#writing hooray

[bluewolfangel01]

Obey Me content creators, be prepared to carry the entirety of the fandom ✊️

Edit: as if yall weren't already

[doctorsiren]

give this angle another tri

[nevlartery]

18. Split

[ID: A black and white sketch of Jason Todd wiping blood off his mouth, his helmet broken on his face]

[stevie-petey]

episode five: the nina project

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.” “Five more minutes?” “Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home.  Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

Summary: you and dustin steal pancakes to spite ted wheeler, steve just wants one morning of peace, nancy takes you to a haunted house, cobwebs are surprisingly intimate to remove from someone, and vecna decides to play flashlight tag with everyone. hes so sweet :)

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: mentions of blood, panic attack, , swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 7.2k

Before you swing in: hey gang ! i present chapter 5, aka my least favorite ep of season 4 </3 however, she was very fun to write and i enjoyed twisting some scenes together ;) enjoy, thank yall for waitin !

–

“Hey, bee.”

The line is quiet.

You sound tired, you know Jonathan will hear the exhaustion in your voice, and he’ll worry.��

“I, uh. I miss you.” And you do. 

You’re in the Wheeler’s kitchen, Nancy and the others are down in the basement, trying to pretend that tonight they’ll fall asleep. The reality is that you’re all too afraid to fall asleep. The terror of what could happen in the dark ensures this. 

Steve sits on the counter across from you. He stares down at his hands, picks at his nails. He doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to tell Jonathan. When you demanded to call him, Steve had originally denied you. He didn’t understand why you’d want to talk to him or why you’d risk not having your walkman on after what happened with Max. 

But then you’d broken down into tears and Steve gave in.

“Listen, I know we haven’t talked in a while.” To think that four days without hearing Jonathan’s voice is now considered a while saddens you. For years you couldn’t go more than a few hours without his voice. “But, um. It’s been… it’s been awful, without you.”

I could die tomorrow and I can’t remember what your hand felt like within mine.

A tear falls down your face and you wipe it away. You’re so tired of crying. “I don’t… I don’t know how much you remember, the last time we spoke. I just-I’ve had the worst week of my life and I could really use your voice right now.”

Jonathan is still the one you run to. He always will be. 

The line remains quiet. 

“Please, can you just… call me? I–” breath catching in your throat, you choke on the words that simmer on your tongue. “I’m really scared, bee.” 

This is the first time you’ve ever spoken the words out loud. They’re whispered, they come out hushed, as if afraid someone will overhear and call you weak. 

The voicemail line beeps, indicating that you’ve used up all your time to record the message. Numb, you place the phone against the wall. 

Steve looks up, sensing the conversation as drawn to a close. He stands up and wraps you in his arms. You’re cold to the touch. It unnerves him. You’ve always been so warm, so full of heat. “Did he… what did Jonathan say?”

Your head drops against his chest. “He didn’t answer. Voicemail.”

“Oh.”

The silence drags on a painfully long time. You reside in Steve’s arms, seeking comfort in whatever touch you allow from him. Your headphones, which rest against your neck, dig into Steve’s uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, he taps them with his finger. “Music?”

You nod, too tired to fight him. Ever since the cemetery, Steve and Dustin have insisted that you never take your headphones off. Music is what saved Max; they’re convinced they can keep you out of harm’s reach if you listen to your favorite song as well. 

“The tape, please?” You mumble softly to Steve, slowly lifting your arm to point to the kitchen table.

Understanding what you’re asking, he quickly lets go of you to retrieve it. Grabbing the old tape, his fingers find your walkman buried in your pocket. Steve puts the tape inside, eyes skimming over the writing that resides on it.

For bug.

“Will you ever tell Nancy?” He finds himself asking, unaware that the question had even been on his mind. 

It was only days ago that Steve’s biggest problem had been Jonathan’s vague question of “what if”. Now he stands in Nancy’s kitchen, cradling your body, wondering just how many more hours he has left with you. 

You rub your head tiredly. “I will, it’s just…”

I could be dead by tomorrow.

The words go unsaid, hanging in the air between you and Steve.

He stares down at you. Guilt twists in his chest. He’s caught between you and Nancy, between saving you and sparing you. A strand of hair falls in your eyes. Steve brushes it aside, his cracked lips press against your forehead. 

“Hey,” Lucas stands awkwardly by the kitchen counter. He looks between you and Steve, a sad, yet nervous look in his eyes. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Max told me to come get you, Y/N.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask worriedly, stepping out of Steve’s arms. 

Lucas sees your worry and immediately raises his hands. “She’s fine, she’s just five seconds away from murdering Dustin. He keeps trying to turn her music all the way up and it’s hurting her ears.”

A ghost of a smile crosses your face. In his own, albeit flawed way, Dustin is trying to show how much he cares for you and Max. “I’ll talk to him.”

While Lucas nods with relief, you kiss Steve’s cheek and wish him a soft goodbye. The two boys are left alone in the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler have long since gone to bed. Holly, too. 

Steve clears his throat. Lucas hasn’t left yet, and Steve doesn’t really know what to do. It’s been an exhausting few days. All he wants to focus on right now is you; already your absence makes his body weak. 

“How do you do it?” Lucas is so quiet that Steve almost doesn’t hear him at first. 

“What?”

“How do you do it?” Lucas asks again, this time with more urgency in his voice. He’s looking at Steve, his body stoic. There are tears in his eyes, though Steve doesn’t say anything. “How can you love Y/N and not want her to die?”

The question stuns Steve. 

Lucas stares up at him and for a moment he looks like the twelve year old kid he met all those years ago. Only now he’s fifteen, taller than ever before, and he’s experienced more loss than any kid ever should. 

Steve forgets, sometimes. How young they all are.

He sighs. “Look, Lucas–”

“I don’t think I can do it.” The boy leans against the counter, his entire body weight threatens to collapse. “I just, I love Max so much. And seeing her today… she almost-she almost–”

Lucas inhales suddenly. He doesn’t allow himself to cry, he doesn’t want Max to see the tear stains later. He shakes his head, instead. “What do you do, when the person you live for is already set on dying?”

Steve wants to tell him that you and Max aren’t dying. He wants to tell the teen that they’ve faced worse monsters than Vecna. They’ve escaped Russian lairs and navigated tunnels rooted with poisonous particles. They saved Will, closed a gate that was an endless abyss. 

But none of it amounts to the loss they’d feel if you and Max died; Lucas is the only one who truly understands this. 

So Steve doesn’t lie to him. 

Instead, he says, “You hold their hand.”

And that’s all they can do. 

–

Everyone takes turns watching over you and Max that night. It was Nancy’s idea, one you were entirely against. 

“Max is the one who had the vision, I don’t need you guys–”

“Shut up, Y/N.” 

The argument was over before it even really began. Dustin had shoved your headphones back on and turned the volume so high that you nearly winced. Steve laughed before dragging you over to the couch and forcing you to lay with him. 

“I’ll be first watch for Y/N.”

Robin had rolled her eyes. “I know death is like, totally evident. But you disgust me.”

Soft laughter rippled through everyone, but soon the shadows fell and night took over. Despite your protesting and insistence that the Beatles would keep you up all night, you somehow fall asleep against Steve’s chest. 

It’s the first time you’ve slept through the night in weeks.

– 

You wake up to Nancy shouting at Dustin.

“Then where is she?” She exclaims, shaking his shoulders.

Still half asleep, it takes you a few moments to understand what’s going on. “Where’s who?” You ask through a yawn, rubbing your eyes. 

“Max!” Nancy glares at your brother. “She isn’t down here, Dustin was supposed to keep watch.”

Your heart stops. Immediately you sit up, ignoring Steve’s groaning as you forcefully shove against his chest to stand. Even though you roughly pull from his grasp, he’s back asleep in seconds. “What do you mean she isn’t here?”

“I swear I just dozed off for like…” Dustin looks down at his watch, worried and guilty, and his face pales when he realizes what he’s done. “An hour.”

“Dustin!” You screech, now panicking as well. Before he can say anything else, you’re already running up the steps to find Max. Nancy follows close behind. “I swear to God, if she’s hurt–”

Max sits at the dining room table, head down with her headphones on. You and Nancy let out heavy sighs of relief while Dustin rolls his eyes in annoyance. 

Mrs. Wheeler greets you in the kitchen. “Good morning, guys!” When she notices you holding your chest, she frowns slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Nancy breathes out, her own nerves finally settling. “Everything’s… okay.”

“Very okay.” You chime in, forcing a happy smile on your face. Pointing to the pancakes on the stove, you hum with gratitude. “Especially now that I know you’ve made your famous pancakes, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Aw, you’re very kind, Y/N.” The woman gushes. She grabs a plate and starts piling the pancakes on. “Here, take as many as you’d like. You know, I think it’s sweet that you guys are sticking together like this.”

Mr. Wheeler flicks his newspaper with a huff. “Could try sticking together at a different house for a change.”

Nancy ignores her father and walks towards where Max is sitting. You and Dustin share a look, both of you despise the man. Shoving a pancake into your mouth, you moan dramatically. “But where else would I get such fantastic food, Ted?”

He glares at you while Mrs. Wheeler chuckles. “You know you kids are welcomed here anytime.”

“Totally, you’re like family.” Dustin smiles kindly at her before pointing to the remaining, untouched pancakes. “May I?”

Mrs. Wheeler readily offers your brother a plate and he eagerly starts stacking as much as food as he can. You grab a few more pancakes for yourself; they’ve always been your favorite. Mr. Wheeler notices you grabbing more and he narrows his eyes. “Yeah, why not? Take us for all we’re worth.”

“You heard the man.” You nod at Dustin, catching his eye.

Understanding immediately, your brother smiles even wider. “Okay!” 

Together, the two of you grab the remaining stack of pancakes and throw them onto your plates. Mr. Wheeler watches in disdain, his coffee cup raised just before his mouth. Seeing the mug, you gasp. “Oh! Mrs. Wheeler, could I possibly bother you for some coffee as well? I know Mr. Wheeler really values his expensive roast, but with everything happening this week…”

You stare up at the woman, eyes wide and innocent. Mrs. Wheeler places a hand against her heart and coos at you. “Oh, of course you can have some of Ted’s coffee, honey. Let me fix it right up for you.”

“You’re too kind.” You thank her, shoving yet another pancake into your mouth. Speaking through the food, you turn to her husband. “Thanks, Ted!”

Dustin snickers while the man clenches his jaw. Satisfied, you make your way over to the table and join Max and Nancy. 

“Holly let me borrow some of her crayons.” Max explains as you sit down. There are papers scattered all over the table. “We’ve been having fun all morning, right, Holly?”

The young girl hums in agreement, not looking up from her Lite Brite. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, Holly.” You pinch her cheek, causing her to giggle. It’s rare to see Holly outside of the Wheeler house. You’ve babysat her a few times over the years, and she enjoys the cookies you make, but your interactions have always been limited. She seems to like you though, which pleases you. “Can I draw as well?”

Holly nods enthusiastically and quickly hands you a crayon and paper. “Here!”

“Thank you,” you accept the blue crayon and start to doodle something, keeping the girl distracted. As she colors with you, you finally look at the drawings that litter the table.

When your eyes land on them, you forget how to breathe for a moment. They’re horrible, filled with blood red. Ruined landscapes surround bodies wrapped in vines. The figures are twisted, disjointed. 

“You drew these, Max?” The thought terrifies you. 

“Is this what you saw last night?” Nancy asks softly, her expression mirrors your horrified one. 

Max shifts uncomfortably. “It’s supposed to be. I, uh. Thought it’d be easier to draw it out than to explain it, but… not so much.”

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe out, reaching across the table to grab her hand. 

Nancy touches one of the drawings, this one depicting Fred’s and Chrissy’s corpses. “Is that…?”

“It was like they were on display or something.”

You nearly gag. “Oh, my God.”

Max doesn’t look at you. “And then there was this red fog everywhere. It was like a dream. A nightmare.”

Nancy asks if Vecna could just be trying to scare her, but Max doesn’t seem sure. She explains how he originally used Billy, but last night felt different. “He seemed surprised, almost. Like he didn’t want me there.”

You frown at this. “Then that would mean Fred and Chrissy never made it to wherever you were. That Vecna didn’t take them there.”

“Maybe you infiltrated his mind.” Dustin offers as an explanation, now joining at the table. “He invaded your mind, right? Is it that big of a leap to suggest you somehow wound up in his?”

“It makes sense,” you bite your lip, abandoning the drawing you were working on with Holly. 

“Like Freddie Krueger’s boiler room.” Dustin adds, oddly excited about the idea. When Holly doesn’t understand the reference, your brother readily explains. “He’s a super burned-up dude with razors for fingers.”

“Dustin,” you try to get his attention, worried he’ll frighten the kid.

But of course he continues. “And he kills you in your dreams–”

“Dustin.” It takes smacking his head to finally shut him up. He yelps in pain, cowering, but you glare at him. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

“She wanted to know about Freddie Krueger!”

“She’s a kid.”

“But–”

You hit Dustin’s shoulder this time. “Apologize and tell Holly that Freddie Krueger isn’t real.”

After begrudgingly apologizing to Holly and explaining that it’s all just a movie, Dustin adjusts his hat and continues the conversation from earlier. “Anyways, just think about it. What if Max somehow unlocked a backdoor to Vecna’s world?”

“You mean, like another gate?” You’re so tired of goddamn gates.

Dustin shrugs. “Possibly? Who knows, maybe the answer we’re looking for is somewhere in this incredibly vague drawing.” He stares down at the picture he’s picked up and scowls. “God, we need Will.”

“For his artistic abilities or his connection to the Upside Down?” You ask, looking around the table. “Because either way, I agree.”

Max shakes her head, annoyed. “I tried calling them again this morning, but it’s the same busy signal.”

“I wasn’t able to get through last night, either.” You admit, watching with slight curiosity as Nancy starts compiling all the drawings. “Anything catching your eye, Wheeler?”

“Is this a window?” She asks Max, who quickly says yes. “Stained glass with roses?”

Max perks up. “Yeah. See? I’m not so terrible after all.”

Sipping your coffee, you wave the mug at her, unconvinced. “Your composition could use some work.”

She glares at you, but Nancy doesn’t pay attention to any of it. Instead, she starts sorting through the drawings with vigor. “Well, it helps that I’ve seen it before.”

Before anyone can question what she means, Nancy starts folding pieces together and arranging them. At first you’re confused. You don’t understand what she’s trying to do. But as the pieces start to take shape and you recognize what she’s doing, you drop your crayon in shock.

“It’s pieces of a house.” Max realizes as well.

“Holy shit…”

Nancy grabs a marker and outlines the house’s shape. She fills in the windows, adds details that she shouldn’t know about. “Not just any house.” 

She folds another drawing, careful with its edges. The drawing becomes a clock, its center the rose stained glass. Nancy drops the folded up grandfather clock in the center of the house she’s created. It lands with a quiet, yet final, thud.

Seeing the house unnerves you, and you shiver slightly. Nancy notices your unease and her eyes soften with dread. “It’s Victor Creel’s house.”

You suck in a breath and Nancy is already leaving the table. Dustin looks at you, confused, before calling out to her. “Where’re you going?”

“To wake the others.”

“I just wanted pancakes,” you mumble sadly, quickly shoving the breakfast aside so that you can follow after Nancy. 

She’s already shaking Lucas awake by the time you catch up. Robin is slouched against the coffee table and you take pity on her. Nudging her softly, you ease her awake. “Hey, rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

“Why does my neck hurt?” She groans, eyes still closed.

You laugh. “Because you decided to sleep against a table, dummy.”

“Why’d you let me do that?”

“Blame Steve, not me.” You kiss her forehead, leaving her to wake up more on her own. Nancy has finally managed to rouse Lucas, so you turn to where Steve still sleeps soundly on the couch. He looks so young when he sleeps. His delicate features aren’t clouded by the worry he always seems to carry with him.

The morning sun seeps through the only window in the basement and basks against Steve’s face. He’s a warm honey-orange in the glow, and your chest constricts in a sickly sweet way that you’ve come to love. Walking over to him slowly, you press yourself against him and litter kisses across his face.

Steve scrunches his nose, surprised by your sudden body heat. “Y/N?”

“Nancy may have connected Victor Creel and Vecna.” You tell him in lieu of good morning. 

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times as he yawns. You don’t think he’s heard you, he’s never been a morning person. “What…?”

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.”

“Five more minutes?”

“Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home. 

Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

You know that Nancy will be upset you’re taking so long, you know you should be next to Max, making sure her headphones are on, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from Steve. You know you’ve asked so much from him lately; expected more from Steve than you know he’s willing to give you. And so, for now, you indulge him, risking a kiss before the others see.

Steve kisses you back; he always kisses you back. His lips move against yours, languid and slow, and for a moment everything is okay again between you.

– 

“Nancy, you know I trust your judgment,” you poke your head through the trunk’s gap and find the girl’s eyes in the rearview mirror. You’re in the back of the car with Steve and Dustin while Nancy drives. “But do we really have to do this?”

“It’s the only way we’ll get answers.” She sighs, although she also looks uneasy as her car comes to a stop. Nancy parks and everyone silently gets out. 

In front of you is an old, dilapidated house. Its shutters are boarded up, the blue paint has long since chipped away and rusted over. The yard before it is a mess; weeds grow everywhere and old debris litters the green. No one has touched this house in years, maybe even decades.

“The Creel house,” you murmur to yourself. The wind around you picks up, a chill hangs in the air. Every nerve inside your body stands on edge, screaming at you to run away. There’s something ominous, dangerous even, about this house. 

You don’t like any part of this.

“Yeah, that’s not creepy.” Steve voices what everyone is thinking.

Max sees your discomfort and she nudges you softly. “Hey, it’s just a stupid house.”

Shame washes over you. Max shouldn’t be the one offering comfort. It should be you reassuring her, not the other way around. Swallowing thickly, you nod at the girl before following the others. 

When you get closer to the house, it becomes clear that you’ll have to break in. A padlock rests against the boarded up door. Nails are rusted into its wood, sealing the horrors within the house. Steve groans. “Oh, joy.”

“I brought hammers, we can try to pry the nails out.” Nancy says, as if it’s perfectly normal to bring hammers with you to a haunted house.

“Of course you brought hammers.”

Nancy ignores you and runs back to the car, quickly returning with the tools. She hands one to Steve, who wastes no time digging into the nails and pulling them out of the wood. Nancy joins him, but it’s an achingly slow process.

“What exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?” Steve grunts, pulling off yet another nail.

“We’re not sure,” Nancy admits, wincing slightly at a particularly difficult nail. “We just know this house is important to Vecna.”

“Sure, so let’s bring Max and Y/N to a place from Vecna’s red soup mind world.”

You flick Steve’s head, sending Nancy an apologetic frown. “He’s just upset he couldn’t sleep in today.”

“Maybe the house holds a clue to where Vecna is.” Dustin suggests. “Why he’s back, why he killed the Creels. And how to stop him before he comes back for Max, or before he tries to go after Y/N.”

“We’re stopping him before he comes back for Max.” You remind everyone, an edge in your voice.

The group is quiet for a moment. Steve and Nancy share a concerned look with one another, something unspoken passes between them. The look upsets you, but you don’t have time to care. Eventually the silence becomes too much for Lucas, and he hesitantly asks if anyone thinks Vecna is actually inside the house.

“Guess we’ll find out.” Max says, looking at you briefly. The last nail falls, and together Steve and Nancy pull the board off the doorframe. It lands with a loud thud on the porch, sending fallen leaves and dirt into the air. 

You cough. “Christ.”

“Sorry, angel.” Steve looks remorseful, but you wave him off. He faces the door and twists the knob. It doesn’t budge. “Should I knock, see if anybody’s home?”

“No need,” Robin calls out, and it’s only then that you realize she’s no longer beside you but rather halfway in the front yard. She’s holding up a brick, a wicked smile on her face. “I found a key.”

“Oh dear God.” Your eyes widen. Steve tugs at your jacket as soon as Robin throws the brick. You fall against his chest, heart pounding. The stained glass shatters. Poking your head through the broken glass, you breathe out. “Nice, Robin.”

She bows. “I try.”

Steve gently pushes you aside so that he can reach his arm through the hole. He’s careful not to touch the jagged edges of the glass. Finding the knob on the other side, he twists it roughly, unlocking the door.

He’s the first to go in, and he lets out a low whistle. “Jesus.”

You follow after him, turning your flashlight on in the process. The stench of mildew is what you notice first. It’s poignant, intermixed with the scent of dust and discarded furniture. The house is filthy, covered in cobwebs; it’s practically frozen in time. 

Lucas tries to turn a light on, but it’s useless. Everyone turns their flashlights on, and Steve looks around, bewildered. “Where’d everyone get those?”

Dustin turns to him and lets out a surprised huff when he realizes Steve doesn’t have anything in his hands. “Do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child.”

Steve stares at him and you roughly hit your brother’s chest. He can be such a jerk sometimes, you don’t understand where this shift has come from. “Don’t be such an asshole.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Steve accepts the spare flashlight you hand him while Dustin rubs the spot where you hit him, tossing his bag to the ground. 

You walk deeper into the house, scanning your flashlight over the furniture strewn throughout. Draped cloth covers them. A mirror stands before you, its frame a rusted gold. You find a girl in its reflection, and for a moment you almost don’t recognize that it’s you. 

“Hey, guys?” Max calls out to everyone, catching your attention. She’s standing in front of something, an uneasy look on her face. “You all see that, right?”

She’s pointing her flashlight at a grandfather clock. You stumble back when you see it, breath catching. The bones in your body scream at you to run away. “Is that…?”

You can’t bring yourself to finish the question, but Max understands anyways. She nods, eyes never leaving the grandfather clock, silently confirming that it’s the one she saw in her vision. 

“I don’t like this.” You turn to the group. None of you should be here, you had no right to enter the abandoned house. 

“C’mon, Y/N. I mean, it’s just a clock, right?” Robin shrugs half-heartedly. Before you can stop her, she steps closer to it and wipes her hand against its glass. Dust smears away. “Just an old clock.”

Steve isn’t convinced. “Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?”

“Please don’t call him a wizard.” If you’re going to die, you’d rather it be at the hand of some dangerous, other dimensional creature. Not a wizard. 

“Sorry, but what if he’s like, I don’t know. A clockmaker or something?” 

Dustin breathes heavily through his nose. “I think you cracked the case, Steve.”

“All I know is that the answers are here.” Nancy looks around, not sounding as convincing as she’d like. “Somewhere.”

“You really want us to stay here?” You ask her, slight resentment in your voice. You trust Nancy, you always have, but something feels wrong about all of this. There’s this voice, screaming in your head, to get out. To leave, never return; the voice won’t leave, and you’re afraid it’ll rip your skull to pieces soon. 

Nancy offers you a reassuring smile. She understands your fear, that she’s asking a lot from you and Max right now. She’s placed you in the heart of the monster that wants you to die. “Everyone will stick together, no one will be alone. We’ll stay in groups. I promise.”

“But–”

“Robin, upstairs.” Nancy instructs, pointing towards the steps for the girl to follow her. They’re gone in seconds, already off on their own adventure yet again. Your throat feels gummy with fear. 

Max grabs Lucas’ hand and rushes off without another word. Steve and Dustin are left with you. They exchange words, bickering about something, though you don’t process what they’re saying. They wander off somewhere, unaware that you’re lost in your panic. Breath spiking rapidly, your muscles tense together, prepared to run. You need to leave. This isn’t safe. You’re going to die.

Light headed, you blindly fall against the stairs behind you. You’re struggling to breathe, the room spins. Desperate, your head falls towards your knees. Curling into yourself, you try to steady your breathing. You think you’re having a panic attack.

In through your nose. 

Out through your mouth. 

Except your breath gets stuck in your throat and blood drips from your nose. Frantic, you harshly wipe at your face, smearing the blood even more. 

Your first nosebleed. Another one of the symptoms. No one can know about this. 

The grandfather clock looms over you; it taunts you. 

“Hey, Dustin. You there?” A voice breaks through your panicked haze. “Remember me?”

They’re familiar. You know the person, you know you do. Carefully, you lift your head up. Looking around, you try to find the source of the voice. 

“Hey, if anyone’s there, I really think I might be in a bit of trouble here.”

It’s Dustin’s bag. 

“Wheeler? Anybody?”

“Eddie?” You rasp, barely able to pronounce his name. Your mouth is numb, your body still stuck in its terrified state. You have to press the walkie close to your lips, too weak to say anything else. 

“Henderson?” While Eddie is relieved someone answered him, he’s surprised that it’d been you. “Can you-can you get your brother? I’m kinda in deep shit.”

Your stomach twists at the anxiety in his voice. “He’s not with me.”

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jason–” Static comes through, cutting off whatever Eddie is trying to tell you. “They-it’s not–”

The static intensifies. You hit the walkie, frustrated. “Hello?”

“–Boat and I think–” Eddie cuts in and out in a dizzying manner. “Here, and they’re–holes!”

“Holes?” None of what he’s saying makes any sense. “Boats? Are you-are you trying to tell me that there are holes in the boat?”

“No!” Eddie screeches, but then the broadcast goes out completely. 

You stare down at the walkie, brows knit together in confusion. “What the fuck?” 

But Eddie doesn’t respond. It’s quiet again. 

With a huff, you toss the walkie back into Dustin’s bag and sling it over your shoulder. At the very least, the bizarre conversation with Eddie was enough to pull you out of whatever spiral you’d been in. Steve and Dustin will be looking for you soon, probably even send out a search party if you don’t follow them upstairs. 

“‘The world is full of obvious things,’” Dustin’s horrible British accent greets you when you finally find him upstairs. He’s standing with Steve in a random room, though the older teen doesn’t look particularly pleased. “‘Which nobody by any chance ever observes.’”

Steve looks at your brother as if he’s grown a second head. You lean against the doorway, smiling slightly. “It’s a Sherlock Holmes quote, Steve.”

Both boys whip their heads around to face you. Dustin looks shocked, while Steve looks like he’s seconds away from strangling you. “Were you-were you alone?”

“Dude, how could you?” Dustin shoves his chest, already blaming him for abandoning you. “You know we can’t just leave her alone, she’s practically patient zero!” 

Steve slaps Dustin’s hands away and reels back to yell at him, but you step between them. “Okay, first of all, I’m cursed. Not infectious. Second of all, you both wandered off without me, but I’m not a goddamn child. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but–”

You hold up your walkman up to Dustin’s face, shutting him up. “I also have this, in case you two idiots forgot.” 

“That’s great,” Steve responds sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “That’s real great. Totally reassuring that your life rests in a walkman.”

“Take it or leave it, Harrington.”

“Actually, can we go back to you knowing Sherlock Holmes? I’m dating a nerd. That can’t be good for my image.”

Dustin snorts. He pats Steve’s chest, already walking away. “Yeah, okay, buddy. Your ‘image’.” 

Steve scoffs at him and you pull the two boys away. “Stop being annoying, we’re supposed to be looking for clues or whatever the hell Nancy told us to do.”

No one argues, and the three of you split up. Dustin wanders towards one side of the room, you make sure to keep an eye on him as he looks around. You go with Steve, following him to the other side. 

A vent catches Steve’s eye. He nods towards it, alerting you of it as well. You shrug, indifferent. He bends down, opening it to reveal a collection of jars with twigs and debris inside. You make a face. “Gross.”

Steve reaches inside, picking up one of the jars. He brings it closer, aiming his flashlight to illuminate its contents. When the light reveals dead spiders inside, your heart lurches fearfully. You’re fucking terrified of spiders. 

And then, naturally, one begins crawling up Steve’s arm.

You scream, your fear alerting him of the insect. Steve drops the jar and quickly swats at his shoulder, stumbling backwards. He’s freaking out, so are you. You’re hitting his shoulder as you scream, stuck between wanting to help him and wanting to leave him for dead. 

“Stop!” You screech, falling backwards as well.

Steve doesn’t hear you, breaking through the doorway, before the two of you collide into another body. “Woah!” 

Nancy’s arm steadies you, concern etches her face. “What’s wrong?” 

“There was a spider,” Steve speaks for you, panting. He knows your fear of the creature. He brushes at his jacket, as if he can still feel it crawling upon him. “It was a black widow.”

Your heartbeat is in your chest. Looking at the door you crashed through, you topple forward and slam it shut. “Fuck this room.”

“That bad, huh?” Nancy can’t hide her laugh. She feels bad that you had to experience a black widow, but your almost childish reaction amuses her. 

“Fuck spiders.” Is all you can say. 

Nancy starts to laugh again, but stops mid-way. “Oh, oh no.” Her hand reaches towards Steve, her fingers find his hair. 

Steve flinches away, both from shock that she’s even touching him and from the idea that there’s something residing in his hair. “Is there something? Shit, okay.” He instinctively moves towards you, freaking out, but Nancy gently chides him. 

“Stop moving, come here.” She stands behind him now, her fingers still in his hair. Softly tussling the strands, you watch as she gently plucks a cobweb. “I got it.”

It’s the way her voice softens when she speaks to Steve, the delicate way her fingers course through his hair as if she’s always done this. You suppose, in a way, that the delicacy comes from practiced ease. She used to do it all the time. 

Unable to stop yourself, you raise your eyebrows. Something twinges in your chest. An icey, red hot feeling that you despise. 

Nancy must sense that she’s upset you, because she awkwardly clears her throat and snatches her hand away. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, fearful she’s crossed a line.

Steve steps away, already back by your side.

“If there’s a spider in Steve’s hair, you’re never gonna find it until it lays eggs and the babies spill out.” Robin suddenly appears, cackling at her own joke. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Steve hisses at her, patting his head, now slightly paranoid. 

Robin leaves just as suddenly as she arrived, her laughter echoing in the hallway. Steve looks at you, and you merely shrug. “It’s Robin, what can you expect?”

“She’s got problems.” He huffs. When Nancy agrees, Steve jumps at the opportunity to lessen the iciness he feels between you and her. He wishes things were how they used to be, back before feelings complicated everything. “It’s, uh. Cool that you and Robin are friends now.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything, and you busy yourself with running your hands over the expanse of Steve’s back. You do it because you’re worried Nancy may have missed a few cobwebs, though a part of you knows that you also do it to show her that you can. That Steve allows your touch, leans into it. 

“Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something?” Steve knows it’ll never happen, but he still says it anyways. It’s his way of extending friendship to Nancy, proving to her that there aren’t any hard feelings. “A long overdue double date, you know? You, me, Y/N, and Jonathan when he’s back.”

Jonathan’s name slips from Steve’s mouth before he can stop it. He knows he’s made a mistake.

You look away from him, the guilt of remembering Jonathan’s words. His dangerous reminiscing, how you still haven’t told Nancy.

And Nancy looks away because she’s reminded of her problems with Jonathan. The distance that has grown between them. How it feels like they haven’t been on the same page for a long, long time now. 

“I’d-I’d like that.” You finally say, the words bitter.

Nancy nods, her own uncomfortable expression mirroring yours. “Yeah, totally.”

Neither of you sound convincing. Neither one of you can look the other in the eye. You can’t bear to look at Nancy because of the overwhelming guilt. Nancy can’t bear to look at you because you’re Jonathan’s best friend. 

“We can bring Robin on the date!” Steve is desperate to break the tension. He hates it, he hates that Jonathan has created a chasm that he can’t cross. “I’m sure she’d love to join.”

Thankfully Nancy laughs. “Why would she want to third wheel?”

“Who says Robin would be the third wheel?” You say, relieved by the change in topic. “She’d be my date, obviously. Steve would be the third wheel.”

“Obviously.” Steve rolls his eyes, though there’s fondness in his voice that Nancy doesn’t miss. 

You pick the last of the cobwebs off of him. Running your fingers through Steve’s hair one last time for good measure, you poke his cheek. “You’re officially cobweb free, by the way. We should probably get back to searching the house.”

“‘The obvious things are not what people observe,’” He catches your hand as it falls, squeezing it. “Or-’don’t observe’?”

Steve’s cute little frown warms you. He’s trying to impress you, quoting what your brother had only a few minutes ago. You squeeze his hand back, your cheeks warming as you smile up at him. “‘The world is full of obvious things by which nobody by any chance ever observes.’ You were close.”

“Thanks, angel. I would’ve gotten it eventually.”

“You would’ve.” 

The tenderness that Nancy sees in Steve’s eyes burns. The way you’re smiling at him, the softness underneath your voice. She sees the way you squeeze the other’s hand. It makes her ache; she misses holding Jonathan’s hand. 

– 

You stand underneath a chandelier, its lights flickering. The sight is a familiar one. Flickering lights have become a part of your nightmares. 

Max and Lucas had called everyone over to where they were. They’d found the lights that way. 

“It’s the Christmas lights all over again.” You don’t know why you’re whispering, but it feels wrong not to. 

Nancy nods in agreement, but Robin leans forward. “Christmas lights?”

“When Will was in the Upside Down, the lights… came to life.” Nancy explains, staring up at the way the chandelier flickers now. 

“It’s how we knew he was alive.” Your chest tightens at the memory. You’ll never forget the dread you felt, realizing that Will was alive, yet trapped somewhere you could never reach. 

Lucas clenches his fist. “Vecna’s here. In this house. Just on the other side.”

Steve grabs your hand, protective. He doesn’t like the idea of Vecna being so close to you. When the lights stop flickering, he pulls you closer to him, on edge. Equally as scared, you turn to Max to make sure she has her headphones nearby. 

“Max, get your headphones on.” You command her, but she doesn’t listen.

“I think Venca just left the room.” Robin announces, looking at the group surrounding her.

Max frowns. “Did he hear us?”

“Can he see us?” Steve asks, hand skimming the walkman that resides in your coat pocket. Your headphones dangle from your neck. He positions himself so that if he needs to, he’ll be able to grab them as fast as possible.

“Headphones.” Lucas echoes your prior command, only this time Max doesn’t hesitate to put them on. He looks at you, too. “Y/N.”

You shake your head at him. Not yet. You’re scared that if you play your music right now, you’ll somehow miss any signs of danger for Max. You can’t be distracted, you can’t risk it. 

“Everyone turn off your flashlights and spread out.” Nancy orders. There isn’t any time to argue, she recognizes that. You’ve made your choice. 

Steve protests not having any lights on, and you can’t help but agree. The idea of running around the house without any sense of guidance makes you incredibly uneasy. It makes you easy targets.

But no one listens, already spreading out as Nancy told them. Steve groans, knowing you have no choice but to follow along as well. “Jesus Christ.”

“We’ll be fine.” You promise him, but Steve refuses to let go of your hand.

Robin is the first to find Vecna. 

“I got him!” Her flashlight is pointed in the air, illuminating for only a second before the light dies completely. She slowly lowers it, defeated. “I… I had him.”

Then Steve’s flashlight turns on. He holds it away from him, though quickly he realizes that the light is following something. “He’s moving. I-I think he’s moving!”

Steve makes it to the top of the stairs before the light dies once more. He curses in agitation. But before he can complain, your flashlight turns on. 

“He’s back,” you whisper, too afraid to raise your voice. Steve tries to snatch the flashlight from you, he doesn’t want Vecna anywhere near you, but you push him away. “He’s taking us somewhere.”

“Up here,” Max says, pointing towards a door. It’s cracked, faint light seeps through. Shoving it open, she reveals a separate staircase. 

“It’s an attic,” Robin’s voice pitches an octave. “Of course it’s an attic.”

No one says anything as you make your way upstairs. Your light shines brightly, growing stronger and stronger with every step you take. Dustin tries to warn you guys that it could just be a trap, but his protests go ignored. 

He’s probably right, but you’re already cursed and you have nothing to lose. 

When you reach the attic, a single lightbulb hangs from the rafters. It flickers wildly, growing dimmer and stronger in stuttering patterns. Your flashlight begins to mimic the light’s pattern, before everyone else’s flashlights flicker on. 

You all stand around the lightbulb, flashlights now joined together. 

“Okay, what’s happening?” Steve looks around, anxious. 

No one answers him. No one can answer him; but you can. The hair on your arms stands up. Static swirls around you, your body shivers at the sensation. 

You’re standing where Vecna’s standing.

“He’s here.” 

No one asks you how you know this.

A searing pain rips through your head. It’s so sudden, so jarring, that you can’t mask the pained sound you make. Everyone looks at you, terrified that you’re next, before the lights go haywire. The flashlights reach a burning capacity, energy exceeding their limits. One by one, they explode. 

Glass flies everywhere. One piece cuts your cheek. The cut isn’t deep, it’s only a superficial wound, but Steve has your head in his hands before the blood can even begin to drip down your skin. 

The lights go out. Steve tends to you in the dark.

The entire car ride back to Nancy’s, his hand never leaves yours.

-

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[lucasandlily]

Rui x Reader who is really affectionate, but can't touch him because of The Curse.

A/N: I'm alive!! Rui my beautiful beautiful tragic boy. I've actually been having a lot of brainrot for this game, particularly an isekai AU that made me contemplate making RP blog (I love you guys btw. This is probably my first fandom where they're so active, I've been really well connected with this fandom somehow and it's so fun!!), so I figured I might as well be writing it down now. This is an idea I've had spinning in my head for a while, so it's VERY self-indulgent/insert, but enjoy!! AO3 link here

Rui's POV. Second-person pronoun "You" is used. Angst! But also fluff!! (825 words)

You’ve always been an affectionate little thing. It’s something Rui finds adorable about you, staying optimistic despite all that looms over you, not letting any of the ghouls he KNOWS can be more than a little much sometimes destroy your positive attitude. It’s as if you decided to be the light in a place that literally has dark in its name, and he lov admires you for that.

He can’t help but feel the bitter green of envy though, when he watches you ruffle Lyca’s hair after he whines at you for treating him like a dog. 

He pointedly turns away from the look Ed gives him over your head when you relax into his chest after he leans over your shoulder.  

He just laughs along at your drunken antics when you nuzzle into Haru’s hand, somehow even more touchy when your cheeks are flushed with alcohol. 

He tries not to remember the flash of hurt, confusion, the first time he’d backed away from your hand when all you wanted to do was give him a pat for a job well done. He doesn’t know if it hurt more when your face morphed into regretful understanding, or when you apologised and told him you’d try not to do it again. 

Rui tells himself it’s for the better when he notices you’ve been avoiding him for the past week. He’d have done the same to you anyway, if he realised his feelings were starting to fester. He tries to not let it get to him when he hears you enter the Obscuary mansion, only to quickly patter up the stairs without stopping by the bar first, as you would have done previously. 

Maybe before, he would have made it a little competition to see who could mess up the other’s hair more. He’d watched you run your fingers through Lyca’s after you’d tousled it out of place, anyway. Maybe in another life, you’d gently hold his face as you showered him with kisses. He’d do the same to you anyway, if he wasn’t forced to keep his hands to himself. 

If he didn’t notice you hold your hand back every time you saw his mask slip. If he didn’t see your hand stop short before pulling it back to tell him he had a bit of hair out of place. 

It’s all just part of the cursed life, he tells himself. He should be getting used to it by now, he sighs as he walks down the hall over to his room. 

Behind him, he hears the jingle of the bell you like to wear on your keychain. He turns at the sound of your quick steps approaching. 

“Rui! Ruiruiruiii!!” You call.

“Ah, there you are! Haha, I’m not going anywhere you know~ though I guess I don’t mind being chased?” He teases as you approach. 

You smile up at him brightly, “I have something to show you!” You tell him, he notices now that you have a hand behind your back. 

“Hm? Aw, did you get me a gift? And here I was thinking you were hiding from me!” He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. Your smile falters a bit as you blink at his confession. 

But before he can backtrack with a “Just kidding!” your smile lightens again, eyes filling with some sort of resolve as you pull out… a glove on a stick? in your other hand.

He doesn’t pull away when he feels the simulation of a hand on his head. He can’t, when you look into his eyes with such unmistakable fondness. The awkward, stilted movements as you try to run the imitation hand through his hair communicates how long you’ve wanted to do this, and the tears that well up in his eyes betray how much he’s needed it. 

He feels the cloth soak up the tears when you move the glove down to hold his face. It feels soft under his skin, and he can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

“How long did it take you to make this?” He asks as you let him lace his fingers with your hand extension. He squeezes the plush hand, feeling the soft give before it reaches the stick inside, inspecting where the glove and stick are attached. 

“Um! A week? It took a bit of experimenting to get it to stay on… And they don’t really sell gloves on campus either.” 

Your eyes crinkle when you look at him, the corners of your lips pull up triumphantly when he lets go of the hand to let you pat his head again. 

“You deserve at least this much,” you tell him. “I know it’s not really the same or anything, but I don’t wanna leave you out, y’know?” 

“It was worth it though, if it made you happy.” You look into his eyes as you say this, and he can’t help but believe you.

Reblogs and Comments are appreciated! I love you (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

[theoutcastwrites]

"Make a wish."

Dainsleif looked at you in confusion. "A wish?"

"For the New Year," you clarified, "just think of something that you would really like to happen next year!"

He furrowed his brows in deep thought. What would Dainsleif like to see in the following year?

In his eyes, he already had it all: he had attained the position of knight captain of the Royal Guard. Khaenri'ah had flourished into something greater than godhood itself, its people proud, happy, safe. Dainsleif had his comrades, his brother, and you.

What else was there to want, really?

Thus he confessed: "I'm not sure I can think of something."

You blinked. "Nothing? Nothing at all?"

Dainsleif smiled sheepishly, "nothing."

That answer seemed to really displease you.

"No way," you said, taking his hand between yours, "think harder. Come on. I know there's a nice wish somewhere in that pretty head of yours."

Stifling a laugh, Dainsleif gave your idea another shot.

His comrades, his brother, and you. You who he had known since childhood; you who welcomed him with open arms whenever he returned exhausted from work, or a long mission overground; you whom Dainsleif loved as much as his heart allowed him, you whom he would like to spend his entire life fighting for.

Dainsleif looked down at your hands which firmly held his own and realized, then, what his wish was.

I wish to marry you.

His eyes lingered on your ring finger - beautiful in all its bareness - and Dainsleif repeated that wish once, twice, thrice for good measure.

I wish to marry you, I wish to marry you, I wish to marry you.

"Have you got it?"

Dainsleif's gaze fell on your face; bewitching, endearing, the loveliest of all. He smiled and said:

"I've got it now."

If only the gods held any pity for him.

Who was he to wish for something good? In the face of the almighty gods that ruled this world, what weight did Dainsleif's dreams hold?

Dainsleif should have known, since childhood, that he was a wretched, despicable creature; a curse cast upon the nation that he loved so passionately. All the good things that he had known perished before his eyes on that fateful day and the best of them all - his most beloved, his sweetest love - died first.

And Dainsleif could do naught but watch.

[marlynnofmany]

The Little Things

“It’s the unexpected stuff that gets me,” I said, swirling my drink. “Like, I’ll expect alien food on the alien spaceship, but the first time I heard offworld music, I thought the engine was about to fail.”

“Oh, I know, right?” agreed the other human, waving her own drink around. She hadn’t spilled it on the spaceport floor yet, but her ship had heavier gravity than this, and she was still adjusting. “And have you smelled what passes for perfume among the Mesmers? It’s like someone cut an onion and rubbed it in hot peppers.”

“Wow, I haven’t come across that yet,” I said with a glance back toward the spacedocks. “We’ve got two Mesmers onboard. Maybe they haven’t felt like getting fancy.” I tried to picture either of my exoskeletoned crewmates preparing for a high-class event, and my brain shorted out. Neither of them seemed the type. Zhee would stand by the punchbowl and complain about everything, while Trrili would hide behind curtains and jump out to startle people. Probably.

“It might be a courtship perfume,” the other human was saying. “Either that or it’s really expensive. I swear, if our navigator wore that on a regular basis, I’d have to invest in one of those high-quality personal air filters. It was bad.”

“Enough to make you miss the people who overdid the perfume back home?” I asked.

She set her drink down and leaned forward. “Enough to make me miss the body odor back home. And I don’t say that lightly!”

“I’ll bet!” I said with a toast of my own drink. It was cherry soda in a champagne glass. The Frillians running this restaurant were so proud of their Earth foods, and I didn’t have the heart to tell them that was anything other than a perfectly normal combination. And the fried-chicken-on-French-toast was actually good.

“It has been a while since I was home, though,” she said, picking at the remains of her macaroni and peas. “Earlier I saw somebody wearing a scarf like my mom’s, and now I keep thinking of all the things I miss. The tree outside my bedroom window, the cat purring, the sound of rain over an old TV show.”

I had a mild epiphany. “Well,” I said, finishing my drink. “I can’t help with all of that, but if you want to make a quick visit to my ship…” I leaned with a conspiratorial grin and whispered, “I’ve got kittens.”

Her gasp made people at three different tables look at us. “Oh my god, yes! Here, I’ll pay for your food. Where did you get kittens??”

“It’s a long story,” I said as she tapped at the payment interface. “I’ll tell you while they’re busy trying to fight your shoes.”

With a happy squeal that caused more than one wince from the aliens nearby, she swept our dishes into the recycler, then we were off to the spacedocks.

~~~

The ongoing backstory of the main character from this book. More to come!

[sheawritesstuff]

Today is my birthday so,,

Redacted Birthday Headcanons

✩ Sam has never had an actual birthday party and he intends to keep it that way - very few people even know when his birthday is. He prefers spending the day with Darlin and maybe going to dinner with Vincent rather than doing anything big.

✩ Asher has a shirt that literally just says “This Is My Birthday Shirt” that he wears on his birthday every year without fail.

✩ Aaron doesn't like birthday cake so he's gotten a cheesecake every year since he was about 15. Elliott used to make it for him, then he would just buy his own, and now Smartass makes them.

✩ Geordi likes baking and decorating his own cakes so it can be exactly how he wants. Cutie tried to help once, but he got overwhelmed and took over halfway through.

✩ Elliott always cries on his birthday. He doesn't even know why most of the time, it just happens.

✩ Ollie has a movie marathon with his friends to celebrate. They use it as an excuse to eat as much junk food as they want and ruin their sleep schedules - it's been a tradition since college.

✩ David has a small gathering with Asher, Milo, and all of their mates. Angel tries to make it a surprise party, but they always end up spilling the details. Davey pretends to be surprised anyway, just to appease them.

✩ Marie insists on making Milo's favorite dinner and sends him home with enough leftovers to last the rest of the week. He acts annoyed but really appreciates how much she does for him.

✩ Damien would rather treat his birthday like every other day of the year, but the D.A.M.N. crew always gets together to do something for him. Huxley lets him backseat plan to take away some of the stress of the whole ordeal.

✩ Huxley's moms send his presents a week early then video call him on the actual day to make sure he got it and to watch him open them. They also sing to him over the phone.

✩ Even though his coalescence day is technically his birthday, Gavin picked a different day to celebrate based on which zodiac birth chart he likes the most.

✩ Anton tries really hard to call My Love on his birthday. But if he can't, he holds the little plant and just hopes they can feel that he's thinking about them.

✩ Marcus spends his birthday flirting with AI bots on sketchy websites. The more viruses he gets the better.

✩ Lasko usually just buys his own birthday presents because gifts from his family were never just gifts, they were an expectation that something would be given in return. He's still learning to accept gifts without feeling guilty.

✩ Guy tries convincing Honey to give him birthday spanks every year. Sometimes he gets what he asks for, sometimes he settles for birthday kisses.

[opikiquu]

yalldont understand how stressediam for thsu mans bannerhELP me

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

dnkinktober day 6: medical play

[ramonag-if]

Crown of Exile Progress

It's official. My inbox is empty and I've done my best to answer the backlog 🥲🙃😬 I'm sorry if you've sent me an ask and I haven't responded to it. Quite a few were asks I have already answered. But now, I'm free 🎉

PS: This isn't to say don't send in more asks, just know that a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

PPS: Chapter 9 should be completed by next week — as in, the entire Chapter 9 will be fully playable.

PPPS: Due to unforseen circumstances, the character portraits will be delayed.

[korrasamibottles]

The Heart Is A Muscle

Asami's eyes immediately land on Korra, as they always do, whether they're in a crowded room or on a battlefield or in the peace of their own home, pulled by forces unknown to the face of her lover, to that shard of her own soul walking around outside her body.

Some soft and sappy morning Korrasami inspired by this stunning art from the amazing @persnickety-doodles 💖 Rated G, 850 words.

[emilyjunk]

Ship: Cady/Regina (Mean Girls) Rating: M Words: ~88,500; 5/5 chapters Summary:

"It's all so stupid, because she knows Cady came to visit her after the accident and walked away. She saw all the flowers her mom lugged up to her room. She saw the texts from all of them over the summer — even fucking Janis. But the fact of the matter is that they all hated her, including Gretchen and Karen, until the moment they thought she died. Then she spent the whole summer recovering in various doctor’s offices, including but not limited to Neuro, Ortho, Chiro, PT, and her therapist, who out of all of them, probably kicked her ass the most, and now she's supposed to just return to high school with everything all different. With her all different – this fragile, ugly, vulnerable shell of Regina George." Post-canon, senior year. Things are different. Regina is dealing. Or is she? Lol.

Prequel to grad school universe

For @erikahenningsen @shawtyidontmind and @gohandinhand

[zukkaoru]

risk it all ('cause i'll catch you if you fall)

Three times, Kunikida finds himself infatuated with people he should not want. Three times, he trips over the edge into the freefall people call romance. Three times, he is tugged beneath the waves and all he can do is hold his breath as he desperately tries clawing his way back to the surface. Three times, Kunikida breaks his own rules for falling in love.

on kunikida doppo, disrupted schedules, and falling in love

📗 8k words || kunichuuranzai, kunikida-centric 📗 written for / because of lena @littencloud9

[skyward-floored]

Maybe a snippet about wars and Sky and baby twilight?

“Come on Twilight! Come on!”

“You can do it!”

“Just once buddy!”

The baby stared between Warriors and Sky, tilting his head as the two smiled at him. He blinked, and Warriors and Sky held their breath as his expression screwed up.

Then he let out a huge sneeze, one that nearly knocked him over.

“Well, I guess he doesn’t want to right now,” Sky said with a frown, and Warriors sighed, leaning back on his knees.

“I’m starting to think Time is lying about the turning into a wolf thing,” Warriors huffed, and Twilight giggled as Sky pulled him into his lap and wiped off his nose. “How could neither of us have ever seen him do it?”

“Maybe he doesn’t feel comfortable enough around us?” Sky said, letting Twilight mess with some of his feathers.

“That’s ridiculous. We were there when he was born, how could he not be comfortable around us?”

Sky shrugged, and Warriors flicked some snowflakes up into the air, Twilight giggling as he waved a hand at them.

“All I’m saying is, he’s had powers for at least a month now, and we still haven’t seen him turn into a wolf. It just seems suspicious to me,” Warriors said, adding to the flakes. “I’m pretty sure Time is putting us on.”

“But Malon said it too,” Sky reminded him. “She was talking just yesterday about how cute he was as a wolf, remember?”

“Well maybe he got her in on it too.”

Sky gave him a flat look, and Twilight made a whining noise, squirming in his arms. They looked down at the baby, and Twilight whined again, moving his lips around.

“Guess its time to feed him again,” Sky said, and Warriors nodded, getting to his feet and walking off towards the kitchen.

“I’ll get the bottle. Malon didn’t move it around again, did she?”

“I don’t think so,” Sky called, rocking Twilight a little when he made a fussy noise. “Aw buddy, it’s okay, we’ll feed you in just a second.”

Twilight let out a louder noise of discontent, and Sky shushed him, looking out at the kitchen.

“Hurry it up Wars, he’s getting really cranky!”

“I’m trying, sheesh!” Warriors called back, voice annoyed. “Malon mixed up everything around in the fridge. Now why did she put the salad there of all places...”

Twilight sniffled, his lip trembling, and Sky patted him on the back, moving him so he had his head resting against Sky’s shoulder. The change in position calmed him down a little, but he was still whiny, and Sky winced as he grabbed a lock of his hair and tugged on it.

“Come on Twilight, it’s alright,” Sky shushed, “we’ll feed you in just a second, and your parents will be back soon! No need to be upset.”

Twilight looked at him as he spoke, and Sky smiled, Twilight’s blue eyes watery with tears.

Then his form was abruptly encased in shadows.

Sky yelped, nearly dropping him, but he managed to hold on to the shadows that Twilight had turned into, and watched in shock as they slowly fluttered away.

Leaving a wolf pup in their place.

Sky blinked, and the pup blinked back, and for a moment the only noise was the distant sound of Warriors rifling through the fridge.

Then Twilight whined, wiggling in Sky’s hold and licking at his chin.

Sky’s shock turned to delight, and he laughed as Twilight’s tiny tongue rasped at his chin. “Ha, well, Time was right,” he grinned, running a hand over Twilight’s head, delighting in how fuzzy he was. “A shifter! Buddy, that’s so cool.”

Twilight seemed to pick up on his excitement, and wiggled in his arms, letting out a yip as he licked Sky’s chin again.

“Alright alright, stop, you already spat up on me earlier, I don’t want to change shirts again,” Sky smiled, giving his ears a little scratch. A clatter rang out in the kitchen, and Sky sat up a little straighter. “Oh right— hey Wars! Get in here!”

“I’m still looking! Give me a break!” Warriors shouted back, and Sky huffed, getting to his feet.

“No, not that, you need to come see— oh, hey wait!” Sky exclaimed, shadows drifting around Twilight again. “Warriors hasn’t seen! Stay a wolf!”

“Stay a what?” Warriors hollered.

Sky ignored him, trying to get Twiligjt to stay a wolf, but despite his pleas, the shadows kept forming. And soon enough they’d dispersed, leaving a baby in Sky’s arms again.

Sky sighed, and Twilight set his head on his shoulder, yawning as Warriors finally came back around the corner.

“Look, I finally found it. Even warmed it up. Now what were you yelling about?” Warriors asked, tossing the bottle from one hand to the other.

Sky looked at Warriors, looked at Twilight, then looked back at Warriors one more time.

“Uh... would you believe me if I said he turned into a wolf while you were gone?” he said with a sheepish grin.

Warriors blinked, then snorted, shaking his head. “Riiight. Thought you’d get in on the joke, huh?”

“Aw Wars, look, I know what it looks like, but seriously, he did.”

“Uh-huh, sure. And when I went into the kitchen, I turned into a chicken,” Warriors said seriously, then laughed. “Nice try, Sky.”

“But—”

“Let’s just feed him,” Warriors said, and Sky grumpily took the bottle from his hands, shifting Twilight around and popping the tip in his mouth.

Twilight happily suckled onto it, and Sky looked at him, then exclaimed as he pulled a piece of fuzzy wolf hair off his shoulder.

“Here, see? Wolf hair!” Sky proclaimed, and Warriors took it, squinting at the piece of fluff.

“Sky, this is lint.”

“It’s not!”

“It’s lint.”

“It looks nothing like lint!”

Warriors squinted at the fuzz again, and hummed thoughtfully, rubbing it between two fingers.

“I guess you’re right... it looks like a bit like a moth ball too.”

Sky glared, and Warriors grinned. “Warriors if I wasn’t holding a baby I’d tackle you right now.”

“Well, so long as you don’t sic a wolf on me, I’m good.”

Sky hit him with one of his wings, and Twilight giggled at the sight, Warriors shaking his head as he walked away.

“Like he’d do it in the five minutes I was gone... sheesh,” Warriors muttered to himself, chuckling under his breath as he went to go get a snack of his own. “Yeah right, Sky.”

“Fine, be that way,” Sky huffed, and sat down in a chair, guiding the bottle back into Twilight’s mouth. He smiled down at his nephew, and Twilight snuggled up to him, happily suckling. “Doesn’t matter if he believes me or not. Just so long as he doesn’t come crying to me when you start teething and chew up all his shoes.”

“I heard that!”

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Total $hit$how: Computer Games

in which Jericho has a talk

cw: referenced violence, implied manipulation, adult language, migraine

previous // masterlist // next

×~×~×

Jericho slept in for the first time in months. At the compound, Sahota and Vic had kept the team on a Ben Franklin approved schedule---early to bed, early to rise---and back at home, Ari was still at the age where she naturally woke up early. Saturday mornings were lovingly tiresome, and Sundays were for church and visiting. Much as he missed staying in bed on the weekends, he'd give up sleeping late forever to be home right now, Ari at his door, knocking and calling for him to wake up, wake up, come on already!

He pulled himself out of bed at nine, unable to stare at the ceiling and miss his family any longer. They all had work to do today, and completing the next tasks would put him one step closer to home.

And maybe one step closer to getting through to Harbor.

Jericho exhaled, changing into a fresh set of gray sweats, and stepped into the hall. He wasn't sure Harbor would still be in his room, but after a few knocks---

No answer.

After a few more knocks, Harbor stumbled to the door, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. His old cargo jacket was thrown over his own set of grays, and his colorful hair was more tangled than usual.

Jericho offered a smile. “Sorry, I didn't know you were still asleep.”

Harbor only shrugged, not making eye contact, and Jericho stepped aside to give him room to move into the hall.

Okay. This was it. Time to talk about yesterday, see if they could come to an understanding. The rest of the crew would already be out for the day, so at least he wouldn't have to worry about them getting hostile and scaring Harbor off, but that wouldn't make the conversation any easier.

“You wanna grab breakfast before we get to work?”

Harbor once again shrugged, still not looking up. Good enough, Jericho didn't wanna do this on an empty stomach.

They ate in silence; Vic had left out plain instant oats and peanut butter, and the combination wasn't half bad. Harbor didn't eat much, his cut-up hands half-hidden in his jacket sleeves, fingers tight around a spoon as he tapped the side of the plastic bowl in an unsteady rhythm.

Maybe he felt guilty. That was a good sign, right? Sahota did say he'd told him to do it, so maybe Harbor had just run with the order, taken things too far, and regretted it. Breakfast could've been a good time to get the ball rolling, but Jericho didn't know the words to start, and Vic appeared in the doorway before he could find them.

After a brief exchanged greeting---and more silence from Harbor; he didn't perk up the way he usually did around their handler---they followed Vic past the briefing room---he tried not to think about the last time they were in there---and into a side room… side hall, more like. A corridor he hadn't been in yet. Was this where their trainers’ rooms were? Vic led them past a few closed doors, to a room with an external keypad. Jericho's eyes went to the floor as the man typed in the code, a habitual attempt at respecting privacy. On the other side of the door was a pretty unremarkable office; desk and lockable cabinets and an old computer with monitor attached. Vic powered it on, and it roared to life with a sound like a small avalanche.

As high-tech as Vic’s gear seemed, he was woefully out of date here. Maybe it was another level of security? The older hard and softwares were more difficult to access remotely, Jer knew that firsthand. Still, it had to be aggravating to get any sort of work done on it.

Again, he hung back, waiting for Vic to input the password before stepping forward.

“Are there any specifics you want me to go after?”

Their handler shook his head. “Anything you believe is relevant.” His hand went to Harbor's shoulder, giving it a squeeze and lingering there for a maybe a little too long. “Or anything Hunter here guides you to.” He rubbed a small circle into the younger man's shoulder as he spoke. “Remember what we've been training, mhm?”

“Mhm,” Harbor replied, quiet as Vic left the room. Jericho took a seat in front of the screen, deciding to ignore whatever nonverbal exchange had passed between the two. For now.

“Is Hunter your first name?” he asked after he heard the door close, fingers dancing across the keyboard to pull up various Rotorworx sites.

“Fuck else would it be?” Harbor—Hunter grumbled, leaning against the wall.

Jericho tried not to sigh too audibly. “Do you prefer that, or Harbor?”

“I don't care.”

They were off to a stellar start. Jericho rolled his shoulders, keeping his eyes on the monitor screen. This had to be a casual endeavor. Anything accusatory would likely make the other man clam up, or turn hostile, or worse, storm out and leave him to work alone. He cleared his throat.

“Is there anything you can, uh, see? Anything pointing me a certain way?”

“No.”

“Nothing at all?”

“If I see shit, I'll tell you.”

Jericho pressed his lips together, looking for a new approach. Something that would work. In the weeks he'd known the other man, Hunter had shown to be easily agitated and easily shut down; leaving the room or cussing them out at the first sign of disapproval. He seemed insecure. Maybe around this specific group of people, maybe around people in general. He seemed to like Vic, and Vic had a tendency to praise him.

Was that the secret? If Hunter was just afraid of not measuring up, and that was the root cause of all this, would assuring him of his ability help break his shell a little bit?

Did it feel right to praise him after what he'd done to Sahota?

Jericho shook the thought away. He still didn't know the full story. Starting the conversation with a clear bias wouldn't get him anywhere.

Encouraging Hunter had seemed to work back in the labyrinth. Sure, he'd still been a little hostile about it, but he'd stuck with them, just that once.

“I've been impressed with your abilities,” Jericho said as he scanned the source page of one of the smaller Rotorworx websites. “That implant you have is really something special.”

Hunter's scowl didn't seem to deepen at that. “Yeah… I mean. Yeah. It is.”

“Once we get the mission going you're gonna be the MVP. Even with all this preparation, we'll still be relying on you to navigate. Like a… psychic GPS.”

The other man snorted, but he seemed more amused than annoyed. “Guess so.”

Jericho made a point of scanning the page. Anything he believed was relevant. Vic's instructions were vague and unhelpful, but with a little push…

“Think you could do that now?” he said, glancing back at Hunter. “I'll be honest, I'm lost.”

He cocked his head, a flash of genuine confusion on his face. “Lost? I thought you were a master hacker or something. Can't you just… go in and find the secrets?”

Jericho let out a laugh. “It's not that easy. Usually I'm coming into a site with a very specific goal or target. Going after the institution as a whole… it's a bit too broad.” He gave him a slight grin. “Could really use a psychic GPS.”

“Yeah. Fuck. I'll try.”

Jericho scooted his chair to the side, allowing him room to step forward.

“I… I can't always get it though,” he mumbled. “I'll try, but sometimes I mess up. Or…” He trailed off.

“Hey, you're a million times better at it than I am.”

“Yeah.”

It felt like a success. They were working together, Harbor's attitude was brighter, progress on the task was being made. Too bad he'd have to darken the mood before too long.

“Uh. Try that?” Harbor pointed towards the bottom of the site page, and Jericho scrolled down, watching for anything that stood out.

“There?” He waved the mouse over an embedded link.

“No, not...” Hunter squinted at the screen, face pinched in concentration. “There. Not online. On… it's one of the computer files or something.”

Jericho minimized the window and opened the file explorer. This felt… not quite right. Why would anything relevant be stored on Vic's computer?

“Are you sure?” he asked, mouse hovering on the browser tab. Maybe he'd misjudged. It had to be difficult to translate something that usually applied to the real world to a computer screen.

“I'm… I don't know,” Hunter said. “Give it to me.”

Jericho moved his hand, allowing the man to pilot the mouse. Eyes half-closed, Hunter shifted it around, looking like a teenager at a ouija board. After a few jagged motions, he opened a folder. Another, another. Stopping at one that was simply labeled Untitled 1. Hunter frowned at the screen, teeth bared like he was ready to square up with the monitor. His finger twitched, accompanied by the click of the mouse, and the folder opened.

He seemed to recoil as its contents loaded, inhaling through his teeth, hurrying to backtrack. Jericho managed to catch a glimpse before he could retreat to the previous screen. Untitled 1 appeared to hold a bunch of videos. No thumbnails, but he caught a title or two. Battery, Switch.

“What was that?”

Hunter shook his head, brows drawn down tightly, something unsteady in his expression.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing. It's… this isn't what we're after.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's not… it's wrong.” He shook his head again, mouth twisted in a grimace. “This isn't what Vic wanted. It's not… just go back. Fuck. I'll try again, I-I fucked it up.” He shoved himself away from the monitor, mouse askew in his wake.

Jericho took control of it, hovering over the folder. Untitled 1. What had led Hunter here? He didn't know how his abilities worked, so maybe it was just a case of crossed wires, but what if it was something more? He was tempted to open the folder again, to watch just one video, just to see what this was all about , just in case it was important. 

He managed to hold back. Vic trusted them to only use this system for the mission. Jericho didn't want to breach that trust. He knew Vic had a lot to hide, but he had a right to that, didn't he? Especially with a job like his.

“Okay.” He closed the file explorer, re-opening the Rotorworx tabs. “What about now? See anything?”

Hunter squinted at the monitor in silence, his expression twitching, eyes chasing unseen things. His hand went to the mouse. Jericho yielded it to him, half expecting him to open a source code box and tap away at it like some kind of psychic hacker. Instead, Hunter clicked the tab for one of the sub-sites and opened the “meet our staff” page. He frowned at it for a moment, before tracing a circle around a name with the mouse.

“That guy,” he said. Michael Walsh, the text read. Data Analytics Manager.

“What about him?” Jer asked.

“Don't fuckin know,” Hunter said, pressing his palm into his eye. “It's just… him.”

Jericho looked away from the screen, turning instead to the man at his side. Hunter was breathing through a scowl, his eyebrows drawn down in a wince. What had he said before? In the maze? His head hurt.

“Hey, we can take a break.”

He shook his head, palm pressing into his temple. “I'm fine.”

Well, he certainly didn't look fine. “It's cool, I'll start looking into Walsh. You can rest your eyes for a minute.”

“Said I'm fine.” As if to punctuate the statement, Hunter took the mouse back in a quick jerk. 

“Hunter—”

“Fuck off.” He clicked a few hyperlinks and tapped a few keys, his eyes barely open, each breath hissing through his teeth. Then, at last, he fell back in his chair, eyes closed.

“There. That.”

Jericho didn't even glance at the monitor. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Hunter snapped again. “I just… it’s training. I need to get better at finding.”

“Even if it hurts?”

“Need to learn to push through. Vic said it's important.”

Vic said. Of course. It was becoming more and more clear that Vic’s priority was the mission, not any of them. And the mission really was important, but if their handler didn't care about them beyond their functions, it was up to them to look out for each other.

“You did good,” Jericho said. “But rest is important too.” He pressed his lips together, adding, “Gotta be fresh for the next one, right?”

At least the last part seemed to resonate with Hunter.

“Yeah. Guess so.” He was hunched in his chair, both hands pressing against his face. A part of Jericho wanted to tell him to go lie down, but he doubted he'd take that well. More than that, they still had things that needed to be addressed. 

And a time when Hunter was in pain was probably not the best time to do that addressing, but it had to happen soon. Later today, Jer told himself. Finish the task, and confront him when he's feeling better.

The page Hunter had landed on was really more of a popup window. Walsh’s contact information, including a phone number and company email, were displayed across it in tiny black text.

Hmm… If this was where Hunter's sixth sense was leading them, there had to be a reason, right? Jericho glanced at the email address.

Maybe it was as simple as a scam email. Walsh seemed to be high up on Rotorworx’s food chain. If Jericho could trick him into letting some malware onboard, it could give him more access, and faster, which was just what they needed.

He opened a new window, mulling over which site would be the best place to create a fake email address, and what exactly he should say to get Walsh rise to the bait. Maybe he'd pretend to be someone from a startup asking for advice, or an events host looking for an experienced speaker for their next conference. A little ego stroking went a long way…

Jericho set to work whipping up a quick identity and make-believe company, aware of Hunter behind him, curled up in his chair, facing away.

It would be easy to take a quick break. Dig back into Vic's files. Watch one video, just to confirm there was nothing deeper going on, that Hunter's finding it was just a fluke. No one but him would ever have to know…

With effort, he buried the urge. No, it wasn't his place, and especially not right now. They had a task. He had work to do.

It was time to go whaling.

×~×~×

Laying all the bait hadn't taken as long as he'd expected. Once the message was sent, Jericho let Vic know what their plan was, and their handler said he'd keep an eye out for the notification that his trojan horse had been let inside.

So far, nothing. He ate a quiet lunch with Harbor, then invited him to the library, more quiet. At this rate, Joy and Sahota would be back before he’d even brought up the matter. Jericho let out a small sigh, glancing at Hunter.

He was just slouched on one of the chairs, staring at an unopened book in his lap.

Huckleberry Finn.

Jericho cleared his throat. “I appreciate your help today. Wouldn't have come up with that plan without you.”

Hunter just shrugged. He wondered if the headache was still bothering him.

“When else have you used it? Besides the maze and the bomb, I mean. Did you ever use it to figure stuff out before coming here?”

Hunter tapped his fingers against the book’s cover. “No. It was Vic's idea.”

Ah. “Is that what you two have been working on together?”

“Yeah.”

Jericho licked his lips. He was delaying a much needed conversation, and they were running out of daylight.

“So… did you use it yesterday?”

Hunter’s shoulders tensed, nails scraping against the book as his hands tightened into fists. “No,” he said after a moment.

Then what happened? Once again, the right words evaded him. What could he say? 

Did you have a reason to hurt Sahota? No, that felt wrong.

Why did you hurt Sahota? It wasn't that simple. Was there any excuse that would make it make sense?

“I saw what happened,” he said instead, letting out a soft exhale. “You know, I saw him. After… after you were done.”

Hunter's eyes darted back and forth, as if tracking something invisible, his gaze firmly angled on the ground.

“You hurt him.”

He watched Hunter's mouth tighten, settling into a scowl, eyes dark as he lifted his head. “I don't fucking need this.”

“Hunter—”

The other man shoved himself to his feet, book hitting the floor in a flutter of pages. Damnit. He wasn't about to grab at him, but how could he make him stay? Talk about it? He couldn't say it's okay, he couldn't say I'm not mad, couldn't say you did nothing wrong.

“We're a team,” he said, just as Hunter reached the door. By some miracle, he stopped, arms swinging at his sides.

“That doesn't mean anything.”

“It does. It means a lot.”

“I know you don’t fucking want me here.”

“I do want you here.” Jericho sighed. “But we still need to talk about yesterday. Please.”

The room felt like a freeze frame, neither of them moving, Jericho certain Hunter would cuss him out, or run away, or maybe just stare him down, and then what?

But he didn't. Slowly, head bowed, like a kid caught passing notes in class, he trudged back to the couch, falling into the cushions, fingers squeezing fingers.

“I'm not sorry for it,” he mumbled, though his tone suggested otherwise. Jericho took a seat beside him, slouching forward until their eyes were about level. Not that Hunter showed any signs of glancing up.

“Why not?” he asked, careful to voice it as a genuine question, not an accusation.

Hunter shrugged. “What's the fucking point? It already happened.”

“And you don't feel even a little sorry?”

Hunter shook his head. That had to be a lie, right? Or was Jericho just putting too much hope forward?

“Would you… is it something you think you'd do again?”

Hunter's head snapped up at that, his eyes meeting Jericho’s for all of a second before dropping again. There was a flash of something there, something he hoped was remorse, but it was swiftly covered up by anger.

“Is that what this is fucking about? You think I'll jump someone else? Like… like some kind of rabid dog? Maybe I will. What are you gonna do about it?”

Jericho took a breath. “I don't think that, Hunter. I'm just trying to work out what happened.”

A snort. “Sure.” His hands wrapped tighter around each other, knuckles whitening. “Maybe I just got tired of Sahota being an asshole and decided to teach him a lesson. Maybe I did it because I could.”

“Did you?”

Hunter didn't answer.

Lord give me patience. “I won't pretend I can see inside your head. I don't know why you hurt him, but you know it's not right. Like I said, we're a team. We can't go around beating each other up.”

“Mm.” 

“You don't have to tell me your side of this. I just want you to tell me it won't happen again.”

“What if it does?”

Jericho dropped his own gaze at that. “I hope it doesn't, but that would probably be something that pushes you off the team.”

“And who made you the boss of that?” Hunter was glancing up again, lips pulled back in a snarl. “Vic is in charge, not you.”

“Vic wouldn't stand for that,” Jericho replied, but even as he said the words, he wasn't sure he believed them. Vic had watched Sahota suffer and done nothing. Vic had electrocuted them for training value. Vic…

“Was he there?” he asked before Hunter could shoot back. The other man's mouth hung open, whatever he'd been about to say stuck in his throat, eyes widening.

“Hunter, was Vic there yesterday?”

His jaw snapped shut, eyes darting along the ground as if looking for the right answer. “He… he came to watch me.”

Something cold was spreading through Jericho. Something that should've been right in front of his face, a puzzle piece he'd missed.

I hope you had a productive training day.

He's resting.

Vic had known about Sahota, but he'd shown no concern, no anger at what had happened. Hell, he'd sent him on a mission today. Why hadn't he connected it before?

“He didn't stop you.” It wasn't a question.

Hunter gave a tiny shake of his head. “He…” his words trailed off, expression twitching.

“Did he tell you to hurt him?” It was irrational, something Jericho didn't want to believe. Why would someone with so much power over them do that? Of course, he already knew the answer, he'd seen it before. Out in the real world, a repeating cycle. Because he could. Because who would stop him?

“He— it was for… he said it was training, and I… I don't know.”

Jericho stayed quiet. What next? What could he—

“I didn't want to. I just— he… fuck. He said…”

“He said..?”

“Fuck. Nothing.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“No.”

Did he believe him? “Look, it's okay. I'll talk to him about it, tell him—”

“No,” Hunter said again, more insistent. 

“Why not?”

“He…” Hunter blinked furiously, gritting his teeth. “I can't fuck this up. Vic said… he said I could stay, after all this bullshit.”

“And you want that?” The question came out harsher than he'd intended. Jericho wanted to get as far away from Vic as possible once this was over. Who would want to stay?

“Yeah,” Hunter said, an edge entering his tone. “Something fucking wrong with that?”

“No, I… why Vic? He's…” Not a good person.

“He's what?” Hunter got to his feet. “What else am I supposed to do? Go back to being nothing? Being alone? Anything's better than that. This is… it's something. Vic cares about me.”

“No he doesn't.” The words fell out before he could stop himself, before he could come up with something more tactful. How much did Vic really care about any of them? They were assets, nothing more. He barely seemed to care about Sahota. But that wasn't what Hunter wanted to hear.

“Fuck off.”

“Hunter—”

Before the other man could storm out of the library, before Jericho could try to say anything else, Benji stumbled through the door, his hair windblown, makeup smeared.

Both Jericho and Hunter stopped short.

“What's—?”

“Kaius,” Benji said breathlessly, leaning on the doorframe.

“Someone got Kaius.”

×~×~×

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