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this x simon âghostâ riley
cw!: praise, size kink, creampie, breeding kink, bulge, simonâs a nasty dog (and i tried to warn ya)
âââââ
simon never fails to remind you how much bigger he is than you.
youâre short? no problem, all those missing inches go to simon. oh wait youâre tall? whatever, he still towers over you.
are you chubby by societyâs standards? just means thereâs more for him to love. skinny? thatâs okay too, heâs always down to eat whatever you canât finish.
no matter what size or shape you are, itâs a guarantee that simon is still bigger than you. and he always manages to remind you of that in the bedroom.
his large hands around your waist, pounding into you with his thick cock. he obsesses over the bulge in your cute tummy from his size, practically drooling over the fact that he canât even fit inside youâre pretty pussy all the way.
whether heâs fucking you doggy style or in a mating press, he will always tower over you. he makes sure youâre cum is on his fingers and his tongue alone before he shoves his meaty dick inside you; this man has the libido and stamina of a god.
âgânna fuck this pâssy so good, love. fill yaâ up to the brim,â he moans, his thrusts growing more erratic as he feels that familiar heat in his stomach.
youâre coming right along with him, seeing stars while he peppers kisses in your neck. âsuch a good girl fâr me, gânna make the best mama.â
âââââ
um sorry didnât mean to let out my inner whore
#writeblr#fanfic#call of duty#ao3#cod#fic writing#we're past the point of conversation#simon ghost riley#cod ghost#cod x reader#sonic the hedgehog#i donât know why i put a sonic the hedgehog tag on this post but it felt fitting#crazy? i was crazy once#simon riley x reader#x yn#ghost cod#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley smut#nsft concept#breeding k1nk#did i lose aura guys#whor3#whoreposting#grrrrr
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you love simon. truly. playing games with him in your free time was your favorite pastime, especially when you knew he was getting deployed and wouldnât have the chance to join you for an extended leave. there was only one tiny issue.
the man is competitive. no matter the game, no matter if you were a team or against one another, heâs slipping you teasing comments that youâre 90% arenât fully teasing and actually hold a bit of honesty.
some of the games he plays with you werenât supposed to be competitive. some are even simple customization games that you had to beg him to play with you so you could create each otherâs characters. now that he is playing them, you have moments of restraint to not shove his head into the screen.
âyour colors donât match the theme, lovie.â
âshut up, simon.â
âyes maâam.â
âi think you need to spend more time in an aim training.â
âare you saying my aim is bad, simon?â
âno, maâam.â
âhow many times are you going to miss the damn jump?â
âiâll do it again if you donât shut up, simon.â
âyouâre doing amazing, lovie, keep it up.â
it was utterly infuriating. but when the times came for his long deployments and the house was quiet, no snarky quips being thrown from beside you on the couch, you longed for it.
to hear him trash your aim, or tease you for not being as good as him â it may seem like heâs mean to you from an outsiderâs perspective, but to you, itâs his love language, and you desperately miss it.
so, youâll take whatever tease he throws. you know itâs his way of saying âi love youâ, even if you want to rage quit every time.
#angieâs rambles#this is based solely off of me and my partner#these are actual conversations between us#i think itâs hilarious#call of duty#cod#simon ghost riley#cod x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost cod#simon riley#simon âghostâ riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost simon riley#simon ghost x reader#ghost drabble#cod ghost#ghost x reader
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satoru gojo is tall, charming, powerful, radiating a commanding aura to both sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike. his presence demands attention, something he never has to struggle hard for. everyone around him usually grows intimidated just from him being in the vicinityâthey get sweaty, they get nervous, they get shy. but not him. heâs not familiar with such emotions. satoru gojo has never been flusteredâŠnot until you, anyway.
heâs stuttered twice: once out of nervousness and the other out of pure shock. you didnât even react to his first blunder, and that throws gojo off just a little more. heâs the strongest. he doesnât make mistakes, doesnât fumble over his words. satoru is about as perfect as perfect can get. and yet, here he is, tongue tied and twisted in knots all becauseâŠyouâre looking at him?
this isnât new. itâs not like heâs never been looked at before. quite the opposite, in fact. but this isnât like the usual irate glances or idolizing, heart-eyed stares he gets from everyone else. youâre actually looking at him like a person, and paying attention on top of that.
ever since satoru began talking, youâve hung on to every word heâs spoke, nodding along and interjecting with relevant dialogue. complimenting him, asking related questions, brows raising in surprise or intrigue when he says something you find interesting. despite this all being the usual bells and whistles of a normal conversation, satoru canât help but feel a foreign pounding in his chest. heâs never experienced anything like this. not for a long while, anyway.
itâs not just the thudding behind his ribcage, but this sincere action of being seen. everyone else either looks through gojo, or over him, or away from him entirely and try not to acknowledge him at all, as if suffering through his company. but you, youâre actually looking at satoru, right in his face. dare he say, straight through his blindfold and into the azure blues underneath, as if it isnât even there.
he has his silly suspicions that maybe you are looking through his blindfold. satoru considers that maybe you have some special power or technique to look through the fabric, but quickly squashes the nonsensical idea and decides instead that heâs just overthinking. and that conclusion flusters him even more.
the realization that you are actually interacting with him and listening to himâŠ.itâs not just going into one ear and out the other, or flying over your head as you pretend to listen and instead ogle the pretty features on his face. youâreâŠinterested? in what he has to say? it almost seems implausible, but here you are, clinging to his every word and indulging in conversation with him. no restless fidgeting as you wait for it to end, nor a poorly concealed look of impatience as you pray for him to finally shut up.
you genuinely seem content in sitting here and letting satoru talk your ears off. like youâre enjoying it. and satoru is giddy at this realization, this epiphany that someone actually, truly enjoys his company. he thinks it feelsâŠ
it feels nice.
đ©”: @anthoosies @staryukis @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @gigiiiiislife @domainexpansionmypants @starlightanyaaa @satoruxsc @cinnamoneve @lxnarphase @hellkaiserinphoenix @sherb3t @jianyuu4mii @xinfvl @blindbabycadder @kisstoru @the-monster-under-the-bed @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie
#pls listen to him he just wants to have a conversation with someone#someone who is not annoyed that he is just existing or#someone half listening because heâs handsome and they want to flirt or something#GIVE HIM A FRIEND!!!#I would and will listen to him all day okay he can talk my head off about anything he wants and I will listen#âïœĄïŸâïž summy is thinking . . . ïœĄâ#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru imagine#satoru gojo imagine#satoru gojo drabble#gojo x reader
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jealousy, jealousy (?)
synopsis: asking them for someone else's number. pairing: diluc, childe, al haitham, wriothesley x gn! reader fandom: genshin impact genre: fluff warnings: mentions of cheating, insecurity(?) a/n: my first smau :o definitely have something big planned, but this is me trying. hahehwehwjehjehe.
bonus: kazuha !
#â â works !#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#diluc x reader#wriothesley x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#al haitham x reader#kazuha x reader#feel free to give me feedbackkkkkkk#id love advice on how to do this better#!!!#i fear that the conversations dont flow as smoothly as it would in a written fic#but we'll seeeeee#genshin smau#smau#diluc smau#childe smau#al haitham smau#wriothesley smau#kazuha smau
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You can never tell Mammon youâre cold because he canât act fucking normal for five minutes- rather then giving you his jacket he tries to zip you in with him, telling you to put your arms in the sleeves with his and that his body heat will keep you warmer anyway :)
#heâs so dumb#but I love him sm <3#(Lily if you see this itâs based on that conversation we had a few days ago lolol)#obey me!#obey me mammon#obey me mammon x reader#obey me fluff#soft stuff!#obey me#om!#obey me hcs#om! hcs#om! mammon#om! x reader#roâs dumb stuff tag!#mams <333
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Charlie: "How was the honeymoon?"
Alastor, eyes vacant: "Y/n got very intoxicated and tried to set our marriage certificate on fire."
He slowly takes a long sip of his coffee before continuing.
Alastor: "Y/n said, and I quote: Good luck trying to return me without the receipt."
#alastor#hazbinhotel#hazbin alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#alastor fanart#oc#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor x oc#funny hazbin hotel#funny conversations
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Something about Bakugo being nosy just sits so right with me. Itâs canon that heâs often listening in on conversations (even if participants of said conversations are unaware of his presence) so I imagine when he likes you he tends to hover around you just a little bit more.
You could be talking to Ashido and Kaminari in the common room and Bakugo will be there. Maybe not necessarily near you, not even looking at you. Heâs off on the opposite side of the room, and heâs so uncharacteristically quiet that you could forget he was there in the first place.
You mention offendedly how you miss your favorite drink and snack from that one cafe near the heart of Musutafu, being too busy with your work study to find the time to visit.
A few days later, you hear a knock on your door. Youâre met with a plastic bag with the very same food and drink combination you had just told your friends about the other day. Your eyes trail the arm and hand holding it and see Bakugo with a pinched look on his face.
ââs for you,â he grumbles, head turned to the side as his signature scowl deepens. If you looked any closer, youâd clearly be able to see the blush accentuating his cheeks and ears.Â
âThank you, Bakugo,â you take the bag with a smile, and Katsuki has to keep from shuddering when your fingertips accidentally brush his. âWhy donât you come in so we can share?â
Bakugo is nosy, but if it means being able to share stolen moments (and bites of food) with you, then itâs totally worth it.
#him. <3#this man just wants to know more about you but is terrible at making conversation when he first starts liking u#rizz game dialed to 11 once he sees that ur at least somewhat attracted/flustered by him#bc he knows that now he might have a shot w you#katsuki.txt#bakugo x reader#mha x reader#bakugo x you#bakugou x reader#katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#katâs writing
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telling john price jokingly his house is haunted because you hear steps when no one's there and he's just like. yea. I know.
#like bitch tf u mean you KNOW???#based on a conversation i just had with my grandma#his ghosts may or may not be 3 specific little men#gothghostiie#john price#John price x reader#price x reader#price#captain john price#captain price#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#kyle garrick#gaz#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#John mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#soap#john mactavish#john soap mactavish#ghost#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader
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thinking about going out to trivia with your friends and immediately beefing with the table of nitwits across the bar.
drunk men who look too pleased with themselves after you and your friends vocalize your disgust with their team nameâthe secret cervix.
god, and that fucking bastard in the baseball cap thinks he's so smart just because he named more countries that start with 'm' than you. (he named 20, you named 19. you insist he got lucky with monaco.)
he's the worst of the four and proves it through the night. you go toe-to-toe over football. redacted album covers. celebrities and their astrological signs. your teams end up tying and end up at the mic with the host for the tie-breaker question.
he introduces himselfâkyleâand asks if you want to make it interesting. you're not one to back down.
"name your terms."
"if i win, i get three minutes alone with you."
"three minutes? that all the time you normally need?"
"oh babe, we can knock it down to a minute. 'cause that's all i'll need to convince you to come back to mine."
you consider it. he is good-looking. he's smug and tipsy, but handsome. "if you make it that far, we'll go to mine."
"and if you win?"
"buy our drinks for the rest of the night."
"no afters?"
you shrug and extend a hand. he shakes on it with a smile that suggests he's puzzling you out.
the host clears their throat and pitches the tie-breaker question.
"what is the origin of the word 'sniper'?"
your eyes widen at kyle's expression. a big grin slowly lights up his face. that's when his friend with the mohawk nonchalantly raises his arm, flashing a SAS tattoo.Â
fuck.
#gaz x reader#firmly believe you put someone who can hold their own in a conversation or competition in front of gaz#he will go after them. hearts in his eyes and elsewhere. physical chemistry is one thing but you have GOT to have a sharp mind and tongue.#unedited pure vibes
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one thing i love beyond measure is the fact i know that jason todd adores comfortable silences.
to have you sat together in a room, or tucked up in bed, both of you doing your own things, knowing the other is close by. theres no pressure for conversation. just a grounding reassurance that if either of you were to glance over, youâd both be there. to feel you in the room and know that thatâs enough. to maybe have your foot pressed against his thigh, or for jason to have his head in your lap and neither of you share a single word.
to know above everything else that your presence brings comfort. and to be comforted by the knowledge that you donât have to do a single thing to make him stay other than exist in his space. to know that you are someone who can exist in his space when so many others cannot. to have that concrete, solid awareness of trust and rest and endless love without words. to look at him when heâs in the middle of his own world and know that you are an incredibly important part of it.
to love him quietly and have that come back in equal measure.
#whatâs that quote again?#to love and be loved is to rest#my social battery has been draining so quick lately#and not everyone in my life understands that#so the though of jason just existing in your space without the expectation of conversation#it brings and endless amount of comfort#jason todd x reader#jason todd fanfic#jason todd x you#ella writes
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Hiii :) I saw your requests tips and saw that you didn't write for dub/non con and I don't know if this count as one so just feel free to not respond!
So reader is in a relationship with the Marauders and is starting to randomly think about a past SA and realise this was SA only now bc her brain has been blocking the memory and information. She tells the boys (and maybe Barty idk) about it after sometime of overthinking it and self blaming so it's just like super fluff at the end <3
(it's my personal experience but if you don't feel comfortable writing about it just feel free to ignore it :). Sorry for the bad orthograph english isn't my first language đ«¶đ»)
first of all - your English is fucking fantastic (and you know more words than I do - I had to look up what an orthograph was) secondly, I turned this into more of a conversation between reader and her ship. and for plot purposes this became poly!wolfstar - hope that's okay!
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who opens up about past SA
CW: discusses themes of sexual consent, inebriation, and SA. Describes past SA and abusive relationships. Describes drunkeness, alcohol, and drinking. viewer discretion is advised.
You could tell it was taking Sirius a lot of effort to appear to be too fussed over Lily, James, and Regulus at the end of the party, but he pretended to gag every time anything even remotely romantic or sexual was brought up about his brother.
âWhat do you think happens when they go home, Pads?â Remus muttered quietly, causing Sirius to slap his hands against his ears.
âWould you shut up, Moons? I am not interested in hearing about my brotherâs sexual habits, thank you.â
Unfortunately for Sirius, Lily didnât get the memo.Â
âAre we le-leaving!?â She shrieked through a hiccup as James held most of her weight up against his side and Regulus gathered her purse and shoes sheâd since lost.
âYes sweets; weâre gonna get you to bed.â James said quietly.
A salacious smirk took over Lilyâs face as she tried (and failed) to grab James by the chin. âTo bed, hm?â
Regulus snorted, though no one missed the blush that dusted his cheeks. âTo sleep, Lils.â
Lily groaned dramatically and seemed to go âno bonesâ in James' grip as he grunted and tried to keep her from hitting the ground. âWhy not.â
âBecause you smell like you bathed in a bottle of schnapps, sweetheart.â James placated.
âSo?â Lily grumbled though acquiesced to helping James keep her up right. âWe can even do that thing you like.â She tried to sing sensually, but her efforts were in vain as every other word came out slurred.Â
Sirius grumbled causing James to blush.Â
âNot tonight, angel. Weâll cuddle, okay?â
Lily scoffed and turned her sights onto Regulus. âYou agree with me, right? Right Reggie? You agree- you agree with me?â
âAlmost always.â Regulus agreed quickly, offering Lily his arm as to share her weight with James. âJust not tonight, my love.â
âYou guys are no fun.â Lily whined as she allowed her two boyfriends to usher her out of Remus and Siriusâ shared flat.
Unfortunately for Sirius, no one missed Regulus leaning into Lilyâs hair and promising that âtheyâd have lots of fun tomorrow to make up for it.â
âI hate them all.â Sirius grumbled with no real malice as he stood and made his way over to you before offering you both of his hands. âWhat do you say, dollface? Ready for bed too?â
Remus answered âyesâ as you accepted Siriusâ help up which sparked a debate between the two of them whether or not Remus could be considered âdollfaceâ to which you secretly agreed that yes he could but ultimately refused to participate in such nonsense.
You got ready for bed in a haze as you replayed Regulus, James, and Lilyâs conversation in your head. You werenât sure what exactly you were so stuck on, but something about the exchange caused something deep within your gut to churn unpleasantly.Â
âYou feeling alright, dovey?â Remus asked gently, pressing a kiss to your hairline as you reentered their bedroom after washing your face, carrying your toiletries with you so as not to hog the bathroom.
Sirius (and Remus) had been begging you to spend your nights here with them nearly since the very beginning of your relationship, but you argued that you did not want to pay rent for a flat you never saw.Â
He then started nagging you to give up the lease on your flat and just âsodding move in with them alreadyâ, but it still felt a little too fresh for that.
So, you spent most nights (but not all) at their flat; living out of duffle bags and toiletry bags.
You hummed in confirmation to Remusâ question, moving towards the mirror above Siriusâ dresser to finish your skincare routine as Remus took his turn with the washroom.
âYou sure, sweetness? Youâve been awfully quiet tonight; did you have fun?â Sirius continued as he went digging through what you knew to be Remusâ drawers searching for Siriusâ favourite shirt which was really Remusâ shirt but no one bothered to argue with the black-haired boyâŠanymore.
âI had fun.â You agreed, massaging product into your face.
âUh huh.â Sirius commented, not sounding at all convinced as he came up behind you and hooked his chin over your shoulder; watching as you completed your nightly routine through the mirror. âYou had so much fun and thatâs why you look like Moony when he canât figure out one of those crosswords in the Daily Prophet?â
You chuckled softly, but something in your lack of enthusiasm (or your lack of disdain) for his joke seemed to tip him off.Â
âWhatâs going on in here, hm?â He asked as he pressed a kiss to your temple.Â
âI justâŠâ You started, sighing as you made yourself busy by tidying up your belongings and refusing to make eye contact with him. âIâve just been thinking about Reg, James, and Lilyâs conversation.â
That caused a dramatic groan to rip through Siriusâ chest as he leaned his forehead against your shoulder.
âWhat now?â Remus asked jokingly as he returned from the washroom.Â
âSheâs thinking about Regulus, James, and Lily in bed.â Sirius accused; voice muffled in the fabric of your sleepwear.Â
You scoffed defensively, claiming you were âabsolutely notâ at the same time Remus commented âarenât we allâ which started a very loud bickering match between your two boyfriends.Â
The arguing only ceased when Remus âswore on his motherâs lifeâ that Sirius was âby far the superior Black brother.âÂ
Placated, Sirius turned his sights back to you as you sat on the edge of the bed. âSo, what were you really thinking about their conversation?â
Remus, having walked in with only enough time to rile Sirius up, popped his head up at that. âEverything alright, dove?â
You sighed as you turned to face them. âI was just confused, I guess.â You admitted. âI thinkâŠLily was hoping to have sex tonight?â
Sirius groaned again which earned him a swat from Remus who seemed to pick up on some of the tension radiating through your body.
âYesâŠIâd agree.â Remus responded carefully.
âAnd Reg and James said no?â
Siriusâ head tilted at that as he considered you with furrowed brows. âWell, of course, doll. She was drunk.â He said simply, as if that explained it all.Â
âSoâŠthey wouldnât have sex with her because she was drunk?â You clarified.
The boys shared a glance with one another before they each took a seat on the bed, prompting you to turn your body so you were all facing each other.
âSo, all parties have to be able to consent, right?â Remus started.Â
You nodded quickly at that.Â
âBut when one party is inebriated or under the influence, they canât consent.â Sirius continued.
You felt your eyebrows twitch as you looked down at the pattern on your bed spread. âEven though she was asking?â
âShe wasnât in her right mind, dove.â Remus explained gently; eyes full of compassion and, perhaps, some sadness. âShe may have woken up tomorrow and not remembered anything, or perhaps worse, regretted something. Itâs Regulus and Jamesâ jobs to keep her safe, just like Iâm sure she keeps them safe when the roles are reversed.â
And now you could understand why their conversation seemed to catch you so off guard.Â
âYouâre so pretty like this; drunk and all mine.â
âHave a few more; we always have more fun when you let loose.â
âButâŠIâm really tired.â âAll youâve got to do is lay there - Iâll do all the work.â
âYou donât remember last night? Thatâs too bad; I wonât be forgetting that any time soon.â
âYouâre such a good little whore for me when youâve had a few too many.âÂ
You hadnât realised you had zoned out of the conversation until Sirius was leaning into your field of vision. âYou okay, sweets?â
âYeah.â You said breathlessly before clearing your throat. âNo, sorry. Iâm fine.â
âWhy were you asking?â Remus queried; tone hardening slightly, alerting you to the fact that he smelled trouble.Â
âI was just wondering.â You fibbed.
âYou know we would do the same, right?â Sirius asked earnestly. âThat we have done the same for you.â
âYou have?â
âYes, my love.â Remus whispered. âAlways.â
You nodded and looked back down at the bedspread. âOkay.â
âY/N.â Sirius called with a certain level of severity; though you detected no anger or frustration in his tone. âWhy were you asking?â He repeated Remusâ earlier question after your gaze met his imploring silver eyes.Â
You quickly looked down at your hands as you began picking at the hangnails around your fingers. âI was just confused; that has not always been my experience.â You admitted quietly; shame coursing through your body as you digested this new information.
The room was quiet for a moment as Remus shuffled scrupulously closer to you. âNo?â He whispered; voice intoned with a level of gentleness you werenât accustomed to hearing.Â
You began to feel all sorts of discomfort at the heavy attention being focused on you in the room. âIt was usually quite the opposite.â You joked; voice rising to a higher octave in an attempt to make light of the situation as you pulled back the covers and made to retreat to the relative safety of the boysâ bed.Â
âWhoa, whoa. What does that mean?â Sirius implored, earning him a gentle warning âPadsâ from Remus.
âIâm sorry.â You placated, still uncomfortable with this heavy atmosphere you seem to have blanketed over what had been a really nice evening. âI shouldnât have said anything.â
âNo, I-â Sirius began, cutting himself off and taking a breath you could tell was an attempt to calm himself down. He shuffled closer to you and wrapped his hand around one of your ankles through the blanket as he rubbed soothing circles against it. âYou can always talk about anything with us; itâs important that we talk about these things, yeah?â
âOnly if youâre comfortable, of course.â Remus mollified. âBut I do agree with Sirius; if youâre comfortable, I think itâs good for us to talk about these things.âÂ
âIt was just my last relationship.â You admitted finally. âHe didnâtâŠagree - with the consent thing, that is.â
Remusâ lips pursed as Siriusâ jaw tightened.Â
âHeâd sleep with you when you were drunk?â Remus asked cautiously.Â
âYeah.â You agreed half-heartedly, picking at your nail beds. âOr encourage me to drink more soâŠâ
Remus let out a sigh and you could tell Sirius was fighting back the urge to grumble.Â
âIâm sorry,â You offered again. âI really didnât mean to bring all this up, I just-â
âI really, really donât want you to apologise anymore.â Sirius nearly begged.Â
âI donât understand how someone could do that.â Remus mused aloud. âTo anyone; and someone they claimed to love?â
You mistook Remusâ rhetorical question for an actual need for clarification. âHe said I was more fun; that Iâd try things I wouldnât normally.â
Sirius did finally let out an angry huff and his fingers stilled on your ankle. âWho?â
âYou donât know him.â You countered quickly, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them as you rested your chin on your knees.Â
âLucky him.â Sirius muttered darkly as Remus shifted closer to you.Â
âIâm sorry dove.â He offered quietly; holding out his hand to you in a silent invitation. You accepted it, and as you gave him your hand, he gently encouraged you over to him until you were cradled in his arms.
âI didnât tell you to be sorry.â You murmured quietly as Remus began pressing kisses to the raw and reddened skin around your fingers you hadnât realised you had nearly shredded in your tension.Â
âI know you didnât.â He whispered. âIâm still sorry, anyhow.â
âI think itâs nice⊠that the boys were looking after Lily.â
Remus hummed in agreement though he still looked particularly disturbed. Â
âThatâs their job.â Sirius supplied, causing you and Remus to turn your heads towards your boyfriend whose eyes were red and shining with unshed tears.
âSirius.â You murmured miserably.
âJust like itâs our job to look after you.â He continued as if you hadnât said anything at all.
âAnd you do.â You agreed.
Sirius huffed and wiped at his face. âI hate to think of you being hurt orâŠor taken advantage of when I wasnât there to help you.â
Remus made a pitiful sound at that.Â
âYou didnât even know me then, Siri.â You offered, half teasing and half placating.Â
âSheâs alright, Sirius.â Remus comforted. âSheâs got us. Youâll be okay now, yeah?â
And you thought of your boys now; you thought of Sirius near tears thinking of someone taking advantage of you during a time you hadnât even known him, you thought of Remus currently cradling you like you were a precious thing he feared losing if he didnât hold you with the utmost care, and you thought of their friends - the kind of people who they surrounded themselves with and had the same morals as they did.
YeahâŠyou think you might just be okay now.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#sirius black#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius x remus#wolfstar#poly!wolfstar#poly!wolfstar x reader#poly!wolfstar x you#poly!wolfstar blurb#poly!wolfstar imagine#poly!wolfstar fic#poly!wolfstar hurt/comfort#marauders hurt/comfort#sirius black hurt/comfort#remus lupin hurt/comfort#past SA#conversations of consent#fem!reader#ellecdc fics
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episode three: the monster and the superhero
âBreaking and entering into the school to retrieve confidential and extremely personal files.â You wince. Itâs as bad as it sounds. Tapping Dustinâs shoulder, you break him away from the walkie. âWait, we wonât need my files, right?â Steve eyes you up and down, shrugging indifferently. âWellââ Hitting his chest, he sputters at you. âWhy do you keep doing that?â âYouâre not reading my files, Harrington.â
Summary: you and steve can never have a normal conversation, dustin threatens nasa, eddie sadly eats his cereal because youre mean to him, youre once again nancys biggest fan, dustin and steve have an awkward heart to heart, and you and max become felons together and trauma bond (again) !
Rating: general, some swearing
Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of blood, trauma lol
Words: 13.5k
Before you swing in: hi hi hi !! so so so sorry for the wait. this chapter was a pain to write and i was so busy with school and work :( promise updates will become more regular soon. i was just simply in the trenches for a hot few weeks. things in the story are heatin up, so get ready gamers. anyways, enjoy !!
â
Itâs quiet in Steveâs car.Â
Streetlights glow faintly, lighting the way home. The windows are down; the thick late spring air fills the car with the bittersweet scent of honeysuckles in bloom. In the dim of the car lies Steveâs faint outline as he drives. His hands rest against the steering wheel, his chest rises slowly as he inhales all the fear that settles inside the car.Â
No one speaks. The tension is suffocating you.Â
In the backseat resides Robin with Dustin and Max. The oldest sits in the middle, her fingers drum nervously against the head of your seat. Dustin stares out the window, he hasnât looked at you ever since promising Eddie youâd be back for him tomorrow. He hadnât wanted to leave him, he begged you to let him stay in the boathouse, but you wouldnât let him.Â
Max stares out the other window. Her eyes are closed, sheâs pretending to be asleep. Youâve come to learn what she looks like when she pretends. Her nose pinches slightly, her eyes can never stay still enough to convince you sheâs asleep. Itâs what she does whenever she doesnât want to face your questions, your concerns and your fears.Â
Tension builds in the back of your skull, a dull throb rings within your ears. Exhaustion washes over you, fear pierces her nails into your skin. You canât get Eddieâs terrified eyes out of your head. The way his voice trembled, the sticky blood on his fingernails from the skin he picked at.Â
If theyâre back again, we need to know.
Vecnaâs curse.
The static Eddie felt, Chrissyâs trance-like state. Her bones, the morbid angles they snapped. Barbara Holland, daughter and best friend. Bob Newby, superhero. Billy Hargrove, dearly missed son. Jim Hopper, renown chief and beloved father.Â
Youâre the best of them, kid.
If the gate really has opened once again⊠Thick molasses grief coats your tongue and fills your mouth with remorse. There has been so much loss, so many funerals youâve had to attend. Too many bodies buried without answers, without closure.Â
Over and over again.Â
âWeâre here, Robin.â The gravel of Steveâs voice cuts through the endless dread. He parks the car in front of her driveway, the lights are off inside and you know that Robin is afraid of the dark.
âNeed me to walk you in?â You ask her, quiet, but unyielding with all the love you have for her.Â
She shakes her head. âNo, itâs okay. Iâm brave, aren't I always brave?â
âThe bravest,â Steve smiles at her, soft and unbroken. âGet some sleep, yeah?â
âIâll⊠Iâll try.â Her facade slips, the fear that grips everyone tightens its hold. How could anyone sleep at a time like this? She shakes her head again, her smile returns, albeit forced, tired. Then she messily crawls over Dustin to exit the car, ignoring his cries of annoyance and pain when her elbow catches his ribs. âSorry, little Henderson!â
âI donât even let Steve call me thatââ
âToo late, Iâve already decided to call you little Henderson,â Robin climbs out the car, lands with a soft thud on the pavement. She shuts the door with a glint in her eyes before poking her head through your passenger window. âHey, uh. Y/N?â Her voice drops low, her eyes skirt to Steve, whose cool gaze meets her weary one. Robin clears her throat, you nod your head at her with slight concern. You know that she knows about your argument with Steve. He adores her, what he doesnât confide in you, he confides in her. Knowing that Robin means well, you soften your voice. âYeah?â
Robin hesitates, caught between her two favorite people in the entire world. Steve sees her hesitancy and sighs, turning away to provide some semblance of privacy. Relieved, Robin ducks her head down and whispers into your ear, âTalk to him.â
Sheâs gone before you can exhale.Â
Steve starts the car again after Robin has safely made it inside her home. Max and Dustin are quiet in the backseat. As Steve drives, his fingers absentmindedly play with the frayed edges of his leather bracelet. It had been a gift from you, the word constants etched into the material.Â
Constants. You were Steveâs constant, he was yours. Through everything youâve been through together, all the heartbreak suffered in order to fall into one another, heâs the constant within your life.Â
Now youâre afraid that youâre losing him.Â
Thereâs still so much Steve doesnât know. There are stories about your father that you still need to tell him about. Words Jonathan told you last night, the dangerous what if he brought into your life. Youâre terrified of how Steve will react, heâs always been so trusting of you and Jonathan even after knowing the history you share.Â
And yet Steve also doesnât know that the future you see involves him, that heâs in it with as much certainty as the sky is blue; you just donât know how to tell him this, how to articulate the abandonment that sits heavy within your chest that prohibits you from getting what you want in the end.
You have to talk to him. Steve deserves to know everything, all heâs ever asked of you is to be honest with him.Â
The broken lamppost in front of Maxâs trailer greets you. Steve slows the car, puts it into park. His eyes find hers in the rearview mirror. âThis is you, Mayfield.â
âThanks,â Max responds quietly. She goes to open the car door, but you turn in your seat and stop her.Â
âHey, look at me.â Your tone leaves no room for arguments. She listens, her blue eyes meeting your gaze. For a moment you see Billyâs eyes reflecting within hers. Itâs only for a brief second, it ends before you can even realize whatâs happened. Startled, you momentarily choke on your words. âIââ
Max raises an eyebrow at you. Youâve been acting strange all night, she doesnât understand why. âYou look like youâve seen a ghost.â
Her words couldnât be more ironic, more painful to hear. âI-Iâm sorry.â Billy is dead, heâs gone. You shake your head, try to get his eyes out of your head. âJust⊠promise me youâll call if anything happens, please?â
You know that Max isnât in any danger, sheâs safe at home with her mother, but across the street resides yellow caution tape and boarded up windows. Eddieâs trailer is across from Maxâs, the proximity makes you uncomfortable. Itâs an eerie feeling, Chrissy died here last night.Â
Max seems to understand your concern, and she allows herself to nod. She doesnât want to fight you, not tonight. âI will, promise.â
Squeezing her hand, you leave Max with a soft reminder to get some sleep. She smiles, a hidden joke between the two of you. Both of you know that there will be no sleeping tonight.Â
Once sheâs gone, itâs just you, Steve, and Dustin remaining in the car. Tension creeps slowly upon the three of you. Dustinâs never ending annoyance towards you clashes with all the unspoken words left floating between you and Steve.Â
Dustin coughs awkwardly. Steveâs fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel. You keep your head down, your fingers pick at the skin between your nails. The ten minute drive from Maxâs house to yours is unbearably long. Stuck at one of Hawkinsâ only stop lights, Dustin canât take the silence any longer.
âWell, this is awkward.â He says to no one in particular. âLots of tension tonight, huh?â
Neither you nor Steve laugh, and Dustin rests his head against the seat in defeat. He understands why you and him arenât talking, heâs still angry with you for holding a knife to Eddieâs neck. What he doesnât understand, however, is why there seems to be so much distance between you and Steve tonight.
Normally youâd be all over one another by now. The two of you can never keep your hands off of each other. As much as Dustin hates it, heâs grown used to the way your hands are always intertwined with Steveâs. Whenever heâs in the car with you guys, your hand always rests against Steveâs arm as he drives. At red lights Steve will always turn to you, pulled in by your smile.Â
Except tonight Dustin doesnât think heâs seen Steve look at you once during the drive home. Your hand rests softly at your side, balled into a small fist. Thereâs a coldness between the two of you, one Dustin is ashamed to admit that he hadnât noticed before.Â
Then he remembers last night. Heâd been too lost in his anger towards you to recognize the tears in your voice. He hadnât even stopped to consider that you wanted a code blue for any other reason besides lecturing him. His stomach twists with guilt at his own selfish actions.Â
Something happened between you and Steve, and you had needed your brother last night. But he had abandoned you, denied the code blue youâd needed so desperately.Â
When Steveâs car pulls into your driveway, Dustin runs out as soon as the vehicle stops. Heâs frantic to escape his guilt, to escape the chasm that surrounds you and Steve. Slamming the door, he shouts, âTalk to each other!â Then, as an afterthought, he adds, âGood luck, Steve!â
The slam of the door echoes into the night.Â
Itâs just you and Steve, now.Â
The air stills between you, reminiscent of the night you drove him home from the Halloween party. A year has passed since then, itâs been so long since Steveâs presence made you feel anything other than peace. The strings that have always followed you constrict against your throat.Â
âWe need to talk,â Steve says, but at the same time you say, âWe need to talk about Jonathan.â
The words come tumbling out of your mouth, slipping through the grooves of your teeth before you can stop them. Theyâd been building within you all day, fizzling to the surface. And now they spill out into the silence of Steveâs car.Â
His head turns to you, the street lights illuminate the shock and confusion on his handsome face. It pinches with bewilderment, he doesnât understand. He had been ready to apologize to you, despite still not being able to comprehend how you donât see a future with him. Steve doesnât want to fight with you anymore, he was ready to just forgive and forget and hold your hand without the weight of guilt behind it.
Steve had been ready to salvage your relationship, and now you want to talk about Jonathan?
âJonathan?â Shamefully, his voice cracks. He feels like a helpless little kid again, his stomach twists with the foreboding nausea that something bad is about to happen. âWhy⊠why do you want to talk about him?â
The raw frailty on Steveâs face almost kills you. Heâs drawing into himself again, preparing for the final blow that will decimate him and everything he knows.
You take a deep breath. This wonât be easy, nothing youâve ever had to do has been easy. But Steve deserves to know. To hide something from him feels foreign, to lie to him feels like a betrayal.Â
âJonathan, heââ Your voice shakes almost as violently as your hands do. Steve is looking at you but you canât bear to face him just yet. âHe called me last night, after our⊠after our fight.â
âWhat did he say, Y/N?â Steve knows, even before you tell him, where this is going. The light in your eyes whenever you talk about Jonathan is gone. His name doesnât grace your face with a smile. Instead, the grimace of guilt replaces it. Steveâs stomach twists into tighter knots. Itâs happening again.
Inhaling, you close your eyes and try to commit to memory the before. How Steve looked at you with such adoration before tonight. How his soft hands, laced with trust, felt against your skin before tonight. His open gaze, one filled with vulnerability, stared into you before tonight.Â
Opening your eyes, you exhale. Nothing will ever be the same again. âJonathan asked me if I ever wondered if⊠if we made a mistake. Him and I.â
âA mistake?â Steveâs jaw tightens.Â
âI think-I think he was asking me if I ever⊠thought about what couldâve happened between us. If somehow,â you swallow, the words cement in your mouth. âIf-if somehow we made a mistake, choosing you and Nancy.â
Steve is quiet. The muscles in his body pull tightly together. He fills with venom, anger and jealousy and hurt; so much hurt. âAnd you think heâs right.â
It isnât phrased as a question.Â
Immediately your body turns to his. âNo! God, no,â your hands search for any expanse of his skin you can find. Steve doesnât lean into you, he doesnât react to your touch. Panic overwhelms you, suddenly all you can do is talk and plead and beg. âSteve, I donât think Jonathan even knew what he was saying, okay? H-he was high, and heâs been so lonely and-and he kept saying things were easy between me and him but-but thatâs not how love is supposed to work and I know heâs just scared. Heâs scared and heâs never been so alone before and I think-heâs just lost, okay? Heâs lost andââÂ
âWhy are you telling me this, Y/N?â The hardness in Steveâs voice cuts into you, stings your skin. He isnât screaming, not like he did last night, but you almost wish he were. The way his voice is leveled, cold and hard, scares you even more.Â
âWould you rather I didnât?â Youâre helpless against his anger, you know he has every right to be, but you donât know how to fix this.
Steve laughs bitterly. âIâd rather you not make shitty excuses for the asshole.â
âIâm not making excuses for him, I just wanted you to understandââ
âYou are!â His voice raises slightly, almost imperceptibly so, but you hear it anyways. Steveâs chest rises and falls quickly. His hands fly wildly everywhere, he doesnât know what to do, either. Then, almost as quickly as the anger surfaced, insecurity replaces it. âIs⊠Jonathan why you donât see a future with me?â
Your fingers tighten around his wrist, almost as if youâre afraid heâll slip between your fingers any second now. âI do see a future with youââ
âPretty fucking hard to believe when youâre wearing the goddamn necklace he got you.â The words drip with acid. Theyâre hissed out with a jaw clenched so tightly youâre afraid heâll somehow hurt himself.
The words startle you, catch you off guard. Your hand slips from Steveâs wrist. Heâs never once insinuated any jealousy regarding you and Jonathan. Heâs always been so trusting of you two together, heâs always been kind towards him. He always knew that he could never touch what you guys have, and yet his gaze now flickers cruelly to the bee pendant that rests against your neck.Â
What Steve has said hurts you, deeper than he ever intended to. He knows how you love, how deeply you care for others. Itâs who you are. Regardless of the hurt he may be feeling right now, it doesnât give him the right to throw this crucial part of you back in your face.Â
âIâm made of pieces of everyone Iâve ever loved, Steve. You know this.â The bee pendant rests against your skin as heavily as the charm bracelet does.Â
And Steve does know that youâre made of pieces of everyone in your life. Itâs what he loves the most about you. His eyes follow where your fingers reside, skimming the silver chain that encases your wrist. He hadnât meant to say what he did, the words had slipped out before he could stop them.Â
âY/NâŠâ Your name is spoken as an apology, itâs all Steve can manage in his shame.Â
But the moment is ruined, youâre exhausted and all you want to do is go home.Â
You shake your head at Steve, try to hide the tears in your eyes. He sees them anyways. âCan I leave, please?â
The way you ask so delicately to escape breaks Steve. Something in his chest shatters, his mouth fills with the taste of a broken promise. You donât need his permission, he hates that you feel that you do.Â
âYeah,â his voice is softer than itâs been all night, but itâs too late. He knows this. Swallowing, all Steve can do is be gentle with you. âYeah, of course you can leave, angel.â
Angel.
You nod at him; if you try to speak youâre afraid youâll break before him.Â
No other words are spoken between you. Steve watches as you leave.Â
âÂ
The next morning you sit hunched over a mug of coffee, more exhausted than ever before. You havenât slept properly in days now. Dustin finds you with dark circles under your eyes and a pathetic bowl of cereal before you. From the dazed look in your eyes, he knows you havenât noticed his arrival, and he awkwardly clears his throat to get your attention.
âSo, uh.â He scratches the back of his neck, your eyes are slow to look up at him. Pointing to your coffee, Dustin raises his eyebrows. âRough night, I take it?â
You nod, too tired to say anything else. The cereal goes uneaten. Dustin doesnât think your coffee is even warm anymore, he hadnât heard you wake up this morning. Heâs worried that you never even went to bed last night. Youâre pale, sickly so, and Dustin hates that he hadnât noticed the signs sooner.Â
âHey,â he pulls a chair beside you, sits down with a playful shove to your shoulder. Heâs your brother, itâs his job to take care of you just as much as itâs yours to take care of him. Itâs how the two of you have always been.Â
For Dustinâs entire life youâve looked after him, kissing his scraped knees and warding off monsters hidden underneath his bed. When your father left, the depression your mother fell into afterwards left Dustin clinging onto you. You were all he had left.Â
Dustin leans against you, he used to do this when he was a little kid and could still fit between your arms. Resting his head against yours, shoulders pressed together, the angle is awkward and uncomfortable, but itâs safe. âIs it too late to have that code blue?â
Itâs a peace offering, an extension of an apology, and you canât help but smile at your brother. Hand finding his mess of curls, you ruffle his hair and laugh softly. âYeah, guess we can have a code blue now.â
âGood, you know I always love to shit talk Steve.â Dustin says with humor. You both know he admires the boy.
âLanguage,â you remind him as you always do. Dustin knocks his head against yours in response and the two of you break into laughter; laughing with your brother again feels good.
In between sips of cold coffee and bites of soggy cereal, you tell Dustin about Steve. You explain the original argument a few nights ago, how he didnât understand why you wouldnât want him to follow you to New York.Â
âItâs what mom did with dad,â Dustin says, looking down at the table.Â
You nod at him, you knew heâd understand better than anyone. âThatâs what Iâm afraid of.â
âDoes he know what happened with dad?â
âNo, and I know I should explain what he did, but thereâsââ You cut yourself off. Dustin would kill Jonathan with his bare hands if he found out about the phone call. Even though it technically goes against the rules of a code blue, you canât tell Dustin about Jonathan. Not yet, at least. Clearing your throat, you continue. âThereâs⊠other things that have prevented me from explaining dad to Steve.â
Dustin narrows his eyes. âOther things?â
âOther things,â you look pointedly at him, standing your ground about not elaborating. He denied your original code blue. Youâre allowed to lie this one time. âAnd now Steve thinks that I donât see a future with him.â
âWell then heâs an idiot.â Your brother scoffs. Anyone with eyes can see how much you fawn over Steve. Dustin has watched you fall for him for years now. âYouâre practically ready to marry the guy.â
Taking a bite of cereal, you grimace slightly. âOkay, marriage is a little muchââ
âTell that to mom, sheâs already started planning the wedding.âÂ
Of course she has. She wouldnât be Claudia Henderson if she wasnât already planning the names of her grandchildren from Steve.Â
The bite of cereal turns into cement, your heartbeat pounds against your throat. With everything going on with Steve, the hurt the two of you have brought down upon the other, youâre not even sure there will be a wedding at the rate things are going.Â
As the days go on, you can feel Steve slipping away from you more and more.
Dustin must sense that the subject is hurting you, so he stands from his seat and claps his hands together. âAlright, I feel like weâve covered our bases for a code blue. Checked all the boxes, felt the feelings needed to be felt.â
âI donât like the feelings being felt,â you mumble, shoving your bowl away. Youâre still drawn into yourself, pale and frail and unlike the lively girl your brother has come to miss. He knows things have been difficult between the two of you, a strain that canât quite be loosened.Â
Dustin falters, his bravado fades. He sighs again and his hand settles against your shoulder. He looks at you with sincerity, his expression softens. âLook, you and Steve will figure things out. You guys always do.â
And he truly believes this. Steve loves you with such a ferocity that rivals your love for him. Dustin canât imagine a world in which youâre no longer with Steve, where heâs let go of you and allowed you to walk away.Â
Except Dustin doesnât know how to express this to you, but you can understand him anyways. Placing your hand over his, you squeeze it. âThanks, Dustin.â
He smiles back at you and the code blue is over. The moment lingers for only a second longer before he frowns and sits back down next to you. âDo you think Eddie will be okay?â
And there it is. Eddie fucking Munson again.Â
Shoving down your annoyance, you force yourself to focus on the situation from last night. As hurt as you are that Dustin wants to talk about Eddie right now, you can understand why he would. Chrissy died in front of him, heâs being accused of murder.Â
Youâre just being childish, easily irritated from lack of sleep and the stress of it all.Â
âI donât know, I meanâŠthe cops will be looking for him.â With ease you fall back into strategizing, putting the situation above your own thoughts and feelings. Your mind spins with everything you need to do, trying to come up with whatever you can do to help. âIf we have any shot of protecting him, we need to figure out what they know.â
Dustin nods, following along. âCerebro can tap into the Hawkins PD system, we can easily get intel from there.â
âIt terrifies me that Cerebro can hack into our townâs police system.â
âBe grateful I stopped there, Suzie wouldnât let me use it to tap into NASA.â
You learn two things after using Cerebro to gather information.Â
One, the radio is far too powerful to reside in your fourteen year old brotherâs hands. Heâs able to access the PD system with incredible ease, almost as if heâs done so before. Itâd be impressive if you didnât know the horrors that went on inside the kidâs head.
Two, Eddie is well and truly fucked.Â
Heâs the main suspect. They think heâs killed Chrissy and have every man in the force scouring Hawkins to find him. Her death was gruesome, you understand the manhunt that unfolds. Dustin, however, nearly loses his mind when he hears chief Powell instructing his men to search Eddieâs neighborhood for the teen.Â
âWe have to go warn him,â Dustin scrambles to his feet, the chair almost toppling over in his haste. âWe need to leave, now.â
There isnât time to argue, Dustin is already ringing Steveâs number. Either heâs already forgotten about your argument with the teen, or maybe he just doesnât care. Regardless, the thought of seeing Steve again so soon after last night makes your stomach churn. You want to stop Dustin, make up some excuse to him about why you canât help Eddie, but you know it wouldnât matter. Your brother would only beg you to come, your worry for him would force you to listen.Â
All you can do is drop your head into your hands and sigh.
âÂ
It was your idea to stop and get Eddie food.Â
Steve had arrived at your house within minutes. Dustin immediately went for the passenger seat, which was more than okay with you, and Steve had mumbled a soft âhelloâ to the two of you. His greeting went ignored by you, still trying to find your breath around him, and Dustin, who promptly demanded that Steve pick up Robin and Max before returning to the boathouse.Â
Halfway to Maxâs, the silence in the car was thickening rapidly, so you offhandedly suggested stopping at the local grocery store to get Eddie some food and water. You figured he would appreciate the small act of kindness, especially considering the grime news youâd be delivering to him soon. That, and itâd give you an excuse to leave Steveâs car for a few moments and steady your breathing.Â
The boathouse isnât nearly as creepy in the daylight, but still you make sure your knives are in your pocket before approaching it. Robin walks beside you, helping you and Dustin carry the groceries, while Max and Steve walk silently behind.Â
âThink we got him enough?â Robin asks, holding up one of the grocery bags. âI mean, donât stoners eat a lot? Munchies or whatever?â
Rolling your eyes, you undo one of the buttons on your sweater, allowing the crisp spring air to soak your body. The sun is too warm to be worrying about whatever stoners eat. âIf he complains, then he can starve.âÂ
âCatâs got claws today,â Robin nudges you with her arm. Turning to make sure Steve is far enough away so he doesnât overhear, she lowers her voice. âGuessing the talk didnât go well last night?â
âOh, it was just peachy,â you grit out through a forced smile. âBut we have to focus on harboring a murder suspect right now.â Because nothing in your life can ever be simple. If you arenât hunting monsters, youâre protecting the town. If you arenât protecting the town, youâre fighting alternate dimensions.
Robin opens her mouth to say something, but Dustin shoulders past her and bursts through the boathouse doors, ending your conversation. âDelivery service!âÂ
Eddie nearly has a heart attack at the abrupt entrance. He jumps out of his skin and clutches at his chest after letting out a very unmanly yelp. The reaction is almost enough to brighten your foul mood, momentarily forgetting that Steve stands behind you.Â
âSomeoneâs jumpy,â you sidestep your brother and walk over towards the table. Setting the groceries down, you begin to unload them. âWe got you some food, but please donât eat it all at once. I really donât want to spend any more money on you.â
âThanksâŠ?â Eddie slowly approaches you, both relieved for the food and offended you seem so begrudged to have gotten it for him in the first place. From his few interactions with you since last night, heâs coming to learn that youâre far from the girl who showed him such selfless kindness all those years ago.
Eddie doesnât think you even remember what you did for him. He had been at such a low point in his life, one failed exam away from dropping out of high school and disappointing his uncle, until you appeared. Itâd been your sophomore year, Eddieâs failed one, and you had given him your pencil.
The action had been small, meniscal, yet it saved Eddieâs life. He hadnât brought his own pencil for some stupid English exam. Heâd been too nervous for it that he had forgotten his, and Mrs. Greer, the teacher who couldnât have cared less whether or not Eddie died, threatened to fail him.Â
The threat sank deep into his bones, freezing his intestines with dread. Eddie had promised his uncle heâd try harder in school, that heâd graduate, and yet he couldn't do something as simple as bringing a pencil to an exam. Close to tears, embarrassed and overwhelmed, Eddie almost hadnât registered your softly whispered voice.
âHere,â you tapped his shoulder. Eddie remembers turning around, surprised you were even talking to him, and he remembers the immediate relief that sagged his bones when he saw the pencil extended in offering. He had nodded curtly at you before frantically rushing to begin the exam. Heâd already wasted five minutes, he couldnât afford any more.Â
It would only be later that Eddie learned you willingly failed the exam because youâd given him your only pencil, just so he wouldnât fail. In the end, he passed. It was the first exam Eddie had passed in a long, long time; his uncle had been so proud of him that he bought him his electric guitar.
Eddie never thanked you for that.Â
And now you stand in front of him, once again extending your arm out to him with yet another offering, but your eyes are cold. Your body is tense around Eddieâs, he doesnât miss the wide berth you seem to always give him.Â
âThanks,â he says to you again, clearing his throat uncomfortably. He accepts the box of cereal you offer him and he wills himself to smile. âI, uh. Appreciate it. Iâd offer to pay you back, butâŠâ
âYouâre wanted for murder.â You finish for Eddie.Â
He drops his head. âYeah, it kinda ruins a personâs life, ya know?â
âI donât, actually. Never been accused of killing someone.â
Eddie blinks at you. He doesnât know what to do with the disdain you display towards him. âRight.â He looks at Dustin for help, silently begging the kid to step in before you gut him with your knives.
âOkay, why donât you crack open that box of honey combs while we all gather around for a fun story time!â Dustin sets down the remaining groceries and ushers everyone to spread around the boathouse.Â
ââStorytimeâ?â Eddie asks him, looking around in confusion.Â
âY/N and Dustin did some detective work,â Robin offers him, trying to make her voice sound as cheery as possible. âThey-uh. Well they found-I mean,â she doesnât know how to break the news to Eddie, she feels awful for the guy. Deflating, she mumbles, âTheyâre definitely good detectives.â
Eddie only looks more confused by this, and Dustin sits down awkwardly on a stool next to you. âSo, we got, uh. Some good news and some bad news.â
You snort at your brother. Steve stands next to you, his body angled away from you so that your skin doesnât touch. The distance is small enough to go unnoticed by anyone, yet itâs a chasm that your stomach drops into. âThatâs really how youâre gonna break it to him?âÂ
âWhat are you guys breaking to me?â Eddie asks, eyes wide.
Dustin hits your leg and gets the teenâs attention. âIgnore her, look at me, alright? Now, how do you prefer it? Good or bad first?â
âBad news first, always.â Eddie doesnât even think about his answer, he responds immediately while shoving cereal into his mouth.Â
âThe bad news is that youâre pretty fucked.â You inform him, arms crossed over your chest. Thereâs no easy way to lessen the blow of what you overhead from Hawkins PD. The news is bad, itâs all bad.Â
Dustin snaps his head towards you, âY/N!â
âIâm not going to lie to the guy or sugarcoat things!âÂ
âWould you just let me handle itââ
âDustin,â Eddie hasnât moved from his seat. His hand remains in the cereal box, his voice jagged and defeated. Heâs tired. He just wants to go home. âJust say it.â
Your brotherâs shoulders drop, the anger in his eyes extinguished. âWe⊠We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and theyâre definitely looking for you.â
âChief Powell thinks you killed Chrissy.â Unable to look at Eddie, your eyes trace the ground. As much as you hate him, you canât help but feel awful for the hand heâs been dealt. No one will possibly believe heâs innocent. âHe ordered all his men to track you down before word gets out that youâre the prime suspect.â
âWhich leads us to the good news: your name hasnât gone public yet.â Robin continues for you, her own expression pitying. âBut if Y/N and Dustin could find out about you during breakfast, then itâs a matter of time before others do, too.â
âAnd once that gets out,â you shake your head, you know how cruel a small town like Hawkins can be. âThereâs going to be a lot of angry people who know your name.â
Eddie clenches his jaw. You can see tears forming in his eyes; youâre not sure if theyâre from frustration or fear. He inhales sharply, licks his lips in disdain. âHunt the freak, right?â
Itâs the way he says it, with so much despair and venom in his voice. The look of resignation on Eddieâs face breaks your heart. He knows his odds, heâs been tormented and abused his entire life by the people in Hawkins. Youâve heard all the stories. The exile he faced because of how he looked, who he would hang out with, the music he listened to and the drugs he smoked.Â
Eddie Munson, the freak. The moment the town finds out heâs wanted for murder, youâre afraid heâll never come out of it alive.Â
The ice-hot contempt you feel for him begins to melt. Heâs only a year or two older than you, still just a scared kid with no place to call home anymore. Despite the protests of your body, you step towards Eddie and place a hand on his shoulder. Your hand is tense, your fingers scratch on the rough material of his denim jacket, but he seems to calm at the touch.Â
âHey, weâll protect the freak, alright?â You mean what you tell him, your hand warms his skin. Whatever history you have with Eddie, good or bad, it doesnât matter right now. He needs you, heâs lost and alone.Â
Eddie looks up at you, your kindness startles him slightly, but he doesnât move away. Instead, his eyes find yours. Theyâre brown, almost doe-eyed, with a vulnerability within them so intense that it leaves a lump in your throat.Â
âWe wonât let anything happen to you, Eddie.â Dustinâs voice cuts through, reminding you of where you are. Stumbling slightly, you remove your hand and walk back over to Steve, who gives you an odd, confused look. You ignore him. âWe have to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.âÂ
âThatâs all, Dustin?â Eddie mocks, he doesnât stand a chance and he knows it.
Dustin draws into himself, uncertain, before letting out a feeble response. You allow yourself to smile, enjoying his wallowing. You understand where Eddie is coming from. âIt is a lot that we have to do in order to clear his name.â
âOkay, I know that everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but weâve actually been through this before.â Robin tries to reassure him. Sheâs leaning against a doorframe, sheâs trying her best not to let her own uncertainty show.Â
âWeâve been here before,â you say with slight bitterness. âYouâd be surprised how many times weâve almost died.â
Robin laughs nervously. âWell, mine was more human-flesh-based, theirs was more smoke-related. I didnât necessarily almost die, but Y/N has some pretty sick scars on her body and Steve has been concussed more times than heâs had girlfriendsââ
âGet to the point, Robin.â Steve finally speaks up, no hint of amusement in his voice. His hand rests besides yours, his fingers ache to curl against your skin. Youâre wearing a soft blue sweater, tucked into your skirt, and your eyes shine against the spring cold. He doesnât want to be here right now.
âRight. The bottom line is, collectively, I really feel we got this.â
Unable to bear the itch in his skin to touch you, Steve brings his hand to his face and rubs at his jaw to distract himself. âExcept we usually rely on this girl who has superpowers, but-uh. Those went bye-bye, soââ
âAnd sheâs in California, hundreds of miles from here.â You add on, picking at your nails. The topic makes you uncomfortable. With California comes the reminder of Jonathan.
Robin points at you and Steve. âBoth good points, so I guess you could say weâre more in the-in theâŠ?â
âBrainstorming phase.â Max supplies, which Steve snaps his fingers in agreement and Dustin hums thoughtfully.Â
âThereâs-uh. Thereâs nothing to worry about!â Your brother says unconvincingly, voice high pitched and full of lies.Â
Eddie stares at everyone around him, studying the collective mess that he somehow must place all his trust in. None of you can give him a straight answer about what will happen next, and as you listen to Steve and Dustin try again to make sense of whatâs going on, you recognize how hopeless it all sounds.Â
âWe may not sound like much,â you interrupt the boys, trying again to ease the hopelessness Eddie must be feeling. âBut weâre kind of your only option right nowââ
The distant wailing of sirens drown out your words, loud and piercing. The sound sets everyone into a panic. Robin instructs Dustin to cover Eddie with a tarp while you, Max, and Steve run towards the window. Squished together, you watch as multiple cop cars fly down the street with an ambulance following them; your breath catches.Â
The last time you saw this many cop cars speeding through Hawkins, they had been a dead body in the quarry. It had been Willâs body, lifeless and pale. You had watched as his body was pulled from the water, you held Lucas and Dustin as they cried.
Only this time Will is in California, far away from danger. The onslaught of cars can only mean one thing.Â
âI thinkâŠâ Your mouth fills with syrupy dread, coating your tongue with grief. Breathing becomes difficult. You hope, more than anything, that youâre wrong. âI think someone else died.â
The moment the words leave your lips, Steve grabs his keys and instructs everyone to get into his car. He doesn't ask any questions, he doesnât question how you know. Dustin quickly tells Eddie to stay in the boathouse while you leave.Â
Your eyes squeeze shut as Steve drives, your hand clutches the seat in terror. Every second that passes, your body becomes heavier and heavier from dread. Steveâs knuckles are white against the steering wheel. Robin canât look at you, Max and Dustin donât say a word.
The white blanket draped over a body is what you see first. A horde of police surround it, there are lights flashing everywhere. People crowd behind a barricade, necks straining to get a look at the body on the ground.Â
Then you see who the cops are talking to, and your heart drops.Â
âNancy,â you breathe out, already opening Steveâs door before he can even park the car. Something terrible has happened. Nancy stands in front of the officers, her arms crossed against her chest as if to calm herself down. Sheâs never looked so weak, she needs you.
Standing outside the car, the others join you. Steve has parked as close as he can to the crime scene, no one moves. Nancy releases a shaky breath when her eyes find yours. Raising her hand, she waves at you, unsure, and you wave back. She smiles, timid but genuine, and a pit forms in your stomach.
You havenât told Nancy about Jonathan.Â
Steve looks away from her, gaze turning towards you, and heâs thinking the same thing.Â
âÂ
Nancy guides everyone to a park bench at the trailer park. She doesnât say anything as you all walk, her eyes are exhausted. The police hadnât wanted her to leave just yet, they had more questions for her, but youâd quickly spoke with the men to let her go.Â
Sitting around the table, a bitter cold creeps into the air. The sun is out yet winter still lingers. Nancy sits across from you with Robin and Max next to her. Youâre with the boys, Steve pushes his weight against you while Dustin sits stiffly beside you.Â
Seeing Nancyâs sunken cheeks and glass eyes, you reach across the table and grab her hand. âWhat happened, Nance?â
Tears well in her eyes and for once she doesnât wipe them away. Nancyâs hand twitches in yours, she doesnât hold onto you like you do her. Sheâs grieving, youâve come to learn all the signs of someone who has lost a friend. âIt-itâs Fred.â
She explains what theyâd been doing, investigating Chrissyâs death at the trailer park. Guilt laces her words, she didnât think anything would happen to Fred. Heâs always been sweet to her, his crush obvious to you but unknown to her. A shiver runs through you; Fred was smart, he was nice to you whenever you spent your days in the yearbook room.Â
He didnât deserve to die. Neither did Chrissy.Â
âThat makes two deaths in two days,â you say out loud, voicing what everyone else is thinking. Death is common in Hawkins, an inevitability of what lies underneath it, but thereâs never been such gruesome deaths so close together. âItâs happening again.â
âWhatâs happening again?â Nancy shakes her head. âI-I donât understand, you guys already know whatâs causing all of this?â
âWe have a working theory, but itâs⊠not great.â Dustin slouches down, he isnât sure how much he can explain to the girl with all that he still doesnât know. âWe think itâs connected to Chrissyâs death, something killed her in Eddieâs trailer. He told us she had gone into some sort of trance before her bones snapped and her eyes exploded..â
Nancy grimaces at the gory imagery and you squeeze her hand again. âIâm sorry about Fred.â
She gives you a tight smile before turning to your brother. âA trance? Like El? You arenât⊠do you really think this has something to do withââ
âThe Upside Down.â You and Max say at the same time.
ââItâs happening againâ,â Nancy echoes your words from moments ago. She understands, now. âSo this-this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy is from the Upside Down?â
Steve nods at her and Dustin sighs heavily. âWe think he attacks with a spell, or maybe even a curse.â
âBut we donât know if heâs under the Mind Flayerâs control,â you point out. âFor all we know, he could just be someone with Elâs powers. We know the lab tested on other kids, right?â
Max looks up at you and her face twists with apprehension. âI donât know, something feels different about this, itâs almost like itâs something new. I donât think itâs anyone like El.â
âIt doesnât make sense.â Nancy mumbles.
âNo, I think Max is right. Something feels off about all of this.â Your arms draw together, itâs impossibly cold for late March. The chill has set into your bones.Â
Nancy nods at you, but thereâs something else on her mind. âBut Fred and Chrissy also donât make sense. I mean, why them?â
âMaybe they were just in the wrong place? They were both at the game.â Dustin offers, and you shiver again.
Billy had been in the wrong place, too. Itâs how the Mind Flayer got him. Heâd just been unlucky and alone.
âAnd the trailer park,â Max adds.
Steveâs eyes widen slightly, he shifts against you and unconsciously moves you closer to him. âWeâre at the trailer park, should we⊠maybe not be here?â
The wind picks up and a crow cries overhead. The barren grass rustles as shadows fall against it. Your spine prickles with nerves. Steve is right to be worried. Thereâs something eerie about the trailer park, the caution tape that guards Eddieâs door is still too fresh.Â
You wrap your sweater tighter to your body, cold with unease. Nancyâs eyes flicker around the park as the wind rustles the leaves. âFred started acting weird the second we got here.â
Robin asks what she means, and when Nancy begins to explain how scared and on edge Fred had been, a dull throb slowly creeps up the base of your neck. The sensation builds until itâs a roar of nerve endings exploding against your temple, and you wince in pain.
Steveâs fingers skim the crest of your wrist. âHey,â heâs lowered his voice so the others canât hear, he knows you never like to worry others. âYou okay?â
âIâm fine,â the concern in Steveâs eyes burns you. He hasnât spoken to you all day, but still his skin warms yours and he wants to make sure youâre safe. Comfortable. Okay. Even with the anger between you and all the unspoken half-truths, he still cares about you.Â
You want to tell him that you havenât slept in days, that the nightmares are back and that theyâre worse than ever before. You want to rest your head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Itâs the only way youâve been able to keep the migraines at bay.Â
But you donât tell Steve any of this. Instead, you lie through your teeth. âIâm fine,â you reassure him again. There isnât time for you not to be okay. Two people have died already, your migraines can wait.Â
Steve doesnât look convinced. He knows you, he knows how you are and how much you push down for the sake of others, but before he can press you further, Robin interrupts. âHey, lovebirds, weâre trying to solve a murder case here.â
âIâm listening,â you roll your eyes at her, skin flushing a bit with embarrassment. âAnyways, what if Fred and Chrissy saw something that made them go catatonic? I think we should be focusing on the trace-like state more, itâs a trauma response.â
âWhat, so theyâre insane asylum patients?â Dustin asks with slight displeasure. âI mean, I guess that makes sense. But Vecna can cast spells, at least in DnD. I donât think they just âsawâ something.âÂ
Steve scratches his nose. âIf I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would mention it to someone.â
âWould you, though?â You donât mean for the question to come off as condescending, and you quickly try to alleviate the offended look on the teenâs face. âWhat I mean is, who would you go to about something like that?â
âI⊠I think I know who theyâd go to.â Max stares down at the table, her eyebrows furrowed together. Sheâs deep in thought, remembering something. âI saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kellyâs office. If you saw a monster, you wouldnât go to the police.â
âTheyâd never believe you,â you bear your weight against the table. Nostalgia wraps around you at the memory of how scared youâd been to tell Hopper about El, the years it took for you to trust him. âThatâs why I never went to Hopper when I first found El.â
Max nods, sheâs relieved you get where sheâs going with this. âExactly, but you might go to yourââ
âShrink.â Robin finishes, sending you an apologetic smile for the offensive language against the profession you hope to one day go into. âNo offense, Y/N.â
You roll your eyes, feeling defensive. âAgain with calling Ms. Kelly a shrink. Sheâs not a shrink, sheâs actually really nice.â
âYou sound like you know her personally.â Dustin narrows his eyes at you. Nothing goes unnoticed by him.Â
All eyes turn to you, and you sink down in embarrassment. âIâve⊠had a few meetings with her.â
Simultaneously both Steve and Dustin widen their eyes. They hadnât known you were seeing Ms. Kelly. Nancy looks at you curiously, Robin bites her lip, and Max nods solemnly. Itâs a large range of reactions, one that makes you anxious to deal with. âCan everyone stop staring at me, please?â
Steve lets out a quick breath and runs a hand through his hair. âYou didnât tell me you were seeing the schoolâs guidance counselor, Y/N.â
âShe didnât tell me, either.â Dustin mumbles bitterly. Youâve never hidden anything from him before. He wonders, distantly, when you started to.
âI didnât want to worry you guys, it really isnât a big deal.â When both boys bristle at this, you hold your hand up to silence them. âNo, I donât want to hear it. Itâs not like I was seeing Ms. Kelly for anything serious, okay? Sheâs the guidance counselor, so I just. You know. Needed some guidance.â
Itâs a horrible lie, you know that no one believes you, but they take pity on you and move on. Originally you really were seeing Ms. Kelly for college admissions help, but after a few sessions you slowly started opening up to her about the sleepless nights. The image of Billyâs lifeless body. Maxâs screams.Â
Nancy clears her throat and changes the topic. She comes up with what to do next, creating a plan to ask Ms. Kelly what she knows, and you sit silently. Youâre relieved the attention is finally off of you. Within minutes a plan is formed: you and Max will talk to Ms. Kelly to try and get more information.
Steve agrees to drive to the house. As youâre walking to his passenger side door, he notices that Nancy isnât following. Instead, sheâs going to her own car. âHey, Nance. Whereâre you going?â
Nancy turns around, a guilty but determined look on her face. Her eyes land on you, knowing youâll be the hardest to convince of her plan. âThereâs just-thereâs something I want to check on first.â
Predictably, your shoulders tense and your eyes ignite with worry. âPlease donât make me remind you that there are people dying right now. You canât seriously think itâs safe to be on your own.â
âI can protect myself, Y/N.â Nancy reminds you gently, understanding your concern but knowing it isnât needed.
âYou care to share with the rest of us?â Dustin calls over to the two of you.
âI donât want to waste your time,â Nancy shoves her hands into her jean jacket. âItâs⊠a real shot in the dark.â
You frown at this. âIf itâs something you think is worth looking into, then it isnât a shot in the dark. Youâve always been right.â
Nancy blushes at your words, but Steve silently fumes beside you. He canât believe what heâs hearing. âAre you guys out of your mind? No way is Nancy flying solo with Vecna on the loose.â
âI never said that she should fly solo,â you say slowly, not at all liking how heâs twisting your words. You had been complimenting Nancyâs intelligence, restoring her faith back into her work. You donât understand where this protectiveness from Steve is coming from. âI know itâs too dangerous, thatâs why I was going to suggestââ
âYouâre right. Itâs too dangerous. Bottom line. She needs someone to-Christ.â Steve isnât listening. Heâs too caught up in his head as tosses his keys to Robin, who only barely manages to catch them. âHere, Y/N and I will stick with Nance.â
You cross your arms and glare at him. âIâm sorry?â
Steve doesnât look at you, heâs too busy staring at Nancy, and for a brief second you truly believe that thereâs something soft in his gaze when he looks at her. Theyâre friends, you know this. Thereâs a history between them that rivals your history with Jonathan. Nancy was Steveâs first love, and now he loves you, and you try desperately to shake the insecurity that you feel.Â
If youâre being completely honest, youâre not even sure why youâre suddenly thinking all of this. Youâve never been insecure, at least not in your relationship with Steve. During the almost year youâve been with him, thereâve been times girls have flirted with him or old flings that have tried to vie for his attention. But through it all your trust in him never wavered, you knew that at the end of the day it was your bed he was crawling into.Â
And yet thereâs a voice in the back of your head telling you that the way Steve is looking at Nancy right now is different; itâs how he looks at you. The voice is darker, more cruel. Itâs one you donât recognize, and yet you do.Â
Steve seems to come back to himself and turns to you. âRobin can go with the kids to the shrink. Max can talk to her alone, itâs no big deal.â
Robin holds the keys away from her as if theyâre poisoned. âI donât think you want me driving your car.â
âWhy?â
âI donât have a license.â
Steve shakes his head with impatience. âWhy donât you have a license?â
âIâm poor,â Robin shrugs, and you laugh slightly.Â
Max raises her hand. âI can drive.â
âNo!â You and Steve exclaim at the same time, both of you getting war flashbacks to when Max had driven you after Billy had knocked you guys unconscious. Itâd been a rough night and waking up to a thirteen year old driving a sports car definitely hadn't helped.Â
âPlease,â you look at Max with genuine longing. âNever, ever drive me ever again.â
âLiterally anyone but youââ Steve sees Dustin make a face, offering himself to drive, and the older teen snaps his fingers at him in annoyance. âNo chance.â
You shake your head as well. No way in hell are you allowing the kid to drive either. âAbsolutely not, Dustin. You couldnât even drive a golf cart properly.â
âI did a decent job!â
âI still think youâre the one who gave Steve his third concussion with your horrible braking.â
âWe were being chased by evil Russians!âÂ
Robin steps between you and your brother, holding her hands up. âAlright, this is stupid.â She grabs Dustinâs walkie from his backpack and marches to Nancy while handing Steve his keys. âUs ladies, sans Y/N, will stick together. Unless Steve thinks we need him to protect us?â
She raises her eyebrows, challenging the teen, and you watch him. He shuffles nervously, ducks his head down. Steve is guilty and ashamed and embarrassed. Your stomach clenches.Â
âHe knows better than to doubt you guys,â you step in for him, saving him. âRight, Steve?â
Nancy laughs at the look of fear on his face and Robin smirks. Satisfied, they turn around and start to head towards Nancyâs car. You wish them luck as they leave, tell them to be safe. They wave back at you, and although you wish you could join them, you know that Max will want you by her side while she talks to Ms. Kelly.Â
Once the girls are gone, you hit Steveâs chest. âNice one, buddy.â
He lets out a pained huff, but he doesnât say anything. He knows he had it coming. With a sigh he follows you back to his car and gets into the driverâs seat. Dustin stares at him through the rearview mirror with a shit eating grin on his face. Tired, Steve glares at him. âNot a word.â
âI didnât say anything.â Dustin defends himself.
âNo, but you were going to, and-hey,â Steve turns in his seat and glares even more at your brother. âDid you make sure to wipe your feet?â
âYes,â Dustin says at the same time as you and Max say, âNo.â
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and starts the car angrily. His movements are jerky and uncontrolled. âAlways the goddamn babysitter!â He exclaims, resentment marring his face.
You jump slightly at his raised voice. He hates being sidelined, you know this. Similar to you, all Steve ever wants to do is help. He does whatever he can, he tries harder than anyone. Itâs what you first fell for, back when Steve originally crashed into your life.Â
Itâs because of his kindness and devotion to others that you reach for Steveâs hand. His skin is cold, goosebumps raise at your touch, but you interlock your fingers through his and slowly, piece by piece, Steve relaxes.Â
Heâs missed your touch. Youâve missed his, too.
âÂ
Ms. Kelly, to her credit, tries to mask her surprise when she sees you and Max standing at her door. âOh, hello, girls.â
âHi,â you smile kindly at the woman. âWe really hate to bother you over spring break, but do you possibly have a minute to talk?â
âWith the two of you?â Ms. Kelly knew that you and Max were both grieving Billy, but she hadnât known that you knew each other. âY/N, Iâm sure youâre aware that this is highly unusual to request.â
You wince. âYeah, Iâm definitely aware that this is a pretty strange thing to ask. Itâs just that I was the one who convinced Max to start seeing you in the first place, and now that Iâm also seeing you, we figured we could⊠talk to you together?â
Itâs a horrible excuse. The lie is vague and too transparent to believe. Neither you or Max had a lot of time to come up with a convincing cover story during the drive here.Â
âI donât know,â Ms. Kellyâs face strains with contemplation.Â
Max softens her eyes and does her best to look small, pleading. âPlease?â
You try to appear troubled as well, though it isnât hard. Your headache hasnât left. The pounding in your head has only intensified since leaving the trailer park. Ms. Kellyâs gaze flits between you and Max, reading for any signs of lying or ill-will, before her resolve crumbles.
âOh, alright.â She opens her door wider, ushers the two of you inside. âCome in.â
Steve and Dustin watch as you disappear inside the house. Theyâve parked across the street, opting to be the lookout in case anything happens. You spare one last glance over your shoulder, eyes meeting Steveâs, before Ms. Kelly closes the door.Â
âOkay, theyâre in.â Steve states the obvious, slightly unsettled to be stuck in the car while youâre inside.
âIâm missing collarbones, not eyes.â Dustin snorts. He expects Steve to say something snarky in response, but then he notices that the teen is still staring longly out the window, tracing Ms. Kellyâs door. He looks pathetic, waiting for you, and Dustin sighs. âSo⊠we gonna talk about it?â
Steveâs eyes linger on the doorway, a far off look on his face. When he realizes that Dustin has spoken, he turns to him slowly. âHuh? Sorry, talk about what?â
âYour temporary insanity earlier today when you basically threw yourself at Nance? In front of my sister?âÂ
âOkay, first of all, thatâs not what happened.â
Dustin glares at Steve, defensive over you. âOh, really? Iâm pretty sure it did, there were a lot of witnesses. Y/N included.â
âWhat are you implying, little Henderson?â Steve rubs his face, too tired for the kidâs mind games. He knows he was being weird earlier with Nancy, but he would never do that to you. Ever. He had simply been overwhelmed and confused and feeling a multitude of things that he still isnât ready to face.
âIâm not implying anything,â Dustin puts his hands up. âAll Iâm saying is that I know you and Y/N have been fighting lately and that for some stupid reason, youâre doubting your relationship.â
Steve throws his head back against the seat. Of course you told Dustin about last night. âLook, Iâm not-Iâm not doubting our relationship, alright? I mean, I love her, man. So, so much. We just⊠things have been hard, lately. Really fucking hard.â
He isnât sure how much youâve told your brother. He doesnât think youâd tell him about Jonathan, at least not until you know yourself whatever the hell heâd been trying to tell you the other night.Â
Dustin doesnât say anything for a few moments. He stares past Steve, his eyes almost seem to glaze over. âItâs because sheâs leaving, isnât it?â
All the air in Steveâs lungs gets knocked out of him. âYes,â he breathes out. His mouth is dry. He swallows, his tongue feels too thick for his mouth. âSometimes it feels like sheâs, I donât know, like sheâs outgrown me? I-I know itâs stupid, but sheâs going so far for college and Iâm stuck in Hawkins like some fucking moron and she-she didnât want me going with her.âÂ
âDid you know that I cried when she got into NYU?â Dustin asks him, a hurt smile on his face. When Steve shakes his head, the boy inhales deeply. âYeah, cried like a baby the whole night. I mean, I knew she applied, I knew sheâd get in, but⊠youâre right. She is going pretty far. Iâve never,â he wipes at his eyes quickly, embarrassed that heâs crying. âIâve never had to spend a single day without my sister.â
Steve stares at your brother, finally beginning to understand the distance between the two of you. For weeks now itâs all youâve complained about to Steve. How much you resented Eddie for being Dustinâs new favorite person, how much you miss singing with him in the kitchen while you baked. But now here Dustin is, teary eyed, explaining to Steve just how scared he is to be without his sister. âIt feels like sheâs leaving you, too.â
âYeah,â Dustin wipes his eyes again, nodding. âYeah, sometimes it feels like she canât wait to get out of this town.â
âEven though weâll still be here,â Steve says solemnly.Â
Itâs quiet again. A few birds sing in the tree above them. You and Max havenât returned, yet. After a while, Dustin turns to Steve. âShe doesnât mean it, you know.â
âWho?â
âY/N,â the boy clarifies, and Steveâs heart skips a beat. âShe doesnât mean it when she says she doesnât want you going with her to New York. Sheâs just⊠sheâs scared, and she knows that it isnât what you really want. Nothing gets past her, itâs really annoying.â
Steve scoffs a bit, fondness running through him. Dustinâs right. Nothing ever gets past you, you notice and see everything. But then he thinks about what your brother has said, the fear he hadnât known about. âWhy would she be scared?âÂ
Dustin stiffens in his seat, his gaze once again blurs. He twists his hands anxiously, fixes his hat. The atmosphere shifts, Steve can see that heâs uncomfortable now. Heâs about to tell Dustin that he doesnât have to answer, but the kid does anyways. âOur parents, they-um. Met in college.â
Steve sits up as well. You and Dustin never talk about your parents, at least not about your father. Steve canât remember the last time youâve even mentioned him. He thinks maybe the man had called you once, during Christmas.Â
âThey got married right before graduation. Our mom had been pregnant with Y/N, they got hitched and in their marital bliss, our dad somehow convinced our mom to leave Indiana. She grew up here, but our dad was from Virginia and he insisted that she move there.â
Bitter. Dustin is bitter.
âEverything was fine, I guess. I liked Virginia. Y/N did, too. But our mom was lonely, anyone could see that. We lived in a pretty small town, our dad was basically a goddamn Kennedy there. Everyone adored him, but our mom⊠things were different for her. She was always in his shadow, but Y/N and I were too young to notice for a long time.â
Steve swallows. âAnd then⊠the divorce?âÂ
âThe stupid fucking divorce.â Dustin spits out. âIt wasnât a surprise, but somehow we still felt blindsided. One day our dad was charming, cracking jokes with everyone and playing the guitar with us, then the next he just-he snapped. Became bitter, mean. Y/N idolized him, but when our parents started fighting every night and our mom cried over some woman named Carry⊠I lost my sister, for a while.â
âShe told me,â Steve whispers, remembering the rawness in your voice the night you confessed to him that you were once cruel. âI had to remind her that she came back, in the end.â
The corners of Dustinâs mouth turn upwards slightly. âYeah, she came back.â But then his expression darkens, his mood sours. âOur mother almost didnât, though. After having to move back to Hawkins with barely any money to support us, it basically destroyed her. She had lost all her friends by that point, her own parents died while we lived in Virginia.âÂ
âIâm sorry,â Steveâs throat constricts. He hadnât known any of this. He feels like such an asshole now for assuming the worst in you. For allowing his own insecurities to blind him. âI-I didnât know about any of that.âÂ
âYeah, well.â Dustin shrugs. âNow you do. And you need to know that Y/N is being her usual selfless self because of our mom and what happened to her. She doesn't want that happening to you, dipshit.â
Steve exhales through his nose, his head is swimming with so many more questions, so many apologies he wishes he could say. Instead, he stares out the window, waiting for you to return.Â
â
âSo, what would you girls like to discuss with me?â The clock on Ms. Kellyâs walk ticks ominously behind her. Sheâs seated you and Max in her basement den. You can tell by the stack of books and messy desk that she uses the area as her makeshift office.Â
Max slouches against her seat. âOh, itâs nothing too serious, we were justââ
âIâm worried about Max.â You interrupt the girl, not daring to look at her.
Ms. Kelly raises an eyebrow. âOh?â
âI think with all the murders happening, it might be affecting her.â It isnât necessarily a lie. You have been worried about Max and her behavior. Especially these last few weeks. âIt might be resurfacing some⊠memories.â
Max tries to argue, but Ms. Kelly holds her hand up. âYouâve both experienced trauma, Y/N. She lost her brother while you held his dying body.â
A lump forms in your throat, your lungs feel cold.Â
The woman turns to Max, now. âAnd when you keep your feelings in, your pain, bottled up the way you do, it doesnât take much to trigger them again. I can see why Y/N may be worried.â
Max doesnât meet Ms. Kellyâs eyes. She swallows heavily and looks down at her hands. âYeah, I know.â
âYou know you can always talk to me, Max.â You say softly, wanting desperately to reach out to her. But youâre afraid itâll only drive her further away.
She frowns at you. âLike how you talk to Dustin, or even to Steve?â
Her accusation cuts deeply. You hadnât known that she was paying attention to you. That your disguised âIâm fineâsâ werenât convincing her. Max must know this, because she lowers her eyes again and mumbles a quiet apology.Â
Ms. Kelly notices the tension and leans between the two of you. âDo you think youâre ready to talk more about that night?â
Maxâs eyes gloss over briefly, her face distorts with discomfort. An onslaught of memories overtakes her, just as they overtake you. The echoes of her screams for her brother replay in your mind over and over again. The squelch of Billyâs blood trickles down your spine. You were right next to her when it happened. The blood still stains your clothes from that night at Starcourt.Â
âI live next door to where it happened.â Max changes the subject, her voice returning. When Ms. Kelly asks for more clarification, she continues. âNext to where Chrissy was murdered. The cops asked me a bunch of questions. Did they talk to you?â
The woman sits up, apprehensive. She hadnât been expecting to talk about this. You sit there quietly, head still pounding from earlier as Max takes over. She interrogates Ms. Kelly, who does her best to dodge every question, and suddenly the warmth in the room becomes unbearable.Â
âExcuse me,â you stand up, hand clutching your stomach. Nausea swirls within you. You feel faint, the pounding has increased and sweat trickles down your neck. Both Max and Ms. Kelly look at you in concern, but you ignore them.
Blindly you stumble towards the kitchen you remember seeing when you arrived. Too nauseous and overwhelmed to care about niceties, you dig through Ms. Kellyâs cupboards until you find a cup. After filling it with water, the icey coolness of the liquid settles uneasily in your stomach. You lean over the sink, hands clutching the edge. Everything in your body feels unsteady.
Max comes up the stairs and finds you breathing heavily. âYouâre not going to hurl, are you?â
âTrying really hard not to right now,â you breathe through your nose, out through your mouth. âThanks for the concern.â
No response comes. Instead, footsteps walk up behind you. You hear metal clanking against glass, and when you turn around, you find Max holding up a pair of keys. She smirks, flashing you the white keyring attached to them labeled, âofficeâ.
Your eyes bulge out of your head. âNo, we are not stealingââÂ
Except Max grabs your arm and practically flings you out the front door. She shoves you, urging you to start running towards Steveâs car, and all you can do is stumble over your feet and follow after her. When you make it back to the car, panting from the exertion and thrill, Steve and Dustin turn to you with wide eyes.Â
âWhatâd she say?â Your brother asks, noting your frazzled appearance.Â
âNothing, just drive.â Max dismisses.Â
âI just became a felon.â
The girl rolls her eyes at you. âPersonal property theft isnât a felony.â
âJesus,â Steve does a double take, baffled by this entire conversation. âWhat the hell did you guys do in there?â
âSteve, drive!â Max shouts at him.Â
The tires of the car squeal against the pavement as Steve steps on the gas. He steadies the car, a wild look in his eyes. âWhere are we even going?â
âThe school,â Max holds up the keys she stole.
Dustin looks at her incredulously. âAre thoseââ
âThe keys to Ms. Kellyâs office? Yeah.â You nod grimly. âI told you, Iâm now a felon.â
âOh, donât be so dramaticââ
A voice comes through Cerebro, cutting Max off. âDustin? Itâs Lucas. Do you copy?â
Relief washes over you hearing Lucasâ voice. Between tracking down Eddie and dealing with interrogating school guidance counselors, youâd also been slowly worrying yourself to death over the boy. Itâs unusual for him to be quiet for so long, and with all the murders now occurring⊠Youâd been terrified.Â
âLucas? Where the hell have you been?â Demands Dustin.
âJust listen, are you guys looking for Eddie?â
You and Steve share an uncertain look. Why would Lucas be radioing about him? How much does he know?
Your brother tells Lucas that youâve found Eddie and tells him where he is, that heâs safe. Immediately, the boy responds, âYou guys know he killed Chrissy, right?â
Predictably, Dustin doesnât take this very well. âThatâs bullshit, Eddie tried to save Chrissy.â
Lucas presses further, not believing what heâs hearing. Max snatches the radio from Dustin, tired of all the vague responses. âLucas, youâre so behind itâs ridiculous, okay?â
âTechnically we still havenât elaborated on the whole Eddie thing,â you point out, which she glares at you for.Â
âY/N?â Lucas asks, surprised to hear youâre with them.
You grab the walkie. âHey, howâs your day been?â
âAwful,â he responds bluntly while Steve snorts at your question. âWhy are you guys so sure Eddie didnâtââ
âJust meet us at school. Weâll explain later.â Max instructs, leaning over the carâs console.Â
âI canât,â fear leaks through Lucasâ voice. You sit up now, looking at Steve again. He hears it, too. âI think some real bad shitâs about to go down.â
You feel your heartbeat pick up. âLucas, what does that mean? Are you okay, where are you?â
âSinclair!â A voice shouts, before the radio cuts into static.Â
âLucas? Lucas!â Max shouts into the walkie, but he doesnât respond. She sounds scared, itâs the most emotion youâve heard in her voice in months.
Youâre no better. You sit in the passenger seat, numb. The voice, you recognized it. Youâd know Jason Carverâs voice anywhere. Everything clicks; you remember how Lucas was supposed to go to the party after the basketball game. Chrissy had been Jasonâs girlfriend before she was brutally killed. The cops wouldâve questioned him, they wouldâve told him how her body had been found in Eddieâs trailer.Â
Eddie Munson, the town freak everyone hates.Â
âWhat shit could Lucas get into?â Dustin questions, annoyance twinged with worry for his friend.Â
You try to steady your breathing, nausea returning. You almost donât recognize the sound of your own voice. âItâs Jason. Heâs-heâs angry.â
The words settle in the car, linger in the air, before they crash heavily upon the four of you. The realization dawns on everyone, the inevitability of what will happen next is an unbearable weight.
Steve steps even harder on the gas. He knows the basketball team, how cruel teen boys can be.Â
âÂ
Every time youâve snuck into one of Hawkinsâ schools, itâs never led to anything good. The first two times had been in the middle school for Will. Neither time involved very pleasant memories. This year youâre sneaking into the high school in order to violate your classmatesâ privacy and read their deepest, darkest secrets.
âThis feels wrong,â you huff under your breath, barely keeping up with Steve and the others as they run through the hallway. âIâd hate it if anyone read my file.â
âWould you rather risk anyone else dying?â Max responds, giving you a pointed look.
You frown but donât say anything, figuring sheâs right. As much as you hate to do this, itâs objectively the lesser of two evils. Youâll apologize to the students after this is done. If they question why youâve baked them brownies, youâll simply lie and say you had extra laying around.Â
âDustin, do you copy?â Robinâs voice carries over the radio. Your heart skips a beat hearing her, youâve missed her today. After your brother responds, she starts to explain what she and Nancy found. âSo, Nancyâs a genius.â
âWhat else is new?â You say, and Robin laughs.
âMy thoughts exactly, pretty girl.â She clears her throat. âAnyways, Vecnaâs first victims date back all the way to 1959. Her shot in the dark was a bullâs-eye.â
The new information startles you. Vecna first started killing in 1959? Why didnât you hear anything about it until now, and why didnât El sense him before?
Dustin looks equally unsettled by the news. âOkay, thatâs totally bonkers, but we canât really talk right now.â
âWhat are you doing?â
âBreaking and entering into the school to retrieve confidential and extremely personal files.â
You wince. Itâs as bad as it sounds. Tapping Dustinâs shoulder, you break him away from the walkie. âWait, we wonât need my files, right?â
Steve eyes you up and down, shrugging indifferently. âWellââ Hitting his chest, he sputters at you. âWhy do you keep doing that?â
âYouâre not reading my files, Harrington.â
Meanwhile, Dustin urges Robin and Nancy to meet you guys at the school. By the time their conversation wraps up, Max has unlocked the office door. She heads straight towards the drawers, long familiar with the layout; you follow after her.
Steve and Dustin look around while you and Max dig through the files. They mumble something about Watergate, but you can barely hear them over the rush of blood in your eardrums. Maxâs fingers rest on a specific file. The name printed on it makes you feel sick.
Fred Benson.
âHoly shit,â she exhales, grabbing it.
âFound it?â Dustin stands next to you now, neck peering down.Â
You struggle to breathe. âWe didnât just find Chrissyâs file.â
Dustin tilts his head, he doesnât understand, and Max holds the file up. âFred was seeing Ms. Kelly too.â
Steve and Dustin freeze. You can practically see their heartbeats still. The air in the room goes stale. Their eyes linger on you, they wish they couldnât piece it together. Chrissy and Fred were seeing Ms. Kelly up until their deaths. You and Max have been seeing her, too. Itâs one hell of a coincidence.Â
But thatâs all this is. A horrible, awful coincidence.Â
âY/NâŠâ Steve breathes out, but you shake your head at him.
âPlease,â your lip trembles. Not here, not now. He canât look away from you, but you canât bear to look at him. Instead, you grab the remaining files and hand them to Max. âWe need to go through them. All of them.â
Dustin sits at the desk, Steveâs hand rests on the small of your back as you lean over Max to read the files. He shines a flashlight for the two of you, Chrissyâs file is the first one you read. The image of her once vibrant and alive smile stares back at you. Thereâs a column of writing to the left of her photo, the handwriting is neat, orderly, and it catches your attention.
âAre thoseâŠ?â
âSymptoms.â Max softly answers, eyes skimming down the list.
Past trauma.
Terrible migraines.
Difficulty sleeping.
Headaches.
Maxâs entire body tenses, her muscles pull taut against you. Your own body shakes, the tremors misalign your bones. Slowly, she looks up at you. Her eyes silently beg you to tell her that youâve gotten it all wrong. Maxâs blue eyes plead with you to tell her that none of this is real.
âSteve,â your voice catches, unable to inhale. âCan we see Fredâs file?â
He softly agrees, handing you the file immediately. You take it from him. The paper trembles in your unsteady grasp. Laying them down, you open the file and Fredâs photo burns you. Next to it is a list of symptoms.
Theyâre the same as Chrissyâs.Â
Theyâre the same as yours.Â
The headaches. Sleepless nights. The trauma youâve been through, the nightmares that will never truly go away. Everything youâve experienced within the last week.Â
Nosebleeds is starred, and for a moment your heartbeat settles. You havenât had a nosebleed since you were five. It isnât one of your symptoms; it can all still be a coincidence.
âThis-this canât be right.â You donât know if you say this to reassure Max or yourself, but when you look down at her, you know. She has a far off look in her eyes. She doesnât react to what youâve just said.Â
Itâs only then that you remember her nosebleed from earlier this week; it hadnât been a coincidence.Â
âMax?â You shake her shoulders, tears already in your eyes. You know better than to be so naive, so blindly ignorant. You shouldâve known better. You shouldâve known that something was wrong.
Dustin and Steve try to wake Max, but sheâs already left her body. Sheâs unresponsive, lost in whatever trance sheâs in.Â
âY/N, whatâs happening?â Steve demands, fear in his own voice.
Youâre hysterical, screaming and sobbing for Max to wake up. Her body is so small against yours, sheâs frail and weak and her skin has never looked so translucent. Over and over you shake her, your palms rest against her cheeks and you cry.
Youâve come to know what fear is. How it can blind a person, leave them stricken with such raw anguish. Fear takes whatever air is left inside you and it poisons it with sulfur and leaves you choking.Â
The day Will went missing, the only air left in your body had been blood.Â
When inside the tunnels defending your little brother from monsters, the air in your body had been carbon.Â
Starcourt mall and the fireworks that exploded over Billyâs dangling and bloodied body left only just enough air in your lungs to scream.
But this fear, seeing Max unresponsive to your pleas, this fear doesnât spare you any air.Â
Gasping and choking, youâre a wreck. âMax!â
Faintly you can feel Steveâs hands on you, or maybe theyâre Dustinâs. Someone grabs you, pulls you away, but all you can do is scream.
It all makes sense now, Nancyâs question from earlier rings in your ears. You know why Chrissy and Fred were targeted. Why Ms. Kelly was somehow the center of it all.
The symptoms they experienced prior, the same ones that plague you and Max. You know what it is.
Vencaâs curse.
-
â series masterlist
â i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)
#steve harrington x henderson!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things rewrite#slowburn#angst#bdyr#m's writing#oh dear this chapter has so much. like wow#all the conversations .....#whew
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Alastor: Do you ever wonder how many houses youâve passed in your lifetime that have people locked in the basement?đ
Reader: âŠ.
Angel: Like in a kinky BDSM kinda way or�
Reader: What the actual fuck is wrong with you two?
#husk be like: wish I fucking knew kidđ#no because why can I see this being an actual conversation between the both of them?â ïž#I NEED to see them interact more in season 2đ©#like please let them be chaotic besties thatâs all I wantđđŒ#Angel needs more positive male friendships in his life#sorry radiodust loversđ«¶đŒ#huskerdust through and throughđ©·#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin angel dust#alastor x reader#angel dust x reader#hazbin husk#hazbin charlie#hazbin vaggie#nifty hazbin hotel#hazbin sir pentious#hazbin lucifer#hazbin valentino#hazbin vox
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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Ten
Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader
Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.
Warnings: Mentions of cannon-typical violence. Azriel and Y/n have a late night conversation. Fluff and other stuff.
The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
âGwyn says hi by the way.âÂ
Azriel choked on his coffee, bitter flavor rising in his throat. Nesta sauntered into the kitchen, cool eyes glaring at the back of his head. Your familiar silhouette was nowhere to be found.Â
Not here. His shadows whispered. With Rhys.
âCalm down you idiot.â Nestaâs voice dripped with unrestrained contempt as she poured herself a cup and sat. His tan skin glistened with sweat after his morning training session, inky tattoos splashing across his bare chest and trailing over his shoulders, down his back, and up to his neck. In the cloudy afternoon light it was difficult to tell where his shadows ended and where his tattoos began.Â
âY/nâs not here. Youâll have to walk around half-naked some other time.âÂ
Azriel winced. âThat isnât whatââ
Nesta brushed him off with a wave of her hand, eyes narrowing over her mug. Azriel felt like a bug pinned down under a microscope. A crushed butterfly about to hang.
âHow is Gwyn doing?â he asked gingerly, casually.Â
âSheâs fine. Believe it or not, the world did not end when you broke up with her.â
Again he flinched. âIâm sorry, Nes,â he whispered rather pathetically.Â
âIâm not the one you need to apologize to. But you already know that.âÂ
There seemed to be no shortage of people he needed to apologize to: Elain, Mor, Emerie, Gwyn, even Lucien â especially Lucien. His cheeks burned to think of the absolute mess of things heâd made. Feyre had been the quickest to forgive him for the debacle with Elain and Gwyn. But as Cassian had mentioned at dinner, there was a reason everyone was staying away from the River House, and the reason was him.Â
Two years ago heâd challenged Lucien Vanserra to a blood duel for Elainâs hand. It had felt so right at the time, so obvious: three sisters for three brothers. But it was only when their deaths had loomed over her head with shocking reality that Elain realized what a horrible mistake sheâd made. The mistake theyâd made together.Â
âCall it off,â sheâd commanded him, blocking Lucienâs bloody, heaving body. The son of Autumnâs sword had been kicked away, scraping across the rock with an eerie scream and disappearing over the cliff edge. But Elain had stayed, soft brown eyes begging, âDo this and I will never forgive you. What we did⊠it wasnât right. It was a mistake.â
A mistake, sheâd called it. Years of silent longing and bare bone brushes of their hands in dark hallways. All a mistake. Those words had haunted him. Theyâd chased him into Gwynâs kind arms where he once again mistook the friendship he felt towards her as love and broke her heart in the process. Add that to his lackluster response to Morâs coming out and⊠well he had a lot of work ahead of him.Â
He hoped he would be forgiven in time, but that didnât mean heâd twiddle his thumbs until that day came. He scoured Prythianâs publishers for new releases of adventure, mystery, and romance books â the raunchier the better â and they showed up every month at Cagniv Library like clockwork. The priestesses still thought it was part of a trade bargain with the Day Court. Heâd sent Elain and Lucien plenty of letters and gifts, but either they werenât being opened or they werenât bothering to respond. He wouldnât blame them either way. As for Mor and Emerie, they were gone with the wind, too busy infiltrating lands and enjoying an extended honeymoon on the continent to bother with him.Â
That cold stillness in Nestaâs eyes transformed into pity. It was hard not to be reminded of her own failures when she looked at him. Seeing him angry. Watching him crawl into the darkest corners of himself and burn every bridge he crossed had been a shock to Nestaâs system. A plunge into freezing waters that brought pain and clarity.Â
She sighed, rubbing her temples. âJust give them time, Az. Theyâll come around. If they did it for me, theyâll do it for you.â âI think our situations are rather different.âÂ
âI donât.âÂ
âYou didnât try to kill anyone.â
She grimaced. âI came close.â Â
He stayed silent for a long while. He washed his cup. He dried it. He put it in the cupboard.Â
âCan youâcan you please not tell Y/n?â he begged. His voice was small and quiet. Heâd been a fool in the past and made terrible decisions in the name of love. Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. Theyâd all lived more in his mind than in his heart â people he could never fully grasp, and therefore never lose. Theyâd been safe. Easy.Â
It didnât feel that way with you. You felt solid and warm, even if heâd only touched you once. You felt more real to him than anyone else. You felt like someone he could actually have. Which meant he could lose you before youâd even become his to lose.Â
âYou canât keep her in the dark forever. Not about your history, not about the bond. If youâre going to learn anything from your brothers, learn that.â Â
âI know,â he whispered. âI just want to get it right this time.â He had to get it right this time. âI want her to fall in love with me because she wants me, not out of some sense of obligation. I wantâŠâ I want to be worthy of her. Â
Nesta shook her head, a laugh escaping despite her best attempts to stifle it. Azriel looked at her like sheâd gone mad.
She giggled again. âItâs funny. For a male as handsome and desirable as you, you have the worst fucking luck with women. The Mother must have a twisted sense of humor.âÂ
Maybe she did. But Azriel was still enough of a romantic to hope that he had learned from his mistakes, and that his bad luck would end with you.Â
You shoved the notebook off Rhysandâs desk, loose papers flying out like uncoordinated doves.Â
âI told you notetaking was a futile effort.â The High Lord didnât even look at you, too busy searching for invisible dirt beneath his manicured fingernails.
You groaned and dropped your head against the book heâd handed you two hours before.Â
Rhysand had to smile at your frustration. It was a wholly different experience teaching you magic compared to teaching Feyre. With Feyre, her greatest barrier had been her lack of knowledge (and her hatred of him at the time). Sheâd been thrust into the world of fae without preparation, but it had left her malleable and adaptable. It was like teaching a newborn how to walk â a mind that could absorb more because it knew so little.
But you knew too much. You could spout off magical theory at the drop of a hat. You were a pedagogical master with a thousand mnemonics to your name. You were the first to wake in all of Velaris, making your way to the Library before bodies could fill the streets, and you only returned when the crowds had either turned in for the night or gone out to drink until daybreak. You swallowed every history book on the Night Court, Clairvoyants, daemati, and death gods until you felt untethered from the earth â until your mind began to float outside your body, buzzing with thoughts that never went away.Â
But none of that mattered. Your power was an immovable object that couldnât be controlled by logic or studying.Â
You shoved against that power now.
âGood,â Rhysand nodded, leaning against the window, âYouâre getting better at it.âÂ
He lingered in your mind, hovering over the depths of your emotions and memories like a bird ready to break water. It had taken some time before you felt comfortable with the intrusion. Your first lesson together, Rhysandâs presence in your mind had made it impossible to focus. Panic had seized your mind and your body until you could do nothing more than brace your hands and feet against the chairâs leather upholstery. You could have sworn you saw a head of silver hair to your left. The gentle pitter patter of rain had sounded like dripping blood.Â
It wasnât like that anymore. Henna had left you with a useful skill â you could wind your consciousness around Rhysand and keep him there, suspended in that indescribable space where your thoughts lay so he could do no more damage than you permitted him.Â
Through your mind he felt the narrowing of your power. You imagined it like a blanket wrapped around your body, suffocating but familiar. It was this power that laced your skin and made contact with others so hard. You imagined the fabric shortening, creeping up your arms and legs, curling around your torso and squeezing like a snake. Inch by inch you tightened it around you, burying it within your chest instead of carrying it openly like a wound.Â
You held a music book between your hands â Nyxâs to be exact. The little Lordling showcased a certain aptitude for the piano his father could only dream of, and being as young and protected as he was, the worst kind of emotion imbued within its pages was agitation. You could hear one of the ballads written within it as clearly as if Nyx was sitting beside you plucking out the melody.Â
Tighter. Tighter. Tighter. You swallowed your power. Pulled what was outside inwards. Slowly but surely the music faded away until the book was as all books should be â silent.Â
Sweat beaded your brow. This was the most difficult part â not tuning out the music, but keeping the volume at zero.Â
Rhysand checked his watch. Waited. Checked it again.Â
You lasted thirty minutes before your power burst out along your skin once more like a thousand prickling needles. You shuddered, half-disappointed, half-grateful that you could hear the melody again.
Rhysand clapped his hands, slow and proud. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room was dangerously close to five bells. Rhysand nodded.Â
âPerfect timing. Weâre done for today.âÂ
âI can go for longer,â you pleaded.Â
âI know you can.â Rhysand pushed off the wall, polished leather boots gleaming. He was wearing his Illyrian leathers this time, the scent of wind still clinging to his skin after a visit to the northern war camps.
Old Illyria lasted thousands of years. The clans used to flow up and down the Steppes, following the tundrabeast that lay claim to those mountainous regions and were said to speak for their god Ramiel â Starbreaker, Night Herder â after whom the mountain is named. They donât move with the cold winds anymore, even if theyâve kept their names: Ironcrest, Bloodborn, Windhaven, Seawhip, Hawkseed, Timberbane, and a dozen others. And they donât make sacrifices, although the Blood Rite might be a closeâ
Rhysand rapped his knuckles on the desk to grab your attention and splayed his fingers wide. âI also know that the moment I dismiss you, youâll scamper off to the Library to work until you canât see straight.âÂ
You shifted in your seat. âI like it there.â
âThatâs besides the point. If you keep going at this pace youâll burn out. Then you wonât be able to help anyone. Donât think I havenât noticed.âÂ
Your eyes widened ever so slightly. You hadnât thought heâd noticed. âI know what it feels like to burn out and itâs not going to happen anytime soon. I promise.âÂ
Rhysand suppressed the urgent need to roll his eyes as you gathered your things and walked out the door. âAnd here I thought I worked too much,â he muttered beneath his breath.Â
You carried Hennaâs journal tucked within your new Librarian robes â black with ivory detailing and wide sleeves that narrowed at the wrists. You kept a hand on it during late nights at the Library. You ate with it propped open, black splotches swimming across the page like worms. You slept with it beneath your pillow.Â
But alas, it would seem the book was going to make you work to wring meaning out of every odd symbol.
You were muttering to yourself as you walked back and forth in front of the fireplace. Youâd effectively commandeered one of the reading rooms on the seventh floor, leaving the library only when required for Rhysandâs lessons. Helionâs most recent letter lay open on the table with Cherpâs resting just beneath it. A map hung crooked on the wall, four athenaeums circled in bleeding red ink alongside a list of books that had gone missing â the ones that people knew about at least.Â
The Alcove, Ares House, Folkmenâs Bard, and most recently, Argotâs.
 Three Librarians dead. Their throats slit. Blood dribbling down their burgundy robes as theyâd sat hunched over their desks. The week before it had been two from Ares House caught swaying from the third floor balcony.Â
No one has any idea how it happened. The wards were never set off. Nothing in the Library was disrupted. I tell you this only because you deserve to know whatâs happened to your people. Continue your training. Continue your research. Do whatever you need to do. But leave the court business to me, dear. Iâll write to you again when I can.
~ HelionÂ
âIt doesnât make sense,â you mumbled, drumming your fingers against your hip where the book remained silent. âNone of this makes sense.âÂ
Youâd used every ounce of Rhysandâs training on the book. Youâd imagined your power sliding over it like water, fire, needles shooting through cowhide, a hammerstrike, every metaphor imaginable. Youâd glared at it with an intensity that would have disintegrated a lesser object.Â
When that failed, you had moved onto solving the murders and thefts at your fatherâs court. You couldnât content yourself with sitting in one of the cushy, high-backed chairs in Rhysandâs office sipping imported tea in porcelain cups while athenaeums were on lockdown.Â
The pattern was shockingly simple â Koschei was going after books that could be traced back to him. Books that might give his enemies the upper hand: folktales alluding to him and his siblings, translated texts from old Bauldish that might have proved useful in deciphering Hennaâs book, secondary accounts of the age before High Lords ruled.Â
If you were Koschei youâd go after Godswoods next â the collection of athenaeums dedicated to religion. Then on to The Gallows â the athenaeum on death and dying. The two were intricately tied to one another, but people tended to write books on dying before coming up with explanations for what comes after. Youâd spent a great deal of time there following your motherâs death, and you could picture it now â solemn black bookshelves looping around a circular room that tapered up into a point like a blade pointed to the sky.Â
You finished writing your letter to Helion, along with the list of books you wanted pulled from the archives. Cagniv Library may have been a glowing beacon in the Night Court, and a place of sanctuary for the priestesses, but it was nothing like you were used to.
You held the paper out in front of you, Helionâs glimmering pen tucked behind your sharp ears, and blew. The black letters lifted off the page and faded away like a breath in cold air. The message was already writing itself back into existence in Helionâs office.
âIt doesnât make sense.âÂ
You scribbled out another note, this one for yourself with another pen. You ripped it to pieces and fed it to the fire.Â
What was Koschei looking for now? Was he still looking for the book that now rested against your hip, or had he turned to some other prize? And why kill the Librarians and set all of Day Court on high alert?Â
Henna had been careful. Sheâd stayed hidden until she was forced to tear down the Alcove to get the book. Whoever was causing the killings now was either a showman or a fool. They left bodies hanging from rafters. They carved smiles into throats. They let the Librarians know what they were stealing whether they meant to or not. They left patterns scattered among wreckage for someone like you to figure out.Â
It all felt⊠juvenile for lack of a better word. Someone young. Someone who wanted to prove themselves in a loud way. Someone whose ego hadnât been tested yet and wasnât listening to Koscheiâs commands in their entirety.Â
Azriel.Â
You couldnât help but think of him.Â
Azriel was nothing like that.Â
He wasnât loud. He didnât vy for attention. He didnât seek the light in a room. His confidence was quiet and true. His kindness took the shape of the shadows that lingered by your ankles. It took the shape of the robes you wore now. He was the only one whoâd seen them at The Alcove. He was the only one who could have requested the court seamstress to make a copy and leave it hanging in your closet.
No. Azriel was nothing like that.
Azrielâs eyes lit up like embers when you slid through the front door, weary but bright-eyed and cradling your journals against your chest. The shadows heâd left behind with you slithered across the floor like mist.Â
Sheâs been in the Library all day. Working. The shadows whispered in his ear. She thought about you.Â
Azriel smiled. Heâd thought about you as well. âI was wondering where youâd gone.âÂ
You gasped, closing the door louder than you intended. Youâd developed a talent for sneaking in and out of the River House unnoticed to the point where Cassian considered hiding bells in your pockets. Nyx had tried to do it as a joke, but youâd caught him giggling too loudly in your bedroom.Â
You brightened immediately, a broad smile appearing on your face. Azriel felt his heart leap, then quiet as he caught the scent of parchment paper.Â
âI thought you werenât supposed to be back until tomorrow?â You whispered, tip-toeing through the dimly lit hallway to where Azriel was in the sitting room. You sank into the couch with a groan. The hardwood desks at the Library had not been kind to you.Â
He shrugged and brushed back his wind-thickened hair, shifting to face you better. A crumb-coated plate lay on the table and he still wore his leathers. He must have just arrived home.Â
âI flew as quick as I could. I wanted to be home.â With you.Â
Heâd gotten so used to the feeling of you sleeping across the hallway that heâd flown the last three days without sleep. It was worth it to see you again. From the looks of it, youâd not fared well in his absence either. Your eyes had that glassy, half-there sheen: a perfect mixture of exhaustion and mind-crackling clarity.Â
âAnd how were the Mortal Lands?â You tucked your knees beneath you and leaned against your hand, fighting the sleep that seemed to grapple for you now that Azriel was home. His wings were spread wide and you resisted the urge to close the last few inches between you and the talon that glimmered in the faelight like obsidian glass.
Youâd never been that far south. Youâd never had reason to. But Azriel flew far and wide. The Continent was now Morâs domain, but the secret goings of Prythian and the Mortal Lands belonged to him and him alone. The Spymaster of the Night Court. The Shadowsinger.
Azriel shook his head. âQuiet. Koschei hasnât touched them yet as far as I can tell, and the Mortal Queens donât care. They seem to think that they can handle Koschei because heâs agreed to bargains with them in the past.âÂ
You made a noise of disapproval. âLike they handled Hybern? The only reason theyâre still standing is because fae fought their war.âÂ
The scattering of human armies that had arrived on that battlefield had belonged to no crown. Theyâd either fought for the bloodlust or the money. You could respect them for that.Â
Azriel tipped his head to the side, following the curling of his shadows around his shoulders. âBut they are still standing. They donât know what we sacrificed to keep them safe. Thatâs the problem with humans. They forget too quickly and get complacentâÂ
âIt would seem we have the opposite problem. We canât help but remember everything,â you said, with no small amount of bitterness.Â
He wanted to keep you talking. He wanted your thoughts. Wanted to fall asleep to the sound of your voice after three weeks of silence. You werenât aware of it, but the bond had felt thin the further heâd traveled away from you. Like a tightrope stretched to its snapping point. Now that he was back, and you were here, his heart didnât feel like such a strenuous burden.
He smiled. âI think thatâs just you. I know plenty of fae who are forgetful and empty-minded.â He leaned back, stretching his wings out to the side, and winced. They were whipped raw and tender from the flight.Â
Without thinking you got up and moved to the fireplace, feeding wood to the flames until it crackled happily. There was a reason Cassian and Azriel loved to bath their wings in sunlight every chance they got. The heat helped the soreness and eased the windâs rough edge.Â
It also drove color into your cheeks and set your hair alight in a soft golden haze. You were a marvel. An angel with a halo to match and Azriel drank in the sight.Â
âLike who?â
âCassian.âÂ
You smirked and chucked the last of the wood into the flameâs gaping mouth.Â
Cass was far from empty-minded, but after decades of being feared as the Lord of Bloodshed he was grateful that people loved him enough to be just a little mean. He gave and received friendly blows like kisses on the cheek and smiled all the wider for it. To threaten his life was the same as saying I love you. It must be why the Mother had made Nesta his mate. She said I love you to him all hours of the day.Â
Azriel asked you what you were thinking, and when you told him he felt some of that pain slide off his shoulders like rain. He threw his head back and laughed until his chest started to hurt again and you thought about how rare that sound must be, and how much you loved it.Â
âHow are the others? Rhysand told me Feyreâs sister is down there along with your friends.âÂ
Azriel sobered up quickly and cleared his throat. âYes. Elain, Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa.â
His voice caught on two names: Elain and Lucien, and it didn't escape your notice. He sounded... nervous.
âAnd? Are they alright?â
He rolled his shoulders and looked out the window to the inky black sky. Vassa would be sleeping now in her human form, and if she was lucky, sheâd wake up in the morning still within the manorâs grey stone walls. Safe. Home.Â
He shook his head gravely. âTheyâre nothing short of terrified. Koschei has Vassa under a spell that would normally keep her tied to his lake. He let her go during the war against Hybern and heâs been allowing her to stay, but⊠everyoneâs just holding their breath and trying to prepare for the day heâll take her back.â
You shivered and wrapped one of the spare blankets around your shoulders. You couldnât imagine a life where every waking moment held the risk of being torn away from everything you held dear. The anticipation would have broken you more than the act itself.Â
âIâve heard of her. The firebird.â You murmured softly. You imagined a creature with glowing eyes, blue-red feathers streaking behind like ribbons set on fire. Azriel narrowed his eyes in confusion, and you explained, âAres House records all wartime information. I read the reports. Weâre very thorough.â
Azriel smiled. âI would expect nothing less.â
Silence passed in comfort, and you couldnât stop thinking about Vassa.
âDo you think theyâd be able to stop it if Koschei did make her go back?âÂ
âI donât know, Y/n.â And it was driving him mad to have Koschei hanging around like a forgotten word at the end of his tongue.
âI hate this,â you spat out, âThe not knowing. I hate it.âÂ
Azriel stared at you, hazel eyes silently begging you to continue. Shadows curled around your body, gently tugging you closer to him until your knees were a whisper away from touching.Â
You both sighed softly into the quiet air. Even the River House seemed to be at rest for the night. The usual background hum of cooking and cleaning were absent. It was just you and the Shadowsinger.Â
âHow are things going? With the book?âÂ
You slipped your hand through the slit in your robes and pulled it out. The gold chain rustled, glowing faintly from your touch.Â
âItâs going.â You shoved the book back out of sight. You couldnât even stand to look at it after the hours youâd spent agonizing over its pages. âRhysandâs been teaching me to contain my power better. I can actually touch some things now.âÂ
But not him. Still not him. And it was killing you.Â
Azriel gave another one of his small smiles. The ones that never failed to make the world a smaller, more manageable place. âThatâs good.â
âI just⊠this may sound silly but, Iâm not used to things being this hard. With my powers a lot of things just sort of came naturally for me. But now people are dying and Iâm just sitting here on this very expensive couch and I canât do the thing I was brought here to do and I⊠I donât like feeling this useless.âÂ
âHey, hey, hey,â Azriel murmured. He closed the space between you even more, shadows hovering over your face in silent permission. When you didnât pull away they brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over your face with a cool, silky touch.Â
Azriel was all calm darkness and you imagined that if you reached out to touch his chest your hand might just slip through him like he wasnât there at all. He seemed too good to be real.Â
But he was real, and he was sitting close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath fan your cheeks.Â
âYouâre not useless. Never believe that. Not even for a second. And even if you were useless, it wouldnât matter. Youâre worth more than the things you can do, remember?â
âI remember.â Your voice was quiet and thick.Â
You rested your cheek in the crook of your arm as you gazed at him wearily.Â
Azriel kept his hands out in the open, one hand reaching across the couch cushions before stopping mere inches away from yours. His shadows closed the remaining distance, slipping in between your fingers to mimic Azrielâs touch.Â
âDid you uncover any more secrets of mine while I was gone?â Azriel asked as your eyelids began to droop.Â
âI confess I forgot to look. But maybe now that youâre here, Iâll start again,â you mumbled into the encroaching dark.
âI look forward to it,â were the last words that filtered through your ears before you fell asleep to the untranslatable whispers of shadows.Â
Nyx bounded down the stairs, leaping the last six steps before landing soundlessly on the floor with a soft bend of his knees â just like Azriel had taught him. Feyre gave a proud nod before ruffling his ebony hair and Rhysand beamed.Â
Let me. Feyre adjusted the wrappings around Rhysâs chest that kept Velariaâs plump body swaddled and comfortable. Her pink lips opened in a yawn that had both mates sighing.Â
âUncle Az!â Nyx raced forward towards the sitting room and then froze, mouth opened in a surprised oh.
Azriel slept like the dead on the floor, chest rising and falling with the beat of his gentle breath. You lay stretched out on the couch, one arm propped beneath your head and the other dangling over your waist and off the cushions. Your fingers swayed an inch above Azrielâs chest, shadows swimming over his torso and creeping up your arms so that even in sleep you were connected to one another.Â
Feyre gasped softly at the picture. The sunlight blanketing the both of you in peach fuzz. The faint uptick of Azrielâs lips and the smoothness of his brow. The way you looked like you were bleeding into him. The black of his shadows and your robes.Â
Rhysand rubbed Nyxâs shoulder and kissed Feyreâs cheek.
Let them sleep, Nyx. Weâll get breakfast at Huthâs today.
Nyx let his parents lead him towards the door without protest. Heâd never seen Uncle Az sleep so soundly in his life.Â
<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->
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Author's Note:
Yeah... this slow burn is burning... but I just love it so much and I love writing all the sweet little moments they have and their conversations with one another and I hope you're enjoying it as well.
#azriel x reader#azriel x reader slowburn#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#everyone deserves a person who'll help them relax enough to fall asleep#late night conversations and barely there touches and longing and asdfbaefnaks#AZRIEL FREAKING MADE HER NEW ROBES SO SHE WOULD FEEL MORE COMFORTABLE#He's trying to grow and do right by his exes so he will feel more worthy of Y/n and I just ugh#i'm giving him Mr. Darcy energy I don't give a shit
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Jace: Your grace. Lady Jeyne Arryn has pladged her support in exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale.
Rhaenyra: And what about Lord Stark?
Jace: Tall, handsome and dreamy!
Jace: Wait, I meanâŠ
Jace: Lord Cretan Stark has promised 2000 menâŠ
Rhaenyra: Oh, please! Tell me more!
#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd spoilers#jacaerys velaryon#cregan stark#jace x reader#jacegan#I mean she is that kind of mom#this conversation takes place in AU in which Aemon kindnaped Lucerys to make him his wife xD#random thoughts
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Can I request a part 2 for when the guys leave some of their stuff in the guest room? Can it be with Azul, Jamil, and jade please? Thank you!
While cleaning the Ramshackle guest room, the prefect occasionally finds items that remind them of their guests. Sometimes that is because those items actually belong to them and need to be returned, other times it's just a happy coincidence. Either way, the item needs to be delivered, might as well invite them over again? Or just chase them down, whatever is most convenient.
notes: they/them used for Yuu, I was a bit surprised to get this request! In a nice way~ No warnings for this one, just pure fluff. The first one can be found here and more fic can be found on the Masterlist.
Antique Coin
Azul Ashengrotto is a well put together young man. His suits are pressed, his shoes are neatly polished, his rooms are always orderly and without dust.
Which is why he notes immediately when something is even mildly out of place, and completely falls apart once he's in the privacy of his own room. He knew he never should have paid attention to that stupid article Floyd had shared in their group chat, coins being symbols of good luck wouldn't make him relatable to anybody and now he's missing one of his best coins! How stupid could he have been to think that-
"Hello, this is Azul speaking." He snatches up his phone without even checking the caller ID and immediately begins sweating when he hears your familiar breathing (he swears he's not a creep, really! He's just noticed that whenever you speak on the phone, not that you do that often really just when he can work up the nerve and hey this is technically the first time you've called him! Progress he's making progre-)
"Hey there, you got a moment?" Azul can feel the heavy sweat drop on his forehead. He's done enough research to know conversation starters like this are never good.
"I'm a bit busy right now." He tries to lean casually against his desk and glares at the book that has the audacity to fall off his desk and startle you. "Is this terribly important or can it wait?"
You, laugh? Is it nervous, or is it affectionate? Does even know what that sort of laughter would sound, is it bad that he finds your voice terribly beautiful even if it's mocking, even if it's- "Um sorry, but are you missing a coin?"
"A... coin?"
"Yes! I remember you saying you collect them and this one I found in my guest room smelled a bit like the ocean so. Yeah. I thought it might be yours." He smiles.
"My dear, you know I'm just going to say 'yes' and take it from you." You laugh again, how silly that last one was nerves. This one is affection, his hearts are fit to burst with it so it must be. "I'll be there in thirty minutes. If thatâs acceptable?"
"Of course! I'll be here." Perhaps that article wasn't completely wrong after all.
Red Feather Accessory
There are few things Jamil hates more than being sick. Assassins don't have sick days, or maybe they do. Maybe they have better benefits than he does. Maybe he'd make a really good assassin in some alternate universie like that one video game series from your world you told him about once, the one with the emblems and gangrene? He doesn't remember much of the conversation Kalim tricked him into having by saying he wanted to hang out in your guest room yesterday.
"But you were so happy to see them!"
Because of course, that had been Kalim's justification. And sure, he probably had been really happy to see you. He'd been running quite the fever and he can't imagine you made that temperature any better.
"Good morning, prefect." He manages it smoothly, you look properly embarrassed to see him this early, your eyes flicker to his hair and linger just a moment longer than normal. "Sleep well?"
"Mostly." You try to focus on his face, but his hair is clearly distracting. Your eyes keep darting back to it, Jamil expected to be embarrassed, but this is oddly empowering. "Is there a reason you're here so early?"
"I think you know why I'm here." You don't, he can tell that much from how you swallow. "Can I come in?"
"Sure?" You move just the bit and Jamil let's himself inside, the doors in Ramshackle always look so damn similar. Just how do you find your way around in here? "Um, Jamil?"
"Yes?"
"Do you know why you're here?" You look lovely
"Of course." He laughs. "I left a hair accessory here yesterday when Kalim decided to visit." How odd, normally you'd flinch if he worded it like that. Instead you just look sort of blurry.
"I see." You're close now, but he can't see you through this weird fog that's filling your hallways. You push back his headband and press the back of your plam to his forehead. "Oof. Well that's not good." Your arm encircles his shoulders and boosts him back up to his feet. He supposes he can afford to lean towards you, there's enough plausible deniabilty in what he's said already to keep his feelings to himself.
"C'mon." You do your best to boost him and march back towards the door. Jamil is smiling similar to how he does when he gets one over on Azul, but you doubt he's planned this. He's so feverish that his skin has gotten clammy. "I already took your hair pin back to Scarabia, ok? Let's get you back to bed."
"That's so kind of you." His hoarse voice tries to purr. "Perhaps you'd like to stay for breakfast?" Thank the seven Grim isn't awake yet. You'd never hear the end of this from either of them.
Encyclopedia of Tea
Books are expensive, you can count on one hand the ones you own unrelated to your school work scattered around your dorm. They are precious to you, signs of your life in a world you don't belong in. A way to tell something about you if someone decided to look at the little shelf you had finally put up in your guest room.
And someone had, because you know damn well this book isn't yours, the process of returning it is guaranteed to be a headache but the longer you hesitate the more ammunition the book's rightful owner will have to accuse you of stealing it. Assuming that's what Jade's goal was anyway, it seemed like something he would find funny to do. You could picture him slipping the book onto your shelf with that calm look on his face.
Jade's face isn't what you would call wildly expressive. He smiles pleasantly most of the time, seldom do you see him frown. Even now when his forehead is knit in concern there's nothing really resembling the scowl you saw during Azulâs overblot.
"Hello Jade, forgotten something?" You hold the book up and shake it slightly. His eyes widen, and his smile drops into something more nuteral. This expression is adorable, it stays as Jade speaks, allowing you to admire it longer
"Oh?" He blinks, Jade wakes easily enough so your own expression flickers to concern at how slow he seems for just long enough to give him back his confidence. "It seems the simplest solution was correct. Thank you, prefect." He reaches for the book, hands lingering near yours as his eyes focus on the title of the book. He is painfully slow in taking it back.
"Do you really take this everywhere with you?" Your hand involuntarily flexes as you retreat back into your personal space. Sometimes you wish you could read minds, it would make this heavy feeling in your heart more explainable. Let you notice the way Jade's teeth display for you and not hide inside your own insecurities, how he wishes you would keep your eyes on him.
"Of course, it helps to have some light reading on hand when things get slow." He wishes you had kept the book long enough for it to retain your scent or some of your warmth. Perhaps now that he's set this precedent, he can fake it. Leave his jacket or his scarf? But no, that wouldn't be believable. He's Jade Leech, the Vice Warden of Octavinelle. You would never believe the real reason the book ended up where it did. His dreams are his to dwell in alone.
"Perhaps as thanks I could prepare one of my favorites for you? To clear the debt so to speak." For now.
#<3 asks#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jamil viper x reader#jade leech x reader#i know we had a conversation a bit ago about jade doing research by watching classic rom coms but as i have been blowing upon my bubble pipe#you know whomst would actually do that?#azul. azul would do that. he has every line in titanic memorized so he can sell more shit to people but that's just cope on his part
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