summary: when you join the FBI, everybody on your team is so welcoming except for steve harrington. when your team is placed on an undercover case, you're partnered with the one person you can't stand. your ability to work together will be detrimental to the case to save as many lives as possible.
current word count: 11k
pairing: agent!steveharrington x femagent!reader
notes: i miss criminal minds and steve harrington so i put them together </3
warnings: no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, fake dating, forced proximity, some violence + graphic cases will be mentioned, core four <3, everybody is here, slowish burn, SO angsty, kind of mayfield!reader (she's adopted), will add more as i think of them
summary: its been a month since you found out that smashingkeys69 is your coworker. you have been fucking at work ever since then, and today is not the exception.
warnings: SMUT +18 MDNI, no sexting in this one but maybe if you guys liked it i can keep it on a third part, biting, neck kissing, reader is not wearing a bra, moaning, nipple play, kissing (a lot), cursing, dirty talk, spit, a bit of hand job, fingering, a bit of manhandling if you squint, big dick keys, p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, praise kink, creampie, and semi public i guess.
w.c.: 2,3k
author's note: once again for my julsita and also sol that is leaving comments on my doc as i write this <3 i wanted to take the time to say thank you for how you guys received this idea not only here but also on twitter, if you're down for it and would like to read it i actually would enjoy making this a little series of random moments like this one or even about requests if you ever have one, thank you for reading!! AND ALSO its not usual of me to post so much okay i usually take long breaks between writing but i really liked this idea so
smashingkeys69: west in 3
you rolled your eyes at not only the attempt to speak in code, but also the fact that it had been a month since your little ran in outside the bathrooms and keys still insisted on using your old chat when you were at work, too paranoid of someone reading into your conversations.
your gaze found his over your computer screen and you gave a subtle nod, signaling him to go on.
you waited exactly two minutes before getting up and walking the same route he had, following a routine that was becoming all too familiar.
the door to the cleaning supply room had barely closed behind you before keys was on you. his grip on your hips felt tight as his fingers digged into the fabric of your pants, pinning you the the wood at your back and getting closer, connecting his lips to the sensitive spot below your ear in an almost sweet kiss just to bite it after.
“aw!” you hit his chest playfully, faking annoyance when in reality the feeling of his teeth sinking on your skin made you shiver.
“that’s for taking too long” his mouth went over to the opposite side of your neck, kissing that same spot, “and that’s for wearing this shirt” keys whispered against your jaw and tugged on the hem of the blue shirt you had on, your arms flew up and he instantly pulled it off and threw it to some place in the dark room that you’d probably struggle to find once you were done. “you know it’s my favorite. that’s why you put it on, didn’t you?”
“i had a rough night” you explained yourself, watching keys wet his lips before dropping his head to nibble at your free chest.
“mhm i wonder why” he teased, fully knowing he had been the reason you had gotten no sleep.
a short moan left your lips when you felt his tongue trace the path between your tits. “some asshole i work with decided to start messing with the code at three a.m.”
“sounds like he was just doing his work” keys managed to mumble against your skin, one of his hands left your hip and dragged over your stomach to cup one of your breasts while he started sucking on the other one.
“nah… he– wanted to rile me up” your own hands found their place on his hair, tugging on the strands when his tongue flicked your nipple.
“and did it work?” the sly grin in his voice told you he was probably smirking at your anger.
keys pressed himself against your thigh, looking for some friction. you decided to comply by moving your left hand down between your bodies, stopping over his obvious erection and rubbing it over his jeans, getting a whimper out of him. “his hand is on my tit right now and i can feel his dick is already hard, so i guess it did”
“good” his mouth left your chest and instead searched for yours, you fixated on it, noticing how it was already a bit swollen. keys traced your lips with the tip of his tongue before kissing you hard, grabbing the sides of your face.
your teeth clicked from the desperate kiss, and the way he always went for your top lip drove you insane. as you swirled your tongue around his you thought about how you’d never tell him no one has kissed you the way he does, sloppy and hot at the same time engulfing you in neediness.
as much as you would’ve loved to keep making out with keys, you pushed him off “we gotta be quick, there’s a meeting in fifteen” you pulled his shirt over his head quickly. you had already known about his happy trail before what you both called ‘the bathroom incident’ happened, but after you hooked up for the first time in that same room his chest hair became one of your favorite things about him.
“we are always quick and still get the job done” he answered, helping you undo the zip of his pants and pulling it down his legs along with his underwear, watching him kick them to the side as you brush your thumb over his tip, smearing the precum all over it. “wait” keys grabbed your wrist and stopped your movements. you looked at him confused, brows scrunched at the sudden halt. he raised your hand until the palm was under your chin, “spit” he ordered.
you saw gaze darken and his lips slightly part open as you angled your face downward, glancing up at him through your eyelashes and letting a string of spit fall on your hand. keys’ eyes never left yours while he released your wrist.
“go on” he nodded and you obeyed, gripping his dick on your spit covered hand and starting to stroke it slowly, his length hardened even more.
he let his forehead rest on your bare shoulder while you masturbated him, earning the most beautiful needy sounds from his mouth.
“fuck” keys whispered, hiding in your neck. he tried to shut himself up by sucking on it again.
“everyone’s probably already at the meeting” you quickened the pace of your strokes, “don’t hold back now”
“shit– i’m ready” he straightened up and pulled your pants down in one swift motion, not even bothering to undo the button. “i need you around me” he begged against your mouth.
“i am around you” you grabbed his dick at the base and made it slap against his own stomach once. keys groaned and closed his eyes for a second.
“you know i mean your pussy” he sneaked his hand under your panties and spread your folds, his thumb found your clit with ease and rubbed at it fast, adding pressure that brought stars to the back of your eyes. “you’re already so wet” he let his index finger inside of you without a warning, curling it and resting it there while he kept murmuring on your lips, “bet you’ve been thinking about this the whole morning”
a nod was all you could manage to give him, your hot breath mixing with his cold exhales.
“tell me what you want” keys asked, releasing you just to instead lock both of your arms above your head.
“i– i want you to fuck me” your body snapped forward, already missing his touch and feeling empty without his finger inside of you.
“ask nicely?”
“oh fuck you walter, you were just whining about how you wanted me around you” you spat at him impatiently.
he slammed your arms against the door and kissed you hungrily, you felt his grip on you falter when he tried to grab both of your wrists with one of his hands so he could lower the other towards his dick, your thighs pressed against each other in anticipation but not for long, being spread apart by his knee.
the drag of the bone on your already sensitive core made you light-headed in the best way possible. if you’d had more time, you would’ve pleasured yourself by riding his thigh until you came. but that wasn’t the case. so instead you hooked your leg on his waist, bringing him closer and moaning his name “keys” at the soft impact of his tip on you. he glid his shaft between your folds once, twice, soaking himself on your arousal before he freed your hands and grabbed your calf, moving it upwards to make space for himself.
he buried himself into you with patience, watching his cock disappear inside of you inch by inch. “shit” he grunted, halting his motion and watching your face. your eyes were closed and your mouth fell open with ragged breaths, getting used to the half of him.
“please– keep going” you said breathlessly without opening your eyes and keys met your wish by thrusting in to the hilt, a gasp choked on your throat. “oh god” you cried out, and hoped that you had been right and everyone had already headed out to the meeting room.
“fuck you’re so tight” keys held your waist firmly, keeping you up as you adjusted to the feeling of his dick spliting you open, still not familiar with his size no matter how many times he had been inside you. “tell me when i can move” he squeezed your flesh gently and you opened your eyes to look at him.
keys’ chest rose up and down rapidly, matching your own.
you rolled your hips before you could talk, “move” he went right at it, pulling out almost completely before he slammed right back in. the lazy rhythm was killing you both. thus, you pulled at his hair harshly and crashed your mouth into his, biting on his lower lip to show him you were fine. “faster keys” you talked, your lips brushed against his when you uttered the words. “you feel so good” his movements didn’t falter but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was loving it, “filling me up like i was made for you, fucking me so well everytime”
he cooed at your praise and drove forward with growing urge, pounding into you over and over again. “you’ve got no idea what this does to me, taking my dick in your pussy whenever i want to” he pecked your lips, “teasing me all morning with that shirt just ‘cause you wanted me to fuck you in here” your vision got blurry and you were barely able to make out the features of his face, seeing just enough to hook two fingers on his teeth. his mouth closed around them and he sucked your digits, his speaking was distorted by the place you took up “y’gonna touch yourself with those?”
“‘m close” you didn’t answer to his question and didn’t move your fingers.
“i know you are– shit. i can feel you squeezing me” his hands racked up and hid under your boobs after giving a small slap to one of them. keys leaned back just enough to watch the spot where your bodies met, “you like it like that?”
“yes” your legs were about to give in but he fixed his grip on you to keep you steady, groaning at the angle change.
“yes what? i know you can give me more than that” he pressed on.
you whined and tried to form a coherent thought in your head, “i love it when you’re breaking me”
“you didnt get enough of me yesterday?”
“i never get enough of you fucking me”
keys’ mouth was on yours again before you could even think of saying something else, hands roaming freely all over your body like he had also been starving since your brief encounter the previous day. he settled on your ass and hoisted you higher against the door, going even deeper.
you broke the kiss gasping for air, “oh god–”
“touch yourself, use those fingers on you” he pleaded.
somehow, your fingers found their way to your cunt where your bodies entwined. you felt yourself swollen and started to tease your nub, the contrast in keys’ fast slams and your slow rubs was overstimulating soon sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head and making your entire body shake as you sensed your climax getting closer and closer.
“harder” your raw voice was asking for something that didn’t seem possible but that he managed to do with relentless and fast thrusts that made the door rattle.
“yes– fuck– open your eyes i want to see you” keys moaned, his movements getting sloppy as he too was close to his release.
“don’t stop, keys” you pleaded as if he ever would.
“say my name again” he demanded with a growl, “say my name while you cum on my dick”
“keys” you cried, nails clawing down his back, “‘m gonna cum”
“god yes– so perfect” both of your heads spun around, each frantic pound a step closer to your highs.
he kissed you urgently, swallowing your cries as your orgasm tore through you, your walls clenching around keys’ cock just as hard as your legs and arms did the same around his middle. you broke the kiss to scream his name, trembling against his sweat covered chest.
the way you were squeezing him broke keys as he buried himself deep one last time, his own release hitting hard and warm inside. his moans were more like whimpers as he spilled into you. “shit– baby, oh my fucking god” you were still too drunk on him to realize the nickname that escaped him.
for a moment, the only sounds in the tiny room were your heavy breathing and occasional low moans as you both came to.
finally, it was him who broke the silence. “y’now what could make this even better”
“shut up” you couldn’t believe he was already thinking about the next time when you could still feel his dick pulsing.
“a bed.” you rolled your eyes, “yours or mine what d’you think?”
you pushed yourself off of him, almost losing your balance once your feet hit the ground, but he caught you.
“i think you better start getting dressed and head out” you directed, looking for your own clothes. you knew you’d have trouble finding your shirt.
keys huffed and looked at you while he got dressed, walking over to your still naked frame less than a meter away just to place a sweet kiss on your shoulder and leave the room as if he hadn’t just made your heart skip a beat. you brushed it off and found the blue piece of fabric.
five minutes later you made your way into the meeting room and sat down right across from keys. he immediately nudged your leg with his feet, making you look at him.
he nodded to your phone and you took it in your hands, reading the notification on the screen.
smashingkeys69: text u tonight?
taglist: everyone here either commented on the first part asking for a second one, liked my taglist post or commented it, if you wish to be removed please just let me know <3
chapter summary: Ania and Bodhi face struggles in their relationship in the midst of the concern that Ania is going mad.
content warning: iron flame spoilers
note: the long awaited return of bodhi + ania. missed you all <3 also hit the wall by gracie abrahms is SO ania.
AO3 masterlist
fourteen | fifteen | sixteen | seventeen
The lake becomes a haven.
A place away from the main campus where the trees eat our whispers and keep them safe.
I even came here alone when Bodhi would leave for a drop. It was easier to be here alone than to be quiet around my squadmates.
They worry about me, and I don't blame them. I'm not the same person I was when I left for Athebyne. It's hard to spend a formative gap in your life with nobody who cares about you, and then find people who do this far into adulthood. It's reminiscent of my childhood at Riorson House before everything went to shit.
It isn't until Bodhi is attacked for a second time that I consider the daunting idea that we're being hunted. After the second time in the bathing chamber, he refuses to leave my side as often as he can. Much to his dismay, he's agreed to let me sleep alone, but mostly because I don't want anyone else seeing him leave my room or me his. He only agreed because Xaden had warded my door. Luckily, we've done a good job of keeping our relationship under wraps.
My first attack doesn't come until Violet is leaving to see Xaden for the first time since graduation.
Bodhi had just left me in the courtyard, sitting on one of the stone benches. He and Imogen decided to test a theory, and he needed to be present in case it actually happened. He promised he'd be right back, and then he'd walk me to my room. He'd been gone for longer than just five minutes, so I'm assuming that Varrish had shown up to search Violet.
I have one leg crossed over the other, toying with the lace of my boot, when I heard rustling in the bush behind me. Chills spread over my body because I knew myself to be alone out here, and Bodhi had not left that way. Before I can decide to get to my feet, I'm pulled backwards by my neck. I cry out as my head hits the ground, thankful it hits soil and not cobblestone, but it hurts nonetheless. I can't even see who's above me. I can only feel the rope tightening around my throat, the thread digging into my skin.
"Ania!" There's a roar in the distance, one I can only imagine belongs to my Red.
I try to pry my fingers between my skin and the rope, kicking my feet for purchase. A branch digs into my spine as he stumbles backward, pulling us into the bush. Branches scratch at my face, and air refuses to fill my lungs. The corners of my vision blur as I try to reach my hands to the face of the person above me. My movements are growing slower by the second, and my hands eventually drop to my sides.
Bodhi is going to be devastated to come and find my body here. He's going to blame himself for leaving me.
"Secrets die with those who keep them," The man whispers into my ear. I'm ready to close my eyes and give up.
"Get up and fight!" Gleigeal's voice rattles my eardrums, and if I had the ability, I'd gasp.
Power surges through my body, a shockwave of adrenaline following it. One hand wraps around the rope, the other around the person's wrist. My skin illuminates, and he cries out, pulling away as the temperature of my hands rapidly heats, practically melting his skin. The rope catches fire temporarily, and I yelp, yanking it from my throat.
I crawl to my feet just as he begins to beg for his life, and kick my heel into the center of his face. He falls backward, and I straddle him, throwing punch after punch until the skin of my knuckles splits and bruises.
"Ani! Ani, that's enough!" Bodhi's voice plays into my ears, and I feel his arms wrap under mine, pulling me backwards.
Once I'm to my feet, he pushes my hair back to examine the damage from the rope. I flinch from his touch, backing away from him with my hands out.
"Sunshine, it's just me." He steps toward me, and I shake my head, keeping my hands in front of me. Hurt flashes behind his eyes, but all I can do is gasp for the air that I'd been deprived of. "Please, Ani. Let me help."
"Ania-" Gleigeal is seconds from an apology, but I slam my shields shut. I don't want to hear it. Had I never been cut off in the first place, I would've been able to defend myself. I would have never been so close to death again.
He takes a moment to let me breathe, knowing that it's what I need, and checks on the assailant, who's lying lifelessly. "He's dead."
I don't feel remotely sorry for him, "Good." The first words off my lips are hoarse, and I scrunch my nose at the pain of speaking.
"I'm sorry," He says quietly as he approaches me. "I'm sorry, I thought it would be fine. Varrish showed up-"
"I don't care." I press the palms of my hands to my eyes to stop the flow of tears that threaten to spill. Once again, my suffering comes second to whatever the fuck Violet needed. "I don't care," I repeat.
"Let me walk you back." He halts his steps when I take another back. "Please, Ani."
"Just leave me." I turn away from him and get to my room as quickly as I can.
My bed is the only thing that can comfort me at the moment, as I collapse into it. Of course, I expected to be targeted. It was going to happen sooner or later, but the thing fueling my anger is that I was cut off, and Bodhi was nowhere to be seen. Helping Violet. It all comes down to her. Always.
Even to the person I'm supposed to be a priority to, I had been attacked because I was alone. And he was with her.
Attempting to stop the fiery rage growing within me, I allow myself to sit under an ice-cold shower. It's the middle of the night, and I doubt I'd have a second attempt on my life tonight. The anger threatens to consume me once more, and I feel as if I've stepped onto the sparring mat for the first time.
I don't bother to crawl out of bed the next day when I hear the first bell. My chain of command will have my ass for it later, but I'm past the point of caring. I'd rather face the punishment than see a single person within my squad today.
As I brush the tangles out of my damp hair, I catch a glimpse of the bruised and blistered skin around my neck. My nails dig into my palms, leaving crescent moons behind as I bite the inside of my cheek. My heart pounds, and I have to take ridiculously deep breaths to calm myself down.
To think I was past my anger issues.
There's a rap at my door, and I rub the sleep from my eyes as I sit up with a groan.
"Wake up," I whisper once I'm on my feet. I nudge the redhead gently until his eyes slowly blink open. "We can't be late again."
Declan, the twelve-year-old boy I share my room with, climbs from his bed and quickly dresses himself while I slip away to the bathroom to dress myself.
"You've done a good thing in trying to help that boy," Moira says to me. The gray-haired woman, closer to death than she'd like to admit, who had been charged with my care. She and her husband, Donal, had spent a hideous amount of hours ensuring I was well prepared to enter the riders quadrant, even though that wasn't for another five years. "However, Donal will be home from his monthly visit with King Tauri, and if he isn't at the proper standard, there is nothing that can be done for his benefit."
My stomach ties itself into a pretty knot as I stare her down. Despite my being only a quarter of her age, she was shrinking in size, shorter, it seemed, every time I saw her.
"He's only twelve. He just needs time." I say quietly.
Declan was a nosy boy, and I can't count on two hands the number of times I'd caught him with his ear pressed to the door.
"You were thirteen when you were brought to us, and within just two years, you are quite formidable. If you were thrown into the quadrant now, I would have zero doubt you'd be able to hold your own." The corners of her lips tug. "The King will be quite pleased when you are brought to meet him."
"Why would I be brought to meet the King?" My brows furrow, but before she can reply, Declan swings the door open.
"Get down to breakfast and be ready for training by noon." She barely glances at him before turning on her heel and swishing away.
"Be ready for training" was hardly something simple. It meant having all of our morning chores done and our bodies warmed up on the mat by the time the trainer got there. He was a mean, large man, whom we weren't even allowed to know the name of. We addressed him as "Sir" and nothing else.
Declan became my foster brother the day we both became orphans. The day I was ripped away from the people I considered family. It astounded me how much he had grown within the two years of living together. He had sprouted in height over the past couple of months and would likely be able to look me in the eye in just a few more.
"How much more time do you think I have?" Declan asked me as we awaited The Trainer. We stood centered on the mat with our hands folded behind our backs.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"You told Moira I need more time. How much longer do you think before I'm actually good at this? It's not exactly my forte." He said, keeping his eyes on the door.
"You should really stop eavesdropping. And 'forte'? You're getting kinda smart, huh?" I turned to look at him.
"Well, after you force me into the library every day, you shouldn't act surprised when I learn stuff." He smiled.
The Trainer entered the room, and we both fell silent, waiting for him to begin. I could tell today was different. I assumed he might've been in a bad mood by the way he was being a bit extra brutal in the way he threw his punches. He landed way more than usual, giving me a cracked nose and busted lip.
I was standing on the edge of the mat watching as he put Declan into a chokehold. He was always rougher with him, but today I could tell this was to test me. I'd interfered once, the first week we arrived. Declan was only nine, and I couldn't stand the way that The Trainer treated him. I learned my lesson quickly after The Trainer knocked me clean out.
My feet threatened to move against my will when Declan's eyes rolled to the back of his head.
"Sir, that's enough!" I yelled.
The doors to the gym swung open, and the Man of the House entered. I knew he'd be returning, I just didn't think it'd be this soon. Moira followed quietly behind him and stopped at his side when he reached the edge of the mat.
"That's enough!" I repeated. The Trainer threw Declan to the ground and threw punch after punch until his face was unrecognizable. "He's going to kill him!"
Donal and Moira ignored my pleas, and against my better judgment, I charged at The Trainer, wrapping my arms around his thick neck. Pulling every ounce of strength I had, I fell backwards, hoping to take him with me.
As if I were some ragdoll, he threw me over his shoulder and landed three hard hits to my face, leaving a metallic taste of blood in my mouth and making my head spin. The Trainer rose to his feet, not even a split in his knuckles, and left the room. I allowed myself to finally look at Declan, and my heart hit my feet.
"No," The single word fell out as a whisper.
I crawled to him and pulled his limp body into my arms. I didn't want to accept it, or even allow myself to think the thought, but deep down I knew it was true.
"Why?" I had attempted to scream it at the people in charge of our care, but it was barely loud enough for me to hear. Blood spilled from my lips, staining my sparring tunic a deep crimson.
"That boy was a weakness that we had to subdue. He wouldn't last a day in the quadrant. It was more beneficial to see him gone than waste any further resources." Donal had said. "He held you back. Now, I expect you to reach your full potential."
"Monsters. He was a child!" The scream that ripped through my throat left it raw for days.
Donal said nothing else, just turned on his heel and left the room.
"I'm sorry it had to be this way. I'll leave you to say goodbye." Moira said. A part of me wants to believe that she might've actually been sorry, but how could I when I looked down at Declan's sweet face? He'd been too good for the world. Too good to live in the aftermath of the Apostasy.
Declan's lifeless eyes stared up at me, leaving the most bitter taste in my mouth.
I'm buried under every pillow and blanket in my dorm when I awake to pounding on my door.
The memory of Declan sits heavily on my chest. I rarely think of him anymore, but every time I'm reminded of the brutal way he was taken from me, it lingers for days.
I'd been in such a deep sleep that I almost didn't decipher the fact that I'm not dreaming. I don't move because if it's my squad mates, maybe they'll leave if I don't answer. If it's anyone else, they can't get in anyway with the way Xaden intricately warded my room. If it's Bodhi, whom I have no interest in seeing, he'll come in regardless of whether I get up or not.
The sun seems high enough in the sky that it must be past lunch, and I've certainly missed Battle Brief and flight maneuvers. The hunger pains settling in my stomach tell me that I shouldn't have skipped breakfast, but I push them to the back of my mind. My head pounds, and I'm certain it has to do with Gleigeal trying to push his way through to speak with me. I'm surprised I've managed to keep him out this long.
"Ania, open up. I know you're in there." It's hard to tell through the door who it is, but I know it isn't Bodhi. He wouldn't call me Ania. Thankfully, whoever it is gives up, and I'm able to fall back asleep.
The door swings open a few hours later, and I don't move from under the blankets because I know who it is.
"Ania, get up," Bodhi snaps, pulling the blanket off me. Okay, maybe he would call me Ania. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm trying to sleep, what does it look like I'm doing?" I huff and roll onto my side to look at him. "Knock much?"
"You're pissed at me. Fine, I deserve it. But you don't get to do this." He gestures to my bed.
"I'm sick," I fake a cough.
"Riders don't get sick days. I had to beg Aetos not to punish you. Aetos of all fucking people. The last thing I want to do is ask him for favors."
There's a piercing pain that shoots through my skull so abruptly that it forces me to sit up onto my knees, clutching the sides of my head. Bodhi stands with his arms crossed, his broad frame taking up space in my room. He's unfazed.
"I am not a parent you can tune out when you wish not to speak." Gleigeal's voice is loud, clear, and stern in my head, and I clench my teeth to keep from crying out at the pain in my head. "There are times when I will grant you space; last night was not one of those times."
The ringing stops, followed by a deafening silence.
"So he finally got hold of you then?" Bodhi asks when I clench the sheets between my fingers.
"You know, if he never cut me off in the first place and if you weren't so worried about Violet, maybe last night wouldn't have happened." I snap at him.
"You were cut off because you used your power irresponsibly and almost killed yourself. I will admit that things could have been different, but in the end, there were lessons you needed to learn." Gleigeal says, and then his presence in my head is gone.
I groan in frustration and fall back against the headboard, tugging my hands through my hair. Insanity doesn't feel so unfamiliar anymore.
Ever since Resson, nothing within me has felt right. Maybe I am going mad.
I did bond my grandmother's dragon, something typically forbidden because insanity is an unfortunate and unrare consequence. Maybe I got two signets, but my mental state has not been at its best since the battle.
"I would know before you if you were going mad, and that is not the case. Do not speak such things into existence." Glegeal grumbles. "Your current attitude is unpleasant, and again, you're proving why you were cut off in the first place."
"I was an idiot to leave you alone. I should have walked you to your room before handling Violet. That's on me, and I'm sorry."
I shake my head in response.
He ponders for a moment, and it's the pause that I've been able to recognize my entire life. He's debating if he should say what he wants to say.
"I don't want to keep pressuring you to tell me if there's something wrong." He pauses again. "Ania, I can't keep watching you let this eat you alive."
Words don't find me.
"I know. Trust me, I know. It feels impossible to live with what we've been through, with what we know. But nothing hurts more than knowing you're hurting." He rests his hand on my knee, and I can see the conflict flicker behind his eyes. "All of this, the lies, the hiding, it's for a better cause-"
"The revolution," I cut him off.
"Yes, the revolution." He nods. His tone is one I hate, but I can't blame him. Nothing else matters when the state of survival depends on this, on us.
I'm silent again. It's hard to find the right thing to say to him at this moment.
"Thank you for talking to Dain," I finally say. It's the only thing I can think of. Anything else will likely drag this argument into days.
"You're welcome," he nods. "Violet helped, just so you know."
He'd do anything to get back on her good side at this point, that I'm sure of.
"Can you come for dinner, please?" he asks, taking my hand in his. "You need to eat."
I nod my head and crawl out of bed, my muscles stiff from being in bed all day. He crosses my room and grabs my clothes from the armoire, tossing them to me. As I dress, he leans against my desk and watches me closely. His eyes are scanning me, but it's hardly sexual; he's checking for injuries from my attack last night.
He steps toward me after I pull my tunic over my head, and his thumb traces near the raw skin across my throat. I flinch at the sting.
"This isn't rope burn, what is it?" he questions.
"I used my signet and the rope caught fire," I answer, tugging my jacket.
"You handled yourself, then," he says.
"He snuck up on me from behind and still lost," I reply, "The people in this quadrant should know I'm unmatched."
"Well, if anyone was gonna take Liam's number one spot, it was going to be you," Bodhi says, and it somehow draws a smile from me. I think it would've drawn a smile from Liam, too.
Liam and I used to constantly fight to be at the top of our class. We eventually settled on a tie; it was something we shared, he and I. Now he's gone. And it's solely mine. Gods, I miss him.
There are scattered moments where I'm hit with the weight of the pain I took from him in Resson. I can't explain it, nor can I get it to stop. It comes in waves so abrupt and heavy that it takes the air from my lungs, and I have to fight the panic attack that threatens to follow.
Bodhi and I sit in the corner of the dining hall, at a table just the two of us. I'm hardly hungry, but I nearly clear my plate just so I don't have to hear it from Bodhi.
"I need you to lock in- hey." Bodhi reaches across the table, tearing my gaze away from Sloan Mairi. She looks so much like Liam, I nearly get whiplash every time I see her. "I need you to lock in and start honing your signets. I need you ready in the event that everything goes to shit."
He keeps his voice low as I gently pull my hand from his. "I will when Gleigeal stops cutting me off."
"This isn't just a Gleigeal issue, Ani," he says, "I know things have been hard. Believe me, I know. But I need you ready because I refuse to relive what happened in Resson. I'm doing my best to help, but you have to let me. You're having trouble sorting through your feelings, but you have to let me help."
I don't want to have this conversation again, so I gently push my tray away and stand up, "I'm going to turn in for the night."
"Ania," he says my full name, and I ignore him as I try to exit the dining hall without any of my squadmates noticing.
"Cadet Allistair," I have one foot on the first step of the staircase leading back to my dorm, and I sigh, turning around to face my Wingleader.
"Dain," I address him, not caring for the consequences. He got Liam killed, whether it was intentional or not. I'm already in trouble; why not add to the blow?
"Bodhi already pleaded your case, but I want to know why you weren't in Battle Brief, maneuvers, or any other class today." Dain doesn't falter and does a ridiculously good job at putting on a wingleader voice. He'd never nail Xaden's, though.
"I'm sure he told you I was sick," I tell him.
"And I'm sure he told you that riders don't get sick days," he snaps.
Gods damn you, Bodhi.
"Look, Ania. I may never understand what you went through in Resson, but whatever it was, you have to push through. It won't be the last time you see battle. You can mope around, and I'll let it slide for today, but this is our life now. The world doesn't stop because of one battle. Push through and be at one hundred for the next." Dain either means what he says, or he's insanely desperate for Violet's forgiveness.
"Sir, yes, sir," I mutter under my breath. It's the same speech from Bodhi, just in different words.
"Mind your attitude with the wingleader," Gleigeal's low rumble echoes in my head, and I fight the audible sigh threatening to escape.
"Please. Just show up to class tomorrow," he says and turns on his heel before I can say anything else.
"You don't even like him," I tell Gleigeal.
"He's still your wingleader, and I don't approve of the consequences you almost received for ditching class like a child," he says.
"Maybe we should consider the factors that led to me skipping class." I bite back.
"I'm not doing this with you." The shields slam shut so loudly that it rattles my brain and causes me to wince.
Was skipping class necessary in the slightest? No. Did it make me feel better? No.
I'm aware that everyone around me has valid points, but the stubbornness inside me refuses to acknowledge it. Unexplicable rage runs through my body since Liam's death, since my near death, and I can't seem to shake it, no matter what I do. Gods, it seems like it took so much for me to learn to control my anger, and here I was back at square one. Nearly the same person I was when I arrived.
The stone is cold against my bare feet as I quietly stalk through the hallways of the quadrant. It's eerily quiet and dark, and leaves a sinking feeling in my chest. Not a single mage light is lit, and I have to use my fingertips for light. Gleigeal must've opened the channel just enough.
"Ania."
I turn around quickly, jumping slightly at the hushed whisper. There's a heavy feeling, the one you get when you know somebody is watching you.
Where was I going? Why can't I remember where I was going? Why am I out of my room?
"Ania."
It comes from the other direction this time, and I whip around. The air nearly leaves my lungs.
"Declan," I whisper.
He takes off running down the corridor, and I have to nearly sprint to keep up. The air is cold when we reach the courtyard, and I nearly trip over a lifted stone. Declan stands in the middle of the courtyard, older than the last time I'd seen him.
"Why are you here?" I ask quietly, as I approach him.
"I needed to tell you something," he tells me. His voice is deeper, like he's grown.
"Tell me," I step closer, holding my hand up for more light.
Gods, I've missed him. I hadn't seen him in so long; he's taller than I am now. We were supposed to be here together at some point.
"Think about the power," he tells me. He keeps his head down and won't look at me. I want to reach for him and hug him and apologize for leaving him with our foster parents.
"What power?" I ask.
He looks up, and I step back, realizing his eyes are rimmed red and the veins that sprout from his eyes leave me nauseous. This can't be happening. Why would he ever turn? Gods, no, this isn't real.
"No," I reach for him anyway.
"There is so much more than what your dragon can give you. If you just reach for it."
He grips my wrist and starts pulling me towards the ground. He is unexplainably strong. "Stop. Declan, stop!"
"It could be so simple. Don't you want to be with us, Ani?" His voice is deeper, not his own, and it frightens me. I look behind him and see my parents and Beckett all standing there, red-rimmed eyes and veins sprouting from their eyes. "Just reach for it, Ani."
Declan slams my hands into the ground, and the power that surges through me is overwhelming. The cry that tears through my chest turns into a scream as I try to pull away.
"Wake!"
I gasp for air, sitting up, my hands clutching my chest. I'm drenched in sweat, the air cold against my skin. My gaze shoots through the dark as I realize I'm not in my bed, I'm in the courtyard.
"Breathe," Gleigeal's voice is low in my head, but it makes me jump anyway. A rushing sound of footsteps rattles me to my core, and I brace for another assassination attempt, but I'm unable to move, frozen where I sit.
"Baby, what's going on?" Bodhi is at my side before I can even process it's him. He's shirtless, only in his sleep pants, barefoot. Sleep is in his eyes as he grips my wrists in his hands. "Why are you out here? Talk to me."
"Beckett-" I look around frantically, "He was here. He was here."
"There's nobody out here, baby," He cups my cheeks, pulling my focus to him and him only. "Come on, let's go back to bed."
He takes his time guiding me back to my room, his arm around my waist, keeping me tucked into his side. I can't help but look into the shadows of every corner we turn, expecting to see them all standing there, with that horrifying vacant stare in their eyes.
When we get there, he sits me on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of me, his hands resting gently on my thighs. "What happened, baby?"
"I don't know," I whisper truthfully. "I thought I was dreaming."
"About what?" His voice is so soft.
I don't want to tell him. Something about telling him I dreamed I was being turned venin doesn't sound pleasing, and I'm almost afraid of what he'd say.
"You can tell me," he takes my hands into his, kissing my knuckles. The gesture eases the anxiety in my chest.
The story of my time with Declan rolls off my tongue effortlessly. By the time I finish telling him about my dream, tears are flowing endlessly down my cheeks.
"Hey, hey. It's alright, my love. I'm here," he joins me on the bed, pulling me into his arms. His chest is pressed to mine, his breathing slow and steady. I try to match his breathing just to calm myself down.
"Bodhi," I whisper as I look at him.
He brushes my hair from my face, then uses his thumb to wipe any last falling tears, "Yeah?"
"What if I'm going mad?"
"You're not," he promises. "And you won't. I swear it."
He kisses me slowly, softly, like I might break if he did it any differently, his hands tangling in my hair.
cock warming with kurt and fem!reader. subby kurt. marvel rivals is its own warning lol. minors do not interact. also unprotected sex.. maybe don’t do that.
Kurt finally pulls into his moms driveway, much faster than he probably should, or at least for what is considered safe.
You smile at him “gonna play games when we go in?” and he turns to look at you, genuinely facing you for the first time since getting in the car earlier in the day.
He shrugs “yeah, you wanna join?” and exits the car, shutting the door with a soft click.
Kurt looks at you expectantly with his pretty doe eyes. He is so excited to share his interests with you, if he had a tail it’d be wagging.
You sigh and your smile widens as you ruffle his hair “you can teach me how to play, hm?”
He nods happily while opening the passenger side door for you like the gentleman(ish) that he is, or at least tries to be.
You take his hand and peel your legs from the leather seat, it’s summer in California and your body is a little too aware of it.
Your shorts ride up your thighs as you exit the car and Kurt does his best not to peek at the visible sliver of your panties.
He fails because much to his chagrin (or joy) he now knows they are pink and lacy.
Kurt is not subtle and he nearly chokes on his own spit, looking away like the sight burned him.
You just giggle and leave him be, practically prancing into his house while he trails behind you like a sad puppy.
Once in his bedroom, Kurt sets up his game and guides you over to watch. “Pull up a chair.” He advises but you have a better idea of where to sit.
Right in his lap.
You sit in Kurt’s lap, his soft sweatpants rubbing against your bare legs and his hands immediately find themselves on your waist.
He’s embarrassed how fast his cock already twitches at the innocent contact.
Kurt isn’t exactly inexperienced, he’s had sex with you before but he’s always sooo so sensitive.
“Rivals again?” You say like nothing is the matter even though you very much feel his erection pressing against you. He’s thankful you spare him the embarrassment
“Yes.” Kurt’s answer is strained and rushed, voice too breathy to be classed as innocent.
You settle into his body while he tries to focus on his game, he keeps dying and his teammates message how “trash” he is. Not knowing the poor guy is being teased within an inch of his life.
Kurt grips your hips tighter trying to stop you from moving too much. You lay your head back against his shoulder. “I have an idea.”
Oh great, Kurt thinks.
His head was too fuzzy already from the moment you sat down.
“Here.” You say as you stand from his body. Kurt feels oddly disappointed.
Kurt feels himself get impossibly dizzy. You start to pull your shorts off and his eyes widen.
“Oh. Oh fuck.” He stammers.
“Can I sit on it?” You bat your lashes.
He nods with his hands already shaking as he helps you fully pull off your shorts.
You smile at Kurt while he pulls his throbbing cock out of his grey sweatpants. Moving your panties to the side you slowly sink down onto his pretty cock.
Kurt throws his head back against his gaming chair, the seat creaks under you both.
His eyes screw shut “Oh. Holy shit.”
You know he’s already close, so pathetic but so cute. Once you settle, Kurt tries to play the game again. His dick throbs inside of your warm walls.
You don’t plan on moving, you want to let him play his game and at least attempt to teach you the game.
“So you main Spider-man?” You ask far too innocently for someone who’s got their boyfriends dick tucked inside of them.
Kurt nods, his lips quivering. “Y..Yeah, he's my favorite.” You already knew that but fuck it’s so adorable.
Your kurtie idolizing spider-man. “Shit. You keep jumping around. I bet your teammates hate trying to heal you, hm?” You laugh.
The sound causes your body to shake.“Oh fuck. Stop moving.” Kurt whines prettily, you oblige.
“Anywayyyy….” You trail off. “Oh, is that your teammate?” You ask, pointing at the screen. Kurt nods “Yeah.”
“I think I’d play as Gambit.” You say randomly.
Rambling has become second nature especially when trying to forget Kurt is buried deep inside of you. Don't move. Don't move.
Kurt breathes out shakily. His patience wears thin. “You.. Uh.. You can move.” Kurt says.
Thank God.
You turn to face him, his dick slipping back inside of your wet pussy. Kurt moans. Oh, he’s so pretty.
His cheeks are pink and his eyes shut like he’s afraid he’ll come instantly if he looks at you right now.
“Kurtie..” You whine breathily.
He finally opens his eyes and sees your gorgeous face. “Fuck uh.. baby, you’re so.. so.. pretty.” Kurt trembles.
You roll your hips, Kurt gasps. “Oh Kurt..” You breathe.
Kurt fucks up into you. He won’t last long at all. “It’s okay.. use me however you need.” He says almost like a plea.
You listen, starting to ride Kurt in his gaming chair. It creaks after every movement of your hips.
Kurt thanks everything holy that his mom is not home.
He whimpers, fucking you as best as he can. “M’ so close already.” Kurt cries.
You kiss him, your lip gloss transferring nicely to his own lips making them shiny and pink.
He reaches down to play with your clit. Kurt doesn’t want to come and you get no pleasure. You toss your head back, interlocking your fingers with his sweaty hair.
“P..Pull it.” Kurt moans again.
“Oh shit. Okay Kurtie” Your grip tightens in his hair. Lightly, you tug at his hair. That nearly sends poor Kurt over the edge immediately.
You gasp as your walls clench tight around his leaking dick.
“Oh. Oh. M’ gonna come.” Kurt thrusts roughly, messy and uncoordinated. You’re close too. Too close.
“Kurtie, come with me.” You moan.
He does just that. The desperate sound Kurt makes when he comes pushes you over the edge.
His cum shooting inside of you and filling you up. You clench around him as you orgasm.
“Baby, you did so good.” You softly take his cheek in your hand. You slowly stand from him.
You peck a kiss to his forehead
“You wanna come shower with me?” You ask. Kurt nods so fast he nearly faints.
summary: when you join the FBI, everybody on your team is so welcoming except for steve harrington. when your team is placed on an undercover case, you're partnered with the one person you can't stand. your ability to work together will be detrimental to the case to save as many lives as possible.
word count: 7.1k (a lot of story building sorry)
pairing: agent!steveharrington x femagent!reader
notes: i miss criminal minds and steve harrington so i put them together </3
warnings: no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, fake dating, forced proximity, some violence + graphic cases will be mentioned, core four <3, everybody is here, slowish burn, SO angsty, kind of mayfield!reader (she's adopted)
chapter specific warning: mentions of human trafficking
three months later
"You're up early," you say to Max as you pour yourself a glass of orange juice.
"Good morning," she replies, swinging open the fridge door, "Lucas is picking me up.
Lucas had been picking Max up for school every morning for the last two months, and nothing made you happier. She'd made her own group of friends, seemingly easy within a couple of weeks of starting her new school. But she had grown especially close to one Lucas Sinclair.
Max hurriedly packed herself a lunch just as you grabbed your bag off the back of the dining chair. You and Max had done well over the past few months, turning your small house into a home. The majority of everything was found or thrifted, including the dining table you found in an alleyway. Max and Lucas had been the ones to sand it and restain it, and it was as good as new.
"Heading out?" she asks, grabbing her backpack off the couch.
"I'll call when you're home if we're leaving town," you tell her. With a quick kiss on her head, you're off.
It had become routine now, as much as you hated leaving her here alone. Part of your job required leaving town more than you liked to admit. It's not that you didn't trust Max; she was the best kid anyone could ask for, you just didn't trust other people.
When you'd get called onto a case that was out of town, there was never any time to let her know you wouldn't be home when she got home. A lot of times it started with nothing but a note until you could get the landline setup.
It was your turn for coffee duty, so you were thankful when Robin met you in the parking lot to take a tray off your hands.
"What's the mood?" you ask.
"Peachy," she says, and you sigh, knowing she's being sarcastic. "There's something big happening. I think they might assign us to it."
"How do you know?" you ask.
"I overheard Hop and Joyce talking this morning," Robin says. "I think I heard something about kidnapping."
Your heart sinks, and you leave your coffee on your desk, not having the desire for it anymore. These cases, more than others, always left such a sour taste in your mouth, one that wouldn't have you eating til dinner. It just felt too close to home.
You and Robin set the trays in the middle of the table for everyone to grab as they enter. Everybody is just about right on time, Joyce and Hopper being the second to last ones to enter.
The chair next to Robin that you had sat in on your first day had become yours. Everybody else seemed to have claimed chairs as well, long before you got assigned to the team. There was always routine, never a need to switch it up.
"Rise and shine," Nancy says as she sits down. Jonathan peels the lid off her coffee and adds cream and sugar for her. The gesture is one he repeats every morning, and each time, your heart warms.
Steve enters the room and sits across from you, his eyes scanning you over once, like he always does.
"Do you have anything to say, Steve?" Robin asks nicely.
"Thanks," he nods to you, and that's that. His simple thanks for the coffee run.
Three months in to your time with the bureau, and he has not let up on his blatant hatred for you. Robin and the entire team really try to play peacemaker, but it works to no avail.
Three months and about a half a dozen cases working in the field together, and not a single thing had changed. You thought maybe after you proved yourself, case after case, that you're capable of being on the team, he'd let up but he never did. The one thing you're grateful for is that when in the field, he can set aside whatever disdain he has for you and work professionally. It's unfortunate to say, but the few times you've been partnered up, you've made a decent team.
Just when you think he's starting to tolerate your presence, he reminds you that he is one hundred percent not.
"Thank you, gorgeous." Eddie enters last with a pat on your head as he grabs the last coffee in the tray.
"Alright, let's settle in," Hopper stands up and turns the projector on. Everyone quiets and turns their attention to the front of the room, where Hopper has a stern look on his face.
"Our unsub is an art dealer that goes by the name of Henry Creel. He's a long-time dealer of fifteen years, and has recently been flagged for money laundering and other suspicious activity." Hopper clicks the remote, and a photo of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man in a suit is walking up the steps of an unknown building.
"An art dealer?" Robin asks. "But I heard-"
"Pause." Joyce holds her hand up, and Robin quiets.
"Henry owns a gallery in D.C where he collects and deals pieces from all over the world. Anything from paintings to sculptures, he buys them from auctions and then resells them." Hopper continues, and the gears in your brain start slowly turning. "He hosts his own auctions once a month, but also has individual buyers come in every once in a while when it feels right."
"Right, so he's not just dealing art then," Nancy says, and Hopper nods.
"Correct."
"Drugs?" Eddie asks.
"Maybe," Hopper says, and then his gaze falls on you. "Here are some of his current pieces for sale."
The screen changes, and a list of a few paintings and sculptures comes up. Each listing starts at a minimum of $75,000.
"Jesus Christ," Steve mutters under his breath. "What kind of drugs are worth that much?"
Chatter erupts amongst the table, but you read carefully through the listings.
The first is what seems to be an abstract painting of blacks and blues, with streaks of white. The next is something so similar to a Monet that you think it might actually be one for a moment. They're all so different from each other. The next few listings are Greek-style statues that are gorgeous, you might add.
"Some collector," Jonathan says, folding his hands in his lap.
Hopper's eyes are still on you, watching every unspoken thought flash behind your eyes.
Drugs might be reasonable, but starting at $75,000 is just absurd unless it's fully a smuggling business. Money laundering is another option, but why call in a full team just for that?
VEast0985 | Bid starts at $75,000 | 8 offers
BMar0284 | Bid starts at $77,000 | 13 offers
CCun0682 | Bid starts at $75,000 | 10 offers
view more
Your brain works quickly, dissecting the listings. It comes quickly, and you straighten your poster when it finally hits.
"Something on your mind, Hollywood?" Hopper asks, and the room falls silent.
"They're not trafficking drugs." You say. "Well, maybe they are, but it's not their main push."
"Tell me more," Hopper tells you, leaning against the table. He knows the answer already; he just wants you to say it. Since you've joined, he's always made it a point to let your brain work to dissect things.
Everyone on your team was extremely smart, but Hopper made it a point to let everyone know that your IQ was 178, and that ranked you the smartest on your team. It's one of the main reasons he hired you.
"They're trafficking people. Mostly kids by the looks of it," you answer. "Letters of the names, kind of idiotic on their part. I'm assuming that's why they got flagged. Then combine it with birthdays."
"Hollywood is right as usual," Hopper says, and Robin pats you on the back.
"These are all people who have been reported missing in D.C over the past year." You add.
"How do you know?" Steve asks, there's no bite where you expect it, he's genuinely curious.
"Why do you ask these questions?" Jonathan asks with a laugh, earning a glare from Steve. "She's a freaking genius."
"You know her brain holds like all of the history of the world," Eddie adds, and Steve's eye twitches as he leans back in his chair.
"Victoria Eastman, a sixteen-year-old who went missing last month. Born in September of eighty five. Brenda Martin, fourteen years old, has been missing for six months, born in February of eighty four. And Chrissy Cunningham, an eighteen-year-old who was last seen on her college campus right before Christmas. Born in June of eighty two."
"I still don't get how she does it." Robin laughs lightly with a shake of her head.
"Eidetic memory," Joyce says, shooting a wink your way.
"So, the idiot lists their names and birthdates and didn't expect to get caught?" Steve asks, folding his arms over his chest. You have to tear your gaze away from the way his button-up tightens around his arms.
"My guess is his 'buyers' need to know as much as they can without a full giveaway. Their age at the bare minimum, and what they can get of their names. The age matters most, clearly." Nancy says.
"My question is, if you guys know that this guy has these kids locked up with intent to sell, why do you not just go to his gallery and arrest him?" Eddie asks.
"This case is delicate," Joyce stands up from her chair. "This man is extremely rich and powerful, and his buyers are too. This is a case that needs hard evidence and time to build it. Without enough of it, he could get off with a slap on the wrist."
"So what's our move?" Nancy sits up in her chair, pen ready in hand.
"We're going undercover as a unit," Hopper says.
"The goal here is to infiltrate Art's inner circle. Get as close as possible to him and his buyers. Get confessions, collect evidence, and build a case large enough to put him behind bars." Joyce says. "It won't be easy. And at first sight of failure, we abort and find another way."
"There's only one way for this to work." Hopper finally sits down, and everybody is more focused than you've ever seen.
This is your first undercover case. This is huge.
"We'll split into three units," Hopper starts.
"Respectfully, Hopper, you're out of your mind if you think that this is going to work," Steve is furiously pacing the office.
You sit quietly with one leg crossed over the other in front of his desk. Hopper is eerily still, following Steve's movements back and forth.
"I have to agree with him," you say. It's one of the first times you've agreed with him wholeheartedly on something since you got here.
"You agree with him?" Hopper repeats.
"You want us to fake a marriage. Do you hear how that sounds? We can't stand each other," Steve says from behind you. You don't dare turn around and look at him. "How does that possibly help the case? Our cover is going to be blown in record time."
"I don't know if it's possible for us to pass as a married couple," you tell him.
"You two bicker like a married couple," Hopper leans forward in his chair.
Steve stops in his tracks and then finally takes the seat next to you, heat radiating off of him.
"This is going to work, because it has to. There are lives on the line. You two need to set your differences aside and work together." His tone is one you've never heard, and to be quite frank, it scares you.
"Are you sure you can't send Nancy? Or Robin even?" You ask as kindly as possible. You're grateful for this opportunity, but you're not sure you can handle a fake marriage with Steve of all people. Maybe if it were Eddie. Or Jonathan, even.
"Great idea. Can't you send Eddie for this one?" He asks. "I can't work with her like this. She's a know-it-all, and pretentious-"
"I'm pretentious?!" You finally snap. "You're an arrogant piece of-"
"Agent Buckley is not a field agent. Agent Wheeler is on B Unit for finding and rescuing the girls with Agent Munson. There is no option B, C, or D. This is your assignment; you will deal with it." Hopper finally snaps, and it shuts you and Steve up quickly, before you can even begin to argue.
"You two need to meet Joyce in her office, now." He finally says after at least two minutes of silence.
Jim Hopper was not somebody you could argue with. It was surprising you'd made it this far with him in the first place.
"Yes, sir," it's a quiet answer as you stand up from your chair. Steve, seething, still holds the door open for you on your way out.
Joyce's office is directly next to Hoppers, and she's waiting outside as you and Steve approach.
"Come on in," she says with a smile on her face as she sits at her desk. "I know there are concerns with the case, but I'm here to walk you through everything."
The perfect media liaison she was, she always knew how to talk to people to ease their anxiety. She also made a brilliant case coordinator, so it's no surprise that this is what she and Hopper drew up.
"Joyce, there is just no way that we can pass as a married couple," you say honestly. "I say this genuinely. I wish we could, but we can't."
"The two of us work well with the rest of the team; the two of us will not work well alone," Steve says, folding his arms over his chest once more. It really pissed you off how blatantly attractive he was. It made it a tiny bit harder to return his hatred.
"You will, or you'll be on desk duty until the case is wrapped, which could be months or years." Joyce's smile is smug, knowing that she has you and Steve between a rock and a hard place.
Maybe desk duty wouldn't be so bad.
"This will work, because I'm giving you the handbook. You can't fail an open-book test." She reassures you.
Steve doesn't say anything, and neither do you. How bad could it really be? This is work. This is the job that you crawled on your hands and knees for, the one you've craved since you were a little girl. Now was your chance to help these girls in a way that your sister couldn't be helped.
This came down to professionalism, and if Steve couldn't do it, then at least you tried. At least Joyce and Hopper could see that you tried.
"I'll do it," you finally say after her staring with her big doe eyes. "If he will, I will."
"Really?" Steve's gaze snaps to you.
"I joined the FBI to help people, Steve. If pretending to be married to you helps these kids, then I'll do it." The words cut him where you can't see, and you swear his look softens as he turns to Joyce.
"Then I guess we're doing it," he nods.
"Perfect," Joyce smiles and pulls out a folder from her desk drawer. "You'll be going undercover as Mr. and Mrs. Danny and Grace Anderson. Low profile, quiet luxury, newlyweds. You, 'Grace', are a stay-at-home wife, and 'Danny' inherited his wealth from his parents' private equities, real old money type."
"The Andersons?" Steve reaches for the profile paper that Joyce hands him. She has IDs, passports, birth and wedding certificates, and house titles, all with Grace and Danny Anderson plastered all over them.
"As the Andersons, you are fully aware of what kind of 'art' Creel is actually dealing with. You're interested. You want to be involved. You want to stay rich. You're money hungry kids that just got handed mommy and daddy's fortune. That's your motive." Joyce tells him. "As we speak, Robin is working through the channels to get in contact with him as Danny, Steve."
Joyce slides a few documents to you, and your heart nearly skips a beat. Completely valid and legal documents with the alias, though every piece has your face. It's all so surreal to see.
"And how did we hear about Henry?" Steve asks a completely valid question.
"The FBI has had somebody on the inside for about three years now. Someone distant, who keeps a close eye. You are family friends with this person, Dr. Sam Owens. He is your in."
"This has been happening for years?" you ask, "So, we are the unit that finishes it then?"
"We are the unit that finishes it," Joyce repeats with a curt nod.
It's all so much information to take in; it makes your head spin. Having an entirely new identity, one that is attached to your least favorite part about your job, has you feeling nauseous.
"We are moving you both into a house-"
"Whoa, whoa, I can't. I have a-"
"Maxine will move with you. Her safety is a top priority for us, I promise you." Joyce extends her hand and rests it over yours, giving it a squeeze.
Max is going to live with you and Steve?! Your heart nearly sinks. Maybe this was a mistake.
"The house is very nice. Very old money. You two could live on opposite sides if you wanted. It will have round-the-clock security. And there is a safe room should anything go south at any moment." Joyce once again eases your anxiety.
"Over the next five days, we'll work together to nail your personas as the Andersons and take photos to create evidence of your life together. Plan for a move-in this weekend."
"So, we're doing this?" Steve looks to you for what seems like approval.
"We're doing this."
"I almost forgot," Joyce reaches into her drawer and pulls out two velvet boxes. She tosses one each to you and Steve.
A single silver band for him and a darling silver band for you, paired with an engagement ring you could only dream of receiving. It wasn't too flashy, but just big enough that you could tell it was expensive. The cut was one you'd dreamed of as a teenage girl, and you couldn't help but smile softly, despite the nerves of it all.
"Is this real?" You ask, watching Steve slide his band on.
"Of course it's real. Gotta play the part," Joyce shoots a wink as you timidly slide the rings onto your left ring finger.
"This is insane," Max drops her bags in the foyer of the large house.
"I know," you reply, staring up at the vaulted ceilings.
It was officially move-in day. It didn't take much convincing to get Max to agree to move in. She was just excited to have a house with a pool. She was aware it was temporary, but she was excited nonetheless.
"What did you tell your friends?" You asked. Now that it was finally happening, your nerves were shot.
"I never told them you were an agent. Just told them that you do desk work for some big shot politician in D.C," she reassures you. She knew the protector in you was starting to slightly panic.
"And our reason for suddenly moving?"
"Your new husband finally finished renovating the new house, and the other was temporary." She turns to face you, putting her hands on your cheeks. "It's going to be okay. I promise you."
"Nobody can know who we are or what we're doing. If they find us out-"
"They won't." She squishes your cheeks, "You are the best at your job. This will be over in no time."
"I love you," you finally cave with a smile.
Steve arrives thirty minutes later with Joyce and Hopper. Max was picked up by Lucas for what you assume is another date, despite Max swearing they're just friends. Joyce is holding a box full of picture frames, ones you can only imagine are the plethora of fake photoshoots you did over the past week.
"Jesus Christ, can you two just look at each other?" Hopper's hands are on his hips, and he's beyond frustrated with you and Steve.
"She's being difficult," Steve huffs, his hand finding its way around your waist once again. His fingers brush the bare skin showing from the open back of the wedding dress you have on, and it nearly makes you shiver.
"I'm not," your fingers tighten around the gorgeous bouquet of lilies as he pulls you into his side. "You're being difficult."
Steve clears his throat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see his head turn to you. You finally lift your chin to look up at him, your jaw clenching when your eyes finally meet.
"Good, that's good," Hopper says. "Now, look like you might actually like each other."
"I have tears in my eyes," Joyce sighs happily as she snaps photos with the camera. "This is too precious."
Your next movement comes unintentionally, one picked up from years of your younger sister having near uncontrollable hair. A strand of his ridiculously good hair has fallen out of place, and before you can stop yourself, you're reaching up to fix it.
His eyes soften barely, just enough that you swear you catch it. But maybe your eyes had played tricks on you. His fingers press into your hip lightly, a gesture so subtle you're not sure if he's aware he's doing it.
"Sorry," you whisper, before turning your gaze back to the camera.
"Don't be." His tone matches yours, but he doesn't face the camera. His gaze burns through you, and you have to stop yourself from tensing.
"Look at the happy couple," Eddie's voice echoes through the foyer. He immediately reaches into the box, pulling out the largest framed photo, one you're sure is meant for above the fireplace mantle.
"This house is insane," Robin says, stopping in the doorway to take it all in.
"Mr. and Mrs. Hollywood, check it out!" Eddie is in fits of laughter as he turns the frame toward Robin and the rest of the team as they enter.
Steve's hands find his hips, accompanied by a glare at your team as they all fall into fits of laughter, gathering around Eddie to examine the box of photos.
"Guys, come on," you groan, walking towards them to take the box. Eddie keeps the wedding portrait in his grip.
"I'm keeping this when this is all over," Eddie snickers, turning it to face himself.
"This is just too good, I'm sorry," Jonathan puts his hands on your shoulders, before pulling you into a half-hug. "I mean, what a shame you have to pretend to be married to this guy."
"Who would've thought you two of all people," Robin also puts an arm around you, "You're a trooper, because if I had to be married to that dingus-"
"That's enough," Hopper says, and the laughter dies.
Steve lifts his hand and gestures for you to bring the box, so you do. You two hadn't even had the chance to look through the frames that would soon decorate your new house.
He gently takes the box from your hands and sets it on top of another box.
"Listen up," Hopper's voice commands the room, "While this case is ongoing, office meetings will be cancelled until further notice. We'll meet here once a week in the safe room. But, we'll still communicate daily with these-" he reaches into the black case in front of him and pulls out walkie talkies, tossing one to each of you, "-We're all within radius. If something is urgent, we'll call the landline, or just show up."
"It is beyond vital that we keep our cover. One slip up, and it's over," Joyce says, "No more Free Friday drinking, no more group hangouts, unless it's here and it's clear."
Groans echo from the group at the loss of Free Fridays. It's dire that this works.
"If we lose this, we lose everything. Those girls will be lost forever, understand?" Hopper adds. "I need verbal confirmation."
"Yes, sir." Is nearly a choir coming from the team.
"Now, grab a box and help unpack." Hopper is the first to move; he and Joyce step into the backyard for a private conversation.
"No, you guys don't need to, really." Your hand is up in protest as Nancy reaches for a box.
"We're a team," she smiles, "We're here to help. I know this is probably a lot."
She isn't wrong.
When you thought of your first undercover case, you pictured hiding in the front seat of a car at three a.m, watching your unsub as they climb in and out of a window. Eventually, befriend them and infiltrate their small drug-dealing ring, partnering with the DEA to shatter it.
This was beyond anything you could've thought of. An entirely new identity, a fake marriage to someone you can't stand, and an ugly amount of wealth you wouldn't see in three lifetimes.
"Hey," Max startles you later that evening. The rest of the team has gone, and the sun is starting to set. You're standing in front of the fireplace, staring up at the portrait of you and Steve.
"Hey," you reply with a small smile. "How was it?"
"It was good," she nods, standing next to you with her arms crossed, "So that's Steve, huh?"
The photo isn't bad at all, you hate to admit. The white dress you had on was lent to you for the portraits by Joyce. You assume it must've been hers at one point but it suits you so well, hugs you in all of the right places. The veil crowning your head rests elegantly down your back and all the way to the floor.
Steve's hand is wrapped around your waist, and you're tucked into his side. His fingers are splayed against your hip, yours tightly wrapped around the bouquet in your hands.
The two of you are looking into each other's eyes, and if you didn't know any better, you'd be convinced.
"The Andersons, then?" Max asks, looking at you. "That's who we are now?"
"The Andersons," you repeat. "That's who me and Steve are now."
"You guys actually look married," she laughs. "I mean, that's insane. He's kind of a smoke show."
That earns a glare from you.
"Max, you are my number one priority. If at any point you want me to stop this, you tell me and I'm done."
"Joyce sat me down and explained everything earlier before I left. I know that this is top secret. People can't know we're related, I get it." She seems slightly irritated, and you're its because this a certainly a lot for a sixteen year old to take in.
Steve enters the room out of the corner of your eye, and you almost groan, forgetting that he lives here too.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," he holds his hands up in defense, almost sensing the heat radiating off of you. "You must be Maxine."
"It's Max," she states.
"Max," he nods and holds his hand out, to which she shakes it. "I'll do my best to stay out of your way."
He turns on his heel, but you stop him, "We should probably talk."
"I agree," he nods. "Nice to meet you, Max."
Max gives you a small smile, then steps forward, lifting another staged photo of you and Steve out of the box haphazardly left next to the fireplace. You leave her to study them and follow Steve. You're still learning your way around the house, so you follow behind him, assuming he knows better than you.
It still won't click in your head just how massive this house is. You received a brief tour earlier, but there's still a lot to learn and memorize.
Steve holds the door open to what you assume is his room. He must've claimed it while you were unpacking your own. It's surprisingly not on the farthest end of the house from your room, but just down the hallway.
He has a few boxes scattered, but you were instructed to pack as lightly as possible, to leave as many personal belongings as you can behind. Your quaint pale yellow home was still there, holding so many of yours and Max's belongings.
There's a desk in the corner, a single frame on it. You walk towards it as Steve shuts the door behind you. You lift the frame and study it closely, your brows furrowing.
It's your team: Robin, Nancy, Steve, Eddie, and Jonathan. Your lips part slightly, noticing that they're younger, much younger. They look like teenagers.
"Go ahead, ask," Steve says from behind you.
"You guys knew each other before the FBI?" You turn to face him, the frame still in your hands.
"We went to high school together back in Indiana," he nods.
"Oh," is all you manage to say. How they all managed to end up here is beyond your understanding. You decide to save the many further questions for another day.
"You wanted to talk?" he asks, leaning against the door.
"It's seeming like we're going to meet the unsub as soon as this weekend," you say, "I just want to make sure we're ready."
Steve pushes his sleeves up to his elbows, then folds his arms over his chest, "Do you think we're not ready?"
"You don't think this is insane?" You lower your voice on the off chance that Max has decided to eavesdrop. It wouldn't be the first time.
"Of course it's insane," he laughs, "But it's what we signed up for."
Your eyes find the floor while you search for something to say, "You're right."
"Hey," he steps toward you, and you instinctively take a step back, something ingrained into you from a small age. You and Max's parents spent your entire life trying to unprogram it from you, but never could.
You watch Steve notice, but he doesn't say anything.
"We are more than prepared, I can assure you that," he says, keeping his distance, "We know the part we're playing. We're going to save those girls, okay?"
You nod once, failing to find words anymore. Before you stepped in here, there was probably a novel's worth of things you wanted to tell him, but it's all fled your mind.
"What's your name?" He asks.
"Grace Anne-Marie Anderson," you reply.
"That's an interesting middle name, where is it from?" he presses.
"My grandmother," you answer.
"When is your birthday?"
"January 23rd, 1977."
"When is my birthday? What's my name?"
"Daniel James Anderson. April 13th, 1997."
"Where are we from?" he takes another step forward, but this time, you don't move back.
"Connecticut," you say.
"Where."
"Mystic."
"Our wedding anniversary?" He questions.
"June 10th."
"Good," he nods, then steps away, the familiar bite returning, "Don't mess this up."
He strides to the door and opens it, gesturing for you to leave. You chew the inside of your cheek as you make way toward him.
"You're a real fucking prick, you know?" You make sure the shoulder check him on your way out.
A few days later, you're sitting on the couch, going through the box of framed photos of you and Steve that neither of you had bothered putting up.
Max had already rushed to school, nearly late with the new route from the new house. The weekend had passed, and you had spent the entirety of it going over case files, learning anything and everything you could about Henry Creel, and perfecting your persona as Grace.
"The team is heading in soon with an update," Steve says from behind you.
"Heard," you reply, barely sparing him a glance.
The past few days had been spent avoiding each other. He was more chatty with Max than he was with you, and that left you more bothered than expected. You'd take turns in the kitchen, staying out of each other's way when it came time for a meal. He often ate in his room, while you and Max ate in the dining room.
Max had offered him to join you twice, and he politely declined both times, claiming he had work to catch up on.
"He seems nice to me," she'd say when you'd complain about his tone.
"Yeah, he's nice to a lot of people. I'm not one of them," you'd reply.
"Why haven't you put those up yet?" He asks, plopping down on the couch next to you, annoyingly close, you might add.
"This is the first time I'm looking at them," you admit.
"Better get them placed before Joyce gets here," he says, lifting a frame out of the box.
"You could've placed them, too," you side glance at him. "They were sitting here all week."
The only picture that had been placed was the bigger one above the fireplace mantle because Eddie had taken it upon himself to hang it. The truth was, you just couldn't bear to look at the box of frames. Seeing you as someone else felt so out of body; it was something you were still trying to get used to.
"You said you were going to do it, so I left them for you to do," he leans back, looking at the photo.
"I did not say that," you defensively reply.
He laughs in reply, and it makes your blood boil.
"What's so funny, Agent Harrington?" You drop the frame on the cushion next to you, crossing your arms as you look at him in disbelief.
"Hopper was right," he says through another breathless laugh. You say nothing, waiting for him to elaborate. "We do bicker like a married couple."
Your eyes search his, trying to decipher if you should laugh or not. God, he's right, though. He reaches over you and grabs the frame from next to you, making your breath still.
"This is a good one," he says, staring at it. "We're pretty convincing."
You reach for another frame in the box and stare down at it. It's just another from the series of wedding photos. You bite your tongue that somehow feels like it's tied itself into a knot.
The one he holds nearly hurts to look at. It seems so real.
"What are you doing?" You ask as Robin appears at the bartop with the film camera Joyce had been using all week to capture your fake life with Steve.
Each day was spent ambushing you and Steve with this camera for candid shots of your lives together. You and the team were enjoying what you didn't realize was your last Free Friday for a while.
Steve's presence is felt before you see him. His shoulder brushes yours as he fills the space next to you at the bar. It sends a chill down your spine. He orders himself a beer and turns to face Robin when it's in hand.
"Say cheese," Robin says, "But make it real, don't forget."
You lift your cocktail glass off the counter and turn to face Robin. Steve's chest presses against your back, and your breath catches in your throat. All week had been spent taking these photos, but you never got used to having him be so comfortable touching you.
Robin tsks and drops the camera, "More convincing. I'm not buying it."
Steve doesn't say anything, you just feel his hand slide around your waist, causing your spine to straighten. His hand splays across your hipbone just barely under your shirt, something you'd felt several times this week, and his thumb brushes a circle into your skin. Your hand rests over his, your fingers instinctively lace together.
His chin rests on your shoulder, his nose pressed to your cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch.
"Yes! Yes, that's it. Stay like that- wait- I forgot what button- hold on," Robin's struggle with the camera draws a laugh from both of you, causing you to further lean into Steve, his grip around you tightening.
"Jesus Christ, this new tech is killing me." The comment sends you into a full fit of laughter as the flash finally goes off, likely blinding anybody within a five-foot radius.
The second she drops the camera, Steve pulls away from you and walks back to the table without another word.
You down your drink.
"I'll put them away right now," you stand up and take the frame from his hand, nauseated at how authentic it looks.
If you showed it to anybody, they'd believe you'd been in love for years.
You toss it into the box with the rest and then lift it, carrying it around as you find places for every photo. Some are placed in the kitchen, some more in the living room.
The one from the bar is the last you can't seem to find a place for. You stare down at it, your knuckles turning white from how hard you're gripping the frame.
This is fine. It's more than fine. No, it's not.
The photo makes you sick.
Your laced fingers against your hipbone. Steve's tipsy smile pressed into your cheek, the genuine laughter you can hear through the photo. How loose and comfortable you are leaning into Steve's chest.
It's not Steve at all; it's the realization that you've never had a serious relationship in your life, and yet here you were with years of one shoved into a week of phony photos that look and feel real.
It's the job. You remind yourself as you pull the photo from the frame and stick it to the fridge with a magnet from Paris, to which you've never even actually visited.
The team arrives in intervals. Most of them were wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, and Eddie was even wearing an oversized hoodie.
It's a strategy. You haven't even begun your work, but the practices to ensure everyone's safety have already started.
The saferoom hides behind a bookcase in the second office on the first floor. To open it, there's a specific first-edition copy of The Great Gatsby on the second-top shelf that is actually a lever.
Steve is somehow the last person to enter the saferoom despite now living just upstairs from it.
"Alright, everyone, settle in," Hopper says.
The table in the saferoom is nearly identical to the one at the office, and everyone assumes their usual seats.
"Robin, do you want to tell us your findings?" he asks.
"Well, I spent the entire week dissecting the gallery's website. He's got it protected like crazy, so it took some time, but I finally made it past his firewalls." Robin starts, immediately talking with her hands in the fast-paced manner she does when nervous. "Dr.Owens luckily has put in for you two as the Andersons, so he was expecting contact from you."
"What, like an email?" Steve asks.
"Not exactly," Robin's mouth twitches downward, "There are different layers to the gallery website. The contact portal can't be found by just accidentally clicking on something; you have to know where to look."
"And you know where to look," you say, offering a pleased smile.
"I've been talking with Henry's right hand for the past few days, arranging a meeting."
"A meeting, meaning?" Nancy questions, pulling the baseball cap off her head, freeing her curls.
"Well, he doesn't agree to meet with just anyone," Robin is quick to reply, "There's a sort of vetting process to it all. You know, to ensure that nobody is a snitch. We're very lucky to have Dr.Owens on the inside."
"And?" Eddie pries.
Robin pulls a file from her bag and spreads out at least twenty pages of documents.
"You two have a lot of studying to do," Robin says with a smile.
You and Steve stand from your seats to better view the pages on the table. You take one into your hands, your eyes scanning the page quickly.
<Dealer001> Mr. Creel is a very busy man.
<Dealer001> Dr. Owens has put in a good word.
<DAndy> We're very serious about our involvement. Our schedule is flexible.
<Dealer001> He has agreed to meet at the gallery.
<Dealer001> Thursday evening at 1800. Do not be late.
"We start Thursday," Hopper says. "You two need to study up and memorize every line of contact Robin has had with these people, understood?"
You glance at Steve, watching as his jaw clenches when he nods. You nod as well.
"Good job, Rob," Eddie smiles, patting her on the back.
"Eddie and Nancy will be undercover at the restaurant across the street. Jonathan will be nearby with his camera..."
Hopper trails off, detailing the rest of the points for Thursday. Your stomach insists on tying itself into several small knots.
"Alright," Joyce says as she stands. "Let's get to work."
You look to Steve, not for his approval, but for something else.
He gives you a curt nod and is the first to exit the saferoom.
That night, you fall asleep on the couch. Max had left for a sleepover with her friend Jane, and you had spent the rest of the night surrounded by the documents Robin had brought in.
Steve enters the kitchen for a glass of water, noting the lamp is still on, "Kind of late for you to be awake, hm?" When you don't answer, he finally fully looks over his shoulder. "Are you still pissed at me?"
He pads over from the kitchen, a hint of a smile on his lips as he finally lays eyes on you. He sets his glass of water down and gently picks up the files you have resting on your chest. His chest tightens when he sees you wearing nothing but a tank top with spaghetti straps.
He diverts his stare to the files, scanning over all of your handwritten notes. It bothers him how detailed you are, how every single line has your thoughts written out next ot it. With a sigh, he gathers the stack together and messily puts it back into the folder.
He looks at you again, a warm feeling subtly filling his chest that he tries to fight. You look so peaceful when you're not running your mouth off at him, calling him a prick or asshole or arrogant.
He's moving before he can stop himself, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Then he pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over you, pulling it up to your chin, careful not to wake you.
He stares at you for another moment and then whispers to himself, "What the fuck am I doing?"
He snatches the folder, your folder, off the table and rushes back to his room with one final glance at the wedding portrait over the fireplace mantle.
summary: when you join the FBI, everybody on your team is so welcoming except for steve harrington. when your team is placed on an undercover case, you're partnered with the one person you can't stand. your ability to work together will be detrimental to the case to save as many lives as possible.
word count: 4.6k
pairing: agent!steveharrington x femagent!reader
notes: i miss criminal minds and steve harrington so i put them together </3
warnings: no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, fake dating, forced proximity, some violence + graphic cases will be mentioned, core four <3, everybody is here, slowish burn, SO angsty, kind of mayfield!reader (she's adopted), will add more as i think of them
Ever since you were a child, you had always dreamed of going into the FBI. You weren't entirely sure of what that meant, but thirteen days after your sixteen-year-old sister had gone missing, you met an agent for the first time.
She'd entered the room and commanded the attention of everyone present, yet spoke to you in the softest tone you'd ever heard at six years old when she asked you questions about your sister's disappearance.
It took you a couple of years to understand why your sister never came home. A little longer to realize that she wasn't coming home. The realization struck strikingly hard for someone your age. You were forced to grow up quickly, your childhood nearly nonexistent.
Yet, watching the agents work tirelessly to solve the case up until the day she was found inspired you to help girls like your sister.
After it was discovered your father was responsible, your poor mother passed away from heartbreak. It took years of therapy as an adult for the gaps in your memory to fill, and now it was something you struggled with every day. There were times you wished you didn't remember anything at all. How hard you begged to forget the gruesome details of her death and the week leading up to it.
It didn't take long for CPS to get involved. You were placed in a home where you were luckily loved. Your foster parents did what they could to bandage the cut that your father inflicted. When you were twelve, you got a foster sister, a six-year-old girl. They decided to adopt you both after a year.
Now at twenty-two and she sixteen, you had been named her legal guardian after your foster parents died in a car accident the year before. It was hard juggling your schooling and search for a career while suddenly becoming nothing short of a parent, but you felt like you were finally getting the hang of it in the midst of your grief.
"Are you positive you don't want me to drop you off, Bear?" You ask the sixteen-year-old standing in front of you. "It's on the way, I don't mind."
Today is her first day at a new school in a new city. You felt awful for moving her in the middle of her sophomore year, but you'd received the job offer of your dreams. The one you busted your ass for over the past three years, and in doing so graduated a year early with a B.S in Psychology and Forensic Science.
"It's okay, I want to walk," she says, anticipating your look of disapproval. "It's a ten-minute walk, I'll be fine. I need to get a lay of the land."
She knows what happened to your biological sister; you explained to her the story when she was old enough to understand it. She understood why you were so strict and protective sometimes, but at the end of the day, she was a teenager and not a little girl anymore.
You purse your lips momentarily and then nod your head, not wanting to upset her more than she already was. It was a lot for her to move states and leave her friends behind; you, by all means, understood.
"Okay," you finally say, "But please call the office when you get there."
Your sister turns on her heel and makes way for the front door. She turns at the last second, rushes over to you, and kisses you on the cheek.
"Have a good first day at work," she says.
The coffee you bought on your way in sits untouched on your empty desk, your nerves keeping you from drinking it.
What if you don't get along with the team? What if they dislike you or how you do things? What if you're just truly not cut out for it like you thought you were?
The only thing atop it is a phone, a computer set up, and a nameplate with Special Agent followed by your name. A small smile twitches at the corner of your mouth as your finger traces the wooden edge.
"Hi, are you the new agent?" A voice startles you from behind, and you turn to face the person standing at the edge of your cubicle.
"Yes," you say, followed by an introduction. "Nice to meet you."
"There's a Max Mayfield on line one for you," the woman says. Her strawberry blonde hair almost reminds you of your sister's, the only difference being the bangs and the length.
"Thank you," your eyes glance at the phone on the corner of your desk, and sure enough, the indicator for line one was lit up.
"I'm Robin, by the way," her nose scrunches up, "Agent Buckley. Special Agent Robin Buckley. Sorry, I'm still getting used to the title. You should probably take that."
You stifle a laugh and pick up the phone, pressing the button for line one, "Hi, Bear. Make it okay?"
"Safe and sound. How is it? Any smoking hot agents?" she asks, and you let the laugh slip as your eyes land on Robin standing in front of you.
"I'll see you later, alright? Be good, love you," you tell her.
"Love you too," she replies.
"Is Max your kid?" Robin asks.
"You could say that," you nod. "Have you been with the team for long?"
"A couple of months," she answers. "Technical Analyst."
She says it with all the pride in the world. And she should be proud, you were smart, but you could not step into her shoes for a single minute.
Robin's friendly aura and soft smiles lead you to your next question, one you feel comfortable asking based on her body language.
"Is the rest of the team nice?" you ask.
She opens her mouth to answer as another body appears behind her. This one taller, longer hair down to the shoulders, like he's straight out of the eighties.
"You two better get to the briefing room, Hop sounds pissed this morning," he says.
"Great," Robin groans.
The man's eyes finally land on you, and a smile stretches across his lips, "You must be the new agent."
"This is Eddie," Robin says flatly, making you laugh as you grab the cold coffee off your desk. Having something in your hands tends to ease your anxiety, so even if not to drink, it'll serve a purpose.
"Special Agent Eddie Munson," he says, extending his hand.
You shake it as the three of you begin to walk. You trail behind the two, letting them lead the way. It isn't too far, thank god you won't get lost on your own.
"Look who decided to join us," Hopper, the burly, mustached man standing at the front of the room, says.
"We found a stray on the way in," Eddie smiles sideways, stepping to the side to reveal you.
Hopper was the man you were meant to have your final interview with. The two interviews before were the most intense you'd ever gone through in your life. But with Hopper, you sat in his office for five minutes in total silence. You had waited patiently for him to ask questions after you'd introduced yourself, but in turn ended up in a glorified staring contest. He dismissed you after five minutes, and you received the job offer by the time you got home.
It was by far the strangest way you'd ever been hired. Let alone by the FBI.
Eddie and Robin find their seats, and Robin pats the empty one next to hers, and you move to take it, not wanting to take the extra second to scan for another empty one.
"Just a second," Hopper says, and you stop in your tracks. He clears his throat and continues, "This is Special Agent Mayfield, all the way from California."
"Hello," you wave with just your fingers, managing to keep both hands around the cup. "Nice to meet you all."
"Well, don't be shy, introduce yourselves," Hopper says, and the team straightens up.
"Robin Buckley," she smiles up at you.
"Eddie Munson," he says charmingly.
"Nancy Wheeler," a woman with gorgeous blue eyes and doll-like features on the other side of the table, says.
The first thing you notice is that aside from Chief Hopper and the short, middle-aged brown-eyed woman entering the room now, the faces around the table are notably young.
You were young, but you hadn't expected everybody else on your team to be around your age, too. You're partly grateful for it; maybe it would be easier to get along with them.
The older woman sits in the empty chair next to Hopper, "Joyce Byers."
Your eyes fall back to the last body on the right of the table, the one whose eye seems to so subtly twitch you nearly miss it. You do, however, one hundred percent catch the way his knuckles flex around the arm of the chair as he finally looks up at you with ridiculously captivating brown eyes.
"Steve Harrington," he practically mutters it. Had you been one step further away, you would've missed it.
"Agents Munson, Wheeler, and Harrington are your partner field agents. Agent Byers is our Media Liaison. Agent Buckley is our Technical Analyst. This is your team. Make nice with them. They, at times, will be your point of survival."
Hopper puts his hands on his hips and then looks at you with a nod, one you receive as your signal to sit down.
To your disappointment, there wasn't any specific case for you to go on today. The rest of your team was sent to their desks to fill out paperwork from the one they had just returned from. You, however, were filling out a ridiculous amount of onboarding paperwork.
You were eager to get into the field, to actually help somebody. That's what you busted your ass for all these years, and here you were stuck behind your desk on your first day.
"Big California, huh? What was that like?" Eddie says, throwing a crumpled piece of paper into the trash bin next to your desk.
"Have you ever been?" you ask him, looking up from your stack of paperwork. Your past isn't something you're interested in sharing.
"We've been a couple of times, actually," Robin says, "It's nice. It'd be cool to live out there."
"I lived there most of my life, I do miss it sometimes," you say, hoping to leave it at that.
California would always be home, and you had more good memories than bad, but the bad will always exceed the good.
"It seems like a nice state. Good weather pretty much year-round, nice beaches. Good people, too," Eddie adds on, and your pointer finger twitches.
Steve, listening silently from his desk, catches the subtle movement but doesn't say anything.
"Robin, can I ask you something?" You keep your voice low, trying not to draw the attention of the other people on your team.
"Of course," she drops the pen in her hand and gives you her full attention. She, out of everyone, is the one you're most drawn to. She has such an open and calming energy that makes you feel so at ease.
"Why is everyone on the team so young?" you ask.
Robin glances around and then leans forward, "Well, the bureau apparently needs us younger folks to adjust to the advancing technology. And I guess for certain cases, it's easier for us to blend in when going undercover."
"Have you gone undercover?"
"We all have, once or twice at this point. It's not super common for our unit, though. They try to have the more experienced units go before they send us," she says, and you nod.
"Thanks," you tell her.
The day drags, and you manage to finish the stack of paperwork ten minutes before five. You're more excited to get home and hear about Max's first day at her new school.
"Do you wanna come for a drink?" Eddie asks, throwing a leather jacket over his button-down.
"It's Friday, and we usually drink on Fridays," Nancy says from behind you. "Jonathan is meeting us at The Inn."
"Who is Jonathan?" you ask.
"Joyce's son. He's a crime scene investigator and does all the photos. He was on a local case this morning, that's why he missed the briefing," Nancy tells you.
"Also, Nancy's boyfriend," Eddie adds, shooting you a wink.
"We drink on free Fridays, which aren't common for us. Today is a free Friday," Steve says, and it's the first thing he's said to you today that wasn't his name.
"'Free Friday?'" You repeat.
"Means a Friday where we're not active on a case. Very rare occasion," Robin says, pulling her jean jacket on. It is somehow a perfect match for the dark denim jeans she has on.
"So, you comin'?" Eddie asks.
"I-" you hesitate and then think of Max sitting at home waiting for you. There was still so much unpacking to do, and what if she needed help with her homework? "I should probably get home. Thanks for the invite, though."
"Hollywood is too cool for us," Steve says, and the group laughs as if it's a joke, but the faint bite in his tone gives way to the fact that he's serious.
He doesn't like you.
"Hollywood?" You furrow your brows, trying to hide the fact that maybe you're a little hurt with the realization. How could he not like you? Not that he should when he hasn't known you for more than a day, but you haven't done anything for him to not like you.
"Big California," Eddie chuckles, "Hollywood is a good nickname. Love it."
You force a smile and nod, attempting to agree with it.
"I'm not from Hollywood," you tell him, your eyes still on Steve, trying to get a read on him.
Maybe you're overthinking, but your gut has never been wrong before. It could be first-day nerves or anxiety, because there is nothing you could've possibly done to piss anybody off.
He'd said all of a sentence to you before deciding he didn't like you? Impossible.
"Where are you from then?" Steve asks, and there it is again. That faint bite that nobody else around you seems to pick up.
"Well, I was born in LA but moved when I was six-"
"Hollywood." Steve cuts you off, and you let him.
"LA does make you Hollywood," Robin agrees.
"Right," you laugh, and it is so forced it almost makes you cringe, "Anyways, I have to go. My, um- actually it doesn't matter."
"Her kid," Robin says. "That's why she can't come drink."
"You have a kid?" Nancy's eyebrows rise.
"Well, it's not exactly like that-" you attempt.
"I can't believe you have time for a kid. That's impressive. We'll have to meet the little stinker one of these days," Eddie smiles wide as he holds the door open for you, Nancy, and Robin. He purposely lets it close on Steve, which earns a light laugh from you.
"I'm gonna head out. You guys have fun," you tell them.
"See ya, Hollywood!" Eddie calls after you, and everyone echoes his farewell to you.
You internally groan. Hollywood. Of all the god damned names you got stuck with. And on the first day, too? You didn't stand a chance.
"How was it? I wanna know everything," Max is perched up on the couch, the one that must've been delivered while you were still at the office. She has a few papers sprawled out next to her, which she quickly collects to make room for you.
You sit on it with a sigh of relief, enjoying how comfy it is. Max picked a good one.
"Would you kill me if I said boring?" you laugh. "I don't want to talk about me, I want to hear about your day."
"Mine was boring too. I have a few weirdos in some of my classes, but it must be an East Coast thing," she says. "My teachers seem cool, I guess. It sucks having your first day on a Friday."
"Sorry it lined up that way," you frown a bit and pick up one of the papers, "Shakespeare? They still teach this?"
"It's so lame," she groans, "What about your coworkers? Are they cool?"
"They're all my age, which is fun," you try to make it sound cooler than it is, "They seem interesting. Though I think one of them already doesn't like me."
"What? You're being dramatic; it's been one day," she tries to reason with you, and she does have a point, but your instincts say otherwise.
"I don't know, I mean, I'm trained to pick up on these things. He definitely doesn't like me," you tell her.
"What's his name?" she asks.
"Steve."
"Steve is an asshole name," she says, and it makes you laugh.
"He's kind of the reason I didn't go out to drink with the team tonight," you admit. "Well, you were, too, obviously. But I didn't feel like being somewhere someone didn't want me."
"Oh, absolutely not. You're going to that bar." Max sits up on her heels.
Going into the fight, you knew you didn't stand a chance. Max was just too convincing sometimes. She knew just what to say to get you to cave sometimes.
"I'm not going," you groan, "Can't I just stay here? We can watch a movie? Maybe unpack this leaning tower of boxes?" you gesture to the tower of boxes standing in the middle of the kitchen.
"You're not gonna let some man keep you from enjoying a drink out with some other potential friends," she crosses her arms, "I'm serious. Take this damn hair clip out, put on some lip gloss, and get your ass to the bar."
She's on her feet before you can say another word and walks to your closet. She grabs the leather jacket that the two of you love to share and hands it to you.
"The jeans can stay, but switch out that blazer. God, you look so corporate," she fake gags.
She riffles through the bathroom drawer that you share and finds your favorite lip gloss. Max then runs her hands through your hair to fluff it up and give it some layers, and grabs your purse off the couch.
"Are those mom's shoes?" she asks, glancing down at the heels you had been wearing all day. They were your mother's favorite shoes; she wore them nearly everyday into the office. She'd spent years breaking them in, so they were the best type of broken in.
"Yeah," you smile softly, glancing down at them. "We can share them."
"No, I'd never wear those. You keep them," she returns the smile and squeezes your hand. "Go. I won't wait up for you."
"Do you swear it's okay?" you ask.
"Yes," she laughs, "You are just as overprotective as mom and dad."
"I can't help it," you huff as she shoves you to the door.
Luckily, The Inn is only a ten-minute walk from your place, so you can enjoy the fresh air on the way over. It's cooler than California, but the air is a bit stickier. California was always so dry.
The second you push open the bar door, there's an echo of cheers from the table in the corner. Your team sits there, cheering on your arrival. All except one: Steve.
He sips on his beer, not even lifting his eyes up to acknowledge your arrival.
"I thought you weren't coming," Eddie says. "Husband stay home with the kiddo?"
"I'm not married," you tell him, taking the empty seat at the edge of the booth, "And my kid is actually my sixteen-year-old sister."
"Best not to assume things, huh, Eds?" the man you assume is Jonathan says. He's the only one you don't recognize, "I'm Jonathan, by the way, happy to have you on the team."
You reply with your name and a shake of his hand, "Happy to be here."
"I'm so happy you came," Robin says from next to you.
"Wait, so she's not actually your kid?" Eddie asks.
"She's her legal guardian," Nancy answers for you, "It's that simple."
He puts his pointer finger on his lip and looks up like he's thinking. He must be a few drinks in at this point, because all he does is laugh like he came to the realization that it is, in fact, that simple.
After some time of casual chatter, Steve gets up from the table to get another drink. He's engaged with everybody at the table except for you. He's not even spared you a glance since you walked into the bar. You were surprised when he brought a tray of shots for the team and included you.
The next time he gets up from the table, you wager that there's enough alcohol in your system to follow him.
"I think I'm gonna grab another," you tell Robin before following Steve to the bar.
The space next to him is empty, so you slot your body right in between his body and another, purposely invading his space.
"Pineapple tequila, please," you tell the bartender.
Steve tenses when he hears your voice, realizing how close you are to him. He keeps his eyes forward, watching the bartender make drinks in the order received. A few were placed before his and yours, so he's stuck here with you until further notice.
"You and I are trained in the same thing, Agent Harrington," you tell him, turning your body to face him, leaning against the bar top, "Have I done something for you to dislike me?"
"Who said I dislike you?" he asks. His tone is flat, and you can tell he's trying to play mellow. Yet he doesn't look at you. He's avoidant.
A laugh slips from your lips, "Well... you did silly."
"What makes you say that?" his eyes follow the gorgeous blonde behind the counter who's started on his drink.
"Eye twitching, flexing knuckles, slightly bitter tone when speaking to me, not bitter enough for any of your friends to catch, closed off body language," you part your lips in mock surprise with a soft gasp, "And this entire night you haven't looked at me once."
He fully shifts his body to face you, straightening up, pulling his shoulders back. You have to look up at him now, but your eyes don't leave his. It feels like a power play, something to remind you that he's bigger than you are.
"We're trained in the same thing, yeah?" he leans forward, much closer than you expect.
"Yeah," you state, clenching your jaw.
"Top of your class, graduated a year early, elite at Quanitco. It's almost like you're too good to be true," the corner of his mouth lifts, "You have tells too, you know. They're so subtle, but I catch them."
"It sounds like you're intimidated," you say. "They told you about me, didn't they?"
"Perfect little Hollywood," he scoffs, looking at you with a type of disgust you've never received before, "You're hiding something, and I'm gonna find out what it is."
He throws down a bill, enough for both of your drinks, takes his off the counter, and then walks back to your table with a smile on his face. You watch him with a glare in your eye, taking your drink in your hand.
Asshole.
You draw a long sip from the glass and end up downing the entire thing before setting it back on the bartop.
When you reach the table, Steve makes a point not to take his eyes off you.
"Where's your drink?" Robin asks as you sit down.
"I drank it," you tell her, and she laughs.
"I like this one," Eddie raises his pint to you, and you nod, reaching for your glass of water that had been begging for attention all night. After your last drink, you're definitely feeling it.
Everyone eventually gets roped into their own conversations, leaving you to doodle messily on the napkin with a pen that the waitress left behind after closing the table's tab.
The conversations seem nowhere near ending, and none sound like any particular one you'd insert yourself into, and you're feeling awfully tired from your first day.
Finally, you sit up straight and announce that you're going to head home.
"Let me walk you," Robin says.
"I'm fine," you smile, "I live super close. It's like ten minutes."
Everyone at the table bids you farewell, except for, unsurprisingly, Steve. You exit the bar, smiling to yourself a bit tipsily that you managed to make some friends on your first day.
You're halfway home on your slow, tipsy walk when you can't help but feel like somebody is watching you. It feels like a shift in the night air around you. You almost convince yourself you hear footsteps.
Turning over your shoulder, you tense when you see a figure emerging from the shadow, barely lit by the streetlight.
"What the hell are you doing? Following me?" you groan when you realize it's Steve of all people.
"Oh, come on, baby, I know you're mad at me, but don't be ridiculous," he slings his arm around your shoulders and forces your body to face forward as he makes you fall in step with him.
"What is wrong with you?" you question, looking up at him.
"Which way is your house?" he asks, glancing behind him. You attempt to follow his look, but he practically tucks you into his side, preventing you from doing so.
"Two blocks down, on the left," you tell him, lowering your voice.
"You're so good at your job, huh?" There's that bitter tone again. "You didn't catch the two fuckheads eyeing you on your way out alone. They didn't waste two seconds before following you."
You stay quiet, not wanting to admit the embarrassment you feel.
There is never a time you're not aware of your surroundings. It's rare that you don't catch even the smallest of glances from strange men, and Steve is saying you missed two that followed you out of the bar. You didn't even see them when he approached you, so they must've been lurking, plotting.
"If you hate me so much, you could've just stayed at the bar," you mutter.
"And live with the guilty conscience of what would have happened if I didn't?"
"It's this one," you say quietly, pointing to the little pale yellow house on the corner. It isn't much, but it's home until you can save up for something better for you and Max.
Steve guides you up the steps, but stays on the bottom one as you fumble with your keys. You're not even remotely close to drunk, but the pressure of his gaze is causing the struggle.
"Need help?" he asks, annoyance laced through the words.
"You can go now," you tell him, shoving the key into the lock.
"You're welcome," Steve mutters before, turning on his heel and stalking off down the street in the direction you came from.
The lingering alcohol in your system turns you around before you can even think to stop yourself.
"You are such a god damned nuisance, you know that?" You're halfway down the steps when he whips around to face you.
"A nuisance is better than a liar."
The two of you stand eye to eye now, and you're grateful for the stairs.
Your eyes narrow, but you don't let up. "What am I lying about, Agent Harrington, hm?"
He takes a moment to answer, his jaw tightening, "I don't know. But I'm gonna figure it out, and when I do, you're done."
The words settle as you process them, and you roll your eyes involuntarily. What could he possibly think you have to hide? You passed the most thorough background checks in the world, the same as him and the rest of your team.
"Have fun searching for whatever it is you're looking for," your tone shifts into something harsher than you've ever heard from yourself, "Just stay the fuck out of my way and let me do my job."
multichapter season 2-5
pairing | steve harrington x eldestbyers fem!oc
summary | in which will byers' older sister finds herself connected to him in the midst of the shadow monster, and none other than steve harrington is there to help her through it
word count | 5.8k
content warning | slow(ish) burn, slight canon divergence, friends to lovers, oc is the half sister of will and jonathan, extremely brief mention of child abuse (nothing graphic), eventual smut, emotional cheating if you squint
note | i started this story around season 2 on wattpad under a different title and then abandoned it because it was really bad. this is my official rewriting of it because i love joe... that's all. enjoy (:
The air had just turned crisp in Hawkins, Indiana, with Halloween just around the corner, and the final football games of the school year taking place, midterms were just around the corner.
Dylan grabbed her book bag and grabbed the keys off the counter, ready to take on the task of aiding her friend in studying, something he wasn't the best at.
"Where are you headed?" Joyce asked. Dylan didn't blame her for her overprotection, considering the events of the last year.
"Gonna go help Steve study," She replied.
"Home by 9, Dyl. I'm serious." She said sternly before turning back to the dishes.
Dylan headed out the door and got into the car that her dad had bought her for her 16th birthday. Though she, Will, and Jonathan shared the same mother, Dylan had a different father. Eldest of the Byers kids, and unlike her brothers, Dylan had a good relationship with her dad. Even Joyce was on good terms with Mitchell. Which was another reason that Dylan took her father's last name: Bennett. She loved her dad, her mom even more, and wished every day that Will and Jonathan got to grow up with the same father she did.
After Will was born and Lonnie turned bad, Jonathan and Will spent weekends with Dylan at Mitchell's, much to their father's dismay. The first time that Lonnie had thought to lay hands on Dylan, she temporarily moved in with her dad until he finally left. Mitchell loved the Byers boys almost as much as he loved Dylan.
Ever since Will had come back from being missing, Joyce had been afraid to let her kids do anything really, but the thoughts of the so called Upside Down being gone were starting to settle in, so she was being more lenient now. Especially with Jonathan and Dylan. Will not so much.
Things were still hard for Dylan; she had recurring nightmares of the week that felt like a year when Will went missing. The memories of that week never failed to sneak up on her when she least expected them. Mitchell had made her start seeing a therapist who told her that, despite Dylan not being able to fully explain the situation, she was experiencing PTSD.
"Dyl Pickle," Steve greeted her as she rounded the corner.
"Hey, sorry I'm late," She said as she set her book bag on the table, doing her best to ignore the nickname he gave her.
"Thanks for coming," He gave her a small smile.
"Nancy couldn't help?" She asked.
Steve cleared his throat, "She did. Well, she tried. I don't think she was honest with me."
Nancy and Dylan never really got along until Will went missing last year. Sure, their brothers were friends for as long as they could remember, but the two could never get along. Maybe it was because Dylan was older, or because Nancy had things that Dylan wanted.
Similar to how Steve and Dylan never really talked until Will went missing. Steve was never mean to Dylan like he was to Jonathan, but when Will went missing, it gave him a reason to talk to Dylan. They'd shared classes their entire lives, and as they got older, he'd always found her quite gorgeous and never understood how she and Jonathan shared the same blood.
"I get it." Dylan nodded and took the essay from Steve's hands, not wanting to pry. "I think she cares about your feelings. It's sweet."
"How are you holding up?" Steve asked, leaning back in his chair as she read the essay over.
"I'm fine, really." Dylan smiled and then set the essay on the table. "I think this needs work. Can I tell you why?"
"I thought it was good," He took the essay and held it up.
"You bounce back and forth between a couple of different topics. Your time as a student athlete, your grandfather's time in the war... there's a lot of information to retain."
"Can I tell you why?" He repeats her words and she pauses waiting for his answer. "Actually, never mind. Tell me how to fix it. I need to nail it so I can graduate."
"When is the deadline?"
"No. You're not fixing it for me. Tell me. I want to learn." He shook his head pulling the essay to his chest when she reached for it.
Dylan pondered and then nodded her head. "Alright."
She spent the next few hours explaining to him in words he could understand how to string together the essay he wanted, even managing to save the two topics he wanted to talk about most.
As Dylan stood up, gathering her things Steve stopped himself from reaching for her arm.
"Do you want to do something? Maybe grab a bite to eat?" He asked.
Dylan cleared her throat and shook her head, "Would Nancy like that?"
While Nancy and Dylan would forever share the trauma bond after their fight with a demogorgon last year, the two could hardly stand each other. They played cordially for the sake of Jonathan and Steve, but past that, there was no chance for a deeper relationship.
Before Will went missing Dylan had plenty of friends, but she couldn't help but shut everyone out. All she had left now was her small circle.
"We could go to the diner or something. On me, for your help. Go for a walk, I don't care to be honest. I don't feel like being alone tonight." Steve begged her, knowing she wouldn't say no. Sometimes he couldn't help but take advantage of what a good friend she was.
"I could eat," Dylan said with a shrug, and Steve happily picked her bag up off the table and slung it over his shoulder.
"You know what we should do, Dyl?" He asked.
"What's that, Steve?" She let out an unintentionally exasperated sigh. Usually, when he began his sentences with "You know what we should do?", it was followed by a serious attempt at getting her to a party or a double date with someone from the basketball team.
"We should find you a boyfriend," Steve said, and Dylan laughed.
"You're funny, Harrington," She shook her head as he opened the door for her. They made way for his car, the usual routine being that he'd drive them, and then he'd bring her back to her car at the end of the night.
"Come on. We could double date. That'd be so fun. What about Christopher Moore? He told me that he's kind of into you." He pried. He pulled open the passenger door, and she climbed into the beamer.
"Absolutely not. He's a bully, Steve." Dylan furrowed her brows as he ducked into the driver's side.
"Are you talking about the Eddie thing? Because that actually-"
"Yes, I am talking about the Eddie thing. It's not fair how they treat him-"
"-Wasn't Chris' fault. Speaking of, what about him? He's a weirdo-" He paused at the glare that Dylan gave him, "-But you seem to like him, and he seems to like you."
"We had one group project together. What are you even talking about? Because I treat him like a human being, I 'like' him? All of your friends are assholes toward him."
The two bickered back and forth over each other until Dylan stopped speaking altogether, to which Steve followed suit.
"Go ahead," Steve gestured to her to finish her thought without his interruption and started the car.
"I don't want a boyfriend, is that okay?" She finally said.
"Perfectly fine." He nodded.
At the diner, they shared a cheeseburger cut in half and a side of fries that he oversalted.
"Can you believe we're graduating this year?" Steve said. "We're going to college and growing up and being adults. It just feels weird after everything."
"I think I might stay in Hawkins," Dylan mindlessly stirred the straw around the rim of her strawberry milkshake.
"You're what? No way, Dylan. You're too smart to stay here. You have Ivy Leagues looking at you for Christ's sake. You could get out of here on a full ride." He looked at her in shock.
For as long as he'd known Dylan Bennett, she was the most likely out of their class to make the Great Escape out of Hawkins, Indiana. She had always been so sure of herself, so sure of what she wanted to do. She was the smartest person he knew and held so much potential for what she could do after high school.
"It's just with everything going on, I need to be there for Will and my mom, you know?" She sighed.
"You've got to get out of here." His voice softened, and he nearly reached across the table to take her hand. "You can't thrive somewhere like here."
"No more of this. Please." She slid her milkshake across the table for him to finish and then leaned back in her chair. "I should probably head home before my mom actually kills me this time."
Steve pulled cash from his wallet and set it on the table. Together, they left the diner, and Steve drove her back to the school so she could take her car home.
"I'll see you at school tomorrow," Dylan got out of the beamer. "Thanks for dinner."
Just as she was about to close the door, Steve leaned across the console and said, "Thank you for your help again, Dyl."
"Anytime," She offered a small smile and then got into her car and drove herself home.
Later that night, after trying to fall asleep for what felt like hours, Dylan found herself in the kitchen rummaging through the cabinets for a midnight snack. She stopped in her tracks when she heard footsteps down the hall.
"Mom?" She called out. She peeked around the corner and released a sigh of relief when she saw Will. "Do you need a glass..." She trailed off as he ignored her and walked towards the front door. "Will?"
Dylan followed behind him as he walked out of the front door slowly. He had no expression on his face as he stared up at the sky. She figured he was sleepwalking, so she refrained from saying anything that might wake him up.
She slowly reached for his shoulder so she could guide him back to bed. A gasp tore through her throat as her fingertips touched his shoulder, fear surging through her entire body.
Red lightning cracked across the clouded sky, barely hiding the monster behind him. Dylan looked down at Will, immediately pulling him to her chest. He looked up at the sky in terror, and she tried to say his name, but nothing came out.
Her little brother finally looked up at her, before looking back at the spider-like creature in the clouds that would later be named the Shadow Monster.
She jumped as another flash of lightning struck the sky, followed by a roaring clap of thunder. She accidentally let go of Will and fell backwards. When she hit the ground, she opened her eyes, and the sky had returned to normal.
As she sat up and looked around, not even Will was standing there anymore. She looked over her shoulder and watched as he walked back into the house, straight towards his room as if nothing had happened.
Halloween
"Morning, Dilly Bean." Dylan was ripped from her thoughts, her gaze pulled from the front yard to Jonathan, who had appeared behind her in the kitchen.
"You alright?" He laughed a little, and she nodded with a smile.
Still unable to decipher if what had happened last night was real or not, she opted to act as normally as possible. Goosebumps prickled her skin, thinking back to the fear she'd felt like never before. Not even when faced with a demogorgon in their living room last year.
She'd retraced her footsteps a million times trying to piece together the events. She came home from dinner with Steve, then tried to go to sleep. She couldn't sleep, so she went to find a snack well past midnight. She'd never gone to bed. If she did, she didn't remember. There's no way it was a dream. It had to be real.
"I'm okay." She replied as she finished her dishes. She crossed the kitchen and reached into her bag to pull out a $20 bill from her wallet, a part of the allowance her father had given her. "Here."
"You can't keep doing this, Dylan," Jonathan said, accepting the money anyway, knowing that she wouldn't take no for an answer.
So long as Dylan had been receiving an allowance from her father, she had been sharing it with Jonathan and Will. Dylan would also share her car with her brother whenever Joyce needed hers.
"I can and I will," she smiled, rustling her hand through his hair, "Use it for a haircut or something."
"Dylan!" Joyce yelled, causing her to jump again.
"Yes?" She turned and looked at her mother as she rounded the corner, and brushed some hair from her face.
"Where is Will?" She asked.
"What, he's not in his room?" Jonathan answered for her. Joyce barely gave either of them time to answer because she had already turned on her heel to continue looking for her youngest.
"What's going on, Dyl?" Jonathan asked, taking in the sight of his big sister.
"Nothing. I didn't get much sleep last night." She shrugged and shoved everything into her book bag before heading to Will's room, where Joyce had found him.
Jonathan stared at her back as she disappeared down the hall. He knew his sister better than anyone and could tell she was lying. Not lying about the lack of sleep -he could see that in the bags under her eyes-but rather lying about why she didn't sleep.
"Will," Dylan knocked on Will's door, and he immediately ran into her arms. She ran her fingers through his hair, and her stomach sank at the way he clung to her.
"Were you there? Were you actually there? You saw it, too?" Will's whispers flooded the air, and she looked down at his sweet face.
"I saw it." She confirmed under her breath.
She quietly closed the door behind her and led him to the bed, where he sat on the edge, and she kneeled in front of him.
"These episodes... I couldn't tell if they were real. But you've seen it too, which means that they are." He said to her, his fingers squeezing hers. She was grateful this meant he couldn't feel her hands shaking. She needed to be strong for him.
"So what does it mean?" Her mind began to race, but the thoughts cut short as they both flinched when Will's bedroom door flew open.
"Morning, kiddos." He smiled brightly.
"I'll see you tonight," Will said, kissing his sister on the cheek before leaving the room with Bob.
"See you later, Dylan. Have the best day," He waved, and she mustered a smile.
For the first time in a year, Dylan had trouble focusing in school. She was jumpy in classes, and the raging pit of anxiety deep in her chest felt like it was going to tear open again.
The same panic she felt after learning of Will's disappearance was slowly creeping up her throat, leaving her sick for the entire day. Of course, this could easily mean nothing, but the truth was that she and Will both knew it meant everything. Nothing was coincidental.
In between classes, Steve came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to scare her. She immediately jerked away and slammed her locker shut.
"It's just me. I got a B- on my paper, can you believe it? All thanks to you," He said through his light laughter, only to be met by Dylan's glare, "Oh, come on, Dyl, it was a joke. I'm sorry."
"Just don't touch me, Steve," She snapped and pushed past him. Instead of heading to her next class, she went straight for the doors and to her car. She knew there was no way she could handle another four class periods.
There was no way to explain how any of this made her feel. What did this mean for Will? Hawkins? Her family and friends. Her?
She had been asleep for two hours when Joyce came into her room with her Halloween costume. Noticing her sleeping daughter, she sat on the edge of the bed and placed the back of her hand to Dylan's forehead, checking for a fever.
Dylan jumped, and Joyce smiled softly, "Just me, baby. Why are you home so early? It's not like you to skip."
"I didn't feel good," She replied sleepily, stretching her limbs out. "What are you doing home so early?"
"It's Halloween. I wanted to finish up your costumes. You sure you feel alright, honey?" Joyce said, sprawling out into bed with her daughter.
Dylan smiled and snuggled into her mother's side. "I felt a little anxious today, that's all."
"Do you need to see your therapist again? I can ask Mitch to make the appointment." She sat up slightly, brushing the hair from Dylan's face.
"No, no. It's fine, Mom. Don't tell Dad. He'll freak out." One thing about Mitch and Joyce is that they shared the same level of concern for Dylan. She was, after all, their only daughter.
"Did you still want me to finish your costume? Are you going out tonight?"
"That would be great. Thanks, Mom," Dylan said. Joyce placed a kiss on top of her head and then left her room to finish up her children's Halloween costumes.
Joyce was a professional at sensing when Dylan was going through something, but knew not to pry when she said it was anxiety. Dylan was someone who liked to shoulder things alone. She'd gotten better at being open with her family when things got hard after Will went missing, but some days were still harder than the others.
She decided to take a shower to try and clear her racing mind and freshen up before Tina's party. The only reason she was going was because of a stupid promise she made to Steve, and she was beginning to regret it, knowing that he'd be running off with Nancy the entire night.
There was no point in going, yet here she was applying red lipstick and blush to dress up as Little Red Riding Hood.
"I finished!" Joyce knocked before entering the room. The dress she'd managed to refurbish was adorable, and the red cape with a hood couldn't look better. "I think I outdid myself, huh?"
"Thank you, Mom. It looks great, thank you." She pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek and accepted the dress from her hands.
"Do you know if Jonathan is doing anything tonight?" Joyce asked as Dylan changed into the costume. The dress was shorter than she expected, but she didn't seem to mind.
"It's his turn to take Will trick-or-treating this year." She sat in front of the mirror and let Joyce fix her hair. "Besides, he's not much of a party person."
"I wish he'd be more outgoing like you sometimes."
"Please," Dylan laughed. "Outgoing? Really? You can thank Steve for that. I don't even want to go tonight."
"Are you guys...?" She trailed off, and Dylan's cheeks heated up at what Joyce was hinting at.
"No!" Dylan answered a little too quickly. "Mom," She rolled her eyes, "He's with Nancy."
Joyce hummed in response but couldn't stop the smile creeping onto her face. "You two have just been spending a lot of time together, that's all."
"He's one of the few people who understands what we went through last year, Mom," she said, defensively.
"I understand that, Dyl, but I just want you to be careful with your feelings, that's all."
"I don't even care for him like that," she turned back around to look at herself in the mirror. "Seriously, Mom. I don't. He's just a friend."
"Alright, honey," she smiled and kissed the top of her head, though she wasn't buying it. She knew her kids better than they knew themselves. "You look beautiful."
Dylan parked in front of Tina's house and took a deep breath before getting out of the car.
Tina and Dylan used to be much closer, but inevitably drifted apart due to the trials and tribulations of high school. They shared classes and spoke in those classes, but never hung out outside of school anymore, which, in all honesty, didn't bother Dylan much.
Dylan weaved her way through the crowd of inebriated people strewn across Tina's front yard and began her search for Steve.
"Hey, Little Red!" Dylan sighed and turned around, knowing she was the only person dressed as Little Red.
Dylan was nearly at a loss for words when she saw that it was Billy Hargrove walking up to her. He'd swept damn near the entire town off their feet, and almost her. Almost, until he opened his mouth.
"Yes?" She crossed her arms nervously and hoped that it came across that she was annoyed he was bothering her.
He was handsome to say the least. Very, very handsome. Now that she'd finally seen him up close, she could understand why everyone was drooling over him. The unzipped jacket he was wearing showed his toned stomach, and she fought to not stare.
"What are you doing here all alone?" he asked, a small smirk resting on his lips.
"I'm not alone," she recalled.
"Who are you here with then, Little Red?" he took a step closer, but Dylan didn't falter.
"My name is Dylan," she said, growing tired of the nickname rather quickly and beginning to regret her costume choice.
"Billy. Now, what do you say, Little Red? Care to give me a ride?"
Dylan's nose scrunched up, and she rolled her eyes before turning on her heel and walking into the house while Billy and his friends hooted behind her.
"Look who finally showed up," Nancy said, drawing a long sip from her cup. It was easy to tell she was drunk, so Dylan set the snarky comment aside and turned to Steve with a smile.
"I made it," she said. "That new guy stopped me outside-"
"Don't tell me you're here with Harrington," Billy laughed as he brushed past Dylan, heading toward the cooler placed by the back door for another drink.
"Do I need to take care of it?" Steve asked, leaning closer.
"No." God knows Billy would wipe the floor with Steve, bless his heart.
After Nancy and Steve made their way to the dance floor, Dylan made a wrap around to see if she could find the host to greet her. Maybe even see if anyone else she knew was around.
"Long time since I've seen you at one of these," Dylan turned to Eddie Munson, standing in the corner with a lit blunt in his hand. He offered the blunt to Dylan, and she shook her head politely.
"Not really my scene anymore," She smiled, "How are you? Thought this wasn't your crowd."
"High. And it's not, but a lot of buyers around, you know?" he chuckled.
"Makes sense."
"How's little brother?" Eddie asked.
"Much better, thank you for asking." Dylan looked around, not wanting to engage in any conversation about Will. It was hard enough trying to move past everything that had happened without someone mentioning it every day.
Her brows furrowed when she caught Jonathan across the living room talking to a girl.
"Sorry, Eddie, excuse me for a moment." Anger replaced the feeling of surprise, and with a few strides, she was across the room, standing in front of her brother.
"Dyl-"
"What are you doing here, Jonathan?" she snapped.
"Partying," he shrugged.
"You're supposed to be out with Will," she did her best not to raise her voice at him.
"Will is old enough to go trick or treating without one of us watching his every move," he retorted.
"He could have another episode," Dylan scoffed and waited for a response that never came. "I knew I should've taken him."
"Dylan, wait-" Jonathan reached for his sister's hand, but was a second too late. She was already out the door before he could say another word.
Steve caught her leaving out of the corner of his eye and tried to catch her, but Nancy grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.
Dylan immediately drove towards Loch Nora, where Will and his friends had been trick-or-treating since they were in kindergarten. There was a growing pit in her stomach, but she forced herself to push it down. She drove slowly around the neighborhood until she finally spotted Will running behind a brick wall.
How could Jonathan be so stupid as to leave him alone?
"Will?" she called out. Her fingertips tingled as she walked through the bushes and down the small staircase. Will was sitting against the wall with his knees pulled to his chest.
"Will, what's wrong?" he didn't move. Just like the night in the front yard, she wasn't even sure he knew she was there. "Will, answer me!"
Then it happened.
She felt the same rush that she had felt the other night. When she opened her eyes, white flakes filled the freezing cold air. The only other place she'd seen something like this was in the Upside Down.
Dylan's back hit the brick wall as she took Will's shaking hand into her own. Will whispered her name, and her head snapped towards him.
"Shh," he pressed a finger to his lips, "He's getting closer."
Dylan didn't utter a word; her breath caught in her throat. She surveyed her surroundings, taking in the neighborhood that was vibrant with life moments before.
Kids had just been flooding the streets, and now it was empty and eerily quiet.
The sounds of the shadow monster crept closer and closer, and she sat frozen with fear as a single tear fell from the corner of her eye. She pulled Will closer and squeezed her eyes shut, swearing she could feel its breath on her.
Almost as soon as she was pulled in, they were both pulled out. Mike was shaking Will's shoulder. Dylan and Will both looked up, and there stood Will's party. Dylan stood up and brushed her dress off, and wiped the tear that had rolled down her cheek.
"I'll be in the car. Do you want a ride?" she asked before anyone could question them. She tried to ignore the suspicious looks of his friends. Mike shook his head, though he knew what he saw: Dylan and Will simultaneously sharing an episode. "Will?"
"Can you take us to Mike's?" he asked.
Dylan walked as quickly as she could towards her car and waited inside while Will and Mike said good night to the rest of the party.
Why was this happening again? she thought.
Dylan was ripped from her dissociation when Will and Mike climbed into the back seat. Not a word was said the entire way to the Wheelers.
"I'll have Jonathan pick you up in the morning, okay?" She turned to look at Will in the backseat and then leaned in to kiss his cheek.
"Thanks for the ride, Dylan," Mike said as he got out of the car.
"We'll talk when I get home?" Will asked, and she nodded.
Once the boys disappeared inside, Dylan released a huge breath. Every second of the drive home was consumed by the thoughts that the threats from last year were still looming, growing stronger and stronger over the past year. From what she could see in her episodes with Will, this is not something that they could handle. Not without Eleven.
When she got home, Joyce and Bob were sitting on the couch, enjoying a Halloween special. She untied the cape as she walked to her room as quietly as possible to avoid questions about the night. She knew this was something she should tell her mother, but she had no idea how.
As she sat in the shower, her knees pulled to her chest, she tried to understand. She tried to process and even began laying out shells of a plan for what might come next, but nothing made sense.
She cried about the thought of her baby brother going through these episodes alone for almost a year. Now all of a sudden, he wasn't alone anymore, and she was going through it with him.
After tying a robe around her body, she squeezed the dripping water from her hair and padded down the hall back to her room. She jumped when she heard tapping on her window.
She slowly walked over, cautious of what was on the other side. She pulled the curtain and sighed in relief when she saw Steve on the other side.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She pulled the window open and helped him inside. He smelled like alcohol and cigarettes, and she furrowed her brows when he stumbled, knocking over the textbooks on her desk. "Why are you still drunk? I swear to God if you drove here-"
"I didn't. I didn't, I walked here-" He sighed and looked at the ground. "It's Nancy."
"Nancy, what? Is everything okay?" Dylan leaned against her bedroom door and slyly locked it in case her mother had heard the textbooks fall.
Steve rested his hands in his hands, releasing a heavy sigh. She waited patiently to see if he would tell her what was bothering him. She never liked to pry and always let him tell her things on his terms.
"Nancy doesn't love me," he said.
She put her hands on her hips, looking at him dumbfoundedly, "What are you talking about? Of course she does."
"She doesn't," his voice was soft, "She said I killed Barb and that we 'act like we're in love'. I think she left with Jonathan." He stood up and ran a hand through his tousled hair.
"Steve-" she sighed, thankful that he was on a rant because with everything going on, she selfishly couldn't find the words to comfort him.
"Don't act like you didn't know. You and I both know that she and Jonathan-" he stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I'm sorry," was all she could muster as she took a hesitant step towards him. He took his seat back on the edge of her bed, and she sat next to him.
Jonathan had confided in his big sister about the feelings that had been stirring for Nancy. The last thing she wanted was for him to get his feelings hurt, but between the girls, Dylan could catch the glances that lasted a second too long, or the way their arms would brush when they stood next to each other.
Dylan always assumed that the subtle feelings would pass, that they'd both get over whatever it was they thought they felt. How- why would she say anything to Steve about it?
She put her hand over his and squeezed it lightly, "I'm sorry. I really am. I know how much you love her."
He sighed, his shoulders slumped slightly, and he leaned into her, his head resting against hers. Dylan tensed momentarily and then allowed herself a moment to savor the physical touch.
After a moment, she stood up, "I'm gonna get dressed, okay?"
She pulled away from him, needing a moment to figure out how to navigate the situation. Steve was still drunk, and she wasn't gonna send him back into the night. Joyce, however, might have an aneurysm if she allowed him to spend the night.
When she stood, so did he, and she took a step back. "Stay here."
Her breath hitched in her throat when he reached his hands up to cup her cheeks, and she lost her breath at how close their faces were. This wasn't right. And it wasn't fair. As far as Dylan knew, he and Nancy were still very much together.
Dylan turned her head and pulled away from him before grabbing her pajamas that she had laid out on the bed and walking down the hall to the bathroom.
She took longer than usual brushing her hair just to buy some more time. Why had he touched her face so gently? What was the intention? Was she overanalyzing the gesture?
There couldn't be a good enough reason for her to be taking so long, so she finally made her way back to her room and quietly locked the door.
He was exactly where she left him, on the edge of her bed, his head low, hair messy, looking different in the low light of her lamp. A glow rested on his skin when he looked up at her, a lazy smile on his face.
"Are you okay?" she asked as she hung her robe on the back of her door.
"I will be," he replied.
"Things will go back to normal by tomorrow. You two will be okay," it was a half-empty promise. Who knew what would happen between them, but the latter seemed true. There was a larger chance that they'd be back together by tomorrow.
"I don't want things to go back to normal," he said, standing up, taking a moment to gather his balance. He closed the space between them and looked down at her.
"What?" she said after a long pause.
"Nothing," he shook his head, realization flashing across his eyes at what he said.
"You'll be back with her by tomorrow," she pulled away and crossed her arms, looking him in the eye.
Even though Steve had grown so much over the past year, she couldn't help but remember what a dick he used to be. To Jonathan especially. It was no secret he used to get around, but when he got with Nancy, he truly loved her.
What if the heartbreak of this breakup reverted him back to his old ways? Along with everything else going on, she couldn't bear adding the overthought of Steve to the list.
There was a chance he wouldn't even remember this conversation tomorrow.
"I think you should rest. You'll regret this in the morning," she said, guiding him with a gentle hand to her bed.
He took a deep breath and then sat back on her bed, leaving the conversation alone.
The next morning, Dylan awoke to the sound of her door handle jiggling.
"Honey, you gotta get up for school!" Joyce yelled from the other side.
Dylan sat up quickly, looking at the sleeping Steve on the other side of the barrier of pillows between them. He'd fallen asleep after a brief moment of tears that she didn't know how to comfort.
Dylan tapped his cheek to and he startled awake.
"Go. Window- go. Now," she whispered. He gathered the few things he had come with and slyly crawled out the window.
"Dylan, don't make me come in there," Joyce resonated again, knocking on her door.
"I'm up! My alarm didn't go off," she lied.
Steve was all giggles as he climbed through the window, so much so that Dylan couldn't help but break into laughter as well. Steve stopped on the other side of the window, and he and Dylan were suddenly face-to-face.
Dylan cleared her throat, "You're going to be late."
"I'll see you in fifth, alright?" he said to her. The way his eyes dropped to her lips was so subtle that neither of them had even noticed.
update on things i say when you sleep: first of all if you’ve still stuck around waiting for the next chapter thank you, it means a lot. the delay has been unexpected to say the least. ive been dealing with a lot in my personal life that I won’t get into but with that being said!
chapter fifteen will be out soon! i would love to say the end of this week if not next??? don’t hold me to it im still dealing with a lot but i want to try and give you guys something extremely soon.
chapter summary: After returning to Basgiath, Ania and Bodhi explore their free time together.
content warning: iron flame spoilers
AO3 masterlist
twelve | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen | sixteen
Xaden spends the better half of the day warding my door. I wish I knew how to show my gratitude because I know he'd rather spend his last hours at Basgiath with Violet.
"Things are going to be different without me and Garrick here," Xaden says, entering my room. Only he and Bodhi have free access. Everyone else would need to be pulled through.
This morning, I'd been sure we were going to die. It's not every day you hear your own name read off the death roll. I'd just been thankful that Xaden's plan had worked through and through.
"We'll be in charge of drops, I know," I reply. "Thank you. I know you'd rather be with Violet."
"You're important to me too," He assures me as he closes my door behind him. "I wouldn't be here if you weren't."
It feels wrong, finally being on better terms with him just for him to leave later tonight. He swears he'll write to me, but I wish I would have just made use of our time together here. I know I needed the space to grow into who I am today, but there's still so much that could've been different if I'd just listened to them in the first place.
"I want to apologize," I say, but nothing else follows.
He leans against the door, waiting for me to finish. "You don't have to apologize for anything."
"I should," I reply. "You did your best with what I gave you this year. I made it really hard. I guess I should also say thank you. For caring enough to make sure I lived." I'm rambling at this point, but I've never been good at expressing my emotions. Which I suppose is why I ended up an empath.
"Regardless of whether our relationship was on better terms or not, at this moment, I would've done whatever I could within my power to ensure you remained safe." He folds his arms over his chest and the corner of his mouth lifts. "But it is on better terms."
"Yeah, I guess it is." I smile a little.
"Are you still cut off?" He means by Gleigeal.
"Until further notice," I reply, standing up.
"What happens if they pull you for interrogation? If Dain gets his hands-"
"Dain is taken care of. I don't think he'll come for any of us after you embarrassed him this morning," I tell him.
That surely was a sight to see. I didn't expect Xaden to make such a spectacle out of it, but I guess he had a point to make.
"You can't shield with no power," Xaden says.
"I know. I'm already decent at shielding, and as soon as I'm not cut off anymore, I'll practice with Bodhi." I reassure him. "Gleigeal would never put me in a position where I couldn't shield if I needed to."
"I know he wouldn't." He nods curtly. "I just..."
"You worry." I finish for him. "You have plenty of other things to worry about. Don't add me to the list."
"It's impossible not to add you to the list." He sighs. "The celebrations are starting soon. You should get ready."
I cross my room and open the door. "Thank you for warding my door."
"Anytime, little Alistair." He exits, and I follow him into the hallway. I have nowhere else to be, but being locked up in my room doesn't sound pleasant. "I'll see you soon."
He'll be back for the occasional weekend with Sgayel to visit Tairn. Luckily, that would take a lot of weight off our shoulders.
We stand in front of my door, and I fold my hands behind my back. I stare up at Xaden, taking in the man in front of me. The person he's grown into is somebody that, in the best way, I don't recognize. He doesn't have to carry Fen's legacy, but he does. He carries the revolution on his back without anything to show for it. One day, when this is all over, there's a chance that nobody will know it was possible because of him.
"What's wrong?" He asks.
"I don't know if anyone has told you, but I'm proud of you," I say softly.
He shakes his head briefly, and before I can think, I wrap my arms around his torso. He tenses under me, but I don't let go. Within the next second his arms are around me, squeezing me tightly. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I hold them back.
Xaden and I have shared countless hugs in our lifetime, but this one might be my favorite. This one, I know, is the most important.
At this point in our lives, as adults, we share the weight of what we know about the world. The weight of knowing what we just went through in Resson is something only a select few can understand. But also, I'm realizing now that Xaden is and has always been a brother to me. Accepting the reality that he fought for me to welcome him back into my life and what that means moving forward.
"Take care of yourself, Ania." He says when I pull away.
"You too," I whisper.
Watching him walk away hurts in a way I didn't expect it to.
The sun is beginning to set, and the end-of-year celebrations are kicking off, but I can't be bothered by celebrating tonight. It wasn't just my name that I heard on the death roll this morning; it was Solei's and Liam's. Two people that should be here celebrating with us.
Liam hurts the most. His death is something I'm sure I will never get over. Knowing that his pain is something I'll carry with me is devastating. As I pass the gathering hall, I see the remainder of my squad sitting together at a table. At least Violet can bring herself to drink tonight. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if I had a few.
"I've been looking for you." Garrick steadies me when I nearly collide with his chest. "Let's take a walk."
I catch Ridoc's eye just as we walk away from the gathering hall. I barely spoke to any of my squadmates in formation, let alone after.
"Why aren't you with them?" He asks once we make it into the courtyard. After eighteen hours on Gleigeal's back, I have an undeniable limp.
I shrug, "Just wanted to be alone, I guess."
"You shouldn't cut yourself off from your squad." He says. "You need them now more than ever."
"I'm not," I argue.
"Then why aren't you celebrating with them?" He says, gesturing back toward the gathering hall.
"I don't see what there is to celebrate. You and Xaden are flying off to combat while I'm stuck here." I shrug.
It's deflection. Something I've grown to be extremely good at over the years. It's not that I don't want to have these conversations; it's just that sometimes I can't. Xaden and Garrick are leaving. Liam is dead. Venin are real. I almost died. And I'm supposed to just proceed through my second year lying to the people I've unfortunately grown to care about.
"Do us both a favor and keep yourself surrounded by the people who care about you." He rests a hand on my shoulder and offers me a smile.
"I like this one," I fight the urge to roll my eyes as Gleigeal's voice enters my head. "He makes a lot of sense."
"I'll try." It is the best I can do.
"I'll see you sooner than you think, little Alistair." He shoots me a wink before hiking the strap of his rucksack high up on his shoulder.
"Take care of yourself," I call after him as he walks away. "I mean it, Tavis! Stay out of trouble!"
"I know you do." His laugh echoes off the stone walls, but he doesn't turn to look back at me.
Seeing him head for the flight field leaves me with a sense of sadness. It really was just me and Bodhi now. What happens when he graduates and I'm left here by myself? The thought is shoved to the back of my head, another thing I can't bear to think about right now.
Taking Garrick's advice, I make my way back to the gathering hall. Violet is exiting, and by the look of the shadows, I'm sure she's on her way to meet Xaden.
"Hey," I say in passing.
"You look like you need a drink," She replies, barely giving me a second look. Her time with Xaden is limited, and even though they're not on the greatest of terms, I know she still wants to see him off.
"Look who decided to join us," Sawyer grins when I take a seat next to Imogen.
"I was convinced you'd stay locked up in your room for the rest of the night," Rhiannon says.
Imogen slides me her mug of wine, and I don't even hesitate before taking a sip. The taste is sweeter than I expected, but I don't mind. I quietly thank her. She looks at me like I'm as fragile as the pitchers the wine rests in and I'll break if dropped at any moment.
It's apparent upon further observation that everyone in the gathering hall is either entirely wasted or on their way to it. I suppose this is what the next five days will look like while we prepare for the next Conscription Day. Maybe I should take advantage of the time being placed in front of me and use it to forget.
"Imogen left the battle with a split lip. How did you get your limp?" The question from Nadine catches me off guard, and the way I recoil is visibly noticeable.
"Maybe I've had it all along." I ignore her and down the rest of the wine from Imogen. She pours me another glass to the brim with ale this time, and I'm eternally thankful.
There's no telling how many glasses of ale, wine, lemonade, you name it, I've downed within the hour. I'm positive that I've never drunk this much in my life, and I'm colossally regretting it when I try to get back to my room and stumble into the wall. The alcohol was supposed to numb the ache of what I've felt since leaving Resson, but all it's done is amplify it. All I can think of is the life leaving Liam's eyes while I drained the pain from him.
"Woah, Ania." It takes a second for my vision to focus, but eventually, Ridoc's face comes into view. He's got my face in his hands, and he's saying something, but his words sound muffled. It takes everything in me to listen to what he's saying. "Come on, I'll take you to your room."
He lifts my arm over his shoulder and helps me to my room. How I somehow managed to drink more than Ridoc Gamlyn astounds me. Once we're in, he lies me down on my bed and takes my shoes off for me.
"What is it?" I feel the bed dip next to me with his weight as he pulls the blanket over me. His thumb brushes my cheek, and it's then that I realize I'm crying.
I shake my head, knowing there isn't anything I could tell him that wouldn't give away the full story. "I don't know why I'm crying."
"I know why," He says quietly. "We don't have to talk about it now. But I'm always gonna be here for you, Ania."
He's a good friend, and it hurts that I can't be honest with him. All he knows is that we saw battle. He'll never know the true extent of what we went through in Resson, and there's a chance I'll never be able to tell him. It's just another thing I'll have to carry.
"I had to dismount Gleigeal," I whisper, unable to stop the word vomit threatening to spill out of me. "That's why I have a limp. It should go away soon."
His eyes narrow as he tries to process my words. It seems like he realizes that I'm circling back to Nadine's question from earlier because he brushes the hair that's fallen onto my face. The interaction is sobering.
"I'm sorry," He says.
The tears flow uncontrollably at that point, and the weight of everything from the past week comes crashing down on me like a landslide. Everything I've forced myself to not feel is overwhelming me all at once, and the sobs that rack my chest are something I've never felt before. I've had panic attacks and anxiety attacks but the way I'm crying now isn't from either.
It's grief.
Something I don't think I've ever allowed myself to feel in its pure form. Not since my parents and Beckett. The weight of Resson sitting on my chest. Soleil. Liam.
I will be grieving him for the rest of my life. Grieving the time I should've spent more with him. Grieving the time I should've had left with him. He was so young. He had so much life in front of him.
My heart fucking aches and throbs and refuses to stop. It genuinely feels like its being split in two, tendon by tendon.
It could just be me finally coming to terms with what I went through the past week, but I know it's so much more than that. Going home to Aretia might've been the cherry on top of it all, but the way it hits me all at once leaves me gasping for air. I can't even reach into my head where the Riorson House library is to try and control my own emotions considering I've been shut off from my dragon's power.
"What can I do, Ania?" Ridoc asks, slightly panicked. I'd feel embarrassed if I had half the mind. He climbs onto the bed, pulling me into his arms allowing me the breakdown I should've given myself years ago.
My eyes are stinging, my cheeks wet from the nonstop flow of tears spilling from my eyes. My throat is so tight that it hurts to breathe and all I can do is cling to Ridoc's tunic for some sort of semblance that he's still here with me.
"It's okay," He strokes my hair and it dawns on me that he's not the person I want here. "You're okay."
I'm eternally grateful that he's here to steady me as much as he can in this moment, but he isn't who I want. He's not who should be holding me.
I've nearly cried myself to sleep, hiccuping, and barely any tears are left with Ridoc gently rubbing my back. The door swings open and I know better that only a select few have the privilege of doing so.
"Get out." My head turns, and the broad figure filling the doorway gives me a sigh of relief.
Ridoc doesn't hesitate, standing from my bed after gently removing me from his arms. I grab his hand just before he's far enough and he turns to look at me.
"Thank you," I whisper. It shouldn't go unnoticed that he was here for me.
"Of course, Ania." He gives me a small smile before making his way toward the door. He and Bodhi seemingly size each other up before Ridoc whispers something that I can't hear. He's barely into the corridor before Bodhi slams the door shut behind him.
He kicks off his shoes quickly and climbs into bed with me and I immediately wrap myself around him. My body fits perfectly into his and he smells of vetiver, sandalwood, and home and he's everything I need. His arms slide around my waist, pulling me tightly into his chest and the sobs force themselves out of me once more.
"I'm sorry," I cry, keeping my face pressed into his shoulder.
"Don't be sorry. It's okay. It's alright, sunshine." His voice is soft as he pulls my face away to look at me. He brushes the present tears off my cheek.
"Sunshine," The word conjures so many emotions within me when I repeat his nickname for me. "How did you know?"
"Gleigeal told Cuir that you needed me," He says quietly. His fingers trace patterns up and down my spine, easing me back into a calm state.
I feel pathetic. Riders are supposed to be strong. Yet I'm crying the most I've let myself in years. Not once since I entered the quadrant have I seen a single tear shed by anybody in public.
"Never feel ashamed for what you feel. If you must cry, then cry. I warned you that shielding yourself from your emotions wasn't healthy." Gleigeal's voice startles me. "I've told you several times, that you were chosen to be my rider for a reason. I knew the person you'd grow to be."
"Why was Ridoc here?" He asks me after a few moments of silence. It's not accusatory in the slightest.
"I drank too much and he helped me back," I reply. "Nothing happened."
"He worries that Cadet Gamlyn has different intentions," Gleigeal says.
"What? Ridoc and I already tested those waters and trust me. They're cold." I say down my bond.
"Does he know that?" He's referring to Ridoc. I have the urge to hide myself from the embarrassment at the memory of me kissing him after Threshing. But we both agreed that wasn't a path we should go down. We're better as friends and that's not something I'd ever be willing to put at risk.
"I know," He smiles down at me, kissing my nose.
"And I never slept with him." I finally admit. "Ridoc is just a good friend."
"Oh, I know." He says matter of factly.
"What do you mean 'you know'? You made such a big deal out of it last year." I'm on the defense now.
I had been so angry with him for assuming Ridoc and I had slept together. Sure, I know it didn't look the best to have him scrambling out of my room without his shirt or the handful of times I'd left his room in the mornings after we platonically shared a bed, but he never even asked.
"I mean I know you, Ani." A light laugh leaves his lips at the disbelief on my face. "If you slept with him, you would've just said so. The way you danced around it told me you weren't telling the whole truth. You forget we grew up together."
"I implied it." I scoff.
"And I saw through the implication," He smiles. "Feel better?"
"Yeah, I just..." I sigh and try to form the words. Even though things are the way they are between us, opening up still seems like a chore and it draws a lot from me.
"Take your time," His thumb brushes against my cheek. I realized then that his arm, previously in a sling, was now in a cast. He was supposed to be getting it mended today, that's why I didn't see him at all.
"Um..." I take a deep breath and sit up, folding my hands in my lap. I'm just now getting the feeling back into my fingertips, I can't imagine how long it'd take if Brennan hadn't mended the nerve damage. He sits up with me, his hand reassuringly resting on my knee, reminding me that he's here for me. "I was thinking about Liam. Then my parents and Beckett. And Resson. I think I just cracked under its weight."
"I want to be here for you," His thumb circles gently on my thigh, "You don't have to carry this alone. Let me help."
When I turn to look at him, there's a shift in everything I've been feeling. Just the sight of him eases the intensity of every emotion I've gone through tonight. The simple way his eyes scan mine for any certainty that what he's doing is helping. The gentle brush of his fingertips against my skin. The warmth of his body enveloping mine, making everything better. As a rider, nothing will ever be perfect again in my life, but as long as he's here, I have all I need.
The idea of it scares me, needing him more than he'd ever need me. There's a chance that one day this will all disappear. He could decide he doesn't feel the same way, or worse considering the line of work we're entering, I could unimaginably lose him.
There are not enough years left in my life to make up for the time I deserve to spend with him. He's been there for as long as I can remember, since before I could walk. There isn't a world where he's not irrevocably mine. And I his. This had been in the cards for us all along, whether we'd been betrothed or not. Our paths had been set to intertwine since our childhoods.
"Come here," He cups my jaw between his thumb and forefinger and pulls my lips to his in a gentle kiss.
My fingers instinctively tangle into the dark curls at the base of his neck. He somehow manages to pull me closer, his arms sliding back around my waist. He pulls me down onto his chest as he falls backward into my mattress. I laugh softly against his lips, pulling away so I can look at him.
He pushes my hair over my shoulder so it's out of my face and pecks my lips, "We have so much free time over the next five days and I intend to spend just about every second of it with you."
"Is that a threat?" I tease, running my fingers through his curls.
"That's a promise, Cadet Alistair," He tilts his head up, kissing me again. He flips us over and presses his weight onto me. "Hey."
"Hey." I smile softly, unable to keep myself from sniffling. My eyes feel puffy in the aftermath of my breakdown, but he doesn't seem to notice or care.
"I love you." He says and the way his eyes flicker down to my lips is unmistakable.
"Tell me you mean it," The words come out barely above a whisper as I trace his jawline with my finger. He takes my hand into his and kisses the soft skin of my palm.
"I've never meant anything more," His eyes don't leave mine.
The next morning Bodhi and I wake up before the first bell, my bare chest pressed against his, the sun just peeking through the windows. I reach my fingertips out and watch the light stream through my fingers, sighing when I feel nothing from it. How long does Gleigeal expect me to live without my power?
"He's not punishing you, you know," Bodhi says, sleep laced through his tone. His morning voice is too attractive to put into words. He reaches his hand up and laces his fingers through mine, bringing the back of my hand to his lips.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"You feel like Gleigeal is punishing you by taking your power. The reality is that he's protecting you," Bodhi tells me. He sits up before I can argue and kisses my forehead.
I use the sheet to cover my chest as I lean against the headboard and watch him gather his clothes off the ground, redressing himself. "It feels like punishment."
"I promise you, it's not." He winks at me, glancing at himself in the mirror before he makes his way toward the door. "I'll see you tonight. Meet me in the gathering hall when the party starts."
Preparing for the first years might be more annoying than the chore duty I had before Threshing. However, having the rest of the day to do whatever I please is quite nice. I utilize most of my free time hidden away in my room, catching up on sleep. You'd think a week after burnout I would be feeling like my normal self again, but sleep is the easiest thing to find.
It's my last official free day before Orientation and I want to take advantage of it.
I'm halfway back to my room from the flight field when Ridoc stops me in the courtyard.
"Are you gonna avoid us forever?" There's a slight annoyance in his tone, one I've never heard before.
"I'm not avoiding anyone," I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the wall.
"You haven't come to any of the parties this week except after graduation. You haven't eaten with us. You're not meeting us in the gym. What's going on?" He lists off the number of things I've intentionally done this week and I can't help but sigh. "Look, Ania. Whatever you're going through, whatever you went through, we want to help you and be there for you. But we can't if you keep shutting us out."
"I just need space right now to sort through my shit. That's all." My guard has been set in stone since we got back to Basgiath. I haven't even so much as had a chance to talk to Violet which is who I probably need to see the most.
"Space? That's bullshit, Ania, you know it." He laughs in disbelief, shaking his head. "Don't say you need space when the Section Leader has spent every night in your room since you got back."
"I'm not doing this with you," I push my back off the wall. Bodhi will not be a part of this argument.
This is not an argument I'm even willing to have. Not when there's no way for me to ensure I won't say something I regret. Ridoc is pissed and I'm on my way to being equally as pissed as he is, but not once since I've met him have I ever seen him angry.
"Look," He grabs my wrist and I immediately pull away, "I will never understand what you and Violet went through. But I want to try. I want to be there for you. You're one of my best friends and when you didn't return on time, I was so worried that I lost you guys. Please, just let us be there for you."
I run a hand through my hair and watch the way hurt flashes across his eyes. Guilt rattles me to my core. Keeping the truth from those who want to do nothing but care for me is ridiculously hard. Not only are they my squad mates, they're my friends. I can't avoid them and shut them out forever.
"I'm sorry," I say truthfully. "I'm just having a hard time processing everything."
"I know you may not be ready to talk about it and that's one hundred percent fine, but don't shut me out." He rests his hands on his hips.
"I burnt out," I tell him. "After I dismounted Gleigeal, I burnt out. And I almost died. Bodhi... he was there for me and made sure I lived."
That part feels freeing to say. He doesn't need to know how or why, but it's just a sliver of the truth that will hold him over and make it easier for me to move through my day-to-day.
"I had no idea," He whispers. He hesitates before pulling me into a hug and I allow it after tensing for a moment.
Ridoc was easily one of the first people I considered a friend in the quadrant and he may be one of the best I have. It's not fair to him for me to not reciprocate what he's giving. Not when he's doing his best to make it work.
"Then I should thank him. For bringing you back safe." He says when he pulls away.
I wrap an arm around my midsection and then pinch the bridge of my nose with a sigh.
"Bodhi and I... well Xaden and Garrick too, we all grew up together," I tell him. Hopefully, he takes the news better than Violet did, but that was a completely different circumstance.
"Oh." Is all he says.
"I'm sorry for keeping that from you. I honestly wanted nothing to do with them when I got here, but things changed." I explain.
"No, no. I don't blame you. It's just... it makes a lot of sense now." He nods. "So, you and Bodhi are like a thing now, then?"
"It seems that way," I don't know how to say it with Gleigeal's words replaying in my head.
"As long as he treats you right," Ridoc says and I immediately nod.
"He does. I swear."
Realization settles in his gaze and it makes my heart pound. I don't want to think about the way that this could've possibly hurt him. I always just assumed the night of Threshing we both agreed and felt the same way that friendship suited us.
"Okay," He nods once more.
Ridoc walks me back to my room and I'm grateful when Violet is exiting her's.
"Hey, do you have a second?" I ask before she can turn away from me. She nods and I grab her hand pulling her into my room. "I'll see you later, Ridoc."
"See you later," He smiles. "That's pretty cool, by the way. Who did that?" He gestures to the door.
"Xaden," I reply. His lips form into an O shape and he nods.
"Right."
With that he's turning on his heel and down the hall. Violet sits in the chair at my desk and I sit on the bed. I almost don't know where to start with her. We barely spoke in Aretia and on top of that prior to Resson I'm convinced she hated me and considered me a liar.
"How are you doing?" The words awkwardly tumble out of my mouth.
"Good, I think. You? You kind of just keep hiding in here." She says, folding her hands in her lap. It's slightly comforting to know she feels just as awkward as I do.
"I'm tired," I answer honestly and then pause. "But hiding in here makes it easier to lie to them."
"They don't exactly have an instruction manual on lying to the people you care about. 'Selective truths' is what Xaden said to me before he left," She says.
Selective truths.
Exactly what I just gave Ridoc. That's all we can give our friends until further notice. The chance that they never accept the truth doesn't sit right with me.
"Are you fully recovered?" She asks and I laugh lightly.
"My hip is fucked up, but I think it's just about healed. I also don't feel as tired as I did when we got back. Normal, I guess. Slowly getting back to normal," I don't know why it feels so hard to talk to her after what we just went through together.
"After Liam," she swallows and I understand, "I saw you and Gleigeal with the wyvern. Then when I saw you and that venin, Gleigeal was nowhere to be seen and I was rightfully terrified. When I woke up and remembered everything, I was scared Xaden would tell me he buried you too. I knew that was something he wouldn't survive."
Words refuse to come out, mostly because I simply can't arrange them into a proper sentence. I do my best and even though it takes a moment, they eventually materialize.
"Well, I'm told we survived because of you and Xaden," I offer a small smile. "So thank you."
"We'll get through this, Ania," She tells me, "There's no right way to navigate it, but we'll figure it out. Together."
"Together." I nod.
"Where are we going?" I laugh as Bodhi drags me through the forest. There are a few hours til curfew and I can barely see in front of my feet with the sun dipping below the horizon. There's a small amount of natural light left. "I'm not gonna be able to light the way once it's dark, you know."
"Just be patient. You've never been patient, Ani. It might be your fatal flaw." He glances back at me and my lips part in a dramatic gasp.
"I am too patient," I argue. "I might be the most patient out of all you boys."
"You know who was the most impatient?" He asks.
"Beckett," We answer at the same time with a laugh.
Remembering him these days is an easier thing to do. His memory no longer brings me to anger. I can simply remember him and be grateful that I got to have him as a brother.
He leads me through a clearing next to the lake and I have to stop in my tracks when I see a circle of dimly lit mage lights surrounding a blanket with a small basket that seemingly is filled with food.
"What is this?" I ask, looking at him.
"I figured it was about time I took you on a date," He smiles cheekily.
"Bodhi," His name is just above a whisper off my lips and I let him pull me to the blanket.
"Ani," He mimics my tone, his hands sliding around my waist as he kisses me.
My arms wrap around his neck as I stand on my toes to deepen the kiss. My fingers brush through his dark curls as his tongue slips past my lips and glides against mine. Gods, he's perfect.
"This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done," I say, observing the scene in front of me.
"My lady," He teases, gesturing me to sit down. I sit next to him with my knees tucked to the side as he pulls the basket toward us. "You should've seen me trying to sneak this out of the kitchen."
"I can only imagine," I smile as he opens a small pack of fruit. "Bodhi, I'm serious. This is... I don't even know what to say."
The way he feeds me the piece of fruit is cliche but I don't mind. Once the sun fully sets and the only light besides the mage lights gifted to us is the moon, and after we're full from the fruit and bread he's brought, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I love when you wear your hair down," He tells me. We're laid out, both of us propped up on our elbows as we face each other.
"Enjoy it now because after tomorrow it'll be up for most of the year," I tell him. "Speaking of... Orientation was today. RSC?"
He takes a deep breath, "It's tough, I won't lie to you. But, your squad is ridiculously tight-knit, more than any that I've seen in my time here. You guys are going to be fine."
The warmth of the July air clings to my skin and I annoyingly tug at the collar of my long sleeve tunic I've been forced to wear since our return. Bodhi stands up and tugs his shirt off, followed by his boots and pants, til he's left in nothing but his briefs.
"What are you doing?" I laugh as he pulls me to my feet. His hands slide under the hem of my tunic and he slowly pulls it over my head.
"We're going for a dip," He tells me, his fingers deftly unbuttoning my pants. He tugs them down my thighs and helps me step out of them, taking a moment to kiss the scar where Fionn had stabbed me at Threshing.
The water is at a comfortable temperature and is so refreshing that I vocalize a sigh once the water reaches our necks. He pulls me to him and I wrap my legs around his waist, resting my chin on his shoulder.
"Thank you for tonight. It was really special," I say quietly as I watch the reflection of the moon ripple with our movement.
After the Apostasy I never imagined that I'd find myself this comfortable with someone again. Let alone Bodhi Durran. Yet, here we are. He's everything to me and more.
"Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend?" He pulls back slightly so that I can look at him.
The question makes my cheeks heat up. I'd been a girlfriend one other time in my life and I hated the person I called my boyfriend. I'd dated him out of spite and boredom and we broke it off after four months. The sex hadn't even been good. The mere idea of being a girlfriend to Bodhi Durran has my stomach tied in knots but in the best way.
The way the moonlight softly illuminates his features is nothing more than picturesque and I want the image ingrained into my memory forever. Paint it on my tombstone if one must. I trail my finger down the bridge of his nose, a feature of his I remember him being insecure about as a preteen, though it's one of my favorites.
"Hmm, let me think about it," I can't help the cheesy smile that plasters my face.
"It's settled." He shakes his head and leans in to kiss me right before he holds my body flush against his and dunks us both under the water.
"Vile. Just vile," I laugh when we resurface as he uses his thumbs to brush the water from my face.
I try to pull away but he grips my hands and pulls me back to him. He holds my wrists under the moonlight and I jerk backward. The discoloration didn't take long to become my least favorite thing about myself.
He notices my discomfort and lets my wrists go, his hands finding my waist once more. He holds me under the moonlight and a comfortable silence settles over us.
Conscription Day has already been slightly more brutal than the last. Between Liam's sister, Sloane, hating Violet and me, and picking unnecessary fights with my new wingleader, Dain fucking Aetos, it feels impossible to get through the rest of the day without anyone getting on my Gods damned nerves more than they already have.
"You're one step away from the anger issues that plagued you last year," Gleigeal says and I roll my eyes.
"Oh, is that why I'm still cut off?" I reply annoyance laced through my tone."Being bitter with me will not aid you in getting your way," He grumbles.
I'm placed between Ridoc and Violet in formation as Panchek's voice fills the courtyard like nails on a chalkboard. The day hasn't been that bad when you think about it, I'm just irritatingly on edge today for some reason. Watching Dain try to fill the role that Xaden had last year is almost laughable, but I can't help but wish Xaden were still up there.
When the wingleader's dragons join us in the courtyard, I hardly pay attention. The reaction of some of the first years pushes me farther past the point of agitation that I'm already sitting at. I just want us to be dismissed so I can find myself in bed for the rest of the night.
"Are you okay?" Ridoc asks, glancing at me.
"I'm fine," I sigh. My fingers dig into my palms and I realize that one of the reasons I'm so pissed off is because of how fucking hot I am. I'd be surprised if this long sleeve didn't have sweat stains down my back. It just reminds me why I have to wear it and the memories of Resson flood my mind. Catching sight of Sloane in the corner of my eye nearly pushes me over the edge. She looks so much like Liam. I tug at the collar and force myself to take a deep breath.
Control it. Don't let it control you.
"You don't seem fine, Ania," He whispers.
"Ania, calm down." Violet's voice is quiet but firm as she grips my wrist into her hand.
Now is not the time for a fucking panic attack. What the hell has gotten into me over the past couple of days?
"Show me you can ground without magic and then we'll discuss reopening the channel," Gleigeal says.
Anger shakes me to my core. No way he's using this as a lesson. My breaths are deep but shaky and I hyper-fixate on the way that Violet has my wrist in a death grip. I cannot do this in formation, not in front of the entire quadrant.
My focus is pulled when a group of first-year scrams by. That just pisses me off more, knowing that they're seconds away from being torched.
"Eyes forward," Gleigeal's voice is filled with panic. My head snaps to the front of the formation and my eyes land on a large Orange that I don't recognize. I let my gaze drop for a second and notice Bodhi, who shakes his head slightly. It's hard to tell from this distance but he looks worried.
Bodhi's eyes widen as he takes off in a run just as Violet's scream fills my ears. He's forced to stop when the Orange curls his tongue.
"Get down!" She lunges for Sloane and before I can even think to move, Ridoc pulls my chest to his, throwing us both to the ground.
I cling to him tightly as he does his best to keep his arms around my head. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly doing my best to drown out the screams around us. My breath is hitched in my throat and I refuse to let it go, knowing if I do, it'll be my last. The blaze against my back is scorching and I'm grateful that Ridoc protects my head.
I finally let myself breathe when Ridoc helps me to my feet. I don't even want to look at the remnants of what just happened behind us. I wince when Ridoc turns me to look at my back. I watch as Violet pulls her shirt off in her hand and wish I had the scales she does.
"Gods, Ania," He sucks in a breath and I don't even want to know what it looks like.
"Ania!" Gleigeal shouts.
"I'm fine. I think," I reply down our bond. My eyes find Bodhi who is in the same place I last saw him in, relief written over his face when he sees me standing. My skin feels nothing short of melting and I have to hold on to Ridoc to steady myself. I'm thankful when I see that the sleeves of my uniform are still intact hiding the gray prints pressed permanently into my skin. The cool air against my skin tells me the back of it is no longer there.
"Get back in formation! Riders do not balk at fire!" Panchek screams over the chaos.
Violet steps toward me, pulling Imogen with her as we fall back in line.
"Ciaran is dead," Imogen whispers, and my stomach hits my feet.
I let my eyes find the pile of ash where I know he'd previously been standing and nausea takes over.
"Conspiratize later. I need your focus at one hundred," Gleigeal snaps, knowing where my brain is headed.
Bodhi finds me immediately after formation is dismissed and I'm grateful when I think that Tairn might've bought our squad some sort of protection after his conflict with Solas, the orange who torched a large chunk of the quadrant.
His hands cup my cheeks and he looks me over. "Your back, Ani."
"It's fine. Violet's too." I say, looking around for her but she's already disappeared, likely to the healers where I want to be.
"Violet has scales." He tells me as if I don't already know. He turns to Ridoc who hasn't left my side. "Thank you. For protecting her."
"No need to thank me," He shakes his head once. "She needs a healer." The way Bodhi's jaw tightens tells me he's doing his best to not roll his eyes at Ridoc.
That night, after three hours in the healer's quadrant, Bodhi is sitting criss-cross on my bed, gently spreading healing ointment into my skin. I can barely feel his touch with the way the pain meds they gave me have me feeling nearly entirely numb. I sit up when he finishes and take a deep breath when I study his face.
"Something is going on, something we don't know about," He finally says, reaching for my hand. "With you being cut off, I don't think it's a good idea for you to come on drops."
"What?" I raise my voice. "That's not fair."
"It is fair and it's not an argument. Until you have your power back, you're not coming. I'm not fighting with you about this." He snaps and I close my mouth. "You and Violet stay here. Stay out of trouble and don't draw attention to yourselves."
"What happened today was intentional," I say quietly. Saying it out loud makes it real.
"I don't want to say that's what happened, but it seems that way." He replies, cupping my cheek.
GET. AI. OUT. OF. FANDOM. Stop making headcanons with it, stop making fanfic with it, stop making fanart with it. If I see one more "asking chatgpt *blank* about *character/characters in a fandom* I'm going to lose my goddamn mind. Use your own fucking brain, stop asking AI to do everything. You could even ask other real people what they think. Just. Stop. Using. AI. In. Creative. Spaces.
