he gently placed over my newly clenched fist.

“I’m not gonna throw away my inheritance!” Robert shouted. “Why would I?”

“I couldn’t let you rise to your father’s last taunt.”

“What taunt?”

“The will Robert. That will? That’s his last insult. A challenge for you to build something for yourself. By telling you you’re not worthy of his accomplishments.” Browning hit the final nail.

Robert faced away and brought his hands up as if he could wipe away all the unpleasant feelings which were being forced upon him. I followed where his body paced, hoping any semblance of my presence would make him hurt a little less. He returned incredulously asking Browning to continue.

“What, but that – that he was, um, disappointed?” His words were intertwined with self-effacing laughs.

“I’m sorry.” Browning had the decency to refuse to meet Robert’s eyes in light of what he was revealing. “But he’s wrong. You can build a better company than he ever did.”

“Mr Fischer? He’s lying.” My dad approached to whisper to Robert.

“How do you know?”

“Trust me, it’s what I do, he’s hiding something, and we need to find out what that is.” Eames stalked into the room with Saito tailing behind. His weak frame confirmed my worry that the temporary heal of the deeper dream was starting to peel off to awaken a new countdown to the end. “I need you to do the same thing to him, that he was going to do to you.”

Eames and Arthur both held Browning down to "prepare him" for the next level. Ariadne and I did the same thing but in preparation for the others.

“We’re going to go into his subconscious and find out what he doesn’t want you to know.” My father continued to explain.

“All right.” Robert agreed determinedly. He approached where Arthur had his IV prepared but he faltered and angled himself towards where I stood. I was busy arranging for Ariadne and failed to notice him until he tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and was taken aback at his choice to converse with me. “Will you do it? For me?” He softly spoke and offered me the IV he had taken off Arthur. His eyes pierced down to capture just the two of us and they spoke to me to convey that I was the only one he could trust. I felt the burning glare of my father at the deviation from the scene. It had startled me as well but I was nothing if not an improviser.

“Of course.” I soothed, and gently clasped his bare arm in my hand to lightly insert the needle. I guided him to sit down on the bed. As the sedative seeped through my hand glided towards his neck. His weight fell onto it and I laid him down offering as much care as I could to ease him into this change. Once his head met the soft mattress, my fingers dragged back to the front. They lingered on his soft cheek and danced their way to his full pink lips. I was overcome seeing true peace line his features. But I was shot back to the situation at hand once Eames clapped my back in a warning.

“He’s out.” I announced.

“Wait whose subconscious are we going into exactly?” Ariadne questioned.

“We’re going into Fischer’s.” Cobb answered. “But I told him it was Brownings so he’d come be part of our team.”

“He’s gonna help us break into his own subconscious?” Arthur looked towards my father with doubt in his brow.

“That’s right.”

I laid down on the floor as Arthur kneeled over me, helping to prepare the IV.

“Security’s gonna run you hard.” I warned understanding the danger of leaving the dreamer at the whim of the projections and feeling genuine fear for Arthur up here on his own.

“Then I will lead them on a merry chase.” He teased as he smirked down at me knowing to reassure me in this moment, so my head would be clear of frivolous worries for his safety.

I giggled at his choice of words. “Just be back before the kick.” I relaxed my head back in wait of my slumber.

He lowered his voice to a soothing whisper. “Go to sleep, y/n.” he hushed.

LAYER THREE: THE SNOW

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Because y/n will have experienced stuff like the previous chapter before, it makes sense she would want to go to Arthur for comfort as it's her tried and tested way

Also like I said at the start, I know its a short chapter but I felt like it was a natural stopping point and it means I'm not trying to cram loads of plot at once.

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog

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snowyslytherinowl · 2 months ago

Text

Perfect Prefect - Part 2

PAIRING: George Weasley x Reader or George Weasley x OC

SUMMARY: You’re Miss Moore of Ravenclaw, a sixth-year prefect and one of the house’s best and brightest. You don’t know who to go to the Yule Ball with, but luckily for you, George has secretly had a crush on you for a while and charms you into being his date. But there’s one slight problem that’s holding you back from sharing the news of your budding romance: your best friend and Fred Weasley are far from friends.

I'm really sorry for taking so long to update this story. I'm a very busy person and honestly, I struggled to write this part. I kept getting stuck on the plotline and how things sounded. I'm not 100% satisfied with how this chapter turned out, but I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for your patience! (P.S. I'm not making any promises on when part 3 will be out, but I will eventually publish it).

*Original GIF by @merakiaes, but I cropped it just to have George

Without a word exchanged, Sinclair drags me to a secluded corner of the corridor when class ends. She sweeps her eyes to inspect for onlookers, and her eyes follow the back of a second-year passing by. When no one else is around, she grabs my shoulder with both hands and leans in to intensely gaze into my eyes. I love her, but she creeps me out when she does this.

“Does he treat you well?” she presses.

Well, this isn’t exactly what I expected her to say. I thought she would try to convince me that I have many other options or tell me that George is far from the pick of the litter. I give her a funny look and reply, “Of course he does.”

She nods in approval. “Has he pulled a prank on you?”

“Nothing major,” I answer honestly.

Sinclair’s eyes dart over my face, looking for any sign of deceit. “What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t thrown anything at me or tied my shoelaces together, but he did replace my quill with a confetti-exploding quill. And there was another time he sent a flying note to me, but it would zoom away every time I tried to catch it.” I’ve never dashed across the grounds quite like I did in pursuit of those flying notes, racing from Ravenclaw Tower all the way to the Great Hall.

“Okay.” She nods with approval again, and follows with, “And do you like him?” At that, she quirks her brow and leans in even closer.

I sigh at that question. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be going to the Yule Ball with him if I didn’t,” I say, as though this is common sense. “Sinclair, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want you to become overprotective when I told you that I was going with George.”

Sinclair has always been protective of us and has only ever wanted us to be with guys that are, in her words, “worthy of ladies as majestic as ourselves.” When Lloyd caught her now ex-boyfriend cheating on her last year, Sinclair surreptitiously followed him around to deduct House points when he broke even the smallest of rules. In our fourth year, she jinxed a Slytherin boy’s tongue to hiss every time he attempted to speak, all because he called me a “Mudblood” one time.

Sinclair sighs and leans against the wall. “Listen, I am sorry for making you feel that way and not being clearer when we spoke last night. I’ll always love you and be proud of you, even if your date was that foul git, Fred,” she says genuinely.

She looks away briefly and then looks back at me, opens her mouth and then closes it, and chews on her inner cheek. I know exactly what that means.

“What do you want to say?”

She speaks slowly, as though not to stir the waters. “As I just said, I’m happy for you. But… I just thought you would go for someone different. Someone more like… you.”

Oh, there it is. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… he’s talkative and mischievous and careless about his academics. And you’re not shy, per se, but you’re not as overwhelming as he is,” she explains calmly. “Also, you’re diligent with your academics and prefect duties.”

“Honestly, I understand where you’re coming from. If I were someone else, I would never believe that a prefect and a prankster would like each other. But George and I have a lot more in common than you would think.” When she raises her brow, I continue, “We’re both diligent, but with different things. He works tirelessly on his joke shop products and researches charms in the library. And yeah, he’s more outgoing than I am, but he’s not as boisterous as Fred.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” She nods her head, but I know she isn’t convinced just yet. “George really isn’t that bad. He can be, well, immature at times. They’re both immature, but Fred is heartless.”

She waves her hand and we begin walking to the Prefects’ Bathroom. “I’ll take your word for now. But if he missteps up even once, I will set him on fire.” Sinclair says that last sentence with so much conviction that I’m afraid that she’s serious.

“Er, thank you.”

Her features soften and she smirks at me. “One thing I will admit is that I can see some of the appeal of George. He’s not too bad looking.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Okay now. That is not the reason why I’m going to the ball with him.”

Sinclair nudges me. “Oh? What do you like about him?”

“He’s sweet and goofy. Also very easy to talk to. We’ve talked about everything, honestly. Every time we talk, he has this goofy grin on his face and gazes at me as though he can’t get enough of what I have to say,” I respond, a smile also playing on my lips. “I get excited every time I see him. I blush whenever he gets near me or compliments me. It makes me feel like I’m a silly, giddy girl. But then again, I don’t have much experience with boys, so I am a silly, giddy girl.”

“Oh no. You’re becoming just as boy-crazy as Ainsworth.” We both laugh and she follows up with, “Are you planning to share the big news with everyone today?”

“I am.” I can already picture Ainsworth splashing water around as I break the news. “By the way, we need to find you a date. It’s just you and Lloyd now.”

She shrugs. “Actually, I already have a date,” she admits nonchalantly.

I halt in my tracks. “You do?! Who is it? Why haven’t you said anything?” I gasp. I rack my memory for all the boys she’s talked to recently, but none of them stand out as someone worthy of a majestic lady such as herself.

“Rivard.” She shrugs again as we continue walking and climb the steps from the fourth floor to the fifth floor. “Honestly, I just haven’t said anything because I’m not dying to go with him. He was just the best option out of all the guys who asked me.”

“Doesn’t he go to Beauxbatons?” When she nods, I continue, “Why him?”

“He’s ambitious. Top of his class. He has great things going for him. He’ll be interning at the French Ministry of Magic this summer,” she says in an oddly diplomatic tone.

I sigh and look at her, trying to read her face. “Sinclair, why? Why didn’t you pick someone you actually like?”

Her expression stays neutral and she doesn’t look me in the eye. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s just focus on George, okay?” We arrive at the Prefects’ Bathroom. Before I have a chance to pull her aside, she utters “pine fresh” and we’re immediately swarmed by our friends.

XXX

I scan the crowd of students at the front entrance and I spot George waving at me from the corner. When I get close enough, he holds his hand out for me to hold. No matter how many times we’ve held hands, I always feel tingly all over. This time, my giddiness is mixed with slight nervousness. Our Saturday Hogsmeade trip will be our first official date; that is if you don’t count our product-planning meetings or the times we’ve hung out on the Ravenclaw Tower balcony.

Once Filch verifies that we’re authorized to visit Hogsmeade, George and I start walking to the village. I notice that he’s carrying a pouch, so I ask, “Why do you have that? Planning to go on a shopping spree?”

He secures the pouch’s string around his wrist. When I stick my head out to get a closer look at it, he tsks at me and laughs. “Hey, no peeking! It’s a surprise.”

I then try to peek from behind, but George shoves it in his front pocket. I groan. “You’re going to kill me with the anticipation.”

“Remember, patience is a virtue,” he teases, using his best authoritative prefect voice to parrot what I said to him two days ago. George pleaded with me to sneak to Hogsmeade with him for the last few days. I may be willing to get a slap on the wrist for assisting in his pranks, but I won’t risk losing my prefect badge for leaving the school grounds unauthorized.

“Now, where first? The Shrieking Shack?”

“Absolutely not,” I say with a laugh. “I’m thinking Honeydukes. I’m in the mood for Cauldron Cakes.”

By the time we get to Honeydukes, the store is already swarming with other students. I quickly grab Cauldron Cakes, Pink Coconut Ice, and Jelly Slugs for myself and take a scoop of Chunky Chewers for George; he’s never had one and I’m not letting another day go by without him trying it. I head to the counter to pay and notice him tucking his purchased treats away, the corner of an exploding bonbons package peeking out before it disappears in the depths of his pouch. I hope he doesn’t blow anything up while we’re strolling on High Street.

I pull off a portion of a Jelly Slug and pop it into my mouth as we walk out the door. I turn to go to Zonko’s since George couldn’t take his eyes off the displays earlier. But just as I start walking there, he grabs my hand and cocks his head in the opposite direction.

“How about we go off the Hogsmeade beaten path? There’s a place that I bet would tickle your fancy.” George has a mischievous glint in his eye and his voice sounds suspiciously enthusiastic. This is either going to be very good or very bad.

“Where exactly is it? It’s not Hog’s Head Inn, is it?”

“Nope. That’s far too ordinary for my liking.”

I raise a brow at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve been there before.” When he says nothing, I shake my head in disbelief. Actually, I can believe it. “But this place you’re talking about, it’s safe? Right?”

“I hope so.” George grins at me and it’s hard not to smile back. He may be overly adventurous, but his enthusiasm is adorable.

“Okay, I’ll go. But just remember that if I’m eaten alive, you’ll no longer have a date.”

“I have a backup plan for that. If a dragon gobbles you up, I’ll have to take Peanut instead.” We share a laugh, but then he draws circles on my hand with his thumb to reassure me. “Don’t worry. I promise that we’re not going on some wild adventure.”

George leads me off High Street and into the countryside surrounding Hogsmeade. As we get further away from the heart of the village, there are fewer cottages and more wildlife. Squirrels chase each other up trees, hares hop around, birds tweet their songs, and we even see a deer in the distance. I’m relieved that he doesn’t beckon me to climb up the mountains, but the foliage grows thicker wherever we walk. After about ten minutes of walking, I turn behind me and can’t even see the tallest building in Hogsmeade. I’m not so sure if we’re authorized to walk this distance from the village.

“Hey, George? Are we almost there?” I ask nervously.

He seems to sense my anxiety since he wraps his arms around me and comfortingly squeezes my hand. “Just hang on for another three minutes or so, I promise.”

Maybe it was my preoccupation with thoughts of suspension, but the time flies by even faster than I thought. George stops in front of a wall of snow-covered trees and then slithers between a break in the branches, his arm sticking out to beckon me through.

I’m met with the sound of roaring water and then the source of it: a waterfall rushing down from an imposing formation of rocks. The entire sight takes my breath away, and I have to stand there in silence to absorb its full beauty. The area radiates the essence of winter: snow-capped mountains in the distance, leafless trees cloaked in snow, and sparkling icicles dangling from the rocks. Yet the waterfall rages on, its cascading waters misting and plummeting into the vast lake below, where only the edges of the lake are partially frozen.

“George, this is amazing!” I may have been apprehensive on our walk here, but now it’s my turn to pull him closer to the waterfall. “How’d you find a place like this?”

“Fred and I were sprinting for dear life from the owner of Dervish and Banges since we accidentally let off a Dungbomb in his shop. We bolted into the countryside and even after we lost him, we figured, why not explore deeper? That’s how we found this place. But the beauty of it isn’t nearly the best part of it all.”

George points towards the side of the waterfall. There’s a hole in the rocks that’s conveniently large enough for us both to crouch down and slither through. Even though I should be more skeptical, I get down on my knees and pull myself forward.

The waterfall and the winter wonderland may have been beautiful, but the cavernous room hidden behind the hole is stunning. Jagged blue and white crystals line the walls and the center of the room’s ceiling, as though we’re standing in a ginormous geode. Blue rock decorated with white lines surrounds the crystals on the ceiling. I wish I could take out my wand and carve a piece to take back to my dormitory.

My fascination with the crystals and marble almost makes me forget about the waterfall. Mist from the flowing water has left puddles on the smooth grey floor and has dampened the nearby crystal walls. I try to look through the waterfall, but the water is completely opaque. I stick my frozen hand into the falling water and am met with something I never could’ve expected: the water that passes through my fingers turns into tiny blue and white crystals once they touch the ground.

I bend down and take a crystal, which feels exactly like the crystals along the wall. When I turn them over in my hand, they shine and refract on the ground. Wow, Sinclair would love these to make jewelry.

I repeatedly dip my hand into the water, each time drawing out more crystals that I can collect for her. As I gather all of them into my palm, I become even more amazed at how shiny they are. Wait, how are they shining if there’s no light source in the cave? I look back up at the ceilings and nearby walls and don’t spot any clues.

“George, are you seeing this? How can any of this even be possible?” I mutter, mostly to myself even though I direct the question to him. I rotate one crystal around to search for the angle where it catches the light and then look in the direction where the shine is coming from. No, no light there.

And then I realize that there’s been no response from George.

“George?” I call out louder. Maybe he didn’t hear me the first time. Silence. My voice rises with a touch of fear, “George?”

My eyes frantically dart around the room until I hear a voice from the entrance hole. “Hey, can you lend a hand?” George asks, nervously chuckling.

I spin around and spot George’s head and torso protruding from the entrance hole. As our gazes meet, his lips curl into a lop-sided bashful smile and his cheeks flush red. “I’m a bit stuck,” he admits sheepishly.

I immediately rush over to pull him out of the hole and help him onto his feet. “George! Why didn’t you say something sooner!?” I ask, incredulously. Honestly, I feel more ashamed of myself for not noticing his absence sooner than surprised by his silence.

Even after George stands stably on his feet, dirt patted off his jeans, his hands still grasp mine. He pulls me closer to him, one hand on my waist and the other brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You were so caught up with that cave, I didn’t want to interrupt you. You have this twinkle in your eye whenever you’re in the zone. I think you look gorgeous whenever you’re hyperfocused like that.”

“Oh, I…” My cheeks, already flushed from embarrassment at forgetting about him, become a deeper shade of red. No boy has said something so sweet or genuine to me before, and I don’t know how to respond. Especially not when he looks down at me with such a sweet grin and speaks to me with undeniable sincerity in his tone. I settle for the simplest response, a quiet “thank you.”

George seems pleased at himself for turning me into a speechless mess, his smile growing wider. “You’ve uncovered every secret of this waterfall, except one.”

He lets go of my hands and takes a step back. “Check this out!” He flashes me a cheeky wink and then jumps in the air. Rather than immediately landing on his feet, he’s suspended a foot or two above the ground. He stays there for several seconds until he slowly drifts down like a feather would. Looks like I’ll be adding another mystery to my research list.

I rake my eyes over the walls for any special attribute, but it doesn’t seem like anything here would make the place lose gravity. Neither does the energy from the walls feel any different here. This place seems to be nothing more than an unassuming cave. Well, as long as you ignore how it looks like a giant geode. “I really don’t understand how to explain any of this…”

“I think it’s magic,” George says as he winks.

“Of course it is, silly. But I’m just confused. I’ve never been in a place like this before.”

“When I was little, my mum and dad took us to this magical forest full of colorful, curious-looking birds. Funniest part was that they couldn’t fly; they could only hop. It was brilliant. They hopped about just like this.” The sight of George bouncing around in slow-motion, wildly batting his arms to pretend like he’s a bird, sends me into a fit of laughter. I can’t resist his antics.

He motions me toward him. “You should give it a go!”

“You want me to hop around like those birds?”

“I meant that you should be floating around too!”

I jump up and as expected, I float in the air. Panic briefly washes over me since nothing visible is keeping me stable. But when I don’t abruptly fall flat on my face, I relax and allow myself to gracefully float to the ground.

George closely observes my movements, timing his jumps to match mine. We end up in a silent game where I try to outsmart him by making him jump before I do, but George is hard to trick.

“Ha! I got you!” he exclaims, even though he clearly jumped after I did.

“Hey! Don’t lie!”

Even as I drift groundwards before he does, he puffs his chest and smirks at me. “Don’t even try to deny that I’m the winner here.”

“I am not easily fooled, Mr. Weasley.” I muster the strictest prefect voice I possibly can, though a hint of playfulness still slips through.

I suppress a smile as he gives me puppy-dog eyes and sticks his hands in his pockets like a guilty schoolboy. “Forgive me, Ms. Moore.” A smile threatens to grace his lips as he adds, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re absolutely gorgeous?”

I let out an exaggerated huff. “George!”

“Maybe this’ll cheer you up.” He pulls out the pouch from his pocket, which I’ve completely forgotten about considering all the events of this outing.

He sits down near the falling water and pats the ground beside him. “I packed us snacks.”

My eyes widen as he lays everything out on the floor before us, the pile seeming like it will never end. Fizzing Whizzbees, Pumpkin Pasties, Liquorice Wands, chocolate éclairs, sandwiches, and beef pasties.

“These are not snacks. This is a feast!” George must’ve really charmed the house elves into giving him extra treats.

“Ah! I found it!” He sticks his hand into a crevice of the pouch and pulls out two more things. One candy from Honeydukes I don’t recognize, and the bets part: a wrapped chocolate trifle and a spoon.

“George… How’d you know this is my favorite?” I look at the wrapping, which is a little messy, but clearly done with care and effort. I glance back up at him and catch a huge grin on his face, elated to see me happy.

“It was quite easy to put together, actually. It’s always the first dessert you go for at lunch and dinner.”

My heart flutters at how attentive and thoughtful he is, even when our House tables are far apart. Honestly, I’m touched. “Thank you, George.”

He then drops the Honeydukes candy I don’t recognize into my lap. “These are Singing Sours. I can’t believe you’ve never heard of it until yesterday.”

Based on what he told me after dinner last night, this box contains both predictabilities and surprises. He claims the main surprise will come when I try to eat them, but whether that means when I pour them out of the box or bring them to my mouth, I don’t know.

As expected, the sunflower-shaped candies sing a simple “la la la” as I pour a few onto my palm. The soft yellow petals ring around brown seeds, an inviting smile in the center.

“You didn’t tell me how cute they are!” I tickle their leaves, eliciting high-pitched laughter from the Singing Sours.

“Are they too cute to eat?”

“Hm, I don’t know.” When I was on the train going to Hogwarts for my first year, Ainsworth bought a bag of Fizzling Farm. She showed me the adorable pig- and cow-shaped candies before placing them on her tongue, where they fizzled and dissolved before my eyes. I was horrified.

“Well, I don’t believe any candy is too cute to spare.” As he brings a Singing Sour to his open mouth, the unlucky candy shrieks, somehow still sounding melodious. He laughs at it and munches on it nonetheless. Turns out all Gryffindors are merciless.

“Is that the big surprise you were telling me about last night?!” When he nods, I continue, appalled, “That’s horrendous!”

“I think it’s bloody hilarious!” His voice comes out as though he’s singing, and now I have to join in on his laughter.

“All right. I’ll have one.” I pop the candy into my mouth and wince when it screams bloody murder. But when the simultaneously sour and sweet flavor bursts in my mouth, I relax my face.

“Actually, you’re not wrong. This is delicious,” I admit.

We eat some more Singing Sours, whose screams I do my best to ignore before, I remember the items I bought from Honeydukes earlier.

“I almost forgot that I brought some stuff, too.” I add the Cauldron Cakes, Pink Coconut Ice, and Jelly Slugs to the pile, as though we don’t already have enough sugar. I hand the Chunky Chewers to him. “I just ate screaming candy because of you, so you have to try this.”

He reads the candy name and gives me a look that tells me that I should know better. “Yuck! I am not eating that!”

“But you’ve never had it before! How do you know you won’t like it?”

“Fred told me it tastes just like squid!”

“I think it tastes more chewy than rubbery! I promise you’ll like it!”

I hold a Chunky Chewer to his mouth, which as the name implies, is larger than most candies. However, like a picky baby refusing food, George turns his head. “Please? Just one. I promise it won’t make you barf.”

He hesitates but finally gives in. “Alright, but ONLY because I like you so much.”

He wrinkles his nose as he squishes the candy, which quickly bounces into its original form. George brings it to his lips, opens his mouth, sticks his tongue out, places it on his tongue…

“George! Just eat it!” I lightly smack his chest. His free hand flies to his chest and he clutches his chest as if he’s suffering from immense pain.

“Ouch!” He keels on his side and dramatically rubs his chest. “I’m in too much pain to possibly eat this!”

“Here, let me help you!” I fish out another Chunky Chewer from the box and sneak it into his mouth as his mouth hangs open from an exaggerated groan.

His eyes widen with genuine surprise and he grimaces. “You’re getting just as sneaky as me,” he grumbles. George throws the candy around in his mouth before giving in and chewing on it.

His expression goes from a scrunched nose to a raised brow to a subtle smile. “Honestly…. this isn’t bad. This tastes loads better than the owl dung Fred dared me to eat when we were kids.” At this point, I’m surprised George is still alive.

We dig into the other sweets and snacks, and George sneaks more Chunky Chewers when he thinks I’m not looking. He even eyes my chocolate trifle, so of course, I give him a spoonful.

I almost forget about the Liquorice Wands since they’re hidden behind the wrapped sandwiches. I carefully pull the wrapping apart to prevent any from flying out, but George has other ideas. He tosses the box, the Liquorice Wands flying out of the package and floating in the air.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, confused yet amused.

“What’s the point of eating if we can’t play with your food a little?” George muses, his tone mischievous. He stands and stretches his body to reach the lowest-floating candy wands, raising his arms as high as he possibly can; yet, the candies evade his grasp.

“Eh, you want to be tricky, don’t you?” he chastises at the wands. George leaps into the air and swipes a handful of Liquorice Wands.

He shoves the Liquorice Wands back into the box and grasps the opening with both his hands, exerting as much of his strength as he can onto it. He even wriggles around, wrangling the wands as though they’re fighting against him.

He turns to me. “What are you doing still sitting there? You have to help me corral these rogue wands!”

Never have I imagined that I would have to jump for my food, but here I am. Even as I stretch my arms more than I’ve ever stretched them before, the wands floating closest to me are completely out of reach.

“Allow me to me assist you, my lady,” George offers. He bows at me, resembling a gentleman aiding a damsel in distress. He flashes me a grin before he bends his knees and flips backward, which sends him floating in the air. With his leg, George is able to push three Liquorice Wands my way.

I crack up from how ridiculous he looks floating on his back and how he ungracefully lands on his bottom after drifting back down. “Are you alright?”

“I am, but only because my arse can withstand a fall,” he says with a laugh.

I hold him back when he tries to go after more wands. “I may not be as inventive as you with doing a backflip, but let me try to figure out how to bring more of them down.”

Oddly enough, the wands have barely budged since they were first thrown into the air. One of them just barely touches the tip of my pointer finger, but when I try to grab it, it floats up higher. Even Liquorice Wands choose the wizard.

When I pull out my wand, George shouts from below, “Hey! That’s cheating!”

“Fine. I’ll put it away.” I move to put my wand back in my pocket, but then several Liquorice Wands in the path of my wand floating down.

I ignore George and wave my wand above me, not uttering any incantation or performing any silent spell. Somehow, the Liquorice Wands are attracted to my wand and naturally make their way toward it.

I collect every wand and place them into the box that George hands me. “What spell did you cheat your way with?” He wags his pointer finger in disapproval.

“I didn’t cheat at all. The Liquorice Wands are attracted to my wand.”

“Uh huh. You’re saying that these candies wanted to buddy up with your wand, but not with my wand?” He puts on his best professor voice to chide me. For a member of the most chaotic prankster duo, he’s certainly enjoying enforcing his created rules.

“Well, it’s not my fault they have taste,” I say smugly.

George bursts out laughing. “I’d be offended, but you’re too clever.”

We go back to munching on the treats, or at least I go back to eating all the food. I eat a little of each to treasure every candy and food he brought for me. My heart feels warm knowing how much effort and attention he put into this.

George, on the other hand, continues to play with the food and sets himself on experimenting how fast each type of candy falls to the ground. He throws Chunky Chewers in the air one at a time, and opens his mouth wide, waiting for them to slowly float back down and fall into his mouth.

Sinclair may not exactly like George, but in moments like these, how can I not like George? I like him when he turns something ordinary into something fun, not caring if what he does is seen as embarrassing. I like him when he laughs and a loose strand of hair falls on his forehead. I like him when he comforts me with a simple joke or prank. It’s impossible for me not to be drawn to George when I’m with someone as endearing as him.

I don’t even realize that I’m staring at him, rather than the Chunky Chewers, until he turns to me with a raised brow.

“I am more enjoyable than the candy, aren’t I?” He puffs his chest and wiggles his brows like the sucker for attention that he is. His eyes crinkle and his lips are pulled upward in a cheeky grin. And as I stare at his lips, my mind suddenly jumps to kissing him.

He scoots closer to me, closing the gap between us, as I stare at him, not saying anything. His proximity certainly isn’t helping to erase my impulsive thoughts. “What? Are you enjoying the view?”

My cheeks flush and my lips grow to match his own grin. My heart begins to beat a mile a minute, nervous that he read my mind. “Of course I am.”

He takes my hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze. His grin widens even more and he looks at me, ignoring the candy game he started. Whether or not he knows I want to kiss him, I don’t know; but I push myself to just go for it.

Butterflies fill my stomach as I scoot impossibly closer to George, lean forward, and gently kiss his lips. George freezes out of surprise, but I can feel his lips pull into a satisfied smile. He doesn’t hesitate any longer; he cups my cheeks to bring me closer to him and deepen the kiss. His lips are soft and warm, blanketing me from the cold of winter.

Even with George’s positive response to my kiss, my heart doesn’t stop beating and the butterflies don’t go away. My mind won’t stop racing about how great his lips taste and feel against mine, how warmth radiates from him as he wraps his arms around me, and how this is our first kiss. My very first kiss.

Something suddenly plops on my shoulder, the surprise making me pull away from the kiss. George’s eyes reflect his own confusion, but then they light up. He brushes my hair back to grab whatever fell. He holds his hand out and lo and behold, it’s the Chunky Chewer.

George pops the candy into his mouth and says, mid-chew, “Bloody hell, you made me forget about the candy!”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley x oc #george weasley x original character #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #harry potter #reader insert #ravenclaw #ravenclaw reader #fluff #yule ball #prefect #romance #original character #hogwarts #first love #first kiss #hogsmeade

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imtrashraccoon · 10 months ago

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The final Dust chapter...we're halfway through folks! I'm really happy with this one and it fills me with many fuzzy feelings.

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Dust - Tears

Word Count: 2,235.

It was a good day.

You were packing for college and you'd soon be halfway across the country far away from your insufferable family. You'd promised you would call, but had added that you may be too busy to do so. Psychology was a complicated subject and you would likely be swamped with coursework afterall.

They didn't care and neither did you for that matter. You gladly welcomed the chance to have a fresh start and freedom to live life the way you'd always dreamed to. You would be your own person and not just the lesser copy of your elder sister.

"Hey! Are you deaf or something?"

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. You dropped a folded shirt onto your suitcase and turned to the doorway of your bedroom where your sister was standing impatiently. She was wearing a new dress and expensive shoes, again, and her face was practically caked with designer makeup.

"What do you want now?" you heard yourself grumble.

Your sister rolled her eyes. "I asked what do you think you're doing? Mom needs you to watch the house for the next week while they're away, you can't just leave!"

You frowned and crossed your arms. "We've been over this at least a dozen times. I'm leaving tomorrow morning to catch a plane so I'll have time to get settled in the dorms before the first semester starts. I can't just rebook the flight now as they won't refund me."

Her face contorted into a snarl and she crossed her arms. "Fine, go and abandon our parents for a stupid degree. You'll come to regret it one day!"

She turned to leave and as the clicking of her heels on the laminate flooring started to fade, you darted to the door to stop her. "Hold on! Why can't you watch the house? You're not going to college right away..."

Your sister scoffed and flipped her long hair behind her back as she turned around again. "Who needs college? All I gotta do is bag some rich idiot who'll bend over backwards for anything I want."

"Gross."

"And what, working every day for the rest of your life is somehow better?"

"At least I'll have something to fall back on while you'll be left high and dry when he dumps you." You crossed your arms and glared at her. "And you didn't answer my question, what are you doing that is keeping you so busy?"

"The girls and I are going on a trip to Vegas to celebrate graduating." She narrowed her eyes at you and poked your chest with one of her too long manicured nails. "And no, you're not invited, you fun sponge...."

"Double gross. I wouldn't be caught dead with your 'friends', not after all the crap they put me through." You made air quotes with your fingers to emphasize that word specifically.

"Ugh! Mom was right, you're way too sensitive."

You clenched your jaw and took a slow, deliberate breath. Once you had calmed down and weren't about to clock your own sister, you asked another question. "How are you even affording a trip after you were fired? Surely, mom and dad aren't bankrolling this too?"

She rolled her eyes, "Idiot, I'm temporarily borrowing from my inheritance that Grandma left. I have plenty of time to put it back if I actually decide to go to college anyways."

You frowned as she turned and left the house. Something about how she'd said that didn't sit right with you. Your grandmother had left both of you money for college and you had decided long ago to keep it just for that. Your sister was as careless as ever though, but what right did you have to judge her foolish spending habits? It would undoubtedly come back to bite her one day and by then you would be financially secure with an amazing career.

You also didn't like how your sister had seemingly ignored all the times you'd told your family your plans over the past few weeks. You weren't going to give them up now, not even if she begged you to.

If only it had been so simple...

"What do you mean the money's gone?! That was meant to be for my college!" you remembered shouting.

Your mother didn't even turn around and continued packing her suitcase. "Remember when your sister was in that car accident a year ago? We needed to get her corrective surgery and the money had to come from somewhere. It's just money and family is more important. Besides, it's not even like it was actually yours and we'd only briefly talked about it."

It's not fair...

You woke with a heavy heart. Why had your brain chosen that particular memory to fixate on? It had been years since you left home and cut contact with just about everyone you ever knew.

Sitting up in bed, you wrapped your blankets around your shoulders and took deep breaths to try and relax. No matter how much time passed, you couldn't seem to forget about them, even though you'd tried.

There was no way you could forget about the nightmare and go back to sleep now either. Your mind was simply too jumbled to rest and it felt like you were reliving the painful emotions you'd experienced back then all over again.

It was way too early in the morning to stay up though. Maybe a snack and a drink of water would help calm your frayed nerves? If not, there was always the option of binging some historical romance shows until you fell asleep on your own. With your mind made up, you steeled yourself for the trek to the kitchen.

You didn't get far though.

No sooner did you flip on the hall light, did your gaze settle on a familiar sight. Dust was hunched over in an almost fetal position on your couch with his hood covering his face. His skull was buried in his hands and from the way he was heavily breathing, you knew he'd been crying.

Your original mission forgotten, your heart immediately went out to him. Being careful not to startle him, you made your way over to the couch and sat down next to him.

The only acknowledgement he gave to signify that he was aware of your presence was a brief glance in your direction from beneath his hood.

"Is it one of those times again?" you asked softly.

He didn't answer.

"Can I give you a hug? You look like you could use one right now."

You waited a few seconds just in case, but when he didn't say no, you figured he at least wasn't opposed to the gesture. You wrapped your arms around him and sat there quietly, just holding him close for a while.

At some point, he shifted and tentatively wrapped his arms around you as well. He managed to give you a slight squeeze and murmured a very soft, "...thank you."

He seemed exhausted and in no mood to talk about whatever had bothered him to the point of tears. That was fine, you weren't exactly in the mood to dwell on whatever negative emotions your nightmare had dredged up either.

"Are you going to be alright now?" you asked.

He shrugged and you could feel his gloved phalanges mindlessly draw circles across your shirt. He didn't say anything for several seconds but you waited patiently in case he changed his mind.

"i'll be okay... just, i don't want to go back there right now..." he muttered.

"Well, I actually had a bad dream...and I really don't think I can go back to sleep anytime soon anyways." With a sigh, you loosened your hold on his body and asked, "Wanna just hang out with snacks and watch whatever trash happens to be on tv right now?"

"eh, beats being dead i guess..." he grunted and somewhat reluctantly let go of you.

You rolled your eyes at how snarky his tone of voice was. It seemed that his sass meter was always dialed up to eleven whenever he was exhausted, but you didn't mind in the slightest. His comments never came across as malicious anymore and you actually welcomed his often blunt jokes. It was better than when he used to ignore your questions at least.

You didn't have a whole lot of snack foods save for a bag of dill pickle chips and a pack of store bought chocolate chip cookies. Meh, they were still worthy choices in your opinion. Once you were both settled on the couch again with the snacks and some water, you flipped through the channels before settling on a rerun of an old western movie.

Only a few minutes into the film though, Dust decided to slink his arm around your shoulders and scooted closer until you might as well be cuddling. You didn't mind in the slightest and neither did you acknowledge that this was technically the most he'd willingly touched you before now.

"Can I ask you something, Dust?"

He hummed quietly and tilted his skull to look over at you.

"Is there a reason you wear gloves all the time?"

He glanced down at his left hand and tentatively flexed his phalanges in a thoughtful manner. "i just don't like getting my hands dirty...it's irritating..." he murmured.

"Ah, I wondered if that could be the reason."

"it's also good so i don't leave evidence laying around," he added with a dry chuckle.

You gave him a blank look but you couldn't tell if he was serious or not. "Now I know you're pulling my leg, skeletons don't have fingerprints..."

"...that you know of," he finished for you. There was a mischievous glint in his eyelights and you noticed his smile was slightly wider than usual.

"I...don't think I want to continue this conversation... I really don't need to know why someone like you worries about leaving evidence at crime scenes, okay?"

Dust chuckled quietly and squeezed your shoulder a little. "yeah, you already worry about enough as is, bean," he said.

"Huh... Why do you call me that anyways?" you asked. "It seems so random..."

A soft violet glow briefly flickered across his zygomatic bones and he glanced away from you. He made a sound of clearing his throat and tapped his phalanges nervously against the couch cushions.

"it's, uh... actually it's sort of a pun..." he muttered.

"Really?" You tilted your head thoughtfully as you tried to rack your brain for any kind of word it could be referring to. "I don't get it...?"

"well, it'll sound really lame if i explain it..."

"No, please tell me! I promise I won't laugh, okay?"

He chuckled and nodded, although you noticed his cheekbones were still that lovely shade of purple. "okay, okay... you're a...?"

"Woman?"

He shook his skull and vaguely gestured with his free hand. "a human...what?"

You narrowed your eyes in thought. "A human being..."

"now say it quickly and in an exaggerated voice."

"Human bein'...human bean..." You crossed your arms and fixed him with a "Really?" look.

Dust nearly dissolved into a fit of laughter, which made it really hard to keep a straight face but you had unfortunately promised not to laugh at him. Still, you were going to make it known how disappointed you were right now.

"i told you it was lame..." he finally managed to say once he'd calmed down again.

"you were right!" you grumbled and gave his knee a playful punch. "Axe was at least more creative that you."

"what, he didn't just pick something food related like, i dunno, pumpkin?"

You shook your head. "Nope, he calls me lil' chip. I actually never asked him why though..."

"huh... you're right, that is pretty creative," Dust muttered thoughtfully. "i still prefer bean though..."

You sighed and flopped your head against the back rest. "Suit yourself then..." you grumbled.

The movie turned out to be more boring than you'd thought it would be and you soon found yourself struggling to keep your eyes open. After you'd jolted yourself awake a couple of times when your head started to loll to one side, Dust seemed to get an idea.

"here..." He grabbed one of the throw pillows you had lying around and set it on his femurs. "if you're that tired, you should at least lay down so you don't hurt your neck or something.

You hesitated for a split second but realized that it couldn't hurt at least. So, you shifted your body until you could lay down comfortably with your head on the cushion in his lap. He spread a blanket over your body before flashing that more genuine smile of his at you.

"comfy?"

"Very..." you hummed in response.

Dust nodded and turned his attention back to the movie again. You tried to focus on it as well, especially when the more action packed scenes came on, but you couldn't seem to resist the pull of sleep any longer. It really didn't help when he started absentmindedly playing with your hair as well.

The next thing you knew, the sun was out and you were safely tucked back into your own bed. The only evidence that he'd been there at all was the couch pillows being slightly askew and the snacks being gone that you'd both consumed in the night.

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #dusttale #dust sans #dust sans x reader #reader #female reader #have some empathy dear #oneshot

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strangerquinns · 1 year ago

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Deadly Reunion| Chapter 23

Eddie Munson x female!reader // a stranger things apocalypse au

summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you’re left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home. // zombie apocalypse Hawkins set in 1993

warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues (no use of y/n)

word count: 2.4k+

⪻ previous chapter | next chapter ⪼ | stranger things masterlist |chapter one

“Will you fuckin’ sit down, dude!” Gareth shouted toward you, reaching across to grab onto your arm, keeping you from getting up from your hospital bed.

It has been a few days since you woke up after the encounter and attack while out for a sweep. The shock over the fact that you’d come face to face again with Wendy rocked you. There were moments that you felt it was all a hallucination and it was a girl that resembled Wendy. But you knew Wendy. She was like a sister to you, your best friend, and you knew it was her. The fearful look in her eyes flashed back in your mind whenever you lay there alone at night.

But now you were done with sitting and waiting in the hospital wing. Your body was still tired, and your ribs still hurt any time you moved too quickly, but you were sick of it at the end of the day. There was also something happening that Eddie wasn’t telling you about. You knew it after you woke up again and saw that he wasn’t beside you like he’d promised. And whenever you brought up the topic of the radical group or any progress, he clammed up and became quiet.

Until Gareth slipped up.

“Gareth let me go right now,” You spoke, with a hardened tone to your voice as you glared back at him.

“No. You need to get back into this bed, you’re still recovering, you can’t just run out of here.”

“Did you honestly think I was going to sit here after you just told me Hopper’s plan? No!” You yanked your arm back, causing Gareth’s grip to slip, reaching down, and grabbing the IV out of your arm.

You quickly ignored the trickle of blood that moved down your arm, letting out a hiss as you felt the pain shoot up your arm.

Gareth cursed as he watched you, reaching up and grabbing at his dark curls, “Dude! Are you fucking kidding me right now!”

You moved around Gareth and walked around him, holding tightly to the hospital gown that you were wearing. It was faded, thing and a little too small. But that wasn’t something that was a worry of yours at the moment. Instead, you pushed past Gareth and walked out of the wing with a trail of blood drops falling behind you.

You ignored the looks and whispers as you passed people through the halls, the hardened and angry look on your face made it so no one stopped you as you pushed past them. With the bruises and cuts on your face and the fresh blood dripping down your forearm – you were sure you were a sight.

It wasn’t long till you were on the same floor of your room that you shared with Robin. Though you spent most of your nights sleeping out in Eddie’s trailer, all of the little you had was still within the dorm room. The door was left unlocked as you pushed to open it but quickly noticed Robin sitting on the edge of her bed. Her head snapped up at the sound of the door, her short brown hair pinned back from her face, giving a better view of her blue eyes and freckled face.

“Jesus fuck!” Robin snapped as she rushed to stand from her seat, moving toward you and grabbing at your arm, putting pressure down on your still bleeding wound. “What the fuck are you doing here? You’re supposed to still be in the hospital.”

“I was tired of being there,” You spoke, “Also, Gareth told me that Hopper is pushing the attack up?”

Robin’s eyes met yours for a second, before darting away, as she moved toward the desk that sat along the wall at the end of her bed. She rushed to look for some supplies before grabbing some gauze and bandage wrap. The fact that Robin was keeping her eyes down and wasn’t saying a word was giving you a clear answer. She grabbed onto your arm, working quickly to clean it, before wrapping your arm up.

“I’m guessing Eddie didn’t tell you,” She spoke once your arm was wrapped.

“Eddie not telling me things seems to be an ongoing trend,” You scoffed, before stepping around her to grab a spare of clean clothes.

You nearly ripped off the scratchy, paper-thin hospital gown from your body before changing into your own clothes. You sighed softly at the warmth you felt as you pulled on an old sweatshirt you had. It also covered up the ugly bruises, a new one forming from ripping out your IV.

“Hopper held a Town Hall a few days ago and spoke of moving up the attack after your crew was ambushed. Eddie told him about how you recognized someone from the attackers. That made Hopper even more worried, so we’re going sooner rather than later. He doesn’t want that information to be used against us.”

“What information?” You asked turning toward her, a confused look coming across your face.

“That your friend now knows that you’re here…with us,” Robin spoke,

“I don’t understand, I thought this entire time that she was dead. I-I…I walked past her tent; it was on fire…I assumed…” You sighed heavily and ran a hand over your face.

“Well, we only have a few more days till we head out toward the old mall. A small number of people are already keeping watching.” Robin sighed heavily with a shake in her voice. “Honestly, I’m scared shitless.”

“More reason for me to not be in a hospital bed,” You searched through your bag and grabbed a pair of your old, worn-down boots. “Where is Hopper now?”

“Most likely downstairs. The cafeteria has sort of turned into a headquarters, it won’t be hard to find him I’m sure.” Robin spoke, “You’re not honestly thinking of coming with us are you?”

“Of course, I am,” You answered, not even looking up as you put on your other boot.

“You are still in recovery, and guessing that you came running in here with blood running down your arm, I’m guessing you weren’t cleared?”

“I’m not sitting by while the rest of you go out and fight. Not when I can be of use,”

“You’re not of use with broken ribs!” Robin shouted slightly, talking animatedly with her hands, the rush of her words indicating she was getting worked up. “You were out for a week, that isn’t something that should be taken lightly.”

“I can do this.” You spoke with conviction, standing and moving toward your friend.

Your best friend really if you were to be honest with yourself. Robin became a very important person to you along with many others in this Camp. The connection to them was stronger than at any other time in the past. These were people you’d known your whole life or have grown to care for. This was a family you weren’t going to give up easily. So that meant, you were joining the fight, not sitting on the sidelines, and waiting.

“I can do this, Robin. I can.” You spoke, softening slightly as you looked at her. “You all mean the world to me; I can’t sit back and wait for you all to come home. I’m another person who could be there to help. Also, these fuckers took from me, and I am going to make sure that they never come back from this.”

Robin stared into your eyes and searched your face for something. But she sighed heavily and sagged slightly. She knew there was no changing your mind.

“Eddie isn’t going to go for this, you do know that right?”

“Eddie isn’t the boss of me.” You shrugged with a teasing smile, “But he knows that nothing is going to stop me or change my mind.”

“He’s going to freak the fuck out,” Robin chuckled, trying to lighten the mood and remove this heavy weight that sat on her chest.

“Probably,” You agreed, before moving to wrap your arm around Robin, pulling her into a hug.

You ignored the ache in your ribs as the pressure of her body pressed against yours. Robin's arms wrapped around you as well as the two of you stood there.

“Come on, let’s go and join the boys.” You pulled back, lacing her fingers with yours, before heading out the door.

When the two of you stepped into the busy cafeteria you saw the change that Robin was talking about. The tables were pushed together into more of a linear setup. Maps, documents, notebooks, pens, empty coffee mugs, and beer bottles cover the tables with people moving about quickly throughout the large room. Your eyes scanned through the crowd of people, seeing both new and old faces of those who volunteered to defend the camp.

But a mass of dark cascading curls caught your attention. You pulled Robin in the direction of the table that Eddie and Steve were hunched over with a few others. The closer the two of you got, the more you could hear them talking amongst each other, words overlapping with the other. Argyle looked up when he noticed movement coming toward their table. Seeing you standing and coming toward them was the last thing he would’ve guessed.

“Holy fuck, dude,” Argyle spoke, his dark eyes widening as he took you in. The sweatshirt you wore nearly swallowed your frame.

The tattered jeans and large sweatshirt were worn, surely, to cover up the bruising. But it didn’t do much. Argyle couldn’t keep his eyes off your face, seeing the black eye. The bruising stretched down along your temple and cheeks. The bruising was a mix of purple and dark blue, with a yellow hue around the edges. It was brutal and it caused him to flinch back as you got closer.

But Argyle’s exclamation snapped everyone else at the table away from what was in front of them. The others looked up and wore the same look of shock across their features.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steve asked, his dark brows drawn tightly together.

Eddie turned around quickly, before cursing and rushing toward you. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help,” You spoke with a firm tone, seeing out of the corner of your eye as Robin took a few steps away from you.

“You’re supposed to still be in bed,” Eddie spoke, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper, anger quickly filling his doe eyes. “Resting…recovering,”

“I’m recovered,”

“Like fuckin’ hell you are!” Eddie yelled, before taking a few deep breaths and speaking again with a lower tone. “Like fuckin’ hell you are.”

“Gareth let your little secret slip, I knew something was going on whenever you came and saw me. You aren’t really good and hiding a secret, Eddie. You give it clear away that something is up.”

“It doesn’t matter that I didn’t tell you,” Eddie gently grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the cafeteria, away from the crowd.

The two of you walked down the hallway outside the cafeteria, the low rumble of voices disappearing the farther you two walked away. With each step, you started to feel more and more tired. This was the most you’d been on your feet in over a week, and you were starting to feel it. But you covered it up, ignoring the fatigue clearly taking over your body. Eddie stopped and turned to face you the moment the two of you reached the end of the hall.

“You need to go back to the medical wing,” Eddie spoke, “I’m not fuckin’ doing this with you.”

“I don’t remember asking you for permission at all.” You moved to cross your arms at your chest. “I already had this fight with Robin, and I’m not really in the mood to do it again.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn,” Eddie sneered, his hand angrily moving through his hair, gripping tightly on the dark curls. “I’m already scared out of my goddamn mind about this.”

Slowly you watched as the anger slipped away from his face and instead replaced with fear. You stepped closer to him and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, bringing his eyes back to you.

“This is real now.” Eddie spoke as he leaned into your touch, “And Hopper wants to push forward with nearly half not prepared. I’m scared we’re not going to make it out of this.”

“Being scared is normal,” You spoke softly, “I’m scared. But I also am not going to sit this out either. We try our hardest to come back home.”

Eddie closed his eyes and leaned his side against the hall, reaching to grab your hand and hold it against his chest. You stepped closer to him to where you felt his warmth against you along with the familiar scent of coffee, cigarettes, and musk.

“I’m not sure Hopper is going to let you,” Eddie spoke. “But I have a feeling that’s not going to stop you either.”

You shook your head slowly. “I’ll take whatever strong-ass painkillers Gareth has down at the medical wing. Wrap my ribs tightly and stick by you – or within eyesight, I promise.”

Eddie reached for you, his hand moving beneath your sweatshirt, caressing the tight bandages around your ribs. You bit down on your lower lip to muffle the hiss as you felt a small twinge of pain.

“You’re not fully healed; I can see it. It’s clear all over your face that you tired and I saw the flinch from me touching your ribs.”

“Please, Eddie,” You pleaded, “Please.”

Eddie closed his eyes before pulling you closer, if possible, before pressing his lips against your forehead. The two of you stood there pressed against one another not speaking a word. The warmth of Eddie’s touch against your skin comforted you as the two of you stood there.

“We should get back,” Eddie whispered against your hair, “Steve and I are finishing up the points of attack. Hopper wants them by the end of the day.”

“I’ll come and help,”

The two of you pulled from one another, Eddie gently grabbing your hand, and leading you back toward the room.

“I love you,” You spoke, looking up at him.

Eddie turned to you, stopping outside the door, and smiling slightly down at you. “I love you too, now – let’s get rid of these fuckers.”

Ok..ok...we're coming to an end. I am for sure ending this at no more than thirty. The "big fight" is going to be roughly 2-3 parts. Depending on how many words I want per post. please comment, reblog + like if you enjoyed it!

@mopeymopeymouse / @aris-house / @brxkenartt /@akiratoro420

@stylesxmunson/ @aactuaaltraash / @fandomgirl17 / @ches-86/ @chaoticcancer / @munsonology / @bellamy-barnes / @theonlyh3artbreaker / @idkidknemore / @familyvideowithsteve / @eddiesdingus / @thefemininemystiquee / @the-world-is-a-mess-and-so-am-i / @xdarkcreaturex / @lunr-flwr / @cherry-omi/ @im-emma22@munson-enthusiast / @munsonmecrazy / @jupitar-jul / @katiemrty/ @maddie-luvs-eddie /@eddiemusworld/ @ih3artdanielle / @eddiesguitarskills / @hargrovesswifee /@chaoticcancer / @rh1nestonecowg1rl / @atombombbibunny /@munson-enthusiast / @hellf-1-re / @fangirling-4-ever / @corrcdedcoffin /@sidthedollface2 / @emma77645 / @eddiiiieeee /@beep-beep-sherlock / @moldy-khunt / @bokutoswifey /@trixyvixx / @lma1986 / @plk-18 / @sav12321

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson au #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things au #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #joseph quinn x reader

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twinksrepository · 9 months ago

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Almost dying twice in one day doesn't seem like your idea of Fun

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Dante X F!Reader

CW: Blood, injury, almost dying, feinting

Word count: Roughly 4K

A/N: You'd gone to Fortuna on the promise of your own practice. Too bad you should have realized that an offer that sounds too good to be true tends to be just that. Hiding in your office as something that you refuse excuse beats down your door expecting to die, only for a knight in shining armor to show up. Well he's clad in a red leather jacket and you sure as hell don't think he's a knight. Letting him carry you around like a sack of potatoes is a lot better than being made into a human skewer though.

Chapter two: You really don't have any luck. Waking up and almost dying for a second time, at least your leather clad hero seems happy to let you ramble instead of facing the facts that demons are real. For now.

Back in the Devil May Cry Office a week earlier

“The order of the sword huh?” Dante had a feeling when Lady walked in he was going to end up dragged into another mess.

“Yes. Are you familiar with them?”

“Sorry. Religion and I don’t mix.” A quirk of his eyebrow as he kept eating not missing the silent chuckle coming from Trish. It might have gone without saying as to the reason, most religions weren't fans of those of demonic descent being a part of them.

“It’s a small congregation that gathers in the castle town of Fortuna. I guess the only ones who would have heard of it are the ones who take an interest in this type of thing.” With the tone Lady had, Dante could tell she was trying to butter him up for something.

“Like you.”

“Exactly. So just how much do you know about Sparda?”

“Well. From what I figure. There’s a lot of confusion surrounding him.” Glancing to Trish to see if the demon had anything to add from her time in Hell.

As the blond kept eating her pizza Lady continued on. “The story goes that Sparda served as the feudal lord of the city long ago. The people who live there today take these legends as truth and worship him just like a god.”

“They worship a demon as a god?” If Dante had ever felt incredulous regarding anything about his father he sure felt it now. Then again his old man did have more than a few humans that had been interested in the legend about him more than once.

“Peaceful worship can’t be condemned, but the real problem is the order. Lately, they’ve been running amok catching demons and have even butted in on some of my jobs.”

“Huh, maybe they’re starting a zoo.” Leaning across his desk only to have Lady steal his slice of pizza.

“Not just demons. They’ve also been targeting Devil arms like the ones you have.”

“OK then. A museum. So what?” A quick dart of his hand and he had the baked crust loaded with cheese back in his hand taking a bite.

“Doesn’t that concern you?” Lady leaned back from his desk, and folded her arms across her chest as Dante shrugged, continuing to eat his slice of pizza that he nabbed back. “Or how about that they might be collecting others that are part demon?” That has Trish and Dante pausing to look at her. “I see that has your attention.”

“What makes you think they might be collecting people that are part demon?” While it might have Dante’s attention, part of him is skeptical, there aren’t that many outside of the folks living on Vie de Marli.

“Right now it’s just rumors, but almost everyone in the town believes in Sparda. The town isn’t very friendly to outsiders who aren’t a direct part of the Order or those who are born there. It’s made it a bit of a pain to investigate but.” Raising a single finger while looking down her nose Lady grins. “A year ago a new doctor came into town, with zero ties to the locals, and was brought in by the current leader. With their general view of outsiders, I dug into the doctor, and it turns out she seems to be something of a miracle worker.”

“That doesn’t sound like anything to prompt me to think she’d be part demon.” Huffing and going back to his pizza as if to say give me something to go on. Watching as Lady sauntered around his office as if she owned the place.

“The doctor herself seems to think nothing of it, but people say they see her for bumps and bruises that are gone within hours of her touching them. Before she left for Fortuna she worked in one of the bigger cities and it sounds like the same thing but on a bigger scale. Broken bones healed in a matter of days over weeks and irreparable nerve damage being healed as if it never happened. The real interesting part? This doctor doesn’t seem to know she’s the cause. Even the medical folks haven’t figured it out as they just think it’s miracles out of nowhere, except for the Vicar of the Order of the Sword who offered her a job.”

Another shrug from Dante. “I’m listening but I’m not seeing anything to connect a so-called miracle worker to being part demon.”

“Demons that can heal others are exceptionally rare.” Trish quips before sauntering off the table and heading for the back room.

“Still doesn’t mean anything, she could be a front for something else.” Calling over his shoulder as Dante didn’t move his eyes from Lady. “I still don’t see why you’d think she’s possibly part demon.”

Rolling her eyes and giving her shoulders a shake before leaning down on the edge of his desk once more. “I’m just saying it’s an interesting rumor.” Only to have his pizza snagged again.

“Alright say she is, and everything else you’ve said. So what?” Giving up on getting his lunch back Dante kicked his feet up onto his desk leaning back into his chair.

“Well, what if their intentions are foul? And there’s a diabolical plan behind these apparently random acts?”

“Well then. I’d have something to keep me occupied.” Pushing himself to his feet before calling out over his shoulder “Trish!” Only for both him and Lady to turn to the silence and see a note written where the sword Sparda had been hanging.

See you there, maybe the doctor is cute

Back to the present

“Well, one thing for certain my passed-out friend, you do have something extra about you. In fact you’re kind of heavy.” Grunting at Dante stepped across another rooftop, between dealing with demons and keeping rebellion in one hand and you tossed over his shoulder like a sack of flour the man was getting a workout.

Too bad that was when you decided to start to wake up. Opening your eyes to look down just as there was nothing but the cobblestone-lined street roughly three floors below you. “Holy shit!” Trying to roll away only to make the realization you were in the air with something warm wrapped around your middle.

“Calm down or you might not like the fall. Sheese lady.”

“Why am I on a roof? And who the fuck are you?” Screaming at the white-haired man holding you like you weigh next to nothing. Your arms and legs fail as you try to get away only to make the man holding you grunt and almost lose his footing.

“I guess you forgot the part when we jumped up here, now stop squirming or I might drop you for real!” If his tone is anything to go by he’s getting annoyed by your actions but you don’t care at all scrambling to try and get out of his hold. “Seriously Doll if you calm down for a second I’ll put you down.”

“My name isn’t Doll!” A final smack to the center of his back and you hiss, the ulnar side of your hand feels more like you smacked it against a brick wall than a man. “Ow.” With the pain lacing up your arm you’ve stopped struggling and find yourself unceremonial dumped on your butt in front of him. “I say again, Ow.” Looking up at him with a scowl, unsure where the sudden bravado came from.

Only to stare at his back. “I can never catch a break!” Taking a few steps forward with his back still turned to you and his hands in the air as if ranting to the sky. “Even the chicks I rescue give me attitude!”

“Maybe if you didn’t carry them like a sack of potatoes or drop them on their ass they might not be so rude about it.” Rubbing your butt as you stand, muttering under your breath.

“I still needed to fight doll. It hasn’t exactly been a picnic carrying you around and trying to keep us both from getting killed.” Your face is burning, you didn’t think he’d have heard you but he did. Looking down at the ground, well rooftop in front of you you take a few feet before stopping beside the man.

“My name’s not Doll.” You reiterate, giving your name to the man in red and wondering if he was the one that the townsfolk had been screaming about as they ran from the cathedral. Yet you can’t see it if he was the one who had attacked the Vicar that they had been screaming about, if he was what reason did he have to save you? You were no one, not really.. “I’m sort of the town's doctor.”

“Sort of? That doesn’t inspire too much confidence.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at him even if he can’t see it.

“I don’t get that many patients. You get sliced up or broken bones though? I'm who you want to see.” You’ve always been a damn good doctor, something about putting parts together had always appealed to you. So much so that you’d been thought of as a freak as a child, fascinated by death and diseases because in your mind if you understood what caused it maybe you could fix it before it was too late.

“Sounds a bit like boasting? You got a trick or two up your sleeve or something?” Looking at you, you can’t help but notice he’s good-looking. Like damn good-looking. Except you don’t get a chance to watch for too long before he starts moving forward and a leisurely pace and you follow with much smaller tentative steps.

“No. Sadly. I was sort of an oddball growing up.” You aren’t sure why you’re telling him this as you keep your eyes downward so you don’t fall, maybe some part of you still thinks this is a dream or a nightmare. That might better explain the handsome white-haired man who came to your rescue. He also seems to have a really nice butt under his jacket when the breeze lifts it and your eyes follow the fluttering of the material. “I didn’t have friends till medical school, most kids thought I was a freak because I was into biology. Like finding dead birds and trying to figure out what happened to them kind of biology because the teachers thought eight-year-olds shouldn’t be studying cardiology.”

“Eight huh? What you had a strange fascination with death?” Straddling the gap from one roof to the next you’re a little surprised when he turns and holds out a hand for you to take and help you across.

“Yes and no. I wanted to help people.” Shrugging as you took one of his hands and didn’t fail to miss the warmth that spread from him. “If I had a better understanding of how people’s bodies worked I just figured I could help them survive if they came to me for treatment. All my life I wanted to be a doctor.” Once on the other side, he gave a huff before spinning to step across himself.

“How’d your parents feel about that?” This roof is flatter and you find yourself watching him as you walk instead of the tiles under your feet.

“I only had my mother.” Shrugging your shoulders “She just cared that I didn’t draw attention to myself. Otherwise, she didn’t care much.” Biting your lip a little but everything you’ve said while you’ve been chatty isn’t any new information about you. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I guess also being turned into a human meat kabob will do that to you. What was that thing anyway?” You swallow down the bile starting to burn in your throat, you’re really hoping he doesn’t say what you think he’s going to say.

“A demon.” Well, that hope was dashed spectacularly. “You know for a doctor you’re a little slow on the uptake.”

“Or maybe I’m trying to think of a more rational explanation.” Too bad you’re brain isn’t coming up with anything. Waving your hands in the air yourself in exasperation as you wave at the city. “I get that this place says that some demon guy named Sparda ruled here, but that sounds more like a legend that a religion sprang up around.”

“Sorry Doc, world doesn’t work like th- Get down!” You don’t have time to process his words when his hand planting itself in the middle of your back and pushing you down to the ground. The sound of metal on metal has you lifting your head only to regret that decision. If this man in red hadn’t of shoved you to the ground you’d have had your head removed from your shoulders, his sword scraping along the metal blade of another of those strange scarecrow monsters. This time it’s on its arm instead of its leg.

It isn’t alone either. More scarecrows with blades for limbs had appeared.

“Do me a favor Doc?” A twist of his wrist and you watch as the sword he wields sends the blade attached to the demon flying upward and slices the thing in half. “Go hide.”

You heard him. You really did. Too bad your arms and legs don’t want to listen to your brain screaming at them to move so you can scramble to safety. It’s like there’s ice flowing through your veins and slowing you down as the fear has your heart thundering in your chest.

Another of the demons lets out that manica laughter as it sees you lying there helpless. It hops from side to side almost gleefully before launching forward with its bladed foot held out as if to lance you like a boil. A clang of metal as a boot lands in front of your face to meet the demon and with a pivot of his upper body you watch as it slices through his forearm, only for the man to snap his wrist as he grabs the demon and it’s cackling suddenly stops like it’s surprised. The creak of the leather of the belts across his chest and you can see the ripple of his muscles as turns his wrist and sends the demon flying off to slam into one of its compatriots and knocks both of them into a wall. A sickening thunk as both bodies flatten as if they’ve been deflated before they fade before your eyes.

“Doc.” Looking up to see the man grinding his teeth as he stares down at you. “Move!” Bellowing you finally find your hands moving pushing yourself up to your knees and scrambling to hide behind a chimney as the sound of clanging metal rings around you. It’s not dignified and your bag is bouncing against your back but you’re trying to get away from the sound of fighting and hiding just like he had told you to.

Another sickening sound, this time like a sac of fluid bursting open reaches you and you whimper, hands over your ears and tears running down your face. Why the hell is this happening? Where did they come from? As much as you might have wanted to refuse it, you need to face facts. Demons are real and you might not survive the rest of today at his rate.

Screaming when a hand pats your shoulder only to have a hand press against it, a leather-clad hand. You hadn't even noticed the sound of fighting had stopped and you doubted it had anything to do with your hands as your fear dulled your senses. “Doc, you’re alright.” Opening your eyes you see the man there crouched in front of you and for the first time you see a hint of compassion in his pale blue eyes. “I need you to not scream when I take my hand away. Can you do that?” That compassion is undercut by the exasperation in his voice.

Swallowing you nod slowly removing your hands from your ears as he lets you go and runs his hand through his white locks sighing before looking at you again. “You really are out of your depth ain’t cha Doc.” It’s not a question, just an admission that this is not you’re everyday normal.

“If I said I was starting to believe demons are real would that help?” Lifting your sleeve to wipe at the dampness on your face. “I’m probably going to get us both killed aren’t I?” Twice now he’s saved you, and twice all you did was freeze in place too overtaken by fear to move.

Internally Dante was sighing, the last encounter proved you really had no idea about demons and he was starting to think you were just a pawn on the board for something the Order was planning. ‘Guess I owe Lady that twenty bucks. This chick has no idea about demons forgetting being an actress and playing along. You can’t hide a reaction like hers.’ He needed to get her to Lady so he could move on with trying to figure out where the Yamato was and get this stranger doctor out of harm's way. Patting her shoulder he just sent her a smirk. “Both of us? Nah. I’m hard to kill.” Based on your reaction to his words that might not have been the best answer. “I’ve got a friend nearby, she’ll look after you alright. We just need to get to the hill outside the castle. Can you move?”

As his hand goes to help you up you find yourself moving on instinct. Grabbing his arm between both of yours, in your panic you’d forgotten he’d been sliced. “Right. You got hurt because of me, let me at least patch you up?” A quirk of your lips as you reached for your bag only to stop, watching as the wound sealed up and you felt your stomach drop. “That’s…” Trailing off for him to take over.

“Not normal.”

“What” Your eyebrows are furrowing as you push and prod at his skin, minus the blood there’s no sign he had ever been hurt. “Are you?”

“Well, you could say I’m a little on the demonic side.” Flashing you a wink with a flirtatious smile that showed his pearly whites. “And not just in the sheets.”

“I… I think I’d like to get moving again before I pass out again.” He has to be joking. He just has to be, and you let him help you to your feet before the two of you start walking again. Internally you're freaking out over what you saw but you know you don't have time for hysterics, or passing out again from the panic. Your broad knight seems content to ignore you for the moment and you think it's for the best, both of you moving in silence along the rooftops until your feet start to hurt from all the maneuvering along the roofs of the town.

At least until he sends you a steady stare after looking behind the two of you for a while with a frown. “Hate to say it Doc, but we’re starting to have a crowd trying to join this party. How do you feel about being carried out of here since we’re almost there?”

Dante hadn’t been willing to risk it earlier, just carrying you to Lady while you’d been passed out. Too much of a chance of you being in on whatever the Order was up to, now that was gone from his mind and he needed to get you out of the picture.

“Like a sac of Potoes again?” He can’t help but laugh at your deadpan voice and expression.

“No. A real carry this time.” Wiggling his eyebrows at you just gets him a snort in response but you do nod. In a moment he’s got you in his arms, one around your shoulders and the other under your knees. “Alright Doc, I recommend you put those arms around my neck and don’t look down. I’d hate for you to freak out like earlier.”

“Right.” You do as he says, and it takes everything inside of you not to scream as he starts running and jumping. You’re a little glad you’d had a light lunch or it would have been spat all over his front, keeping your eyes squeezed shut and tucking your face more into his body. If you hadn’t been worried about dying you might have enjoyed it a little more.

At the sudden stop, you almost hurl, feeling the contents of your stomach start to climb your throat slapping a hand over your mouth as the white-haired man places you on your feet once more. “Lady!” Yea almost was a dream as soon as you take a step, running to the side of a tree and emptying your stomach. “You here?”

“Sheesh, you trying to bring every demon nearby down on us?” You can hear a newcomer but you’re too busy throwing up to pay any more attention than that to what they’re saying.

Watching Lady point towards you before lowering her shades. “Is that her? She doesn't look like much let alone someone like you.”

“It is, in all her pukey glory.” Crossing his arms to watch her Dante can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the way she’s bent over. If it wasn’t for her throwing up he’d be enjoying the sight of her shapely rear stuck up in the air. “You were right by the way. Cept, she doesn’t have a clue. Almost got skewed twice.”

“And you saved her? My my, what a knight in shining armor you are today.” Ignoring the woman still retching the contents of her stomach for a moment before lowering her voice. “Trish made contact, she doesn’t know the details but the Order is looking for her. Apparently, she’s important for something, and the orders include keeping her in the dark about whatever it is. They’ve also sent some kid after you, using the excuse that you kidnapped her and killed that Vicar.”

“If they need her they should have done a better job looking after her, she was hiding in her office with a desk against the door when I found her.” Watching you stand Dante had to swallow, you were pretty easy on the eyes even if you were wiping your mouth with the back of your hand while still leaning against the tree.

“Could it have been an act?”

“Trust me, if she’s acting she should have a couple of awards for it.” Done with whispering he raised his voice just enough for you to hear him. “Hey Doc. This is Lady, do me a favor and give her a hard time alright?” Starting to walk away before flicking his fingers at Lady. “Oh and Lady, be nice to the Doc. She’s had a rough day, almost died twice.”

“Wait!” You jog towards the man in the red coat only for him to start to take off. “I didn’t get your name!”

“Dante!” Called over his shoulder before to your amazement he drops off the edge of the hill and you find your eyes going as wide as saucers.

“Did he”

“Just jump off a cliff? Yes. That man is more dumbass than brains some days, but when you’re the son of the legendary Sparda I guess you have to put on a show to live up to the name.” Feeling a hand patting your shoulder you’re surprised to see a water bottle being held out towards you.

Taking a sip from the bottle after snapping the seal you start sputtering. “Did you just say the son of Sparda?” As the woman’s words process and you stare at her, only to see her grin like the cat with the canary. “As in the dark knight Sparda that this town worships as God?” At her nod, the world feels like it’s spinning and you drop unceremoniously to the ground. “He’s real. And I met his son. Wait his son?” Wiping your head upwards to see the woman known as Lady looking down at you.

“Oh, do I have a story for you. You pretty little thing.” Winking at you and all you can think is how you might need to throw up again. Fuck. Demons and Sparda are real. And you just spend most of the last few hours checking out his son's butt.

Chapter one

#dante devil may cry #dmc5 #dante x reader #dante x you #dmc 4 #devil may cry #dante #dante sparda #x reader #twink writes #eventual smut #eventual romance

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