#this was a sketch and it was supposed to stay a sketch but | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muxshwriting · 2 days ago

Text

a world of dreams

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!reader

summary: Feyd’s wife was always branded as a dreamer, content to spend a day in her books. but her husband would always entertain her dreams, especially when they save her life /or/ basically the request || warnings: violence, haters gonna hate, death, blood || word count: 1658 || masterlist

REQUEST: I’ve always wondered how Feyd Rautha would handle having a wife like Helaena who speaks in riddles and flinches at loud noises and violence. Maybe an Atreides daughter they’re supposed to create the Kwisatz Haderach with? In a Universe where Jessica stayed loyal to the bene Gesserit. I’d love to know how someone like Feyd would react to her telling him he’s scared the way Helaena does to Aegon in hotd. Maybe he’d have very little patience for her but I could also see him bonding with someone like that. Also I think that someone with Helaena’s ability to retreat inside her own mind would be able to survive on Giedi Prime.

Your fate had been set in stone since your very conception, meant to mend the relationship between two houses that had been at war for centuries and bring forward the greatest mind the universe had ever seen. Jessica had trained you in the Bene Gesserit way since you were young, always believing that your bloodline would be famed for generations after.

But you didn’t want to be famed or revered or feared. You wanted nothing more than to be loved, completely loved. When you learned of your betrothed, there was a sadness that overtook you, an accepting that your husband may never truly love you. He was famed for his cruelty, his majesty in the arena and his fighting prowess. He was not known for his ventless and his love, no Harkonnen ever had been.

The first time you met eyes with your future husband, there was a silent understanding that passed between you two. He was a young boy, barely older than you and yet he looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Perhaps there could be a connection between you two, despite your afflictions.

Your father called it dreaming, ignoring whatever technical explanation your mother held. There were things you saw that no sane man could explain and yet they were always true. They came to you in the silent moments of the day, when you read or sketched. You had loved it growing up, seeing glimpses of things yet to come but as you grew, they only ever turned darker.

The diplomatic visit to Geidi Prime was short and yet long enough for you to spend a few hours alone with Feyd. There was an itching under your skin from being on the planet, a discomfort that lingered as you pushed down any dreams that threatened to reveal themselves.

You sat across from Feyd, your hands twisting in your lap.

“What do you like to do?” His voice was soft, always soft when he was with you but the sterness returned the moment someone else entered the room.

You wondered if someone had shared your condition with him. “I read. I draw.” Around him, you didn't feel the necessity to boast of your suitable talents your parents had raised you on. The itching had ceased, even if it was just for a moment. “You?”

“I fight- I'm good at fighting.” He corrected himself. For a moment it seemed like he was done talking, but then he met your gaze and continued. “I don't have much to time to do things I like.”

“Perhaps when we are wed, you will have time to explore things you enjoy.” You meant nothing by it, only that you hoped your husband could find a hobby not controlled or pushed onto him by his Uncle.

Feyd smiled in response and you got the distinct feeling that everything would be alright if you married him. But you could not marry him without guilt unless you told him yourself what you were.

“I dream.” You say, unsure of how to tell him.

Feyd was slightly amused, “You dream? I’m sure many do.”

“No.” You quickly reply. “I see things, visions almost. They are never truly clear, only glimpses of the future.”

“Ah.”

“I didn’t want you to marry me if you didn’t know. I only hope you understand and do not judge me for something beyond my control.”

Feyd’s expression softened as he took stock of the panicked breaking out of your being. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

The hopefulness in your eyes glistened as you stood, offering Feyd a small bow before leaving the room and returning to your mother and father.

When your day of union arrived, it was a rather happy occasion. Your family smiled as you stayed by Feyd’s side, your hand twisted with his. There was a soft and genuine look of almost-love everytime he looked at you. All that look needed was time to evolve into true love that would pull him under without hesitation. Feyd would let himself be taken by everything you are and he would even beg for it. Your mother and father could see the affection you already shared and knew nothing would come between you.

The Baron, on the other hand, had indifference covering his face all day. This was not a joyous occasion, but a simple ceremony that had to be done in order to end the conflict he wanted to continue. However, this union would bring him more power than war would, and he would just have to accept that.

Feyd reached for two glasses and passed one to you, raising his in a toast. “To the rest of our lives?”

“To the rest of our lives.” You agreed, clinking your glass with his and taking a drink.

Once you had placed your glass back down, Feyd leant forward to capture your lips, letting his heart float like only you could make him. Your marriage was nothing more than picturesque. There was finally peace felt throughout the universe and yet there were some who were still not happy.

The Emperor, despite suggesting the match to weaken the houses and cause friction, watched as they came together in love and only grew stronger. The Atreides were a threat to his reign long before, but with the Harkonnens now as allies, there was nothing that could stop them if they desired his throne.

The final straw came when news of an heir flowed throughout the Imperium. The Atreides and Harkonnens would soon have an heir that would bind them with blood, for eternity.

Your husband had been even more protective of you since the beginning of your pregnancy, barely wanting to leave you alone. The dreams had shown you your daughter, a beautiful girl that was the mix of both you and Feyd. But there was one persistent dream that shook you to your core.

“Feyd?”

“Yes my love?” The nickname had never stopped, ever since the wedding.

“I'm afriad.”

Feyd's face flashed with confusion for a moment as his eyes darted around the room. “What are you afraid of my love? Our families are united, no one would dare stand against Harkonnens and Atreides united. The babe is well, she is growing stronger by the day.”

“There are snakes crawling through the city.” Your voice is a whisper, trembling with every word. You weren’t really aware of what your words meant, only repeating what your mind brought forward.

Feyd smiled at his wife’s words. “There are no snakes on Geidi Prime, my love. They cannot survive here.” He takes a seat next to you, pulling you closer to him as if to protect you.

“They will worm their way to our palace.”

“Then I will double our guard and order lockdown at the slightest threat.” He said it with such conviction that you were almost convinced.

“But-“

“What have I said?” Feyd asked you. “I would never let anything hurt you or our children. There is nothing that can get into our palace unless I will it.”

You let the dream sit in the back of your mind, pushing it away from thought but not forgetting. And it did you well not to forget when you couldn’t sleep one night and a echoing crash startled you. No one else awoke and you took the risk to glance outside your room, where your guards stood to attention.

“Is everything alright Na-Baroness?”

You forced a smile. “All is fine. Just… stay alert.” With nothing else to say, you turn and return to your bed.

Feyd was not disturbed but you found yourself reaching under his pillow to touch the knife he always kept there. It was a reassuring reminder that if your dream came true tonight, there was something Feyd could do. You lay, the blank ceiling taunting you and your ears hearing every footstep and breath people made.

It was only as you had begun drifting back to sleep that a muffled shout came from the hallway and your heart stuttered. You reached over, shaking Feyd awake as he quickly looked around before settling his eyes on your own frantic ones.

“What’s going on?”

Your breath trembled once more. “The snakes are here.”

At your words, Feyd reached for the knife and practically jumped out of bed, directing you to the corner of the room furthest from the door, furthest from harm. The thump of a body was heard and Feyd tightened his grip, activating his shield.

Two men, Imperial soldiers burst through the door and you caught sight of the bodies of two others as well as your guards. Terror gripped you, a hatred of blood instilled in you since you were a young girl. Your hand flew to your mouth as you shrunk into the corner even more, wishing the floor would swallow you up.

Feyd leapt forward, his body practised in fighting people at a moments notice. His knife carved flesh, splattering blood over the room. A small scream escaped your lips as the bodies crashed to the floor and your husband stood in the centre of your room, blood dripping from the knife still in his hand.

He turned to face you, throwing the knife across the room and rushing towards you. You practically threw yourself into his arms and he squeezed you close to his chest and rested his head on yours.

“You’re okay.” He said, letting you feel his steady heartbeat against your rapid one. “The snakes are gone.”

“The snakes-?”

“They’re gone. We’re okay.” He pulled away just enough to take your hand and pull it down to your stomach. “She’s okay, you’re okay. We are all okay. No one can hurt you.”

You let your panic settle and relax into his arms. Everyone’s alive. You can manage whatever comes next, you can let the snakes try but they will never be able to bite you.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

#feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd-rautha harkonnen #dune #dune x reader #dune part two #dune part 2 #muxsh #muxshwriting

114 notes · View notes

nemo-writes · 1 day ago

Text

𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚜 ; 𝚜𝚒𝚡 - 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎

➝ steve harrington + eddie munson x loser-club!reader

➝ synopsis; a lighthearted arcade trip takes a strange turn, leaving behind a lingering unease. as new bonds form and tensions simmer, the quiet hum of hawkins hints at deeper mysteries waiting to surface.

⚠️ warnings; none

➝ series masterlist, moodboard

➝ previous chapter ; next chapter

Eddie was in a mood.

As he drove you home—a habit that had started to feel suspiciously routine—he drummed his ringed fingers against the steering wheel, his brows furrowed and lips pursed in what could only be described as a full-on pout.

“Can’t believe you invited Harrington to The Hideout,” he muttered for the third time since leaving the tight and noisy bar.

You sighed, leaning your head against the window and watching the dark streets of Hawkins blur by. “I didn’t invite him. I just told him he should drop by if he wanted. Big difference.”

“Same thing,” Eddie huffed, gripping the wheel tighter. “The Hideout supposed to be for the misunderstood, the black sheep, the... the different, not Hawkins’ ex-royalty!”

You rolled your eyes. “You're such a baby.”

Eddie ignored your comment, instead glaring at the road like it had personally offended him. “You even missed the best set we’ve ever done because you were too busy playing babysitter.”

You sighed. “I was taking my break, Eddie. And—”

“Oh, sure, yeah” His tone dripped with mockery as he glanced at you again. “Likely excuse. You’ve got no idea how hard I worked on that setlist. I poured my soul into it, and you didn’t even care to stay!”

As the van pulled into the trailer park, he slowed to a stop near your trailer but didn’t put it in park. Instead, he turned to you, his pout intensifying. “It’s fine, though. Really. Who needs support from their friends? Not me.”

Fed up with his theatrics, you unbuckled your seatbelt and opened the door. “Stay here,” you said sternly, pointing a finger at him as you climbed out.

Eddie blinked, surprised by the sudden command. “What—wait, what are you—”

You didn’t answer, instead stomping up to your trailer, yanking the door open, and disappearing inside.

Eddie leaned out the van window, calling after you. “If you’re getting a granola bar, you’d better grab one for me!”

Ignoring him, you rummaged through your things until you found what you were looking for: your sketchbook. Your stomach churned with a mix of determination and embarrassment as you flipped to the right pages and headed back outside.

Eddie was still hanging halfway out of the van window when you approached, your sketchbook clutched tightly in your hands.

“Here,” you said, shoving it toward him.

He took the sketchbook, raising an eyebrow at you before flipping it open. The first few drawings were a mix of landscapes and fantasy-like creatures—dragons, castles, armoured knights. His eyes lit up immediately, his earlier grumpiness melting away.

“This is...” He paused, flipping through more pages. “Holy shit, this is good.”

You shifted on your feet, crossing your arms tightly over your chest “Keep flipping.”

When he turned to the last page, he froze. There, in a mix of soft pencil strokes and intricate detail, was a drawing of him—clad in long robes, a staff in hand, and wild curls framing his face. You’d tried to capture him as a wizard, complete with rings glinting on his fingers and a mischievous grin that felt unmistakably Eddie.

For a moment, he didn’t move. His mouth hung open slightly as he stared at the sketch, his eyes wide.

Then he squealed.

Not a small, subtle squeak, but a full-blown, high-pitched squeal that startled you so much you took a step back.

Before you could react, Eddie jumped out of the van, still clutching the sketchbook. “Are you kidding me?!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking with excitement. “This is the most metal thing I’ve ever seen!”

You flushed, taking a step back as he advanced on you, practically vibrating with energy. “It’s not a big deal,” you muttered. “I was just messing around—”

But Eddie cut you off by wrapping you in a sudden, tight hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around in a blur of wild curls and laughter.

“You made me a wizard!” he yelled, his voice gleeful. “I’m a goddamn wizard!”

“Eddie—put me down!” you yelped, smacking his shoulder as your feet dangled in the air.

He finally set you down, clutching your sketchbook to his chest like it was his most prized possession. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you, his earlier grumpiness completely forgotten.

“You’re incredible,” he said earnestly, his grin so wide it almost hurt to look at.

You groaned, hiding your burning face in your hands. “Don’t make it weird, Eddie.”

“Too late!” he shot back, holding the sketchbook up like a trophy.

“Eddie,” you warned, but the laugh in your voice betrayed your amusement.

He turned toward the van, sketchbook clutched tightly to his chest like a dragon with its hoard. "This is going in a frame!" he declared, his grin wide and gleeful. "I’m telling everyone—"

“Not so fast,” you interrupted, grabbing the back of his jacket like you were wrangling an overexcited child.

He stumbled to a halt, spinning to face you with wide, confused eyes. “What? What’s wrong?”

You snatched the sketchbook out of his hands, flipping it open while he squawked in protest. “Hey! That’s my treasure!”

Ignoring him, you carefully tore the pages with the fantasy drawings out of the sketchbook. Your movements were precise, making sure not to damage them as you handed the loose pages back to him.

“Here,” you said, thrusting the stack into his hands. “Take these. But the sketchbook stays with me.”

Eddie blinked down at the drawings, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Then his face lit up all over again, his earlier distress forgotten. “You’re the best,” he said, grasping the pages to his chest like they were the Holy Grail.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, tucking your sketchbook safely under your arm. “Just don’t get carried away.”

He beamed at you, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “No promises!”

You watched as he climbed back into the van, still cradling the drawings like priceless artefacts. Before he drove off, he leaned out the window, waving the pages in the air.

“Dungeon Master Eddie lives on, thanks to you!” he shouted dramatically.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as he disappeared down the path. Eddie Munson was exhausting—but in moments like this, it was hard to stay mad at him.

Wednesday 5, March 1986, Hawkins, Indiana

The next morning, you woke up later than usual. The faint sunlight filtered through the cracks in your blinds, painting warm streaks across the walls of your cramped trailer. Stretching lazily, you pulled yourself out of bed and shuffled into the tiny kitchenette to make your favourite morning drink.

Still in what you slept in—an old, oversized shirt and some ratty old pyjama pants—you stepped outside with your cup, savouring the quiet of the morning. The cool air was refreshing, and you raised the mug to your lips, ready for your first sip—

But then you spotted Max.

She was getting out of her own trailer, backpack slung over one shoulder, her skateboard under the other arm. The way she glanced around made it clear she wasn’t heading to school.

You raised your cup and called out, “Skipping?”

Max jumped, her head whipping toward you, her cheeks instantly flushing red.

“Shhh!” she hissed, holding a finger to her lips. “Be quiet!”

You arched an eyebrow, lowering your cup as you leaned against the side of your trailer. “Why? You worried someone’s gonna report you to the truancy police?”

Max scowled, shifting her backpack nervously. “I don’t need everyone in this place knowing my business, okay?”

You smirked, watching her with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Fair enough. So, where are you sneaking off to, then? Doesn’t look like school.”

Her blush deepened, and she crossed her arms defensively. “None of your business.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “Relax, I’m not gonna narc on you.”

She seemed to consider this for a moment, her shoulders relaxing slightly, though she still eyed you warily. “You better not,” she muttered.

“Promise,” you said with a faint grin, holding up your mug like a toast. “Scout’s honour.”

Max rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she adjusted her backpack. “Whatever.”

You watched her for a moment, the guarded way she clutched her skateboard and backpack, like she was bracing herself for something. There was something familiar about it, something that struck a chord deep inside you. You weren’t one to push, but this time, you couldn’t help it.

“Hey, Max,” you called, stopping her in her tracks again.

She turned back, her expression wary. “What now?”

You took another sip of your drink, tilting your head thoughtfully. “Wanna go to the arcade?”

Max blinked, caught completely off guard. “The arcade?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging casually. “I’m buying. Could use some competition. Plus, I still haven’t decided if beating your score was beginner’s luck or actual skill.”

Her cheeks flushed again, though this time it was more from indignation than embarrassment. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

She hesitated, her eyes darting to the ground as she chewed on her bottom lip. “Aren’t you, like... busy or something?”

You snorted, holding up your mug. “In case you haven��t noticed, this is about the most productive thing I’ve done all morning. I’ve got time.”

Max shifted her weight, clearly debating whether to take you up on the offer. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “Okay, fine. But only if you don’t get all weird about it.”

“Weird?” you echoed, smirking. “Define weird.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Noted,” you said, draining the rest of your drink before setting the mug on the railing of your trailer steps. “Give me five minutes to change, and we’ll go.”

Max stared at you, still slightly suspicious but also visibly curious. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied as you stepped back inside your trailer. “Be ready when I’m done!”

True to your word, five minutes later, you emerged in something more presentable, grabbing your keys and wallet as Max waited awkwardly by your trailer.

“Let’s go,” you said, motioning for her to follow as you started toward the arcade.

She fell into step beside you, her usual frown softening just a little. “You’re really treating me?”

You nodded, glancing at her out of the corner of your eye. “Yup. But if you lose to me, you’re never living it down.”

Max snorted, finally cracking a small, genuine smile. “You wish.”

The walk to the arcade was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Max eventually got into her skateboard, rolling slowly along beside you, her wheels crunching softly against the uneven sidewalk. You kept your gaze forward, hands in your pockets, perfectly content with the silence.

Max, on the other hand, kept sneaking glances at you, clearly trying to figure out why you weren’t trying to fill the quiet with small talk or questions. Most adults—or anyone older than her, really—always felt the need to talk. But you didn’t.

She studied your relaxed expression, her brow furrowing slightly, like she couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. Eventually, she stopped looking and just rolled along beside you, the corners of her mouth twitching upward as if in approval.

When you finally reached the arcade, the faint hum of machines and game soundtracks spilled out from inside.

“Ready to lose?” Max asked, her voice laced with competitive fire.

You smirked, pushing open the door and stepping aside to let her in first. “Let’s see if you’re still as good as you think you are.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her grin as she stepped inside, immediately making a beeline for her favourite machine.

For the next hour, the two of you threw yourselves into game after game. Max dominated most rounds with her lightning-quick reflexes and uncanny ability to memorise patterns, but you managed to sneak in a few wins here and there, much to her annoyance—and your smug satisfaction.

“You’re cheating,” she accused after one particularly close round, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Setting traps isn’t cheating,” you said with a shrug, leaning against the machine as she selected the next game. “It's strategy. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

She scoffed, but her grin widened as she hopped back into the game, determined to win.

As the games went on, you noticed the tension in her posture ease. Her frown had all but disappeared, replaced by small, fleeting smiles, and her laughter—rare and genuine—came more freely now.

But you didn’t comment on it. The last thing Max needed was someone pointing out her improved mood like it was a prize to be celebrated. You let her be, letting the games and the competition speak for themselves.

After a particularly close game where Max won by a narrow margin, she leaned casually on the machine, looking up at you with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction.

“Where’d you learn to play?” she asked, her tone light but genuinely interested.

The question caught you off guard. Something about the simplicity of it—it shouldn’t have been difficult to answer, but it was.

“Back home,” you started, the words feeling hollow the moment they left your mouth. You frowned slightly, the edges of your memories blurring as you tried to focus. “I... I think I used to play with some friends.”

“You think?” Max asked, her brow furrowing as she studied your expression.

You straightened, your hands tightening slightly on the edge of the machine. “Yeah, I think,” you said, frustration creeping into your tone. “I just... I don’t remember exactly.”

Max tilted her head, her gaze sharpening as she watched you. “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You didn’t answer, your chest tightening as you tried and failed to piece together the details. You knew you’d played. You remembered the laughter and cursing, the feeling of the buttons beneath your fingers, but the names and places—it was all just out of reach.

Before you could say more, a loud banging sound broke through your thoughts.

Your head snapped to the left, where the exit door stood. The sound came again, sharp and persistent, like someone pounding their fists against the metal.

Each knock reverberated through you. It wasn’t just loud—it was desperate, frantic, as if whoever was on the other side was trying to push their way in.

“Hello?” you called out instinctively, stepping back from the machine.

Max looked at you, confused. “What are you talking about?”

The banging grew louder, more erratic, and you couldn’t look away. Your heart pounded in your chest as the sound filled the arcade, drowning out everything else.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

The silence that followed was deafening, but your head felt like it was swimming. The metallic taste of blood hit your tongue, and you instinctively reached up to your nose, feeling the warm, sticky trickle.

“Hey!” Max’s voice broke through the fog, sharp and concerned. She stepped in front of you and as she grabbed your arm, as if to steady you. “Are you okay?”

You blinked at her, trying to ground yourself.

“You’re bleeding,” she said, pointing at your nose, her tone carefully neutral.

You touched your face again, this time pulling your hand away to see the blood on your fingers. “It’s fine,” you muttered, but your voice sounded distant, even to yourself.

“Fine? Seriously?” Max shot back, her scepticism cutting through the haze in your mind.

For a moment, it looked like she might say something else, something important, but she clamped her mouth shut. Instead, she dug into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled tissue.

“Here,” she said, handing it to you.

When you didn’t take it right away, she rolled her eyes and stepped closer, using the tissue to gently wipe at the blood trailing down your face.

“Hold still,” she muttered, her touch surprisingly careful.

You let her clean you up, too dazed to protest. When she was done, she handed you the tissue.

“What were you even looking at?” she asked finally, her voice quieter now.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to shake it off. “Nothing,” you said quickly, stepping away from the machine.

Max frowned, her concern not fading. “You should sit down or something. You don’t look too great.”

You nodded numbly, letting her guide you to one of the benches near the corner of the arcade. As you sat down, wiping at your nose with the tissue, your thoughts raced.

The banging. The desperation. It was like a distant echo of something familiar—a dream perhaps.

Max sat heavily next to you. “Seriously, what happened back there?” she asked, her voice softer now.

You shook your head, trying to muster a small smile. “Probably just tired,” you said, though the unease curling in your chest told a different story. Max didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press further. For that, you were grateful.

Deciding you’d had enough of the arcade—and enough strange occurrences for one day—you both opted to leave. Your stomach rumbled faintly, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten much yet, and grabbing something to eat felt like a good plan.

As you stepped outside, the bright midday sun momentarily blinded you. Blinking against the glare, you spotted a familiar car pulling into the parking lot. None other than Steve and Robin climbed out, both dressed in the unmistakable green vests of Family Video.

Robin was the first to spot you, her face lighting up as she waved enthusiastically. “Hey! It’s my favourite bartender!” she called out, striding across the parking lot toward you with Steve trailing behind, his expression strangely less than thrilled.

“Hey, Robin,” you said, giving her a small wave as she stopped in front of you.

Steve, however, wasn’t looking at you—his eyes had zeroed in on Max, who was still standing nearby with her skateboard.

“Max,” Steve said, his tone sharp and familiar.

You look between the two. Ah, so they knew each other.

Max froze mid-motion, her mood souring instantly. “What now?”

“What do you mean, ‘what now’?” he shot back, crossing his arms. “You’re supposed to be in school. You know, that place where kids go during the day?”

Max scowled, her earlier guardedness slamming back into place. “Whatever, it’s not like you’re my dad.”

“No, but I care!” he said, throwing his arms up.

Max huffed, clearly done with the conversation. She turned to you, her lips pressed into a tight line. “Thanks for the games,” she muttered, giving you a quick wave before hopping onto her skateboard.

You watched her push off down the sidewalk, her posture stiff and her movements clipped.

Robin sighed loudly, throwing Steve a pointed look as she crossed her arms. “Nice going, Dad,” she said sarcastically.

You raised an eyebrow at him, silently echoing her sentiment.

“What?” Steve exclaimed, crossing his arms defensively. “She should be in school!”

Robin groaned, shaking her head. “You’ve got the subtlety of a sledgehammer, Harrington.”

Steve turned to you for backup, his brows furrowing. “Come on, back me up here. She shouldn’t be skipping school, right?”

You gave him a flat look, taking a step past him. “Not my circus, not my monkeys,” you said dryly, though you couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at your lips.

Robin snorted, clearly enjoying your response, and Steve let out an exaggerated groan.

“Fine, whatever,” he muttered, adjusting his vest. “You two are impossible.”

Robin patted his arm with mock sympathy before turning back to you. “You sticking around, or do you have a shift later?”

“I’ve got work tonight,” you said, glancing down the street where Max had disappeared. “I was just about to grab something to eat first.”

“Well, don’t let Captain Buzzkill here ruin your day,” Robin said, shooting a playful glare at Steve. “Catch you around?”

“Sure,” you replied with a small smile, shoving your hands into your pockets.

Robin waved cheerfully as she headed toward the video store, while Steve lingered for a moment longer, still looking vaguely disgruntled. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing in the direction Max had disappeared on her skateboard.

“She hasn’t been doing great lately,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you.

You paused, studying his face. His exasperation was gone, replaced by genuine concern.

“Max, I mean,” he continued, shoving his hands into his vest pockets. “It’s been rough for her, you know? And she’s not exactly the type to let anyone in, even when she really should.”

You nodded, not sure what to say. It wasn’t like Max had poured her heart out to you either, but you’d noticed her walls, her guardedness.

Steve glanced at you, his brows furrowed slightly. “So... thanks. For whatever you did to make her, I don’t know, laugh or smile or whatever. It helps.”

“Wasn’t much,” you said, shrugging. “We just played some games.”

“Still,” he said, his voice almost begrudging. “She seemed happy when I saw her with you. So, yeah. Thanks.”

For a moment, the air between you was quiet. Steve looked thoughtful, and then, as if realising he’d let himself be too earnest, he cleared his throat and straightened up.

“Anyway,” he said, his tone a little too casual now, “I’d better get inside before Robin starts rearranging the horror section again.”

You smirked faintly, watching him retreat toward the store. “See you around, Steve.”

He gave you a small wave over his shoulder before stepping inside, leaving you alone on the sidewalk. His words stayed with you, though, as you continued on your way, your thoughts swirling with questions about Max, her walls, and the glimpses of vulnerability you’d seen in both her and Steve.

divider credit