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thesirencove · 2 months ago

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ NEAL CAFFREY X FEM!READER & SPENCER REID X EX!READER -- THE FLIP SIDE OF ILLICIT AFFAIRS

hi y'all ! my apologies for the wait on this one . this semester came in and really pulled the rug out from under me . my classes were much harder than expected (damn you gen chem 2 & microecon) and i got hit with a wave of writer's block on top of it :') BUT i'm getting my degree so yay to that !! apologies if any of the characters seem out of character (especially spencer lol) , i kinda let my creative liberty go wild with this one .

to anon , i am so sorry for the long wait on this one . i hope that the longer word count and care i put into this fic to make it perfect will make up for it 💓

my requests at this moment are closed as i get to other requests and finish up finals . i'll make an announcement when they're open again , which will hopefully be soon as i'm starting to see the light at the end of the cave again :) i hope you've all been doing well , and enjoy !

neal caffrey x fem!reader (romantic) ; spencer reid x ex!reader

summary: when someone from the past enters her life again , neal is the rock she needs as she relives the time when everything came crashing down years ago . based on this request !

warnings: angst, mentions of heartbreak, mentions of a rocky relationship, mentions of cheating, probably ooc spencer reid!!!!!, asshole spencer, mentions of serial killers & murder (and in general what the bau does), death (off-page), hotch is like a dad to y/n, maybe ooc hotch??, as minimal as possible use of y/n in the fic, probably also ooc aaron hotcher, lowkey no closure?? reader is honestly vibing but reid is not lol, spencer is a dick

word count: 10.8k

winters in new york were always brutal. snow was piled across the streets. snowflakes floated down, sticking to her cheeks and eyelashes. her lips were blue and cracked from how cold and drying the weather was. the roads were so icy it was a miracle if she hadn’t fallen on her ass at least once on her way to the office.

there was a lingering sense of coldness that stayed with her, even once safely inside the FBI building. the heat radiating from the HVAC system wasn’t fast or warm enough to make anyone feel like they’d completely escaped the freezing weather outdoors. slipping into the elevator, she pressed the button for the 19th floor, bouncing on the balls of her feet, hoping the movement would help get some feeling back into her toes. the elevator came to a stop, followed by a ding as the doors creaked open. she walked out, turning towards the glass doors that separated the white collar office from the elevators. she smiled through them at her friend, diana, who was sitting on the further end of the room. pushing the doors open, she walked towards her desk as she took the long, insulated puffer jacket off her shoulders, keeping her fleece trench coat on for the time being.

looking up towards peter’s office, she noticed neal standing there, talking to peter. there was a case file in peter’s hand, and though neal had his back turned towards her, his shoulders slightly tense. he was good at hiding his tells, but after knowing him for the past three years and dating him for two, she picked up on little things like that. her eyebrows furrowed, wondering what was happening in that office.

it wasn’t long before neal exited the office, his shoulders rigid. peter sighed, calling diana over. neal stalked towards y/n, a smile adorning his face despite the clear frustration he held within him.

“hey, love, everything okay?” she asked, her left hand moving to grab onto his arm and rub it soothingly.

“yeah, come get coffee with me at the cart?” he looked at the elevators, eyeing them in a way that made her wonder on what he was waiting to hop out of those doors.

usually, she’d complain about not wanting to go outside again after having just gotten out of the cold. her toes were finally regaining feeling, too. but something in her stirred to go with neal, to figure out what was running through his head. she knew it had to do something with the case file peter had in his hand.

so instead of whining about the cold, she simply pulled her long puffed jacket off the back of her chair and reaching to intertwine her hand with neal’s.

it didn’t take long before they made it to the coffee cart, and she was still freezing, but the warmth radiating from neal’s body helped. they got their coffees and began to slowly walk back to the office. she noticed neal wasn’t in as much of a rush to get back as he was to initially leave the building.

“is everything okay, neal?” she asked, turning her head to look at him.

they both stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. she was faced towards him, and neal still stood ready to walk back towards the office. he sighed, looking at the ground for a second before picking his head back up and facing her.

“the most recent case peter got involves a murder,” he started.

“okay? neal, you know i’m used to that. i used to work at-”

“the BAU office in quantico, i know. that’s the thing.”

it clicked the second he said “that’s the thing.” she eyed him in confusion, still not fully sure if he was alluding to what she assumed.

“are you trying to tell me that my old team is going to be here to work on the case with us?” she asked, not wanting to tip-toe around the subject any further. neal nodded, eyeing her with a look that said, “i’m sorry,” and, “i tried to convince peter otherwise.”

it had been three years since she left the BAU, leaving behind her life in quantico to start a job in a new field here in new york. going from solving cases about serial killers to hunting down white collar criminals was a switch, but it was one she needed. she’d adjusted to her new job quite easily, quickly becoming part of the white collar family. she lost one family, but gained another, and she wouldn’t change things. maybe once she would have, at the very start. now, there’s no chance in hell she’d give up neal.

“it’s okay,” she said, finally, after what felt like eons of silence, “i was bound to see them again someday anyways, no?”

she smiled up at neal, rising to her tip-toes to press a kiss to his lips. her nose hit his in the process, which was freezing cold, making her shiver.

“c’mon,” she started, “let’s get going back to the office. we need to get briefed on the new case.”

she slipped her hand in his, coffee warm in her other hand, and once again began walking back towards the office. she began telling him about a funny conversation she’d overheard in a coffee shop the other day. neal listened intently, commenting every so often. but in his head, he was thinking about her reaction to her old team coming to work on the case with them. he was surprised at how cool she was about this, but he also knew she’d been healed for a while. she was secure, safe in her relationship with neal. happy with him. they both were.

she had been a wreck when she first moved to new york. cases with the bau were mentally taxing, but she always had an escape in her team. they were her closest friends and family at the time. and once, long ago, spencer was who she perceived as the love of her life. she’d fallen for the hair, the smile, the eyes that sparkled every time he spewed random facts that no one would know, except for him. she’d fallen for everything about him. at one point, before everything fell apart, she even thought he’d be her husband.

· · three years ago · ·

her keys jangled in her hand as she fumbled with the lock, trying to get the door to the apartment open. she had stayed overnight at the bau office, working on reports to get to hotch. she wanted to have them all done, so wouldn’t have to do them later on top of the next pile of reports sent her way. the hallway was dim, the overhead lights slowly dying. some were flickering. others were already out.

she finally got the door open, sighing with relief when she felt the handle twist. the cool air from inside hit her face, and she could smell one of her mahogany candles burning. she smiled, closing the door behind her and hanging her jacket on the hooks near the door.

“spencer!” she called out, not seeing him in the kitchen or living room.

she faintly heard the words, “i have to go, she’s home,” coming from her and spencer’s shared bedroom. she wondered who he could possibly be on the phone with this late. he came out from the room, a small smile on his face. she held her arms out, and he enveloped her in a hug. she wasn’t sure if it was her mind running rampant with the one sentence she’d heard him say, or if something was truly different, but the hug didn’t feel as tight or warm as usual.

“who was that on the phone with you?” she asked, pulling away from the hug and looking up at him. something shifted slightly in his face. panic, guilt. it wasn’t a shift she wanted to see.

“oh, that was just morgan. got back from a date and wanted to tell me about it,” he answered, voice flat.

she smiled at him, slipping out of his arms and towards their bedroom. she was tired, and he was lying. she had said goodbye to morgan on her way out of the office. it couldn’t have been him on the phone, it was virtually impossible that he’d gone on a date and called spencer to tell him about it within the thirty minutes it took her to get home. she could tear him a new one right now. tell him to stop lying, to tell her who it really was. instead, she kept herself calm, slowly getting ready for bed. brushing her hair, braiding it, then brushing her teeth. she started her skincare routine now.

“i assume he had a good date? they usually go well,” she laughed at the last sentence. it took every ounce of strength she had to cover the bitterness in her voice.

“yeah,” spencer responded, “i think he really likes her. he was even talking about taking her on another date.”

she didn’t respond, merely nodding as she put her pajamas on, a matching set. they were adorned with various teddy bears, some with pink bows and others in blue t-shirts. walking out of the bathroom and back into their bedroom, she pulled the covers off her side of the bed and hid herself into the warmth of the blankets. spencer walked behind her, moving to his side and doing the same.

“night, spence,” she whispered, turning the lamp light off and curling into herself.

“goodnight,” he muttered back. there was no, “my love,” or “sweetheart.” there was simply “goodnight” and that was it.

she feigned sleep as her thoughts ran wild in her head. she hated the fact spencer was lying to her. she hated that she was too tired to do anything about it, wanting to push it away as nothing. wanting to protect herself with the lies she convinced herself were real – he wasn’t doing anything, he was talking to her mother, or a friend, he was planning a surprise and didn’t want to spoil it. over and over in her head, she came up with every possibility she could pretend was real.

she thought back to what the past few months have been like. the bau has been swamped with cases, a new one coming in back to back with the others. it had been nonstop flying and solving serial killings. the lack of affection between her and spencer recently hadn’t posed any red flags until now. she just assumed they were both tired, overworked.

three hours after she first climbed into bed, she knew spencer was asleep. slowly pushing herself up, she got out of bed, tip toeing to spencer’s side of the bed. she felt like shit doing this, never wanting to become this kind of girlfriend. the one who has a hunch her boyfriend is cheating and goes through his phone. still, she needed to know. she couldn’t let herself stay if he was going to leave. she picked his phone up, looking through the call logs. her eyebrows furrowed as she saw there was nothing recent. she put his phone back down, checking to make sure he was still asleep. he had barely moved, his breathing shallow as he slept.

instead of getting back in bed, she pulled the drawers open, shuffling through them quietly. looking for a burner phone, for any sign of his infidelity. she decided to slip her hand beneath the cabinet, knowing there was no harm in at least looking. it was then that she felt a small, hard block carefully placed on a wooden ledge that jutted towards the center of the cabinet. she pulled it out, turning the phone on. a slew of messages appeared on the screen.

i miss you

i had fun talking to you last night

i want to meet up soon

what about your girlfriend?

she doesn’t matter to me. you do.

i love you.

each and every word on the screen blended together, tears forming in her eyes. she could barely read the messages as her vision blurred. she checked the call logs, and her heart plummeted when she saw just how often spencer had been talking with this girl. maeve, according to the contact name and the few times spencer mentioned her name in conversation. she scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, trying to figure out just how long this had been going on for. the first call had been six months ago.

she nearly threw up. bile burned the back of her throat as she held a hand over her mouth, trying not to make any noise. she stood up, her knees wobbling slightly, and tip toed to her side of the bed again. she took the burner phone with her, picking up her own phone and snapping as many pictures as she could of the messages, the calls, everything. the thoughts that ran through her head as she did it were so loud that she could feel her head start to hurt. she put the burner phone back in its place, taking her phone with her to the bathroom. she locked the door behind her.

the moment the lock clicked, her legs gave out. she slid to the floor, her back pressing against the vanity sink. opposite her was the bathroom closet, the doors made of mahogany. she traced the patterning on the wood with her eyes. everything she’d just read was too much, she couldn’t properly process it. she felt weird for not being able to shed any more tears than she did when she first found the messages.

spencer was cheating on her. how could he cheat on her? what happened to the sweet boy she once knew? the one who would bring her a pain au chocolat in the mornings, knowing she often skipped out on breakfast. the one who would leave flowers on her desk. the one who would stick cute messages adorned with a smiley face and heart on the mirror in the mornings for her to see. she wasn’t sure what happened along the way to change things this drastically, to distance him from her to the point he resorted to… this. to illicit affairs.

what the hell is she supposed to do now? pack a bag of things, and leave? penelope would take her in. emily or jj would, too. hell, any of the members of her team would take her in right now. they weren’t just coworkers, they were her family. she recalled the time she first joined the team. from the jump, hotch treated her like a daughter. it was a tough job, and it’s not like he babied her. and yet, the fondness he had for her was unlike any other. the dad who raised her might’ve been hundreds of miles away, but she still had a dad in quantico.

she couldn’t bear to work with spencer anymore, she knew that for sure. but she also knew spencer was a pinnacle asset to the team. she was, too, sure, but he was the one with the eidetic memory. there was no fair comparison, in her mind. she would have to be the one to leave.

she put her hands on the floor, the soft bristles of the plush, white rug on the floor digging into her hands, shivering as she felt part of her palm slip onto the tile. she took a second, closing her eyes, breathing, before pushing herself up to standing. pushing her ear to the door, listening for any movement outside, she tried to figure out if spencer had woken up. she was met with soft snores, and knew he was still asleep.

she opened the bathroom closet door as quietly as she could, pulling out her go-bag and a second bag to put some of her stuff in. anything she couldn’t fit she would just pick up later. or maybe she’d just ask one of the team members to get it for her later.

her heart was pounding, nearly tearing through her chest, as she tiptoed around their shared bedroom, carefully taking her favorite clothing pieces and the essentials, then making her way back to the bathroom and quietly packing everything in there. it was truly a miracle that spencer hadn’t stirred the whole time, sleeping like it’d been ages since he last slept a full night.

yeah, no shit, he’s been fucking around with another woman for months, she thought to herself.

once everything was packed, she carefully slipped out of the bathroom, picking up her phone and keys. she was out of the bedroom and entered the main room. it was an open floor plan, with the kitchen opening up into their little living room. her shoes were by the door, and her coat was still resting on the hook she placed it on. she took a glance at the sight in front of her. it was dark, and she could barely see anything, but the moonlight shone into the room enough for her to take it all in. the couch they sat on night after night, watching their favorite show. the countertop in the kitchen they’d have breakfast in. the little trinkets she’d set up in every corner she could.

all of it, all of the love she poured into everything, for what?

and with that last glance, feeling her heart break as a lump formed in her throat, she gripped her bags tighter, and walked to the door. she put her shoes on quickly, pressing one hand against the wall as she bent to the side and used the other to get the shoe over her heel. her go bag was slung over her right shoulder, second bag in the left hand as she twisted the door handle. it creaked, causing her to wince at the sound. still, she left as quickly as possible, running down the hallway of their apartment building as quickly as possible, glancing over her shoulder as she did so.

her teddy bear pajamas clung to her body as she ran, thinking about how stupid she probably looked. each flight of stairs she took went faster and faster, whipping past her eyeline and making her slightly dizzy. though, the dizziness was likely also a side-effect of all the feelings spinning in her head.

once she reached the ground floor, concrete hard on her feet through the shoes as she jumped the last three steps, she pulled her keys out of the side of her go bag, immediately unlocking her car as she ran to it. the lights flashed red and yellow, and for a split second she worried she’d break the door with how hard she pulled it open. the bags were thrown on her passenger seat as she slid into the seat. closing the door, she clicked the lock button, car beeping, and brought the engine to life.

in mere minutes, her relationship with spencer had fallen apart. she packed her bags and ran from him. ran from everything. she couldn’t bear to be in that room, to sleep next to him for one more night. she simply needed out.

pulling onto the road, she didn’t know what to do. should she just leave? never look back, find somewhere else to go and make a life for herself there? does she go to garcia’s and spend the night there? what would happen tomorrow, when she went to work and spencer asked her where half her things went? when he asked why she left in the middle of the night?

she found herself sitting in her car, outside of hotch’s apartment. she wasn’t sure why, or how she really got here. she just drove and drove, and suddenly came to a stop here. the rough plan at the moment was to knock on his door, tell him she’s resigning, and figure out a department to transfer to. somewhere far away, preferably. she turned her keys in the ignition, turning the car off and making her way to hotch’s door. she wasn’t sure what she’d say, or if it was stupid for her to be here, but this is where she ended up. outside her work-dad’s door. he’d know what to do, right?

for fuck’s sake, you’re an FBI agent and you can’t even figure out what to do about your boyfriend cheating on you, she thought to herself, raising her hand to knock on his door. after a few seconds, she heard the flick of a light switch and saw light flood in beneath the door. the quiet thudding of feet against floorboards could be heard, and in seconds the door was open. hotch stood before her in plaid blue pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt.

she opened her mouth to say something, but instead she lost any ability to speak. her face crumpled, and she began sobbing, falling into hotch. his face contorted into worry as he caught her, holding her up.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered between sobs.

hotch shushed her, rubbing his hand against her shoulder. he pulled her into the apartment, locking the door behind them, and set her on the couch. she wiped the tears beneath her eyes, sniffling hard as she felt snot start to come out of her nose. a box of tissues was placed on the table in front of her, and she immediately took hold of them. hotch waited until she had calmed down enough to speak before saying anything.

“what happened?” he asked, his usually stoic demeanor shattered at the state of her.

“he cheated on me. he’s been cheating on me, for months now.” she wasn’t sure what to say, but she told him everything. what she heard him saying on the phone, the lie he told about morgan that made her suspicious, the burner phone she found underneath the bedside table. she even went as far as pulling her own phone, handing it to hotch open to all the pictures of the messages she found. she watched as hotch’s expression became angrier and angrier.

“in all my years in the bau, and knowing spencer, this is one thing i did not see coming,” he said, his voice harsh when he uttered spencer’s name. she laughed bitterly in response.

“you think you’re shocked, imagine being his girlfriend.”

they were quiet for a few seconds, both gathering their thoughts.

“what do you want to do?” hotch asked her.

“i don’t know. all i know is i can’t work with him anymore.”

“okay. it won’t be difficult to get another department to take him, but–”

“no, hotch. i have to be the one to leave. i can’t stay in the bau, stay in this city, knowing i could run into him at any moment. i can’t stay here, knowing that each time i sit at my desk, i’ll remember him sitting across from me. i can’t walk past the coffee shop i go to every morning knowing that my memories of him are there. i just can’t,” she told him, her voice pleading.

hotch nodded. he understood her. he’d want her to stay. hell, in an ideal situation none of this would be happening. but it is happening, and he knows that if it were him in her place, he’d want out, too. he stayed silent, thinking where he could transfer her to. he knew she’d want to go far away, but selfishly he wanted it to be somewhere close enough that he could still come visit the girl that became like his daughter.

he knew exactly where to send her. it’d be entirely different from the work the bau did, but it’d still be good. hell, he could even say it’d be fun, in a way. and there was a good challenge for her there, a criminal consultant that would keep her head running at all times. it was the kind of job that was perfect for her. plus, he knew peter burke pretty well, and he knew that she’d be safe with him there. peter knew that she was like hotch’s daughter, and peter himself was the kind of guy to treat his fellow agents like family. yeah, the white collar unit would be perfect.

“there’s a job available. it’s in new york,” he held his finger up when she opened her mouth to protest the location, “i know you want somewhere further away, but i think you’ll fall in love with it. trust me. the white collar department is looking for a new agent. they have a criminal consultant, which could be an interesting addition for you,” hotch continued speaking, and she listened, but let her mind drift ever so slightly.

she liked the prospect of going to new york. the white collar department was drastically different from the bau, and she actually quite liked that. it wouldn’t be as horrific as looking at dead bodies daily, and maybe even slightly less dangerous than getting kidnapped by a serial killer who had a liking for women who looked like her.

“i’ll take it,” she said in the middle of one of hotch’s sentences. he smiled lightly, nodding at her.

they spent the rest of the night talking, figuring out the transfer. he, of course, had papers on hand for her to sign and sent a message to special agent peter burke about the transfer. at 7:03am on the dot, they got a response from peter.

great! can’t wait to meet her. the earlier she can start, the better, but the latest would be monday the fifteenth.

that was 10 days away. she decided she’d leave earlier. hotch promised he’d have her stuff sent to her new apartment there, once she got one. he sent another message to peter, asking for apartment rental information and letting him know that she’d be there earlier.

hotch and peter texted back and forth for a while, and she got impatient, trying to glance at the screen. she was able to see a few messages, where hotch mentioned the reason for her transfer. in another message, peter said that he and his wife would be happy to take her in for a few days as she hunts for apartments. she was wary about it, not wanting to intrude or become an inconvenience. still, it was better than paying for a hotel room until she found an apartment. i’ll find a place to live within the first week there, that way i’m not being too much of a burden for too long, she told herself.

this was it. in one night, her entire life had fallen apart. she left her boyfriend. she quit her job, and found a new one. she was leaving her closest family, and going somewhere completely different. hotch took her into a hug, savoring the last few moments they’d have together. sure, he’d visit, maybe, but this was goodbye for the time being. he made her promise to text and call, and to keep him updated on everything in new york. she swore to it.

leaving hotch’s apartment, she was a new woman. she turned on her phone, sending spencer a quick message before blocking him. i know about maeve. we’re over. don’t try contacting me ever again. hotch will get my stuff for me in the next few days. fuck you.

just a few hours ago, she was terrified about what would happen next. now, she sat in her car, ready to drive to new york. she was excited. the heartbreak wouldn’t leave her, not for a while. she’d cry and wish things were different and wonder to herself what went wrong. she’d think about what was wrong with her that made spencer want to cheat on her. she’d wish she’d have stayed for one more day, just so she could’ve smacked spencer square in the face. but now there was a needle and thread in the form of the white collar unit in new york, and it was ready to stitch together the broken pieces of her heart.

· · present time · ·

“love? hello? where did you go?” neal said, waving his hand in front of her face. they were stood outside the white collar building now.

“sorry, sorry. i was thinking,” she said, frowning slightly.

she felt stupid for having been quiet for so long. neal only smiled, giving her a quick kiss.

“hey, it’s okay. you don’t have to say sorry,” he said.

he squeezed her hand, a silent message that he’d be here the whole time. that she didn’t have to worry about anything, that he’d understand. he was good to her in that way. he was good to her in many ways, but something that especially stood out was how patient he was with her. since the start of their relationship, he’d been incredibly patient with her. not only considering the job she once had, as a bau agent, but how things ended there. he never wanted to treat her the same way. he never would treat her the same way. she didn’t know, but he silently promised to himself that he’d change her outlook on love entirely. that he’d help her be unafraid to not just be in love but to fall into it, and keep falling. he kept that promise, fulfilling it every single day.

the two of them walked inside the building, making their way up the elevator, back to the office. on the ride up, they talked about their dinner plans tonight. they were planning on having a little gathering, the two of them with mozzie, peter, and elizabeth. she laughed about their previous mini dinner party, which ended with mozzie getting so drunk he started reciting a random shakespeare play. hand in hand, they pushed the door open to the office, her in the middle of laughing about the memory. neal smiled at her so brightly that his cheeks hurt. anyone looking at them could tell that he was infatuated with her. he wasn’t just in love with her. he was completely consumed by her existence.

that killed spencer. he was standing at the top of the stairs, near peter’s office, arms crossed as he stared at his former love. her laugh was one that no one could forget, causing him to turn immediately when he heard it flutter into the conference slash makeshift interrogation room. he immediately clocked neal’s hand intertwined with hers, and the pain in his chest was palpable at the sight. it pissed him off, quite frankly. morgan appeared behind him, tapping him and then motioning to get back in the room. when spencer didn’t move, morgan spoke.

“you were the one who fucked up, man. you cheated on her, not the other way around. now get back in the room and do your damn job,” he said, his voice short, full of distaste.

the events of three years ago were a sensitive spot for the bau. spencer was the one who made her leave so abruptly, without so much as a goodbye – other than a few texts and calls after she’d settled into new york – and it made everyone angry. she was family to the bau, and losing her was difficult. it was even more frustrating knowing that spencer was the cause of it. all because he was a dumbfuck who couldn’t keep it in his pants. he may have a high iq, but he was a fucking dumbass in the eyes of love. there was a huge bandaid over the situations, and tensions had almost fully resolved over the years, but being here – seeing her again – had made things hard for everyone again. it was all a reminder of just how badly spencer had screwed up.

spencer finally moved, walking back into the room. peter kept shooting daggers at him, and diana looked like she was ready to murder him right then and there. and then cover it up. she looked like the type of woman who would get away with murdering him, even if she had an audience. he took a deep breath, bending over the table to look over the case files. they were talking about the murder, it was the third of a string of them that had been happening in art galleries around the city. each time, an artist that had their art on display had been killed, their body left on the floor next to a wall where their art once hung. in place of the piece of art they’d created was a message, different each time.

as they looked over the cases, there was a shift in the room, and spencer immediately knew why. he turned, looking at the woman he once loved. she held a coffee cup in her hand, the spout stained with lipstick. neal caffrey stood behind her, his arm ghosting around her back, hand resting on her waist. his eyes narrowed ever so slightly at spencer before quickly returning to an unbothered expression.

neal quickly flashed a smile, so charming it made spencer feel sick.

“neal caffrey, it’s lovely to meet you all,” he said, looking around the room.

“hi, guys,” she said, still attached to neal’s side.

she didn’t want to tear away from him. it felt safer, being near him. her heart still beat rapidly, but the warmth that neal’s body radiated helped calm her. it quelled her nerves enough that she was able to say her small “hi” without her voice quivering. his hand was still attached to her waist, gripping it tight, but not to the point that he was hurting her. just enough to make it clear that she was his and he was hers, and that no one – especially spencer – should dare make a false move towards her.

penelope was the first to break, a smile adorning her face as she ran from her computer to envelop her old friend in a hug. neal expertly took the coffee she held out of her hand, so that it wouldn’t drop or spill as she returned the hug.

“i missed you so much!” they both squealed at the same time, causing them to break out into laughs. they smiled, gripping each others’ arms and jumping around in a circle. it’d been years since she and garcia had seen one another in person, and it was a moment that was long overdue, no matter if it was technically considered unprofessional.

hotch was next to give her a hug, followed by emily and jj and morgan. spencer was the only one who stood still, as though his shoes were superglued to the ground. his eyes flicked back and forth from neal to the girl he’d hurt so long ago.

after the slew of hugs she received, she looked towards spencer, only giving him a small smile, before returning to neal’s side. she took her coffee from him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, before getting onto the case. spencer thought of the smile she gave him, and like every other thing about her, it haunted him. there was no emotion in the smile towards him. it was a simple gesture, acknowledging his existence but nothing more.

she brushed him off so quickly, immediately getting to work, that it gave him whiplash. he looked at neal, who was looking at him with a glint in his eyes that was clearly distaste. just a second later, neal was called over by y/n, asking him about one of the art exhibits where blood of a victim had been found. the way neal effortlessly spoke about the era and art annoyed spencer. he was the one who knew everything. what could a criminal out on a consulting deal really know? especially compared to a guy with an iq of 187.

neal’s arm brushed against hers, making her look at him, smiling. this smile was different – full, bright, happy. it was unlike the one she gave spencer, and that killed him. he had done the damage, and here he was, years later, reaping the consequences of his actions.

his feet finally moved, unsticking from the position he was previously in. he stood near morgan, listening to hotch provide further details that peter’s team didn’t have. hotch gave a rough profile they’d created on the flight to new york, noting it wasn’t official – but could give a good baseline for what they needed to look into.

“morgan, spencer, i need you two to go down to the morgue. go over the details of the murders with the coroner, and report back to me. jj, coordinate with law enforcement and the media. no details about this case are to be released as of now. garcia, i need you to stay here and dig up information about the victims we don’t currently have. i want to know about any paths that could have crossed, especially in their careers. emily and rossi, we’ll head down to the most recent crime scene,” hotch said, voice firm.

each bau member scattered, now that their assignments. spencer lingered ever so slightly, watching y/n nodding along as peter coordinated his team. morgan elbowed him, harder than he used to years ago. it was a subtle shift after everything that happened, but a shift nonetheless. still, he never complained, knowing it could have been worse for him. he’s lucky to still have some form of a relationship intact with his team members.

· · 3 hours later · ·

in the three hours since assignments had been given, spencer and morgan found out that the killer had left behind extra clues in the form of rolled up pieces of paper left on the victims’ bodies. not only that, the team had identified a solid suspect and another body had been dropped.

the victim fit all the others, and this time the message left behind was just one word: “betrayal,” painted in blood. and yet again, there was blood left in an exhibit with art from an older era.

they all stood around the table in the conference room – except for penelope, who was working on a loose lead hotch thought up in peter’s office – looking towards a clear whiteboard, detailing each piece of the case they’d put together in an attempt to solve it.

“the pattern is accelerating,” y/n said, moving towards the board, “look. we have four bodies now. the first was found ten weeks ago. the second four weeks ago. the third just a week ago, and now the fourth. something made him want to go faster, but what?”

they knew the unsub had likely been triggered by something, leading to the sudden shift in the timeline. they spit balled ideas, reasons for the acceleration. neal provided insight on each of the exhibits where blood was spontaneously left. the first time it happened, the police thought it was an accident. now, with four victims, they knew it was part of his MO.

“did penelope find any connection between the victims?” neal asked, looking intently at the board.

solving a murder was new for him. he was used to asking mozzie to check who fenced a piece. he was used to finding out who stole and sold a priceless piece of art that part of him wished he had. he was used to pushing down his habit of planning how he would steal a piece of art or a statue that was worth millions. still, the puzzle pieces in his brain were shifting, and he was happy to have the challenge. he noticed a pattern within them, he just needed to be sure.

“they’re all art majors, though each specialized in a completely different style and era of art. one thing that stood out was that they all went to the same university at one point, all taking the most of the same slew of classes that were required for art majors,” emily summarized, remembering what garcia told her she found.

“can you tell me what era each victim specialized in?” neal said, moving towards the table to rearrange some extra pictures that hadn’t fit on the board. the crime scenes, with the pictures of each message left behind, and the exhibit where blood had been left behind. he just had a hunch…

“uh, yeah, hold on,” emily said, finding the file that held each victim’s university transcript. once she had it, she spoke again.

“carl jenkins – victim one – focused on the baroque era. violet emerson – victim two – had a background in romanticism. dawn hollis – victim three – was an expert on the renaissance, and vincent dryden – our most recent victim – focused on neoclassism.”

“ok, wait – yes. hold on… yeah, i think i’ve got something. look at the art of each of the victims. it’s completely different from what they studied when they were in school. jenkins’ did abstract, emerson had clear fauvist inspiration, hollis did pop art, and dryden’s art was influenced by the romantic era. and look,” neal explained, almost frantic.

he pulled out photos of the messages left behind at each crime scene.

“each note the killer left behind has something to do with betrayal. the most recent, of course, being the literal word itself,” he said.

“you’re right,” y/n muttered, moving closer to him and inspecting the pattern he layed out between the photos.

“what if it’s about them deviating from the art they studied?” emily pointed out, before continuing, “maybe the killer stayed within the style he studied, but never got as far as the victims did, with exhibits in galleries. now he’s getting revenge for the success he never got. can garcia cross-reference the victims with anyone who crossed paths with all of them? other students, teachers, people who tried to get their art into the same galleries.”

“yeah, hold on,” y/n said, running into peter’s office to get the theory to her.

within seconds, penelope found a name, a professor that every victim had for a renaissance art history class. there were countless records of applications he’d made to galleries throughout the city, each and every one of them refusing him. there was a notes section on each, explaining the refusal. some left nothing, others claimed his style was simply not what they were looking for. it was too outdated, and they’d rather have pieces from the true renaissance than from an artist of this decade.

“his name is connor hayes, let me get you his address,” garcia blurted, writing the information she found down as quickly as possible before also sending the gps location to hotch.

the flurry of activity in the office surged the moment his name and address were found. garcia also ended up sending the location of his office at the university he worked at to the team, as a secondary location to check. some agents were on the phone with police and swat, others running to the elevators and even stairs to get down as quickly as possible. sirens and blue and red lights filled the streets as they sped to find the man who had already killed so many budding artists.

the team found him at his home, with the names and pictures of various other students he was planning on killing. he had an entire board on his wall, connected by red string and pins. the words “TRAITOR” and “BETRAYAL” were splayed over the pictures in red ink. the victims who had been killed had their faces crossed out, while one picture had a circle over the student’s face. likely who he planned would be his next victim. they even found a box hidden in his closet, filled with his trophies from the victims – vials of their blood.

neal stood outside, watching as forensics went in and out of hayes’ house, the numerous police officers and FBI agents gathering evidence for conviction. he watched as connor hayes was packed into the back of a police car, taken away to live the rest of his life rotting in jail. neal wondered how someone could do something like that. he could barely pick up a gun, hating them as much as he did, and yet here he was, in such close proximity to someone who had killed four people.

“don’t think too hard about it,” y/n said, startling him out of his thoughts.

“what?” neal asked, now looking at her. he was amazed at himself over the fact that, despite standing in the middle of a crime scene where a serial killer had just been apprehended, he was in awe of how beautiful his girlfriend was. it was like the entire world simply drifted away, and it was just the two of them now. that was the effect she had on him.

“the why. you can do countless interviews with these monsters, understand the psychology behind it, hell you could even get the reasoning behind it from the killers themselves. still, you’ll never fully understand how they could do something like that,” she told him as she squinted at the scene before them.

“am i truly that transparent that you knew exactly what i was thinking?” neal replied, smiling at her.

“nah, i just read minds,” she said, grinning up at him.

she lifted herself up to her tip toes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. she grabbed his hand, squeezing it once. she told him that she’d check with hotch if the two of them were needed for anything more, letting go and walking inside the house to find out where hotch had gone. she had been standing in the serial killer’s living room when she spotted hotch a few rooms away, being able to see him in the kitchen thanks to the open floor plan the guy had.

“so, you chose a criminal over me?” a voice said from behind her.

she turned to the origin of the voice, and lo and behold, spencer reid stood right in front of her. the question he asked only partly registered in her head.

“what?” she asked, trying to keep calm. she could feel herself beginning to see red just at the fact he had the audacity to speak to her with anything other than apology for what he’d done.

“neal caffrey, your new boyfriend. he’s a criminal, no? i mean, he’s a criminal consultant, and walks around with a fancy ankle monitor. and if i remember correctly, which of course i do, he was convicted of bond forgery and spent four years in prison. so what in god’s name are you doing with the likes of him?” he sneered at her, clearly trying to insinuate she had downgraded.

the look on his face pissed her off. she’d been done with spencer the moment she left after finding out he’d been cheating on her for months. the way his brows furrowed as if he were holier than thou temporarily made her want to put his head through the wall. she only became more angry when she realized his dig at neal.

she’d fallen in love with neal within a year of them knowing each other. he may have been a criminal, but he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. through his charming and sly exterior, he’s been an absolute dream. he was kind, and thoughtful. even on the coldest days, if she’d forgotten her coat, he’d give her his. even if he was already freezing, any indication she was cold would mean his coat was being shrugged off and pulled over her shoulders. if she mentioned wanting to see a movie, the next morning there’d be two tickets sitting on their dining table, with a little note from neal telling her to get ready for their date night. sometimes they’d get home from the office at different times, and she couldn’t count how often she would come home to flowers from neal, or he would bring home a bouquet for her. every worry of hers was quelled the second he’d come into the room, and he was so incredibly patient with her when she’d first come to new york.

she came to him broken and battered from the bau, and he’d sat meticulously gluing back together each and every piece. even the ones that most people would deem too tiny to keep, and would throw away – he kept. he pieced her back together and takes care to keep her that way. he loves her more fully than she’s ever been loved before, and she loved him just as much. spencer standing in front of her, all smug, trying to say that neal is a bad guy just because he went to prison once is honestly infuriating.

“what exactly are you trying to say, spencer? because if you’re trying to make it seem like neal is a bad guy because he used to dabble in forgery, you’re way out of your league. who’s the one who decided to cheat on me for six months with a girl over the phone? here’s a hint, in case you can’t remember, it wasn’t neal. and let’s be real, he helped out more on this case than you did. he may be a criminal, spencer, but he’s more honest than you’ll ever be,” she seethed.

“is there a problem here?” neal said, wrapping his arm expertly around her.

neither she nor spencer were sure when he’d entered the room, but she was glad he was here. she could’ve stood here, alone, and knocked down anything spencer would have said to her for as long as she needed to. and yet, having neal here calmed the frustration in her heart.

“not anymore,” she responded, leaning into his touch. her eyes narrowed at him, mouth contorting into a frown.

spencer searched for words, but he couldn’t find any. he’d been told by every member of the bau that the only thing he should say to her is a heartfelt apology. he’d been haunted by his actions, by her for years. and yet, seeing her with neal, seeing how happy she was, it annoyed him. there was a part of him, though he wouldn’t admit it, that wished she’d come back to him as easily as she’d left. the moment he set his eyes on neal, on her wrapped in his arms when they walked into the office, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. he knew there was no chance in hell she’d come back to him. he knew that, in the end, he’d be sitting in his apartment, looking at her facebook for the third time in the day and find pictures of them on their wedding day. he screwed up the second he started speaking to maeve, and yet he was angry at her for moving on. it killed him.

“did you talk to hotch yet?” neal said, turning his attention to y/n. she shook her head no, and he nodded, pulling her along to go talk to him.

“what a man, you’re not going to defend yourself or your girlfriend?” spencer spat out, his mouth working faster than his brain. the guilty part of his brain wanted to take it back.

“i know she can handle herself. she already did. i’m not sure why you’re looking for a fight, but if you want one that badly, i can promise you’ll be the one on a stretcher,” neal said, giving spencer a cold stare before leaving the room.

by the time her confrontation with spencer had ended, hotch had moved to another room. they were wrapping things up, and the forensics specialists were the only ones needed to finish everything. hotch told them that they would all get going soon. he only asked neal to look over some evidence they’d found that was art related, which neal was quick to help with.

back at the office, neal and y/n helped peter fill out some paperwork for the case they’d just work on. he told them to go home, to rest, but they wanted to help. plus, they knew it meant there’d be less work to do tomorrow. the bau had gathered their things, and they were ready to leave. the only thing left was to say their goodbyes.

“please stay in touch, and promise me we’ll get together soon,” penelope said through choked tears, holding onto her best friend.

“i promise,” y/n said, hugging penelope tight enough that it almost looked like she was afraid this was the last time she’d see her.

in some way, it was true. she was worried that their jobs and lives would interfere so often that they’d never get to see each other again. and yet, she also knew that they’d see each other again. there was no doubt in her mind that they’d see each other again within a few months, and giggle over coffee about the most recent juicy drama they’d heard. and there were always phone calls and texts, which would keep them connected while they waited to see each other again.

emily and jj made her promise to keep in touch, too. the four of them, emily, jj, penelope, and y/n/, made a solemn vow to have a getaway trip together sometime soon. a nice, warm getaway to the caribbean sounded wonderful to all of them. especially considering just how cold this winter had been.

rossi and morgan made her swear to keep in touch. rossi made the promise of making his extra special pasta, just for her, if she ever visited. it was an offer she couldn’t pass up, and she made a note in her head to go just for some pasta.

“promise me you won’t stop writing, kiddo,” hotch said to her, his hand on her shoulder.

she nodded, tears causing her throat to close up. she whispered a very quiet, “i promise” before enveloping him in a hug. everything she had now, the life she made for herself, the healthy relationship she was in – she had hotch to thank. it was because of him that she managed to start fresh after what happened with spencer. it was because of him barely hesitating when she said she needed to leave the bau, because she just couldn’t bare to work there anymore, that she’d landed at the white collar unit with peter. it was because of him that she crossed paths with neal, and was now in the happiest place she could be. all of what had happened, she had hotch to thank for. the man who became the closest person she had to a father when she was living in quantico, was the man she had to thank for everything working out the way it should have.

her slew of tears were inevitable. she’d been trying too hard to keep it contained, to only shed a few, and yet she still broke. they were more than just her friends. they were her family. it had been difficult to leave them years ago, and it was difficult to watch them go now. she knew that this wouldn’t be the last time they’d see each other – there would be other cases to help out on or they’d all get together when they had vacation. even then, it was hard watching someone leave. the human brain is incapable of deciphering the different kinds of grief. it’s all one and the same to the brain, so even though she knew they’d be back, her brain already begun to grieve them, and the tears were pouring.

spencer stood off to the side, waiting for them to all finish. he wondered what things would be like, if he wasn’t an idiot. or if he wasn’t a complete asshole to her earlier. he wished that she’d forgive him, but he knew he didn’t deserve that. not after what he’d said to her. not after what he’d done all those years ago. he’d been reaping the consequences, not only with her leaving but with maeve dying not long after y/n left. he had everything, and then he blinked, and it was all gone.

so instead, he turns around and leaves, knowing that he is undeserving of anything from her.

· · ✮ · ·

neal was sitting on the couch of the space june rented out for him, a space that slowly became home for him and y/n. his legs were outstretched onto the coffee table, a book in his hand. from his periphery, on the right side, he could see her walk out of the bathroom. she was clad in her favorite pajamas – one of his shirts and pink pajama shorts. the shorts he bought as part of his one year anniversary present for her. her feet padded softly across the floor as she made her way towards him, and he turned his head, grinning up at her when she reached closer. she stood next to him, placing her hands on the arm of the couch and leaning towards neal, smiling back.

“ready for bed?” he asked, and he earned a nod in response.

his eyes practically sparkled as he looked at her. to him, in this very moment, as she stood wearing his shirt and frilly pink pajama shorts, she was the most beautiful girl in the world. and in every moment after this one, she would still be the most beautiful girl in the world to him. that was something he knew would never change.

she tip-toed around the couch and coffee table, slipping between the two and plopping down on the couch. she lifted her feet up, resting them on the left side of the couch as she lied her head on neal’s lap. her hands settled near his knees. his hand instinctively went to her head, brushing her hair back. in slow, sweet movements his fingers played with her hair.

it was such a little thing, yet something about neal made her feel so safe. comfortable. happy. the way he looked at her as though she’d hung the stars and moon in the sky just for him. the way his eyes dilated, so full of emotion each time he looked at her. the way he effortlessly made her feel the good kind of butterflies in her stomach. the way he smiled at her as if she’d just brought the sun in after a dark night. neal made her whole.

he slightly closed the book he’d been reading as his fingers twirled in her hair. it was still open, but just barely, his thumb holding open the page he’d left off on. the pages had flopped in, some curling beneath each other. the cover faced the floor while the back of the book was up towards the ceiling

“whatcha readin’?” she mumbled, worn out from the day.

“i’m doing a re-read of the count of monte cristo. i’ve reached the part where dantès is in jail and abbé started teaching him everything,” he responded.

“ooohhh i love that one. read to me?” she asked, turning her head to look up at him slightly. she smiled, batting her eyelashes as if he was difficult to convince. neal laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to her head.

“always, my love,” he whispered, opening the book up more and wrapping his left arm around her so he could hold the book up with both hands. she had to stop herself from frowning at the loss of his fingers in her hair, quickly perking up as he started to read.

she smiled, staring at the book. she tried to follow along with what he read, but her eyes started to feel heavier and heavier. she closed them, opting to simply listen instead. her heart was full as he read to her. after about a chapter, her thoughts wandered slightly. she thought about how lucky she was to have neal. she thought about how she wanted to spend every night this way, ready to go to bed and yet staying awake simply to spend more time together. she thought about how much she loved neal. she thought of the first time she met him, and when they started dating.

it wasn’t easy for neal to convince her to go on a date with him. the first day she walked through the doors of the white collar office, she’d been earlier than expected. peter hadn’t briefed neal on the situation yet to tell him to dial down the charm. he’d strolled right up to her, offering his hand and his signature smile. despite the look on her face, clearly exhausted and not very welcoming of bullshit, he tried to be witty. she ended up laughing at his opening line, which to him was a win, especially after peter finally told him. he was happy that he could make her laugh in the middle of what was arguably the lowest point of her late 20s. from the very start, he insisted that he’d take her out one day, flashing his charming smile and flirting with her.

he waited a year. he built her trust, and she built on his. he shared secrets with her that he hadn’t told anyone else – not even mozzie. he’d gotten closer to her, becoming the first person she’d go to in the mornings when she arrived at the office. at the start, she’d only gone to peter or her desk – her only two comforts in a new place. eventually, that changed to saying hello to neal first and bugging him about a case file or papers splattered all over his desk.

it took a while before she agreed to a date. even when she wanted to say yes, she waited until she knew she was ready. she didn’t want to risk messing it up. neal asked her out four times. the first time was not long after they met. she told him she couldn’t, not yet, and he told her he’d wait. he knew she’d need time, and so he let it pass until he thought she might be ready. he tried two more times after that, both at points he thought were right. she nearly said yes both of those times, but still shook her head no. both times he took it well, understanding and proceeding to buy her coffee. it was his way of letting her know outside of words that he would continue waiting until she was ready.

the day she did say yes, he’d been ecstatic. truthfully, he nearly didn’t ask that day. he was expecting another no, and would’ve taken it graciously. yet, when she walked in the door that day, something in the air shifted and pushed him to ask. she still remembers the way his eyebrows shot up when she finally said “yes” to him. he would’ve waited years for her if he had to. he still would, now.

if someone had told her a few years ago, on the road to new york city, that this is where she would end up, she would’ve laughed in their face. that kind of reality was completely out of question for her. three years ago, she felt her world come crashing down, and she thought there was no chance of digging herself out of the rubble. little did she know, that three years later, the little “yes” that led to one, two, three more dates would bring her here.

as she listened to neal read, having missed a lot of what he’d already said at this point, she opened her eyes. he’d already passed another two chapters, and was about to start the third.

“hey, neal?” she interrupted before he got the chance to start reading that chapter.

he rested the book on his legs, his right hand holding it as his left moved to caress her shoulder.

“yes, love?” he asked, looking down at her.

“i love you,” she said, and she meant it with everything she had.

“i love you. always,” he told her, his voice quieting to a near whisper at the end.

three, simple little words. so little had been said aloud, and yet so much had been said between the two of them. the room quieted, the two of them lying there, on the couch, intertwined. the book since discarded to the floor beside the couch. they would eventually move to the bed, shutting off the lights and sliding beneath the bedsheets. they wouldn’t turn away from each other, instead once again seeking one another out. hands grabbing to pull them closer. by the morning, the sheets would be halfway off the bed, but they would still be holding one another. they’d go to the office and finish a case by 3 in the afternoon. they’d go to dinner, neal would pull out the ring box he’d been hiding in various places for the last 10 months. yes, eventually that would all happen.

but for now, they would lie here, on the couch, and thank the lucky stars above for helping them find one another.

#neal caffrey x reader #neal caffrey fluff #neal caffrey imagine #neal caffrey fic #neal caffrey angst #neal caffrey x you #white collar x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #out of character reid #₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚ aqua's fanfics #⋆｡˚ ๋࣭ ⭑ .ᐟ aqua's requests

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sarahs-library · 2 years ago

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Forgotten: Pretty Eyes

A/N - Forgotten is giving me serious writer's block right now, so here's a little smutty snippet from the same universe before the story begins. You aren't together yet, the bond has snapped for Azriel but you remain blissfully unaware. Also I love the idea of meddling Nesta. This is also my first time publishing any smut, so hopefully it doesn't seem as cringey to you as it did to me re-reading it.

Word count: 4704

Warnings: Smut

Forgotten Part One ☪ Part Two ☪ Part Three

Your POV

Settled into the plush leather couch, you pulled the blanket up to your chin, creating a cozy nest for yourself. You balanced the book Nesta had given you on your lap, the worn cover a familiar weight against your skin. The floral sundress you wore fluttered around your legs, exposing the delicate skin of your knees, which you instinctively tucked beneath the warm embrace of the blanket. Once comfortable, you flipped open the hardcover to read the synopsis inlaid on the first page and snorted. Gratuitous smut, that much was predictable. But the story revolved around fated mates who couldn’t stay away from each other, despite every glaringly obvious reason to. Her recent recommendations had all centered on this theme, which you found puzzling. You couldn’t understand the Fae’s obsession with them, or Nesta’s for that matter.

Sure, you understood the religious aspect, most cultures had deities or worshipped magic in some form. Prythian’s Mother was no different in your eyes from the innumerable nameless gods you’d encountered in your travels over the years. But even so, the Fae's sanctification of basic biology was unique. You cleared your throat and looked up.

“Excuse me? House?” It felt strange, to address an inanimate object. You hadn’t quite believed Nesta when she first told you the House was sentient, a byproduct of her cauldron-made power. But it had seen to your needs enough over the last few months, often without prompting, that you’d found yourself creating a tentative relationship with it. “Do you have another book for me? Nesta’s been recommending so many of these, I’d rather read something different.” A moment later, a small pile of books dropped onto the table next to you. You thanked the House as you reached for the top book on the pile.

A God cursed to remain locked in his mountain hold until his soulmate frees him…You stopped reading with a frown, setting the book aside with the other before taking the next one. And then the next. You reached the end of the pile, all books about soulmates or fated mates or love pairs. Maybe the House had misunderstood you. You gathered the books up again, this time placing the one Nesta had lent you at the top of the pile and addressed the House again.

“Sorry, I meant do you have anything different than a romance? Maybe something with a bit of action and adventure?” The pile didn’t vanish, no other books appeared either. You waited for a few seconds. “House?” You knew it was close with Nesta, perhaps you’d offended it by inadvertently insulting her reading tastes.

You considered getting up from the comfy nest you’d created in the sitting room to go to the library and pick something off the shelves yourself. You eyed the book at the top of the pile again and sighed. Grabbing it you cracked open to the first page. Only then did the pile vanish, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. In its place stood a glass filled with fruity, fizzing pink wine from the Summer Court. It knew that you preferred it to the heartier reds more commonly found in the Night Court. You thanked the House and took a sip from the wine glass before turning your attention to the book propped open against your knees.

A dull pain in your neck drew you from sleep. Your dry eyes adjusted to the low lighting as you began to sit up. You groaned and massaged the sore muscles in your neck and shoulder, cursing yourself for falling asleep in such an awkward position. The book, still open at the last page you were reading, slipped from your lap and hit the floor with a dull thud. Fae light housed in a dark glass shade flickered to life on the table next to your empty wine glass. Freeing the blanket from where it was tangled between your legs, you bent to retrieve the book from the floor. The hand you reached out stopped shy of the cover, the tips of your fingers brushing against the shadows that teeming it, burrowing under the pages.

They didn’t shy away from your touch. Instead, they pushed the book across the floor into your open hand. You grasped at the leather-bound spine, cool shadows curling between your fingers and sliding up the back of your hand.

“Thank you.” You inclined your head and righted yourself on the sofa, expecting them to disperse in search of their master.

“Don’t tell me you’ve joined Nesta’s smutty book club too.” Reflectively you gripped the book tighter as the voice came from behind you. After months of living together at the House, you were beginning to be able to decipher Azriel’s moods. Smooth, dark, and low his tone of voice rarely gave away what he was feeling. But the slight elongation of some vowels and the emphasis on the word smutty told you he was amused. A delicate flush rose on your cheeks, and you resolved not to look at him.

“I mostly go for the wine. But Nesta said this was one of her favourites, though I’m not sure why.” The shadows that had helped you retrieve the book began to climb up over the edge of the sofa, to investigate further as you held it in your lap. You could feel him inching closer behind you, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Satisfied with their investigation, or at whatever silent command Azriel gave them, the shadows began to return to his side. You were unsure of how cognizant they were. As one of them brushed against the soft skin of your thigh, exposed from where your dress had ridden up, you wondered if it was intentional. You were glad to not see his face. Not while his shadows snitched to him about the colour dusting your cheeks and the very long, very explicit description of the mating frenzy between the main characters you’d been reading before you fell asleep.

“Too tame for you, sweetheart?” You’d been playing this game for weeks now. Glances that lingered a hair too long to be appropriate. Comments that bordered on suggestive but still gave plausible deniability. Any excuse to touch, to feel the other’s skin as you passed a dish at family dinner or assisted Azriel with demonstrations for the priestesses.

And you hated it, the effect he had on you. You knew, somewhere deep inside in a place you didn’t want to acknowledge, that he was part of the reason you’d taken advantage of Rhys’ hospitality. Why you hadn’t been itching to leave, to find another place after you landed unceremoniously, bleeding and half-conscious, in the Night Court all those months ago.

You sighed. “No, it’s not that.” Azriel was standing directly behind you now. When you took your next breath his scent, night-chilled mist and cedar, filled your nose. “I know she and Cassian are disgustingly in love, but I’d prefer her to give me at least one recommendation that doesn’t revolve and two people finding out they are mates, and then fucking for the next 100 pages.”

Azriel made a low, humming sound. Not in agreement, but in consideration of what you said. You thought he was going to speak, grace you with a sarcastic remark. Instead, he leaned over the back of the sofa. His face was so perilously close to your neck that you could feel the hot breath he exhaled, as he plucked the open book from your lap. He retreated as quickly as he’d come; you instinctively turned, reaching one hand up to stabilise yourself against the plush leather.

His hazel eyes met yours, and the triumphant smirk he gave you ignited both irritation and something primal. Held aloft in one hand, he lifted the book to his eyeline as the shadows flicked swiftly through the pages. Landing on the passage he wanted, he began to read aloud.

“His manhood was hot and hard and thick with lust. He pounded into her rough and ready, their gasps puffing in the air, steam rising off their skin.” Your cheeks flushed deeper. You hauled yourself up the back of the sofa, resting on your knees, attempting to use the leverage to lessen the advantage his greater height gave him. Reaching out, you tried to snatch the book from his grasp only for him to move it away just as your fingers brushed against the cover. He took a half-step back, still within arm’s length but not close enough for you to reach without losing your balance.

Azriel arched a brow, eyes alight with thinly veiled amusement as he took in your flushed face. You noticed the way they strayed, just for a moment, following the path of your exposed neck down towards your chest. A traitorous part of you preened under the attention of his gaze. Instinct prompted you to press the advantage he’d unwittingly given you, using the moment of his distraction to vault over the back of the sofa and close the distance between you. Azriel’s wings flared behind him, but he didn’t retreat from the sudden proximity, even as your hand reached up to grasp the book over his own.

Dragging his eyes away from you, he feigned nonchalance as he continued to skim the pages of the book. You realised your mistake then, calf muscles straining to keep your weight steady as you stood frozen on arched feet. His eyes didn’t leave the page even as his other hand came up to rest on your hip. The fabric of your dress felt dangerously thin as the warmth from his palm and slightly splayed fingers seeped through. Thin enough to feel the callouses on the finger that skimmed tantalisingly close to the edge of your underwear.

“The male says such filthy things.” He allowed you to pull the book down but didn’t relinquish his grip. Hazel eyes met yours, darkened even in the fae light. Slowly lowering your weight back onto the balls of your feet, you held his gaze. You were acutely aware of how little space was left between the two of you. Cool shadows brushed against the bare skin of your legs, catching on the hem of your dress and skirting at your waist. The breath you inhaled, made ragged by the proximity, filled your lungs with Azriel’s scent. Lust fogged your thoughts, quietening the voice in your mind that warned you of the precipice you teetered on. Even through the haze, you recognised there would be no going back, not once you acted on this.

“Do you like it when your lovers speak to you like this, sweetheart?” His voice, guttural and slow, seemed to speak directly to the embers now burning within you. He edged closer, enough that the fabric of your dress brushed against the scaled leather on his chest. You backed away, even as you felt your body react, but kept your eyes trained on Azriel’s face. His shadows returned to him, agitating a breeze that carried the unmistakable scent of your arousal. Azriel inhaled deeply, savouring it like a man half-drowned. His gaze became predatory as he prowled closer to you.

You felt the brush of cool leather against the heated skin of your back and the curve of your buttocks. He stepped closer, muscular arms brushing your waist on either side as he rested his hands on the sofa, caging you in. You held his gaze, even as he lowered his face close enough that your breath mingled. You tried to grasp at something, formulate a scathing remark that would disseminate the tension, that would allow you to step out of this room with your friendship still intact. All you could focus on was how easy it would be to reach up, tangle your fingers into Azriel’s hair, and bring his face down to close the distance between your lips. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk and he feigned closing the distance, tilting his head before passing over your mouth and whispering in your ear.

“You haven’t answered my question.” His breath danced over the shell of your ear, and you fought against the urge to arch your back and press yourself into his chest. His lips ghosted over the skin of your neck as he traced the curve down to where it met your collarbone.

“My preferences regarding lovers are of no concern to you.” He stilled against you.

“Is that so?” The words caressed your skin, drawled and meant to provoke as he made the return journey back towards your lips. You managed a breathy affirmation, even as he trailed fire in his wake. The barest of touches, feeding your desire for more of them, more of him. You didn’t notice the hand until his palm slid up to rest on the side of your neck, gripping your jaw between scarred fingers and thumb. His grip was firm as he pulled back to look at you.

“Such lies from such a sweet, little mouth.” His thumb stroked a path up, sweeping across your plump lower lip. You parted them on instinct. Lust-darkened eyes met your own, and a moment of clarity passed between you both. One that spoke of more than just base needs or primal instincts. Hiding in his eyes was a promise of more. Something that neither of you were ready to address just yet.

"You have such pretty eyes," Azriel's thumb dragged your lower lip down, his husky baritone stoked the fire of arousal coursing in your veins. "I can't wait to see you looking up at me, with my cock in your mouth." His other hand moved to your hip as he trailed his thumb down, palm splayed as he traced your jaw; your neck to where the cut of your dress lay at the valley between your breasts. He toyed with the edge before moving his hand to trace down your other side, thumb brushing the underside of the swell of flesh you desperately wanted him to pay more attention to.

His grip tightened for a moment at your waist before he hoisted you into the air. You gasped in surprise at the sudden movement before he perched you precariously on the edge of the back of the sofa. The increased height made your face almost level with his, something that Azriel took full advantage of as he captured your lips with his own. Your hands moved to steady yourself on his broad shoulders, fingernails digging into the leather as you swept your tongue against his bottom lip. You opened your thighs in invitation, Azriel stepped closer so that your chest was flush with his. His hips settled between your legs; your thighs clenched on either side as he deepened the kiss. His skilled tongue stroked against your own as you moaned, breathing heavily through your nose.

His fingers tangled into your hair, pulling it aside as his other hand moved down from your waist to trace a path under your dress against the smooth skin of your inner thigh. His mouth left yours, moving to capture the soft skin of your neck, lathing his tongue against it in between delicate bites as his fingers slid higher on your thigh. You rolled your hips, trying to coax him as his fingertips grazed lace. You slid your hands over his shoulders, finding purchase as you pulled him closer. You felt him smile against your neck as he trailed kisses lower, freeing his hand from your hair, as he pulled the delicate fabric of your dress down roughly to expose your chest. You barely registered the sound of it tearing as one hand came up to clasp your breast, thumb running over the peaked nipple as he bent further to capture the other between his lips.

You groaned as he continued to nip and suckle and bite at the pert bud, hazel eyes observed your through dark lashes as you arched into him, bringing one hand up to tangle into his dark locks. He groaned against your skin as you pulled at it, moaning his name in between panted breaths.

“Fuck, Az. Please…” he sucked hard on the nipple caught between his lips, releasing it with an obscene pop and a parting flick of his tongue against the tip.

“Please what, sweetheart?” His mouth moved to capture the nipple under the ministrations of his thumb, the callouses rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin. Words died on the tip of your tongue as the fingers dancing beneath your skirt finally brushed against sodden fabric, rubbing against the slick folds of your pussy. He grunted in approval as he continued to probe, pushing a finger into your aching hole as much as the lace would allow. You moved your hand from his shoulder, taking advantage of his bent position to trace two knuckles against the dark membrane of a wing.

Azriel’s growl was feral as he bucked his hips. His mouth left your breast to kiss up your neck, teeth scratching against the pulse thrumming at your jugular.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a wicked, wicked tease?” His lips once again met your own in a rough, opened-mouthed kiss. You purposely dragged your knuckles back over his wing, it flared out under your touch as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth. You pulled back, your lip catching before he released you. He stared at you, panting and pupils blown wide. You smirked as you put your hand back on his shoulder, resolving to explore the sensitive expanse of his wings further another time. You trailed your fingers down, feeling the hard expanse of muscles on his chest and abdomen before settling on the strings of his leather breeches.

“I may have heard something like that before.” You pulled at the knot, struggling to undo it with just one hand. Azriel’s hand left your breast, placing it over your own to still the movements. You furrowed your brow, questioning him with a gaze as he made no move to help.

“There’s something I need to do first.” He stepped back, moving out of your reach as you planted your hands on either side of the sofa to steady yourself. His wings flared for balance as he slowly lowered himself to one knee, then the other, maintaining eye contact with you as his hands slid under your dress. Tracing up to your hips he caught hold of the lace of your panties, slowly pulling them over your thighs and past your knees to drop over your bare feet onto the floor. His eyes never left yours as he rucked the thin skirt up to your waist, leaving you panting and exposed under his gaze. His eyes trailed down slowly as if committing the sight of you to memory, taking special note of the flush on your neck and chest, littered with a constellation of bruises he had sucked onto your skin. Lower still, until his gaze came to rest between your legs, fixated on the way your cunt glistened in the fae light.

“I can’t tell you how often I’ve dreamed of this.” He ran the back of his hand down the side of your thigh as you opened your legs wider for him to nestle his shoulders between your knees. “Of how you taste, what you’d look like underneath me, the sounds you’d make when you cum for me.” He made sure to catch your gaze again as he lowered his mouth towards your slick folds. The hand that wasn't tracing your thigh moved to part your lips as his tongue delves between them. He moaned against you at that first taste. Dragging his tongue in a long sensual stroke up, barely brushing the edge of your clit before returning to tease at your entrance. Biting your lip your hands found his hair, wrenching him closer as you slid your knees over his shoulders. He cupped your arse, rough fingers digging into supple flesh as he fucked you with his tongue. Languid strokes that brushed his nose against your clit every time he pushed in deeper.

You moaned, grinding against his face, the hand not tangled in his hair circled at your nipple still coated in his saliva. His tongue slid up through the wetness to toy with your clit, circling dangerously around the edges before he caught it between his lips, suckling on it hard. You cried out his name at the delicious pressure, bordering on pain, his eyes watching you through dark lashes as you writhe and grind against him. He releases your clit, pulling back after a small gentle parting lick.

“Look at you.” His thumb moves up to trace your clit. He looked debauched, lips swollen and pink, chin soaked with your pleasure. “Such a pretty little cunt.” His thumb slides down through your wetness as he teases it through your puffy folds. “So wet for me, just begging to be fucked.” You felt your pussy clench as he traced past the hole, dipping further down in between your cheeks to toy with the wetness around the puckered ring of muscle there. He returned torturously slowly to where you needed him most, before plunging one finger deep inside of you. You moaned at the intrusion as he curled his finger up, rubbing purposely against the sensitive wall before pulling out. He added another finger to the first, inserting them at the same glacial pace, finally looking away from your face as he watched your walls stretch to accommodate his thick fingers. It wasn’t enough, you needed more of him.

“Please,” you begged, tugging at his hair. “Please Az, I need more. I need…” You trailed off as another finger slid into your tight hole, the pace still slow as he watched you grind your hips against his hand, trying to fuck his fingers deeper and faster into you.

“Whatever my beautiful-“He stopped himself, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, eyes on your face again. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” And with that promise, he lowered his mouth to your cunt again. The speed of his fingers increased, fucking into you with abandon as he caught your clit between his lips once more, licking and sucking, dragging his teeth gently over the sensitive nerves. He skilfully brought you to the precipice of your release, alternating between curling his fingers and lathing his tongue against your clit before slowing down. You keened, undulating your hips against his face and hand. Shadows bled out the sofa, fixing your hips down as he continued to tease.

“I need to see you cum for me.” He growled against you before pressing himself deeper into your folds. Your legs shook as his fingers fucked you harder, as his mouth latched onto your clit with a hard suck. His hazel eyes were fixed on your face, watching as you climbed towards your peak. Your grip tightened on his hair as your release built. Until finally, it snapped. Sending you careening toward the most exquisite bliss you had experienced in your immortal life.

“Azriel! Oh Gods…” Your legs shifted on his shoulders as your muscles clenched under your release, trapping his head between your thighs. He continued to lick and suck you gently as you came down from your pleasure, fingers moving at a more leisurely pace now as he watched you, eyes filled with lust and awe. You relaxed slowly under his ministrations, enough to begin to bring you towards pleasure again despite how oversensitive your nerves felt. You unhooked your legs from his shoulders as you moved your hands towards them, pulling as his leathers. He released you from his mouth, pulling his fingers out and admiring the wetness left on his hand rolling down towards his wrist. He rose, allowing you to capture his face between your hands in a searing kiss. You groaned at the taste of it, both of you mingled together on the tongue he stroked slowly against yours.

Moving your hands down you broke the kiss, nestling into his neck and tracing the dark marks of his tattoos with your tongue. Under both your hands the knot holding his leathers closed came away easily. You pushed your fingers under the tight band, grazing the head of his cock with your thumb. Azriel panted into your shoulder, his grip on your waist tight as you continued to tease the head, rubbing circles slick with pre-cum into the sensitive skin.

Azriel became rigid under your touch. You pulled away from his neck, from marking him with bruises similar to the ones on your own, to look at his face. A dark tendril curled around his ear, whispering to the shadowsinger. His face darkened and he let out a vicious curse, pulling away from you and turning his attention towards the foyer.

You could hear footsteps now, heading in your direction. Azriel was a picture, rock hard against his leathers, hair a mess from where you’d carted your fingers through it, full lips swollen and red. You looked down at yourself, bare breasts peeking through the ripped fabric of your dress, skirt rucked up still baring your cunt to the room.

“Y/N! I know you’re here. You’re keeping us all waiting.” Nesta was in the hallway now, heading towards the only way in or out of the sitting room. You slipped off the back of the sofa, righting your dress and trying to pull the ripped fabric of the bodice closed with little success. Azriel’s eyes had turned calculating, all trace of lingering lust gone as he ran through possible ways to get you both out of this situation. If you were anywhere else, he could have winnowed you away. You cursed whichever of Rhys predecessors put such stringent security measures on the House to a painful eternity in Hel.

Shadows moved to open the large windows next to the fireplace to let in a breeze, biting cold and pushed through the room as Azriel’s siphons glowed. A fire started to burn, smoking more than normal, its acrid smell filling your nose. Azriel gestured to the sofa, the blanket still coiled on the seats.

“Get under.” You moved quickly, throwing yourself down as you used the blanket to cover up your ruined dress and bruises. Azriel strode toward the window, taking one glance back as you tried to settle yourself before he slipped out into the sky and the fading light. You rested your head against the cool arm of the leather, bringing your legs under the blanket as you feigned sleep.

Nesta’s footsteps stopped at the threshold of the open door.

“Y/N.”

You let out a low groan, stretching as you pretended to drag yourself from sleep. You rose so only your face was visible over the back of the sofa, blanket clutched to your chest as you took in Nesta standing in the doorway. Her silver eyes scanned your face as her nose wrinkled at the smell of the poorly burning fire.

“You’re late.” Silver burned in the eyes she fixed on you, angered at the perceived social slight.

“I’m sorry, I was reading. Must have fallen asleep.” Your heart pounded as she assessed you. You hoped she’d put it down to the shock of being rudely woken rather than your anxiety at being almost caught.

“Everyone’s waiting in the library, let’s go.” You nodded in agreement, mind whirring as you tried to figure out a way out of the room, out of your ruined clothes with the reek of arousal still clinging to your skin, without raising any suspicions.

“I’ll um, meet you there. I just want to quickly freshen up and grab the book from my room.” Nesta’s eyes scanned you, before inclining her head and turning to leave.

“Five minutes,” she ordered as she left, “or we’ll start without you.” You collapsed back into the sofa, relief flooding your veins as you tried to calm your breathing. You hadn’t noticed the way her eyes had fixed on the dark lace half-hidden underneath the sofa before she left.

Thank you for reading, to everyone who asked to be added to the tag-list I think I've included everyone I can but some blogs I couldn't tag so apologies if that's yours.

Tag list: @kalulakunundrum @impossibelle @we-were-beautiful @going-through-shit @mulansaucey @sv0430 @naturakaashi @amygdtjhddzvb @airstrip-0 @acourtofsmutandstarlight @myheartfollower @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @valencia-rou @amysangel @furiousbooklover @phoenixgurl030 @imnotsiriusyouare @i-am-infinite @cat-or-kitten @marvelouslovely-barnes @gretavanbobatea @tothestarsandwhateverend @furiousbooklover @esposadomd @meritxellao @kemillyfreitas @juneangel21 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @luvmoo @originalcrusadetrash @mandowhatnow @bangtanbecks @bookslut420 @goldenmagnolias @inkedaztec @opheliaas-stuff @spongehappy @oingo233 @unstablefemme @minicoffee00 @brujitafantomatico @thelov3lybookworm @naturakaashi @nyenye @fandomarchiveilyd @sunnysideup000 @bunnyredgirl @bloodicka @cirwin2013 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @magicstrengthandcourage @justdreamstars @hanatsuki-hime @tsumudoll @jasontoddorjasongrace @saltedcoffeescotch @queerqueenlynn @kodokunarisu-blog @4ambagelbites @byyalady @feyres-fireheart @moonslitluna

#azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar series #acotar smut #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster

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aloneinthehellfire · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Forgotten and the Remembered

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, amnesia, the usual monsters, angst ofc, the biggest warning is that this isn't proof-read bc if I didn't release this soon then I was gonna start tweaking

[A/N: Writer's block is currently kicking my ass but I REFUSE to be beaten!! Posting at 3am!! No one can stop me!!]

The Forgotten and the Remembered

“Can I be the first to say that I seriously hate this apocalypse?”

Eddie shoves the dead demodog off of his torso with a groan, a small and grateful nod directed to Steve for killing it before he was literally dog meat.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re the first.” Steve says, offering a hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Ugh, we can braid each other’s hair later, let’s get moving.”

Excluding Billy’s childish remark, Steve had to agree with his urgency; it was getting pretty dark already and if they didn’t speed up their footsteps, they would never make it to the Radio Shack.

The mission was as simple as it could be, drawn out on an out-of-date map with no contingency plans if it all went wrong. Which, as Steve goes over it all in his head, was a terrible mistake. When has anything ever gone smoothly for him?

They needed to get to the Radio Shack for nightfall, grab a spare walkie and contact their respective groups to alert their survival. Steve wondered if they'd be happy to hear his voice. After all, his absence was probably a relief considering how suffocating he had been lately.

Next, they were to trail around the outskirts of the centre, hopefully avoiding bigger hives of monsters on the streets. Eddie stated that getting to the edge of the mall was vital to the final part of the plan.

And, finally, the crucial part: Eddie will guide them to the delivery bay and lead them straight to the supplies. In and out. It should be simple.

If they even made it there, that is.

“I still don’t get why you don’t just leave, man.” Eddie reiterates for the thousandth time since leaving the camp. Steve’s head was starting to ache with the constant pestering.

“Because we can’t.” Steve sighs, rubbing his temple. Up ahead, he caught the subtle shake of Billy’s shoulders, indicating that he was very much amused with Steve’s distress.

Asshole, Steve thinks as he rolls his shoulder. The last demodog attack forced his swing too hard, leaving a dull ache that did not help his discomfort at all. No sleep, migraines, and now a bruised shoulder. It wasn’t his day, that’s for sure.

“But you have the perfect opportunity-”

“Can we talk about something else?” Steve suddenly snaps, not in any malicious intent but it came out more stressed than he wanted. “Please.”

Eddie sounds a low whistle, widening his eyes. “Sure, man, my bad.”

“Thank you.”

To the joy of his thrumming headache, Eddie was quiet after that. Rather than speak, he quietly kicked around a small stone, sometimes humming a strange tune. Steve felt a little guilty, but maybe silence was what they needed right now.

It didn’t last as long as he hoped.

“Who else is here?” Eddie questions just as they pass the abandoned Steelworks building. Steve always found the place to be a little creepy.

“Like our group?”

“Yeah. I realised I never asked and I think it would be nice to know who I’m risking my life for.”

“Well, there’s us, obviously.” He runs a hand through his hair, spotting the old inn in the distance. They were getting closer. “Then there’s a bunch of kids. Six of ‘em. And a girl from high school. Nancy’s there, too.”

“She the one dating the Byers’ kid now?” Eddie asks innocently enough, assessing Steve’s reaction. “Is he there too?”

“Uh…”

A pained gasp hits the air like a sobering thought, stilling his aching body. It didn’t belong to him.

In his silence, Billy throws a look over his shoulder and clears his throat.

“Not anymore.” He says, and Steve swallows the thick lump in his throat. Eddie merely nods, choosing not to pester further.

“No. No, his, uh, his mom is, though. And his brother.” He nods himself back into the confidence to have this conversation, smiling to hide his hurt. “There’s a fair amount of us, I guess. Hopper takes care of them, though. Kinda his thing.”

"Hopper? As in Chief Hopper?"

"The very same."

His eyes flicker with distaste. Steve can only assume Eddie and the chief hadn’t gotten along over the past few years, especially with the whole drug-dealing career Eddie found himself in.

"Who, uh, who else is with you guys?"

"No, that's pretty much it." Steve frowns at the way Eddie's usually animated features suddenly drop, clearing his throat. "Why? Are you also looking for someone?"

"Uh, no, nothing like that- Wait… also?" Eddie's eyes narrow when he pulls Steve to a stop, leaning in so Billy doesn't overhear them. "I'm sorry, are you telling me that you've dragged me out here because you're looking for someone? What happened to the whole 'we're dying and need help' situation?!"

"Okay, firstly," Steve yanks his arm back, a small mumble of an apology flowing from Eddie's lips in return, "I'm not technically telling you anything, but yes. I- we are looking for someone. And secondly- dos - we do need supplies. Without them, we can't find the person we're looking for. Now you might be upset with me for that but I didn't ask you to come out here. You led us all on your own, so maybe you should be thinking about why you seem so desperate to get away from that camp instead of blaming me for it."

Steve clears his throat, taken aback by his own words.

A small exhale of breath escapes Eddie's lungs, his mouth snapping shut. He wore a look of guilt, one Steve has borrowed and made all throughout his life. For a single moment, a slither of regret binds knots around his stomach. But it merely lasts that, a moment; he doesn't have time to care for others feelings when he still hasn't found you.

“Steve!” Nancy shouts, but what else could he do? He wasn’t fast enough to stop this.

His eyes fly shut once the dagger is closer than comfort, awaiting the painful stretch of metal into his flesh. Unfortunately for someone else, he didn’t have to.

A pained gasp hits the air like a sobering thought, stilling his aching body. It didn’t belong to him. It belonged to Jonathan.

Nancy starts to scream as blood pours from his mouth, his legs losing their power and stumbling him back into a hoard of shapeshifters. Steve watches as they grab at him, pulling at his clothes. They throw a hand over his mouth and drag him away, looking satisfied in their assault.

And there it was again. Even with his shifted morals, the guilt kept returning, embracing him like a mother would their child. Or, at least, he assumes a mother would. His negligence of other people's feelings seem to be almost as identical to that of his parents, and it was far deadlier in this apocalypse.

"Whatever." Eddie grumbles, snapping him out of his haze of self-hatred. "We've got about another 20 minutes so let's speed this up, yeah?"

He charged ahead, leaving Steve behind to stand in contemplation before he begrudgingly followed. Steve sighs. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

“Hello? Can anyone hear us?”

“Is anyone there?”

“I repeat, is anyone there?”

Your knuckles were white with the grasp you had on the microphone, throat tightening with every communication you tried. It had been a couple of minutes, and there hasn’t been a single response.

Once you and Jonathan had navigated the maze of hallways, you had been quick to usher him inside the comms room and lock the door behind you, ensuring at least some kind of security in your mission. Jonathan had assured you he could send out a signal to your friends, and you had immediately began your search for an exit using the camera system Brenner had set up in here. The only problem was that you couldn’t see an exit, and no one was responding to your call.

“It’s Y/n. Y/n Hopper. I’m here with Jonathan Byers. Can anyone hear us?” You try again, sharing a look with the boy currently fixated on the radio system. “We’re stuck in a bunker, and we need help. Over.”

The device eventually rests back on the table’s surface, along with your hope of a response.

“I thought you said they were monitoring the stations?” You ask Jonathan as he fiddles with various dials.

“They are.” He says with determination, shaking his head at the machine. “Dustin basically built on some radio extension, they should be able to hear us. Maybe it’s a problem with-”

His voice falters as he peers behind the table, momentarily ducking down. “I found the problem.”

Before you can ask, he sits back up with a frayed wire in his hand and a frown on his face.

“Shit.” You breathe and he can only nod, inspecting it with disdain.

“Looks like someone tampered with it.” He sighs, leaning back in the chair. “Can we guess who?”

“Probably the same person who removed any trace of a door from the camera feeds.” You say, resting your head in your hand as you continue to click through the screens in front of you.

You had seen what felt like a million hallways and rooms, an unnecessary amount of security in a deserted bunker, but not one single way out of here. It was starting to mess with your brain, wondering if there was even an exit at all.

“Maybe he knew we were gonna escape? You know, just ruined the radio and removed the camera on the front door so we couldn’t leave.” You offer, resisting the repetitive click of the mouse by pushing away from the desk and resting your hands between your thighs.

“How would he know that?” Jonathan frowns, looking lost in thought. “He’s crafty, I’ll give him that. He’s supposed to be dead so I guess nothing can surprise me now.”

You slowly nod along to his words, not really retaining anything here or there. Jonathan explained to you who Brenner was just moments prior to accepting defeat with the technology surrounding you. It turns out he wasn’t a complete stranger after all; Hopper had been hunting him down for years. But there was only so much Jonathan could tell you about him.

You still didn’t know why he took you here in the first place. Or why Jonathan was locked up in a random room with medical equipment.

While Jonathan continues to mutter about the possibilities of escaping, your eyes catch a series of tapes lined across shelves, noticing that very few are marked with a subject.

“What do they say?” You point above him, cutting off his spiel about seeing if there was a weapons room.

“Uh…” Jonathan abandons his seat and peers at the shelf, tilting his head to read the tapes. “There are a couple that say ‘Lab’. Another says ‘Experiment 8’... this one is creepy. It just says, ‘I saw you’.”

A chill runs down your spine as his eyes meet yours with matching concern. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Play it.” You say with more confidence than you expected.

Jonathan doesn’t object, slipping the tape into the player and watching the screen brighten with the image of a furnished room.

“What’s this?” He frowns, looking to you for some sort of answer. Your face had dropped, eyes glued to the screen.

“No.” You whisper, watching yesterday play out in front of you for the second time.

The camera feed suggested it was hidden in a vent closer to the ceiling, metal lines obstructing some view, but the subject was still clear as day. You watched as Owens talked to you on the couch, holding your breath. Even in a grainy exposure, you could still see the fear on his face.

“What’s happening?” Jonathan asks quietly just as Owens ushers you to the closet.

“He’s saving me.” You state and Brenner walks into the room. From this angle, you can see the gun he’s hiding behind his back, and it makes your stomach churn.

“What…” Jonathan’s question cuts off with the flash of a bullet, a gasp leaving his lips as Owens falls to the ground and lays in a pool of his own blood. “He killed him.”

If the screen weren’t so big, you would’ve missed the way Brenner turns his head to the vent, eyes staring directly into the camera. He doesn’t smile, or speak. He just stares. Like he knew.

Because he always knew.

“There aren’t meant to be any cameras in there.” You say, shaking your head. “He- he knew Owens was telling me everything, he knew I saw what he did.”

“So why didn’t he kill you too?” Jonathan asks the million dollar question. Why didn’t he kill you too?

“Play the other ones.” You nod. “We have to figure out what he knows.”

The tapes didn’t relax your anxiety. You and Jonathan watched three before you felt like you could throw up if you continued.

Each one was a different shot of the Hawkins lab, following the lives of your dad, the kids, everyone. There wasn’t any sound, but it was pretty clear what each person was doing; patrols, planning. He had been watching all of you this entire time.

“There’s more.” Jonathan says, pulling out notebooks from one of the drawers he had curiously opened while you were flicking through tapes. “He’s been writing about us.”

You flick through a couple of pages, frowning. The writing was messy and cursive, detailing different notes about conspiracies, almost all about Hopper and his whereabouts. “Why? Why does he care what we’re doing?”

“Maybe he doesn’t like that we’re trying to find a way to close these gates.”

“What possible reason does he have to keep them open?” You ask just as you discard another book, laying your eyes on the last in the pile.

This notebook was eerily familiar to you. It seemed worn, a couple scratches and stains. They were almost comforting, especially in a stark clean place like this.

You turn the first page and fall into realisation, observing the scrawl of handwriting that fell from your own fingertips. It was your notebook.

It contained information about monsters; their strengths and weaknesses. Like you had been observing them for a while, not that you could remember. And it contained a small diary entry every few pages. Nothing seemed of importance, mostly details about feeling ill or wanting to go home. But one word was scribbled across these pages with such care, catching your eye with every letter.

The most important piece to the puzzle.

"Steve." You manage to whisper out before turning to the screen with haste when you hear your own voice muttering through the screen. This video had audio.

“When was this?” Jonathan asks, and you look closer.

You and a boy are standing at a railing, staring out of a giant glass window with one of the gates staring back at you. Steve. You were with Steve.

“I don’t remember.” You frown, trying to listen to yourself.

“… I’m glad I got to see the real Steve Harrington, even if it was just a few days, but… but that’s not enough time to really know each other. You don’t know me.”

“Looks like the day the lab exploded.”

Everything around you was either burnt or burning, small flames dancing along the ground and chasing after screeching vines.

The lab had exploded, you realise, shoulders dropping. It was gone. And it took the gate with it, only a large crack against the surface left in its demise.

You turn to see Steve already standing beside you, taking in the scene just as you had, his hard stare softening into defeat. There was no going back.

“What now?” You whisper, afraid if you say it any louder the realisation of what you had done would come crashing down, taking away that last remaining piece of sanity with its tide.

“I…” Steve frowns, slowly meeting your eyes. He didn’t have a plan this time, no positives to share. You were both stuck in an alternate dimension, your exit blown to smithereens. “I don’t know.”

“How the hell did I forget that?” Your hands find a tighter grip on your notebook, pulling it closer. “I… I should have remembered.”

Jonathan offers a sympathetic smile. “Y/n, you’ve been missing for weeks. If Brenner’s been feeding you those pills this entire time… it’s gonna take a while for you to remember everything.”

But I should have remembered him.

The way Steve smiled, or how he fiddled with his hair when he was nervous. Each mole painting his skin, or the way he’d huff when he was upset in the most adorable way. The way he’d hold your hand, the sweetness and care behind every kiss. It should have been easy to remember, because your heart never truly forgot.

Your eyes drift up to the screen, watching as Steve leans closer to you. The strain on your heart was loosening with the memory of him, but your stomach tightened with guilt. He would never have forgotten you.

“They don’t need me, Steve.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.” You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’ve been doing this shit long before I was ever in the picture. If anything, I’ve just ruined it-”

“Why do you do that?” He cuts you off, flickering between your eyes with a look of concern. “Act like you aren’t someone important, when you most definitely are.”

“Y/n?” Jonathan brings his chair closer, ensuring a respectable boundary between you two.

You almost turn back to him in defeat when you find yourself staring at the red beam of light behind you and Steve. Reaching forward, you click the mouse and pause the video, leaning closer. The gate was glowing a crimson fog onto the window, eerily beautiful despite its dangerous contents. But, most importantly, you remember that glow post-amnesia. In the room you met Owens.

“Oh my god.” You breathe out, leaning back into your chair to let the dread flood your body.

“What is it?” Jonathan glances between you and the screen, peering closer at the image as if he could use it to read your mind.

“It’s not a door.” You state with a whisper, repeating it louder when you realise he can’t understand you. “It’s not a door. Our exit. It’s a gate.”

You grab the mouse and start flicking back through the live camera feeds, rapidly searching for evidence of your claims until the image presents itself, eliciting a gasp from the boy beside you.

The room you had encountered Owens in for the first time was exactly as you remembered it. Small machines lined the walls and shutters blocked out what you assume to be a large window to your exit. The camera quality wasn’t the best, but it didn’t need to be perfect to see the red light peeking out from the cracks.

“Does this mean what I think it does?” Jonathan asks, arm leaning on the desk beside you as he peers over your shoulder, holding his breath until you answer.

“Yep.” You slowly nod, meeting his eyes. “We’re not just in a bunker.”

“We’re in the Upside Down.”

Almost as soon as the terrifying truth breathed from Jonathan’s mouth, a shrill screech of sirens started to echo around you, startling you out of your seat.

Brenner knew you were escaping.

“Shit, time to go.” Jonathan gasps, spinning around and spotting an old satchel under the desk. He quickly grabs it and starts shoving in evidence; notebooks, tapes, even an old recording device Brenner had left on the shelf.

Before you leave, you ensure your notebook is a part of the collection before unlocking the door and throwing it open to reveal the flashing white and red hallway of your nightmares.

“Which way?!” Jonathan yells over the alarm and you grab his arm, tugging him left into a sprinted run, racing against the clock.

But it didn’t matter how fast you ran. You couldn't outrun time.

Darkness fell over Hawkins like an omen, plunging everything into a deep, dark, black.

The red hues of the clouds above would cast a bloody visage on the buildings whenever lightning should clash, but no thunder followed in its wake. This weather wasn’t normal. It was silent, and it was very, very deadly.

Hiding after dark was the only solution in a world like this now. Unfortunately, sanctuary was getting harder and harder to find. Steve, Billy, and Eddie, learnt that the hard way.

“I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but, uh…” Eddie’s finger waved to the ceiling, gulping.

The problem with the ceiling? There wasn’t one.

“Shit.” Billy runs a hand down his face. “Something ripped that roof clean off.”

“Maybe we should head next door?” Eddie offers, but he knew any suggestions were useless. It was pitch black and Steve was pretty sure the windows of the building opposite were smashed into pieces.

“We can set up a camp.” Steve nods slowly, looking around the store. A couple of shelf stands were still upright. Maybe if they set up their tents behind them, it’ll shield them from anything in the sky. He could shudder at the thought of something flying around right now, but it wouldn’t surprise him.

And it wasn’t necessarily a shock to him that the roof was gone. He’s constantly reminded of the giant shadow you had seen a while back, a fear in your eye he couldn’t ignore. The worst part was that Steve hadn’t seen it around lately, and that made it so much more terrifying. It suggested that this thing only appeared when it mattered.

So why target the Radio Shack?

Billy was the one to start on the tents, while Steve gathered some old wood from broken tables to throw in a pile. Eddie watches them with uncertainty, uncomfortable with how calm they seemed to be. He knew they’ve probably been through a lot, they all have, but they move with such confidence in a situation that would definitely have him spiralling if he was in charge.

“You sure these radios are gonna work?” He tries to keep himself busy as Steve looks over, nodding.

“Yeah. Not those ones, but I brought one with me. It’s battery powered so I just need any packs we can find around here. And it’s always been a pretty good spot for connections. You know, since it’s a radio store and all.” He assures, pulling out some flint he may or may not have snagged from Eddie’s camp. The boy either didn’t mind or took no notice of it, still fiddling with the radios. “Hey.”

Steve carefully takes the radio from his hand, checking the battery. It definitely needed replacing, and he held it while he assessed the situation. There were more radios scattered about, at least one of them had to have the power he needed.

“We’ll need to contact them in the morning.” He finally says, responding to Eddie’s wide eyes of disapproval. “Look, we don’t know why but radios are practically useless when it’s dark. Maybe it’s something to do with the clouds, I don’t know. But we also don’t want any of those things out there hearing us. Especially since we don’t have a roof over our head.”

He gently places it back down on the counter, sighing.

“I say we make a small fire. Just enough to keep us warm. And we’ll block out the windows so nothing can look in.”

“What about…” Eddie points to the ceiling, eyebrows raised.

“We can risk it.” Billy finally joins them, looking up at the sky just as a burst of red illuminated the clouds. “Nothing’s seeing us from up there.”

“How can you be so sure?” Eddie asks.

Billy doesn’t respond. Instead, he swipes the flint from Steve’s hand and starts work on the campfire, avoiding their eyes.

Steve has never known Billy to be normal. Not even close. He was an egomaniac, emphasis on the maniac, with an array of anger issues and, frankly, terrible judgement. I mean, this guy saw Lucas Sinclair as a threat, and Steve knew there could be only one reason why Lucas of all the boys was targeted.

And yet, even with all his horrible traits, Steve hasn’t known Billy to act this… weird. He was quieter, motivated, and, above all else, somewhat selfless? He didn’t have to volunteer for this trip. He certainly didn’t have to stay when the plan went awry, and considering the military were moving people out, Billy has every opportunity to leave them behind.

Something was just off. And he couldn’t figure out why.

“So, I know you don’t want to talk about it…” Eddie says after a while, the fire set and his back resting against an old wall. Steve looks over before his breath hitches in his throat.

You sat there once. It was back in the Upside Down, but it reminded him of you all the same. Eddie had that same look of defeat on his face, a cool determination still resting behind his eyes like he was still trying to fight. Just like you did.

God, he missed you so fucking much.

“Why is this person you’re looking for so important?” Eddie finishes and Billy’s eyes briefly flicker to Steve’s, the truth weighing heavy on his tongue.

“Because she is.” Steve replies simply, rubbing his hands together as the cold air creeps between the flames. “And she’s incredibly important to all of us.”

“Why?”

“She just is.”

Eddie tightens his lips, slowly nodding. Even as Steve avoids his eyes, his gaze is hard set on the side of his head, reading him like a book. He could almost feel the thoughts radiating from Eddie’s head.

"You're searching for Y/n, aren't you?"

Everything is suddenly too silent. Even Billy tensed up a little, pausing his efforts to pry open a tin of beans they’d packed back at the camp.

Steve isn't sure how to respond. He wasn't expecting Eddie to make such an accurate guess, especially considering your reputation in high school; Steve risking his life for you wouldn't ever cross someone's mind if they had not witnessed your change in relationship.

Unless it wasn't a guess at all.

"How do you know that?"

Eddie suddenly looks sheepish, eyes darting to the ground. "I, uh... I heard... I heard something."

"Heard something?"

"Your radio." Eddie sighs, still avoiding the boy's glare. "Back at the camp. You were asleep and I was on watch that night. I thought I heard a voice- her voice. It was coming from the radio in your bag. But when I tried to respond, nothing went through so I figured I had made it up..."

"You heard her." Steve blinks, shoulders tensing. "You heard her?!"

"Woah, dude, calm down." Eddie jumps from his seat, hands surrendering. "I was gonna look into it when we got here, try and send out another signal."

"Why wouldn't you tell me?!"

"Because last I heard you guys hated each other! How was I meant to know you're friends now?! I've been stuck on the other side of town for weeks now trying to help my uncle, I don't have time to catch up on the latest King Steve gossip!"

"Stop calling me that."

"My bad, would you prefer ‘freak’?"

"Fucking hell, will the both of you just shut the fuck up?" Billy groans, discarding the tin of beans and looking at them in disbelief. "You guys keep arguing over and over and unless one of you is gonna man up and beat the shit out of the other one, I'm sick of your whining."

Steve blinks. Billy Hargrove was the one telling them that their anger issues were the problem? Considering Eddie's similar expression, he wasn't the only one who realised how insane that sounded. Which only meant Billy was right; they really were a problem.

"Ah." Billy grins sarcastically, leaning back against the shelves, "Music to my ears."

"Whatever." Eddie coughs, snagging the radio from the counter and marching away before anyone could protest, mumbling about trying to find another battery.

"What is his problem?" Steve muttered to himself, not quietly enough to avoid Billy's coarse chuckle. "What?"

"Maybe the dude is worked up because we won't tell him a single thing about anything." He offers, eyes plastered the last remaining flickers of ember in the campfire. "We haven't told him about the Upside Down, forgot to mention anything about the gates of hell that we're trying to track. And now you're neglecting to tell him about how Y/n is trapped in another dimension and needs our help. Dude is gonna be pissed."

"Why does he care?" Steve asks, barely any venom in his words. He was just tired. More tired than he usually gets. Maybe he should have taken the opportunity to sleep when the tents were set up.

"About the Upside Down?" Billy cocks a brow, sending a knowing look. "Or Y/n?"

Steve straightens at the way he said it, shifting uncomfortably at the idea he was alluding to something he wasn't aware of.

"Both..." Steve says with uncertainty.

Billy smirks, almost hidden under the growing shade of nightfall.

"I'm pretty sure his uncle is dying and he doesn't know how to stop it."

Dread and guilt bubble into their own brew in Steve's stomach, tightening his throat. "How the hell would you know that?"

"By using these things people call eyes."

"Alright, don't-"

"And because you've both been so busy avoiding the truth around each other that I've been noticing things you've both forgotten to hide. His uncle is clearly the most resourceful of all of them back at the camp and yet he's the only one who stays behind to 'keep watch'. Eddie always keeps things private from him like he's tryna protect him. And I'm pretty sure that Heather girl is in on it, too. She was training to be a lifeguard before Hawkins went to shit and is probably the only one with first aid experience. Tommy and Chrissy however have no clue since they're clearly traumatised about what happened to them on ‘day one’."

Steve is speechless to say the least, the darkness shedding a whole new light on his perception of the boy next to him.

"You got all that from just looking?"

"You can notice shit a whole lot better when you become an afterthought." He replies, a quiet anger in his eyes. "Y/n taught me that."

Steve tried to ignore it, but he couldn't help fixating on that last little comment. An afterthought. That's how you've felt this entire time. From realising you had been lied to for two years to assuming your father had left without you, Steve never truly appreciated how alone you must have felt, predicting people's departures before they'd ever arrived.

"And the reason Eddie should know about what's happening to Y/n is the same reason we're out here right now risking our damn lives." Billy's eyes drift to where Eddie was fiddling the radio now, whispering into the speaker with a false sense of hope. "He cares about her."

"I didn't even know they were friends." Steve sighs, sitting down in defeat. Another migraine began to form behind his eyes. Jesus, he could use some painkillers right now.

"Me neither." Billy shrugs, and Steve looks at him quizzically. "What? Just because I'm observant doesn't mean I'm a fucking psychic. I only moved here last year, remember?"

"Trying to forget." Steve comments, but there was no malice. In fact, if Steve squinted, he could just see the making of a smirk lifting the corner of Billy's lips.

They could never be friends. But that didn't mean they had to hate each other forever.

You taught him that.

The persistent sounds of a warning system were the last thing you needed in such a hasty situation. It was hard enough to recall the layout of a white-walled maze without the constant interference of a building headache, barely remembering to grab onto Jonathan’s arm anytime you made a sudden sharp turn.

Time was running against you now. One wrong turn and it could all be over.

“We’re almost there!” You say aloud, but it wasn’t to ease Jonathan’s mind.

You recognised the increasing door numbers around you, reminiscent of the days you would wander around this place and only have to worry about your memory.

It seemed that the closer to the gate you were, the quieter the alarms became. Maybe the power was malfunctioning. After all, electricity didn’t exist in the Upside Down. Brenner must be powering it with some external source and the security system had to be using up all that energy rapidly.

“It’s just down-”

As you pull Jonathan around another corner, attempting to lead him to the gate, someone blocks the hallway, gun in his unnaturally steady hand.

The both of you stop dead in your tracks, locking eyes with your captor.

“I can’t let you leave.” Brenner says, unwavering. “My work isn’t complete.”

You shake your head, slowly raising your hands in surrender. “What work?”

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t expect him to, especially not when he looked like that.

Eyes bloodshot and white hair messy, Brenner looked like he had been fighting. There were no bruises or blood as evidence, but his demeanour was wilder than you’ve ever known it to be. He was always collected, calm, unusually so. And right now, he didn’t look like himself.

“I… I can’t let you leave.” His voice trembles this time, alongside a slight tremor in his hand.

Beside you, you can feel Jonathan move closer. He’s obviously preparing for the worst, hoping you both can run before the bullet reaches you.

“You don’t understand!” Brenner yells this time, taking two harsh steps closer to you. You flinch, but he doesn’t pull the trigger. “I can’t- I can’t let him have her.”

That caught you by surprise, your hands slowly lowering back down to your sides. “Who…”

“I could have done great things. I would have.” He begins laughing to himself now, a crazed shell of himself echoing into the hallway. “But she is more important.”

Slowly, his hand lowers, gun pointed at the floor. He starts to stare into the distance, an unsettling smile dropping to a defeated expression. You exchange a look with Jonathan, unsure how to approach him. Brenner was clearly out of his mind and was blocking the only way out.

“Brenner?” You whisper out, taking a tentative step forward much to Jonathan’s immediate distress.

“What are you-”

You shrug him off, tilting your head to hopefully catch Brenner’s eye. You always had a sixth sense about people, about if they were truly good or evil. And right now, you saw a man that needed help. He wasn’t okay, and you hoped that your instincts were right.

“Dr?” You try again, and this time, he looks up.

“I’m sorry.” He says as he meets your eyes, his own glittering with silent tears. “I truly am sorry.”

“Just let us go.” You plead with a comforting voice, holding out your hands. “We’ll forget all about this. You- you need help. We can… we can get help.”

“You can’t leave.” He frowns, face suddenly hardening to stone.

“Y/n…” Jonathan warns, stepping closer to you, but it was too late.

Brenner raises the gun, straightening his stance and pointing it directly at your chest. “I can’t let him win.”

Him? You question, eyes glued to the weapon. You notice the flicker of his index finger on the trigger, and you wish you hadn’t. It meant you were about to die.

Or, at least, someone was.

Before any bullets could leave the barrel, something big lunges out from the darkness and pounces onto Brenner, the gun firing into the wall beside your head.

Brenner yells out in pain as the monster raises its ugly claw, striking down. A scream almost leaves your lips before Jonathan is taking the opportunity to escape, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the horrifying miracle.

You find yourself unable to decide if leaving Brenner was making you feel guilty or not. And you didn’t have time to. Jonathan leads you straight to the red hue seeping from behind one of the doors, throwing it open and tugging you inside with haste.

“How do we-”

He begins to ask how to open the shutters, but you’ve already launched yourself towards the door on the far end of the room, following the faint hum that has haunted your dreams since day one. He joins you almost as quickly as you left him, standing beside you in the open doorway and staring in at the room that follows.

“Jesus…” He whispers, the gate smaller than the one at the lab but big enough to have him wondering. “We’ve been searching for a gate for weeks. And it’s been here the whole time? How did we miss this?”

The taunting sound of heavy footsteps call out from behind you, something big hitting the door with malicious intent.

Both of you jump inside the room, tipping over a metal unit to block the door before you make a run for it, the shelves you destroyed scraping against the floor as the monster attempts to break in.

As your footsteps echo loudly against the silver steps leading to the gate, the unsettling wave of familiarity plagues you for the last time inside this bunker.

A lab, a gate, a boy. Time was repeating itself, over and over, making you question if your actions ever meant anything at all. You always ended back here, back in a life or death deal with only one realistic option left for survival; run.

You almost slip, but Jonathan manages to catch you, a terrifying crash sounding from the door.

As Jonathan takes your hand in his, the cool skin feels unusual against yours. Your body was aching for some kind of warmth this boy didn't have, reminiscent of a safe grasp.

You didn’t realise what was wrong until you were being pulled through the gate with a gasp, senses thrown off balance as you barely escaped the claws of a close death.

Jonathan’s hand didn't bring the same comfort you’ve yearned for all this time.

He wasn't Steve.

No one really appreciates a roof over their head until they don’t have it anymore.

There was the blinding light of sun peeking through the grey clouds and a horrible sensation of something clinging to his arm when he woke, causing Steve to groan in despair. He barely got any sleep last night, and now he’ll probably be up for another 20 hours. Life sucked right now.

Steve peels his arm away from the lining of the tent, frowning. It felt wet. Why was it wet?

Crawling out of his pop-up quarters, ignoring how uncool he must look right now, Steve’s heart drops as his hand slips into a puddle. It rained. It rained.

“Shit.” He spits, scrambling to his feet and letting his eyes fall across the store.

Any and all electronic equipment was now soaked and useless.

“Shit!” He says, louder this time. His hands were pressed against the top of his head as he paced.

“What’s going on?” Eddie yawns, stepping out of the second tent with much more grace than Steve had earlier. But he couldn’t dwell on that, right now. “Damn. When did it rain?”

“The batteries.” Steve gasped, rushing over to the counter.

Any radios left were drowned, leaving no promise of what he desperately needed. His hands fumble with the battery compartments, a little piece of his soul chipping away as each battery led in their own pools of rain.

“Steve?”

Eddie’s voice wasn’t a priority. His hands were shaking. He was stuck here, just like in the Upside Down. Just like you. And now he-

“Steve!”

His eyes finally snap up to see his saving grace.

Eddie stood with a radio in one hand, pointing to it with the other. “It’s fine. I found a battery and shoved it into my tent when we turned in last night. And it works, too.”

“Oh, thank god.” Steve sighs, releasing all his anxious energy back into the air.

“You sleep okay, man? You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah, I- I’m okay.” He rubs his eyes, sucking in the fresh air. Well, as fresh as it could be in an apocalypse. “Where’s Billy?”

“Uh…” Eddie takes a quick look around before deciding on a shrug.

“Great.” Steve sighs, rolling his shoulder. There was still a dull ache resting there, flaming whenever he moved his left arm. “I’ll start getting us packed up, you try and contact your camp.”

Eddie didn’t seem all too convinced by his false display of wellness. “You sure you’re-”

“I’m fine.” Steve offers a tight-lipped smile, already taking down the tents with haste that suggested he really wasn’t in the mood to talk about how miserable he was right now. “See if anything else survived. We’ll need some spare batteries for when we’re out of the mall. Just in case.”

“Cool. Back-ups. I like it.” Eddie nods, mostly to himself since Steve had already left his side.

Steve’s hands immediately find solace in disassembling the tents, grateful to be busy. He wasn’t sure what was making him so cranky. Usually it would be from another nightmare he couldn’t control, images of your virus-stricken form weaving into his deepest fears. He didn’t dream last night, but he wasn’t even sure he slept at all.

It was like there was a small nagging pinch of a dagger resting at the back of his mind, occasionally piercing him but mostly leaving a dull ache in his brain. It was almost torture, and he wasn’t sure what was causing it. No sleep, no water or food, could remove it no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe it was all the pressure finally taking its toll on him. The apocalypse wasn’t resting easy on anyone’s mind, but after losing you and leading Jonathan straight to his demise, it was certainly heavy.

Maybe it was something else entirely. Something he missed. He’d been feeling it since that day in the motel basement, where you sacrificed all you had left to make sure he was saved. But he had nothing more than a blackout and a painful memory to evidence his growing fatigue.

One thing was for sure; his only cure right now would be you.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice calls out from the other side of the shelves, making Steve pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something staring at me.”

Steve pauses all movement, eyes widening. His heartbeat raises quicker than usual, a trail of goosebumps straightening the hairs on his arms.

“Is this the demogorgon you were talking about?” He asks, and Steve slowly makes his way back through the store, attempting to catch a glimpse of the window.

“Tall, grey, faceless?” Steve recalls, taking slow steps. He can just see his bat resting near one of the deflated tents, calling to him. The sun above made everything impossible to see, pu

re light reflecting on the window.

“No. It’s, uh…”

When Eddie’s words falter, Steve makes a quick and crucial decision. He steps to his bat and swipes it off the ground, turning to see the boy fully now. Eddie’s face had fallen, fists clenched.

“What?” Steve frowns, afraid to look behind him at the glass pane.

“It’s grinning at me.”

Heart sinking into his stomach, Steve can’t seem to find the words to warn Eddie before glass shatters the earth behind him, a sharp ringing in his ear. It cuts his voice with a sliced gasp through the air as something pulls him backwards until he hits the ground hard.

He didn’t get a moment to recover. A large clawed hand found its way around his throat, pinning him to the ground.

As he chokes for breath, Steve finds himself staring up at the eerie image of a jagged smile, dead eyes glaring down at him with enough malice to turn his body cold. But Steve wasn’t the target. After all, that thing didn’t smile at him.

Pressure relieves his neck and he’s no longer the prey.

“Eddie-” He gasps, trying to sit up when the grinning monster leaves his side. “Run.”

“Shit!” Eddie has no objections as he snatches the radio from the counter and takes off in the opposite direction. And, just as Steve assumed, the monster followed.

A burst of pain seeped from his shoulder and along his spine, a hiss leaving Steve’s lips as he forced himself to stand. Various cuts from shards of glass littered his hands but that would have to wait.

“Billy!” He yells out, eyes struggling to focus around him.

He doesn’t understand why it didn’t just kill him when it had the chance, but there wasn’t much time to debate it. Billy had the only weapon sure enough to take this thing out with a single blow to the head, and he was nowhere to be seen.

A cry echoes from inside the Radio Shack and Steve’s hand instinctively finds his bat. I guess I’ll have to do this the hard way, he thinks as he rushes to the noise, his only plan resting on the pure adrenaline of fear.

He appeared just in time to watch Eddie’s feet dangle above the ground, his hands scrambling to tear at the thick skin of the monster’s grip around his neck. Steve ignores the pain in his shoulder to lift the bat above his head and swipe it down onto the back of its head with as much force as he could muster.

It screeches, dropping Eddie to snap its head around to where Steve stood, panting. The bat was laced with droplets of blood, but his attack didn’t cause the damage he had hoped for.

Claws swiped at his face, causing him to jump back and stumble directly into old wooden shelves. They collapse into a heap behind him and he loses his footing.

His bat rolls from his grip and his eyes widen just as the smirk of his worst fears approaches him. It only seems to get bigger, the disproportionate body towering over him. It grinned the same way it had at Eddie. He was next.

“Hey!”

The sickening smile still rested on its face as it turned to the intrusion, keen on finding something to rip apart. Steve felt despair for a moment, closed in with a pile of wooden rubble at his feet.

He shouldn’t have doubted Eddie’s fighting spirit.

An ear-splitting scream left the creature’s jagged mouth when Eddie’s spear slotted perfectly into one of its eyes, black blood pouring out from the back of its head as it wobbled from left to right.

Steve manages to scurry out of the way just in time for the monster to collapse into the heap, a stomach-churning squelch of the spear being pushed further into the head with the impact.

“Smile about that, asshole.” Eddie quips, still shaking with fear.

Steve’s wide eyes turn into lights of approval, a trembling laugh erupting from his mouth. “Holy shit.”

Eddie only nods, adjusting his bandana. “Holy shit.”

“You just killed that thing with a spear.” Steve says in bewilderment, still chuckling, but none of it was funny. It was just easier this way, to find the humour in a situation that was very much deadly a few seconds ago.

“I played a lot of DnD.” He replies earnestly, balling his hands into fists. Steve could tell he was trying to pretend it was nothing, to brush it off. “That was… that was the first thing I’ve ever killed.”

“Really?” Steve frowns, brushing the dust from his hands. He was pretty much sitting in a puddle right now, but he wasn’t sure he could stand. Adrenaline wore off pretty quickly. “Well, uh… congrats, I guess.”

“Thanks.”

Steve had a lot of experience battling monsters from the Upside Down. Although, he wasn’t necessarily an expert per say. The normal baseline for experience with these things would be absolutely zero considering they aren’t meant to exist. But he knew the first time facing the reality of a life and death situation was scarring. He also knew Eddie should count himself lucky; not everyone could stand their ground.

Sometimes people run away before they learn that courage.

“Are we sure it's dead?” Eddie asks, peering down at it. Before Steve can reply, the answer presents itself instead.

The thing twitched, clawed hand shooting out to grab onto Eddie’s leg. Bat resting further than Steve would have hoped, he scrambles for a new weapon, hands rooting around the dirty ground for a rock heavy enough to cause some damage.

Luckily for him, he didn’t need to search long.

A heavy shot pierces the air and the next thing he knows, Eddie is splattered with the monster’s blood, the tight grip on his ankle faltering until the thing goes limp and it falls with a single bullet between the eyes.

“Holy shit.” Eddie exhales, looking up with an anxious smile, “That was close.”

Steve can only nod in exasperation, pushing himself from the ground for the fourth time today and dusting his hands free of gravel.

He turns to look for Billy’s smug face, expecting the drawl of condescending remarks to fall upon his ear. He was sorely mistaken.

One glance at the dead monster and he sees it; one tiny, clean, bullet hole. Not from a shotgun.

“Can’t you go anywhere without me?”

“... Nancy?”

Nancy Wheeler stands with her trusted gun pointed at the ground, a relieved smile painting her lips. She was wearing different clothes than the last time he saw her, a new jacket he recognised straight from Jonathan’s wardrobe. She had a satchel resting across her body, but that wasn’t her only accessory.

Behind her, Robin Buckley stood with arms folded, a radio strapped to her hip and paired with a taser on the other side. She didn’t smile, but Steve wasn’t at all surprised. She’d made it pretty clear she wasn’t a fan of his since your disappearance.

The only surprise was the fact they were both here.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He finally asks, posture depleting with exasperation.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Nancy says, retiring her gun back to her belt. “Where have you guys been? We’ve been trying to radio-”

Her voice cuts out when she notices Eddie stood there awkwardly.

“Uh, hi.” He offers a wave, and she merely nods back. “I’m Eddie.”

“Munson?” She frowns, looking between him and Steve before focusing on the latter. “When did-”

“It’s a long story.” He sighs.

“Not really.”

Billy finally rejoins the group, the shotgun they had desperately needed a minute ago looped onto his shoulder. His shoes were muddy, hair a little damp from what Steve assumes to be the early rain.

“We got stranded at the library and ran into some other survivors. We camped out with them and then Munson offered to take us to the last place with supplies and, well, here we are.” Billy recalls, folding his arms. “Not a long story.”

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Everyone turns to Steve in surprise. His voice was bitter, a bite in his eye that suggested he wasn’t in the mood to be messed with.

“Took a walk.” Billy says, stoic expression faltering slightly when he finally clocks the dead monster on the ground. “Ah.”

“Ah?” Steve repeats, walking over to him. “Ah? We almost died because you took our only solid weapon on a walk, and all you can say is ‘ah’?!”

“Chill out, it’s dead, isn’t it?” Billy straightens, undefeated by Steve’s dangerous gaze. “Obviously you didn’t need me.”

“I can’t believe you-”

“Woah, okay.” Nancy steps forward, hand guiding Steve away from Billy with an ounce of pressure on his shoulder and he winces. “Sorry. Let’s just… calm down. We can fight about this later, but right now we have bigger things to worry about.”

“She’s right.” Robin speaks up for the first time, tilting her head. “We have a lead.”

“A lead on what?” Steve frowns, stalking away from Billy and cradling his shoulder. It definitely got worse after the attack.

“Y/n.”

If his heart could jump from his chest and strangle him, he’s sure it would have done it just then, throat tightening with a thick set of emotion. “What… what about her?”

“We heard her.” Nancy smiles, nodding feverously. “We picked up a signal yesterday. It was definitely Y/n. She’s- she’s alive. And she’s not alone.”

“Who…”

“Jonathan.” She laughs this time. Complete and utter joy slipping from her lips, a light he definitely hadn’t seen in some time.

Steve can only shake his head. “Wait, but that’s- how could he-”

“I don’t know.” Nancy steps closer, ensuring that he was only focused on what she had to say and not the disbelief running through his thoughts. “But we definitely heard her right. She and Jonathan were saying they were stuck somewhere. We- we lost the signal before we heard anything else, but it’s them. They’re alive, Steve. I know it.”

Confliction rolled around Steve’s stomach until it made him sick. He had so many concerns about this supposed signal, but mostly he was afraid that steering off course for a hopeful miracle would ruin everything. If the signal was wrong, if you and Jonathan weren’t there… then what?

“We’re heading to the new mall. Eddie says there’s enough supplies there to last us another month at least. I can’t- we can’t leave without it.”

“You’re not gonna believe it,” Nancy shakes her head in bewilderment, struck with relief of their luck, “But Hopper managed to track the signal.”

Billy unfolds his arms and Eddie stops slumping. Nancy doesn’t have to finish her words, but she does anyway, letting that hope solidify with a heavy promise.

“They’re in Starcourt already.”

[A/N: the next chapter is coming whenever I'm not rethinking my entire life after three years of university just to end up in a retail job, i hate it here. but ily guys for still reading]

@sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady . @pansexualhoor .

@kitdjarin1 . @chiliwhore . @carolineesnell .

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fanfiction #gates of hell #st2 #steve x reader #stranger things au #apocalypse au

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emersonfreepress · 1 year ago

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help i'm alive

So! Long time, no see. 2023 was a whole goddamn lot lol

I don't have a demo update to share yet, but that's because I had to scrap nearly everything I managed to write during a very, very, very bad stint of writer's block last year. I hadn't even realized it had been a block like that until I went over my work so far last month and realized it was bad -- like, trust me; a slog to read that didn't even sound like me. It's been extremely frustrating but I've finally broken free of that and it's been easy and actually fun to write again for the first time in actual years. I just hate giving updates that have no actual news in them. And I really had nothing to share other than: I deleted thousands of words and feel so much better now 😅

Anyway, little about my demo plans have changed: I'm still putting out the Chapter 3 demos in Choicescript/on Dashingdon and then will be going dark to move things over to Twine. Where I am in the process right now is... feeling like 35% done with the overhauled version of this chapter and 50% done for the next demo update.

As far as asks, I'm... not really sure what to do?? I believe I've read them all (I love you guys), but so much time has passed since getting most of them that I'm not sure if it's, like... still pertinent??? To go back and answer them?? I suppose some of them like character asks could be, but all the nice messages of support -- that feels weird since I've practically ghosted this blog since August! Idk. Y'all tell me what to do with 'em and I'll do it. Maybe I should make a poll.

Uh... that's really all there is to say regarding the game! I've added some personal stuff after the cut, but if you're done here: Thanks for reading and sticking around. It means the world, for real.

So what has occupied my time all this time? Doctor, therapy, money, and friends. And improv! But especially the first two. There was a lot of non-writing related stuff fucking up my ability to focus and write, so hopefully with my mind and body both feeling a lot better, I can get back to being present and active with the game. I didn't realize how physically unwell I was until last year and it's been like... life-long issues I've been treating. It turns out it's not normal to feel exhausted enough to sleep at any given time, at all times, for your whole life! wow!!

I also uninstalled Tumblr from my phone back in February, so you could say I'm sort of generally focused on offline life. (And what an interesting coincidence that my writer's block dissipated shortly after that...) I also just moved!! The last two weekends have been so expensive and stressful -_- But I can't even compare the old place to the new. We're basically paying the same price for idek how much more space. The cats are so happy; which means the house humans get to be happy.

My schedule is finally freed up from constant medical shit (there was a 3-month stretch this winter with multiple doctor appointments literally every fucking week 🙃🙃🙃). My mental health is doing a lot better -- literally incomparably better compared to where I was this time last year. There's live comedy now (which I dabble in, to be clear lol), but I've finally found myself able to like... balance it all. The physical and creative energy that goes into it all, anyway. The lovely thing about improv is that you kinda just show up and do your thing -- it doesn't cut into my writing time so much as it costs energy. Unless I end up in this comedy debate show thing next month, which I am very excited to give up writing time for

So like... Life is life-ing and I'm just vibing. Or something? I'll be around.

Thank you all again so much for your interest, support, patience, and readership <3

#oh and if anyone knows where i can stream mob wives uncensored without paying any extra money i'd love you forever lol #that is unimportant- unless y'all find it important that i have access to all of my most influential pieces of media at all times IJSAYING!#jk jk ofc <3 thank you for reading #conspiracy in emerson #if cie #progress #cie ch 3

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izels-writing · 1 year ago

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j. potter — tutoring

Pairing: james potter x fem!loner!reader

Summary: james potter is failing potions and you seem to be his only saving grace

Warnings: nothing tbh, i may have based reader off of me a little too much so i apologize for that in advance 😭, also this is kinda all over the place but i hit a writers block and thought this was cute

james potter sat boredly in professor slughorn's office, counting the brinks on the ceiling of the dungeon. he had been waiting for at least fifteen minutes and if he waited one more second in silence, his head would explode.

slughorn, within the next minute, finally entered the office—clearing his throat and sitting in front of james with an air of seriousness. james sat up straighter, waiting for the professor to begin speaking.

"mister potter, we need to seriously talk about your grades in this class," slughorn began. he opened his desk and pulled out many of james' half-assed essays, most of them marked with d's and p's. james groaned quietly, throwing his head back.

"if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were doing it on purpose. but i know you, mister potter," slughorn continued, "i know you've always had a rocky relationship with this subject. what's been going on lately?"

james frowned. "i can't focus, okay? it's like trying to sit through a lesson in the middle of a quidditch match, i'm too...i dunno, distracted?"

slughorn nodded. "i see... have you talk to your parents about this?"

"no, and you can't tell them," james rushed out. "i don't want to worry them, they worry easily,"

slughorn sighed, covering his mouth as he reviewed all of james' essays. he thought for a moment, which only piqued james' curiosity. slughorn glanced between him and the essays, before leaning back in his chair.

"i can arrange you a tutor, one that can help you with this problem..." slughorn finally said. james lit up, hoping and praying it was who he thought it was.

"lily evans?" he asked hopefully.

"no," slughorn replied. james lost slight interest, but nodded anyway. "and if i arrange this for you, i want you to take this seriously..do you understand, mister potter? or else i'll be forced to tell your parents,"

james nodded in agreement. "of course, sir, thank you,"

if james potter was anything, he was respectful. his mother had taught him that much.

"if i may ask, sir, if it's not lily evans—who is it?" he asked curiously.

slughorn smiled warmly. "i'll let you know soon,"

——

you tapped your foot anxiously, glancing at your watch with a frown. you didn't necessarily have anywhere to be, but it sure irked you when someone was late. not to mention, you definitely felt you should've said no when slughorn approached you.

but you were ever the people pleaser.

as you turned to throw your stuff in your bag, you suddenly saw a tall, lean boy throw himself into the seat in front of you. you stopped your actions, looking at the boy in front of you with slightly furrowed eyebrows as he breathed heavily and looked disheveled.

"you're five minutes late," you commented, scanning him over as he tried to adjust himself comfortably.

"i know, i know," james sighed. "i apologize, really, i had no idea how long that other thing would take,"

you tried to be a hard ass, but the boy seemed tired as it was so you softened up a bit. you softened your expression, but not too much that he'd notice, and nodded. "i understand,"

he looked at you shocked, but you ignored his gaze as you pulled out your textbook. additionally, you pulled out a spare parchment and your secret weapon. he did the same, except he pulled out a quill instead of a spare piece of parchment.

"slughorn told me your problems. i understand," you continued. he scoffed.

"you're the smartest in our year, how could you possibly understand?" james asked.

you blinked at him. "because, i happen to have the same problem. now, i'm not sure if you have trouble focusing in general or if you just suck at potions, what i do know is that i can help—unless you don't want me to and slughorn will be forced to tell your parents..."

james looked at you in disbelief. "he told you?!"

madam pince shushed him from the other side of the library and he sunk slightly in his chair. you nodded, keeping your gaze on him.

"he did, to let me know how high the stakes were for you," you replied. suddenly you placed two metal marbles on the table in front of james, to which he raised his eyebrows at. he glanced between you and the marbles confused.

you nodded toward the marbles, "well? pick them up..."

he reluctantly picked them up, watching you as you pulled out your own set. you opened your textbook and his to the same pages, before looking at him again.

"this won't fix the problem," you explained, "but it may help. your problem is lack of concentration right? you feel like you have to be moving while sitting in that chair, like you cannot keep your mind on one thing?"

james stared at you and nodded. he had never heard someone describe it well for him, and he wasn't much a man of words so to speak. "yeah, sorta like that, i suppose,"

you nodded. "good, we may be dealing with the same problem then," you picked up your set of the metal marbles and began moving them in that hand. they clinked together and made a satisfying sound as you kept going with the motion in your hand. "do what i'm doing and hold that same hand under the table—but do not stop moving your hand and the marbles,"

he obliged, following your exact instructions. thankfully, the noise wasn't so loud that it distracted anyone else in the library—it wasn't so much as noticeable to others either.

"now, we'll read the textbook, do some notes, i'll help you write your essay and we'll see if it's easier for you, sound good?" you asked.

"yeah, yeah, sounds great," james replied quickly, a small smile blooming on his face. you didn't seem so amused, but to be fair, james wasn't sure he'd ever seen you amused.

"great! any questions?" you asked, before you started.

he nodded. "yeah, sorta. why did you agree to help me?"

it wasn't necessarily an out of the blue question. for as long as you and james had known each other (and that was used lightly), he'd never really seen you around anybody. you avoided people it seemed. you seemed to find comfort in solitude, always studying alone, eating alone, walking alone—not that you ever seemed upset about it. sure, you had friends here and there, but no one permanent. you never seemed to care much for it, you came here for academics, that's all it seemed.

moreover, he'd never really seen you display big bouts of emotion. maybe a smile or chuckle here or there, but rarely. he'd never seen you cry or laugh aloud, he'd never seen you do a lot of things. maybe you did, maybe he just didn't pay attention enough. nonetheless, he was a bit curious. you seemed to avoid everyone, him especially.

you knew the question was coming. you knew why too. it was because you weren't very social and you were often irritated. you never hung around anyone and you certainly never joined parties or quidditch games. it was difficult for you, you struggled with showing emotions and socializing with others. you couldn't control it and you certainly couldn't help it, and no one really seemed to stick around to figure you out. but that was fine, you supposed anyway.

it certainly was not fine, despite trying to convince yourself. it was a lonely way to live and your family was worried, despite them not admitting it. you just buried the lonely feelings, hoping that maybe it'd change one day.

"how do you mean?" you asked. what if you were just a nice person? would he even accept that answer?

"i mean, what's in it for you? surely you have better things to do than tutor me," james quickly said, likely thinking carefully about what he was saying because truthfully, you both knew that no, in fact, you didn't.

"nothings in it for me," you replied, shaking your head. "i just decided to help, i guess. is there something wrong with that?"

you weren't trying to be hostile. you were genuinely curious.

"no," he replied. "there isn't,"

"good, now let's start," you said, offering a small smile.

——

weeks had passed, tutoring session after tutoring session passed by quickly. you and james met on tuesday afternoons and thursday afternoons. you began to enjoy his company, even if you knew he was being forced to attend. unbeknownst to you, he quite enjoyed the sessions as well, even looking forward to them each week.

you had both figured out how to best figure out james' lack of attention span in potions and he begun to get better grades, but nonetheless you both agreed to keep the tutoring sessions going—to 'keep his grades up'.

james sighed, closing his textbook and placing the metal marbles you had gifted him on the table. "can we take a break? if i read one more word, i'll throw up on the table," he whined.

"dramatic," you replied, "but okay, ten minutes,"

"you and i should get a snack, recharge our brains," james suggested cheekily, hoping you'd say yes.

"yeah, no thanks, i don't trust that stupid smile on your face," you replied.

"you'd think after all our time together that you’d trust me by now,” james sighed, shaking his head in feign disappointment. “so untrusting, n/n,”

“n/n?” you questioned.

“my nickname for you, you like it?” he grinned.

you chuckled, smiling as you rolled you eyes at him. “okay, whatever…”

james grinned, “oh! do i get points for making wednesday addams laugh?”

you dropped your smile and glared at him, rolling your eyes playfully again. he huffed, “geez…sorry…”

“go get your snack and then come back, we’ll pick out some other potion books for review, sound good?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. he grinned again, nodding like an excited little kid. you snorted and waved him off, fighting and failing to hide your smile as he rushed out of the library.

within twenty minutes he was back, following you as you put books back and grabbed new ones. you and him were chatting quietly, as you walked down the aisles, mainly focusing your attention on the books you were looking for. however, you paid close attention to the subject, given it was a topic he brought up often: why you were so uptight about your studies.

“well, potter—“ you began sternly.

“hey, i gave you a nickname! where’s mine?” he asked with a dramatized frown. you rolled your eyes playfully, hiding your slight amusement.

“as i was saying, potter, i’m uptight because i like to be prepared. frankly, i hope you pass your o.w.l’s because given how unprepared you are, i am praying for the best,” you replied sarcastically, noticing as he smiled at your joke.

he always seemed to understand your jokes.

“our o.w.l’s aren’t for another eight months,” he replied, getting a book from a high shelf as you tried to reach it to no avail. he handed it to you.

“exactly! you need to study for them now! you need to prepare!” you replied, putting a book back as you spoke.

“you are so uptight,” he chuckled. “some things you just need to…go with the flow. expecting the unexpected is no fun,”

you turned suddenly, smacking a book to his chest, thinking he’d grab it before it hit him. you laughed aloud, covering your mouth to muffle it, and he smiled back mockingly.

“how’s that for expecting the unexpected?” you grinned.

“shove off, n/n,” he scoffed. “you’re so corny,”

“and prepared,” you added, swiftly turning around to keep walking.

unbeknownst to you, james smiled at you genuinely while you were turned, your genuine laugh echoing in his head. he’d certainly make more jokes just to hear it again.

——

“well, this is our last session before break,” you smiled. “think you’ll be able to handle life without me for two weeks?” you joked.

“i think i can manage,” he teased back. you rolled your eyes, allowing a smile to grow on your face.

he smiled, pulling some out of his school bag swiftly. “actually, i wanted to give you something before we left, to thank you and for christmas,” he said kindly.

you furrowed your eyebrows. “you didn’t have to get me anything, potter,”

he rolled his eyes. “i wanted to, alright? and now you have to accept it,” he smiled. he slid over the small box toward you. it was wrapped in cute christmas wrapping paper, tied with a sting into a small box.

you took it gingerly in your hands, opening it carefully. you carefully tore the wrapping off and opened the small navy blue box. as you opened it, you held back your gasp as you took in the sight.

it was a beautiful silver bracelet, with butterflies placed in between the chains. the stones that filled in the butterflies were a beautiful pink color and it shined beautifully.

“james…” you gaped. “i don’t know what to say, thank you..” you smiled, pulling it out of the box and handing it to him. “will you clip it on me?”

he nodded and obliged, taking notice to how your eyes never left the beautiful bracelet. you looked up at him, tension filling the air as you watched him slowly clipping the bracelet onto your wrist. he smiled as your eyes connected, and for a second, you felt your stomach get all jittery.

“i’ll mail you a gift, seriously, this is beautiful,” you smiled. “thank you..so so much,”

somehow, it was very easy to smile around james potter.

“you don’t have to mail me anything,” james replied.

“oh please let me,” you pleaded, “i’ll feel so bad if i don’t,”

he smiled, “fine, alright, if it’ll help you sleep better at night,”

you grinned excitedly and pulled out a piece of parchment so he could write his address for you. he did it quickly, handing it back to you promptly.

——

you hadn’t been quite sure what to gift a boy who had everything he’d ever wanted. sure, you could get him something quidditch related, but it didn’t seem personal enough. you had wanted to give him something meaningful and sentimental.

you racked your brain for hours, trying to find the perfect gift. eventually, you settled with new quidditch gloves but even then, that still felt impersonal. so, you had begun to think back to every interaction the two of you had shared and landed on the perfect addition to his quidditch gloves.

you wasn’t quite sure how you had landed on the subject but you two had, so you scoffed and leaned back in your chair.

“fine then, what’d be your wish come true?” you asked james.

“to see you make a different facial expression?” james suggested. you swatted his arm quickly, making him retract it. “ow! i’m serious! sorry, but talking to the same facial expression every tuesday and thursday is scary! it wouldn’t exactly wound me to see you smile every once in a while…”

a different facial expression.

you quickly grabbed the family polaroid and enlisted your sibling to help you take the perfect picture of you smiling. once you were satisfied, you packaged it with his other gift and wrote a little note, explaining both gifts to him.

and that left you where you were now, back in the library with james, studying out of your potions textbooks. you noticed him pull it out and open the page quickly, as he had stuck something in between the pages.

you looked at intensely, trying to figure out what it was. then you quickly recognized it.

“is that me?” you blurred before you could stop yourself.

james looked down at whatever you were looking at and blushed, though he hid it well. “yeah, one of my gifts remember? you remind me of potions class, so, i use it as a bookmark,” he replied casually.

unbeknownst to you, he just really loved staring at the photo. you had a beautiful smile and it was a shame you didn’t show it more often.

you smiled warmly. “oh okay…”

“lovely bookmark, isn’t it?” james smiled, admiring the photo. he hadn’t meant to flirt, but he wasn’t exactly regretting it.

you chuckled. “i suppose so…”

bonus;

“daddy, how’d you know you liked mommy?” you seven year-old daughter, alison, asked as you set dinner table. it was james’ turn to cook tonight, so he held your toddler on the counter by him as he pulled dinner out of the oven.

you and james glanced at each other, smiling at her innocent yet curious questions. you stood there, watching as james turned to your daughter with a smile.

“well… i remember when i saw your mommy laugh for the first time,” james said honestly. “i instantly fell in love, i knew i’d marry her some day… i wanted to hear her laugh for the rest of my life,”

alison smiled. “mommy, what about you? how did you know you liked daddy?”

“well,” you recounted, “i remember every time i spoke to him, i smiled all the time. i was so happy around him and i knew i’d always be happy around him,”

alison nodded, smiling. “that’s cute! i hope i will know when i like someone!”

you looked at james, smiling as he ruffled your daughters hair, and like always, you felt your heart flutter at the sight of him. you felt like everything in the world was okay.

you looked back at your daughter with a smile. “trust me, sweetness, you’ll know.”

#james potter #james x reader #james potter x reader #marauders era #the marauders era #quidditch #professor slughorn #potions #lily evans

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runningincircl3s · 8 months ago

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Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

Chapter Sixteen

chapter warnings: nsfw! (smut)

hi i want to make an announcement quickly!! i'm suffering from writers block at the moment lmao and so i'm still only half way through writing chapter 21... so until i've got myself together and written some more i'm afraid i'll only be posting once a week, so instead of friday and monday posts, for a while it's just going to be mondays :) and of course.. happy monday bffs <3

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Thank you so much for coming!” Vinny’s parents stood as the two of you got ready to leave, a warm smile on both of their faces, “And I am so so happy we finally got to meet you after all this time, y/n.”

“She’s a good one, Vinny,” his father whispers to him, a small smile on his face as he pats his son on the back, “They don’t come along very often. Don’t ever let her go, son.”

“Trust me,” he nodded, “I won’t.”

“It was so lovely to meet you, Vinny's always talking about you two and I'm so glad we finally got the chance to meet.” You say, leaning your head on Vin's shoulder.

“Thank you, darling, we can’t wait to see you again, hopefully near Vin's birthday!" She smiled, "You two take care!”

You walked out of the venue in shame. You have never felt so terrible over lying about something. Over the night you had gotten to know Vin’s family and you knew it would break their hearts if they were to know the truth about tonight.

The cold of the outside air hit you as Vinny opened the door for you. You thanked him, which he returned with a smile as he told you the uber was on it's way.

"Are you cold?" He asked, a look of concern on his face as the two of you waited by a streetlight, sitting down on the conveniently placed bench. You shook your head, but he could see the goosebumps raising on your arms.

He sighed, taking off his jacket and resting it over your shoulders. Your stubborn act dropped and you smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. He was always warm.

"Thanks." You whispered.

The uber pulled up, and as you and Vinny got in, you held onto him for balance.

“I knew I shouldn’t have worn heels.” You groaned as you got in the car, watching Vin chuckle form the corner of your eye. “Don’t laugh, my feet fucking hurt!”

After getting back to the hotel, you took off your shoes as soon as you stepped out onto your floor, groaning in relief at the feeling of flat ground on your feet. Vin gave you a questionable look, and you stuck your middle finger up at him as you walked down to your room.

You still couldn’t believe how different he looked tonight. There’s nothing like a man in a suit, it was definitely one of your weaknesses. He looked like such a gentleman, and he certainly acted like one tonight.

As he opened the hotel door, you were already pulling at the ribbon at the back of your dress, needing to be set free from it, but it just wasn't coming undone.

“Need some help?” He chuckled, taking his tie off as he shut the door. You thought for a moment before sighing and nodding your head.

He came up behind you, his left hand resting on your waist as he slowly tugged on the ribbon with his right, untying it.

“Y/n?” He broke the silence between the two of you, his voice deep as his fingers lingered on your waist.

“Yeah?”

He didn’t say anything as you turned around to face him. Something had shifted between you two, there was a kind of tension in the air that hasn’t been there in a while, but it had kept coming and going all night. You could tell he felt it too.

“Just... to be clear, there’s still nothing going on between you and Noah, right?”

“After the way spoke to me the other day, no way.” You shook your head. To which he nodded, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek.

“Good.” He barely breathed out before his lips were on yours, pulling you closer by the waist as you the sudden shock melted away into the kiss. The suddenness of it almost knocked the breath out of you, but before you both went to the point of no return, you pulled away.

“Vinny, are you sure…?” You whisper breathlessly, searching his eyes for any look of uncertainty. "Last time we did this was a mistake, I don't want you to regret this too..."

“All I’ve been able to think about all night is taking that dress off of you, as much as I love how you look in it.” He confessed, and you can tell by the hunger in his eyes that he was serious, he wanted the same as you. "I need you so fucking bad."

“But you said-”

“I don’t care,” he says, “Just for tonight… Please.”

You smirk, noticing how needy he was, and pulling him back in for a kiss.

The two of you end up getting undressed, clothes being tossed all around the room as you make your way towards your bed. Vin’s hands leave your body momentarily as he works on undoing the buttons of his shirt, and your hands work on his trousers. It wasn't long before you were both tangled under the sheets, gasping and holding each other tight, whispering each others names and praises.

Both of you had drunk that night, but neither of you were drunk, the scare when the picture of you and Vin was posted was enough to sober you up. You knew how badly this moment was needed, how you had both been craving each other all night, it was inevitable that you would both give into the need.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You woke up the next morning to the sound of your ringtone, although there was no sign of your phone. As you looked to the side, you were surprised to see Vinny in your bed, fast asleep under the sheets with you, but as you looked around the room and saw the clothes scattered everywhere you remembered exactly how you got here.

“You don’t know what you do to me.” Vinny says as his hips rock into yours, his lips scattering wet kisses across your chest as all you can do is moan his name. “I’ve been trying my hardest to control myself around you.”

“Don’t…” You whisper, “Me too, Vin… I've never felt like this before.”

“Fuck, I… I...”

The two of you were so close to saying a certain three words last night, three words that would’ve made everything extra awkward this morning as you walked around naked, thankful that Vinny was still asleep as you quickly threw on some clean underwear and an oversized shirt.

Once you finally found your phone, you checked to see who the culprit was that woke you up.

Matt?

You checked to see if there were any messages he had left beforehand, but there weren't. You assumed it was an accident and put your phone on silent, climbing back under the sheets with Vin, smiling at the warmth as you comfortable again.

As much as you wanted to cuddle up to him, to put an arm around him or even face him as he slept, you knew it would be better not to. But he looked so peaceful, you wanted to reach out and fix a piece of hair that had fell over his eyes, or rest your head against him, but you held yourself back.

As you rode him through your high, biting down on your lip, your head thrown back as you felt his warm release coat your walls as his cock twitched inside you, your thighs trembling either side of his hips as you collapsed on to his chest. You two stayed like this for a moment as his fingers brushed through your hair, your felt his heartbeat slowly going back to normal, and he broke the silence.

“This doesn’t change anything between us, right? We’re still just friends?”

“Of course.” You said, finding it difficult to keep your eyes open, “We just needed this... To clear the air...”

He agreed.

As your head hit the pillow again, you couldn’t help but turn to look at him. He looked so peaceful as he slept, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair fell over his face. He was beautiful, you wondered if he really knew it.

“Vinny.” You whispered, and when he didn’t move you slightly shook him and raised your voice, “Vin!”

“Huh?” He groaned, struggling to open his eyes, “Wha- What’s the time?”

“It’s just gone 10.”

“Then why the hell are you waking me up?” He grunted, rolling over. "Go back to sleep, y/n."

“I can't and I’m bored.” You complained, “I thought maybe we could go somewhere and get breakfast? Or brunch?”

“You’re not the one who has to drive for five hours later, please let me get my beauty sleep.”

“Okay, fine. I guess I’ll go by myself.” You say, getting out of bed again. You find some clothes in your suitcase, deciding they’d be good enough, and go into the bathroom to get dressed, wash last nights makeup off and brush your teeth.

When you come back out, Vin’s already fully dressed, his usual cargos and band shirt, and he’s sitting on the edge of the bed putting his shoes on.

“I thought you wanted your beauty sleep?” You chuckled.

“Brunch sounded better.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I’m so tired.” Vin groaned as he shifted gears in his car, “I knew we shouldn’t have done brunch.”

“But it was good,” you smile, “Hey, can I put a song on?”

“Really?” He gave you a look from the corner of his eye as he watched the road in front of him. He had already driven back to his home to drop his car off and collect the one he hired from the city the guys were in for their week's break from tour.

“Please?” You begged, and he eventually gave in, telling you the password to his phone which he had bluetoothed to the car.

“Just don’t play anything too slow or I will fall asleep.”

“Yes sir!” You grinned, searching a band up on his spotify.

When we were made… It was no accident…

“Oh hell yeah!” Vinny bobbed his head along to the song as you held onto his phone.

“Sleep Token are playing a show on my birthday this year,” you sigh, “But it sold out before I managed to get any tickets.”

“That sucks,” Vinny frowned, “Have you ever seen them before?”

“No, the last time there was a show near where I live I had to sell my ticket because I couldn’t get the time off work and I didn’t want to risk losing my job.”

“What was the job?”

“I worked at a bookstore at the end of my road. It was perfect, I could walk there and I could walk home on my breaks.”

“What happened? Did you quit?”

“They shut down,” you explained, “Which really sucked because- wait, sorry Noah’s calling me…”

“Hello?”

“What’s up?” You asked as you answered the phone, surprised he called after all these days of no contact.

“I was just wondering how long you guys are gonna be?”

“Why? Are you missing me?” You chuckle, pretending not to notice the side eye you got from Vinny.

“You could say so…” He admitted, “I just wanted to know when you’re back, I... I owe you an apology.”

“I know you do,” you smirk, “I think we’re about 20 minutes away from the hotel, I’ll text you when we’re like 5 minutes away.”

“Okay, thank you.” He said, and there was silence all around.

“Was that all you were calling for?”

“Yeah, I think so. Let me know when you’re nearby, we’re in the hotel for one more night then we’re back on the bus.”

“Okay, cool.” You said, “See you later.”

“Bye.”

As you put your phone back in your lap, you could tell Vinny wanted to say something.

“So…” He took a deep breath, “Are we going to talk about last night?”

Vin's arms were wrapped around your thighs, keeping them spread for him as his face was buried in your heat. His nose bumping your clit as his tongue teased your entrance, all you could do was breathe erratically as you held him in place.

"You're... So..." Your brain had turned to mush as he ate you out, his tongue licking a stripe back up to your clit where he grinned smugly, kissing your clit delicately as he looked up, making eye contact with you as he spoke.

"Too much, baby?"

“What is there to talk about?”

“Don’t play dumb, y/n.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I don’t know, it just didn’t feel like we were just ‘releasing tension’ to me. It felt like there was more to it, like… Just forget it.” He shook his head.

“No, Vinny, what were you going to say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He huffed, “Let’s just forget it ever happened, okay? It was a mistake, we were drunk.”

“Okay.” You muttered, looking out the passenger window. You both knew that was far from the truth. Neither of you were drunk in the moment, and you certainly didn't regret it.

The rest of the trip back was silent, but not a comfortable silence this time. As the rest of Take Me Back To Eden played on shuffle, you sat and reflected on their lyrics, until you realised you were pretty close to the hotel. You sent a text to Noah letting him know you were almost there, and as you pulled into the car park you noticed how Vin kept the car running.

“Do you mind taking my suitcase in? I’m going to return the car, it’s only a few minutes away. I just don’t want to have to walk back with it.”

“Okay.” You said before you both got out of the car.

He got both suitcases out, wheeling them over to you as you still waited for a reply from Noah.

“My room is number 402, Rick should be in there if you knock.” He said, and you nodded your head in acknowledgement.

“402, got it.”

“Thanks.” He smiled weakly before getting back into the car, driving off as you walked up to the main entrance.

402. 402.

You took the elevator up to the 4th floor, only to find out you were on the 5th and got lost twice before you eventually found Vin’s room.

You knocked on the door, and it slowly opened, revealing Ricky dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a miw hoodie, he must have just took a shower as his hair was still damp.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, noticing the two suitcases you were dragging behind you.

“Yeah, Vinny’s gone to return the car and asked if I can give you his suitcase.”

“Oh, okay.” He smiled, taking it off of you. “How was it? Last night?”

“It was nice,” you said, “I got loads of pictures to send to Vin for his parents, they’re such lovely people.”

“Uh huh…” Ricky smirked.

“What?”

“You can tell me, y/n, I’m Vinny’s closest friend. It's impossible for him to keep a secret from me.”

“Tell you what?” You scoffed.

“I know you two are dating, you don’t even try to hide it! The other guys might have bought your ‘I’m going as a photographer’ act but I know Vin too well, I know his parents too well. They wouldn’t invite you as their photographer when they have one in the family.” He laughs, crossing his arms and you pause.

“They weren’t available-“

“Vin’s own sister wasn’t at his parents' anniversary party?”

He got you there.

“Fine." You huffed, "Can I come in? I’ll tell you the truth.”

Rick stood to the side, letting you in. As you walked in, you sat down on one of the beds, crossing your legs as you began to explain.

“I don’t think Vin wanted to tell you because he was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” Ricky furrowed his eyebrows, “He’s embarrassed to be dating you?”

“No! We aren’t together, Rick!” You laugh, “His parents believe he has a girlfriend, he's never told them that he does, but he also never told them the truth- that he hasn't. It’s a bit of a sticky situation, but to save an argument on a special night he asked me if I could pretend to be his girlfriend for the night and he’ll tell them in a week or so that we’ve broken up.”

“Right…” Ricky nodded his head, “So why didn't he just tell me this himself?”

“Because it’s none of your business.” Vinny spat, and you heard the door slam, “Why did you tell him?”

“He made me!” You shook your head, “I tried to stick to the story but he knew too much!”

“Get out.” He said, not even looking at you, “Now.”

“Vinny?”

“You’ve done enough for me, okay. And that’s it.”

“Don’t do this, Vin. We’ve been here before, I don’t want to lose our friendship again over something stupid like this!”

“Please, we’ll talk about this tomorrow. I just need some time... I just need to think.”

You frowned, getting up from the bed, noticing the confusion on Ricky’s face.

“See you, Rick.”

“Bye, y/n.”

You took your suitcase, rolling it through the hallway as you walked to your room. Something was clearly bothering Vinny, and it wasn’t fair that he was taking it out on you. You wondered if he really did regret everything that happened last night, leaving you unsure about what to do, how to move forward.

As you unlocked the door, you switched the lights on and kicked your shoes off, shutting the door behind you before collapsing down onto your bed.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding as you just lied there for a while, staring at the ceiling. You felt awful for what you were doing to Vinny, but you had both agreed last night that it meant nothing, so why was he changing his mind now? You loved him, there was no doubt, but you were sure that it was just platonic, almost sure.

Your phone began to ring, bringing you back from your thoughts, and as you reached into you pocket for it. Noah's name lit up the screen, so you quickly answered, holding your phone up to your ear.

“Hey, I’m here.” He said, and you sat up on your bed.

“Where?”

“Outside your room.” He laughed, “Wanna let me in? Or should I come back with a boombox and get the guys to start a flash mob?”

“What are you talking about?” You laughed as you got up to open the door.

“I want to apologise.” He said as you opened the door, he then hung up the phone. You rolled your eyes, getting up and opening the door.

“It would’ve been better with the flash mob.” You smile, letting him in.

“Look, I’ve been so caught up in work lately, which is inevitable, you know. But I never meant to upset you, y/n, I didn't know that's how I was making you feel. I'm sorry.” He says, sitting down on the bed with you. “We’re working on our new album, the record company keeps asking us for updates and to send them snippets of what we’ve been working on and I know you wouldn’t leak anything but I can’t risk anything.”

“It’s okay.” You said, crossing your legs, “I understand.”

“But you don’t,” he said, “I can tell I’ve upset you, and that isn’t fair-“

“Noah, I knew what I was getting into when we started… this, whatever this is. You don’t have to apologise.”

“Let me make it up to you- properly.” He offered.

“And how would you do that?”

Noah thought for a moment, clearly he hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“I have an idea, but you’ll have to wait and see.”

“But I don’t like waiting.” You frowned, and he shook his head.

“I know,” he smirked, “I promise, I will make it up to you big time. I just need to contact a few people first. But until then… Do you maybe want to do something tonight?”

“What are you suggesting?” You smiled.

“I don’t know, maybe go out somewhere? There’s a karaoke night tonight at this place down the road, Jolly and I suggested it to the guys as a joke but Folio seemed pretty down-“

“Karaoke?” Your eyes lit up, “Get your shoes back on, call the guys, we’re going!”

------------------------------

AS I'M EDITING THIS TO POST RIGHT NOW I JUST BOUGHT THE BAD OMENS X POPPY ROCK SOUND MAGAZINE WITH A WHOLE ASS MASSIVE POSTER OF NOAHS FACE????? IDK WHERE THE HELL HE'S GOING BUT I NEEDED IT!!!!

@rumoured-whispers @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lma1986 @thisbicc @dominuslunae @miss570 @miamore0570 @jilliemiw86 @itsyaboinoah

#noah sebastian x reader #vinny mauro x reader #nothing ever after <3 #bad omens fanfic #motionless in white fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #vinny mauro fanfic #vinny mauro smut

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