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tadpolesonalgae · 8 months

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Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 5

A/N: I’m trying something new here—been reading The Shining by Steven King and I like how the “thoughts” are presented :)

Warnings: general angst

Word count: 5,414

-Part 4- -Part 6-

Sharp, caramel eyes latch to your own from across the room.

Beneath his fingertips rest the planets of your solar system, whirring softly as they rotate, cogs clicking together. Your orrery.

Shoulders tense—it’s fine machinery, incredibly delicate. You don’t like the idea of him being so close to something so dear to you. He hasn’t proven to be particularly caring, or thoughtful. Anxiety closes around your throat. “Eris,” you greet, moving forward stiffly. “What are you doing here?” Why is he in the House of Wind, in the heart of the Night Court. Why is he in Velaris.

He taps against your world, the mechanical clicking coming to a stop, the system halting to his will. Retracts his hand. “You’re really kept out of the loop, aren’t you?” He asks, eyes gleaming, fingertips grazing the blade at his hip. Your brow narrows, “that’s not an answer.” You eye him warily, how close he is to that precious gift your sister had given you.

Lips lift into that familiar viper’s smile, “I’m here to have a meeting with your High Lord and Lady. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you. Surprised too you’re allowed near me at all after our last encounter—do they not particularly mind your safety?” He inquires, moving around the kitchen table. You shift in response, mirroring his movements, the opening steps to a dance you’re uninterested in.

“I live here,” you counter, “why should I yield my ground to you. It’s my home.” He quirks a neatly groomed brow, taking another step around the table, so you’ve switched positions. “You don’t live with the rest of your lovely family? Your younger sister has a home deeper within this city, but you choose to stay here, in this lonely place?”

“It’s my home,” you repeat, “and I like the quiet. Can you understand that?”

Eris’ brow narrows at the perceived insult, and you move closer to the table, to your orrery. “What sort of nonsense question is that?” He asks sharply.

“You live in a palace, don’t you? Big; spacious? Filled with people and riches?” You ask, narrowing your eyes on the male. His lips quirk, “more riches than you can even comprehend.” Eyes run over you, judgementally, “more beauty, too.”

“Filled with people, I’ll bet,” you say, ignoring the comment with practiced ease. At least Azriel’s helped with desensitising you to such things. “Servants, courtiers, maids. Does your home— Does your father’s palace ever sleep? Do you ever get any peace?”

“If you’re prying to see if there’s a single moment I might be vulnerable to an assassination attempt, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. There isn’t a single person who steps foot in my palace without authorisation.” He replies smoothly, caramel eyes gleaming.

Your lips tilt quietly, “what a lovely cage you live in, Eris.”

He stiffens, then his mouth twists itself into something resembling a smile—too serpentine. “Is this your preferred battleground? Verbal warfare? You’re quite talented at it.” You don’t mistake it for a compliment. “Tell me: which of them taught you to speak like that?”

Your brow dips in confusion. “It’s not warfare—It’s observation. There’s nothing aggressive about it.”

“No? No animosity in your prying? I could have sworn I detected a bite back by the river. Where have your claws gone? Were they clipped just like the hell-cat’s were?” He smiles—unnerving to be faced with it. “Bring them out. We can have ourselves a sparring match.” A hand raises in mocking challenge, beckoning you forward.

Hairs raise at the back of your neck, skin prickling with that itch that lies just below the scratch of your nails. Burning your fingertips. Dangerous. Manipulative. Manipulative.

“And where did you learn?” You fire back. “Who taught you to be so insidious? Or do you know no different?”

Caramel burns into you, charring your insides. “An answer for an answer.”

He’s got you. Knows you won’t rise to his challenge. So you switch methods.

Eyes flick down to the machinery on the table, “it’s very beautiful, isn’t it?”

If he’s caught off guard, he doesn’t show it. Well-accustomed to being on the constant edge. “A waste of time. The tinkerer has simply welded a few cogs and screws together—basic metal work.”

Your gaze rises to his, a hint of amusement within as you take a seat to better peer at the orrery. “You’re trying so hard to make it seem insignificant, yet you were studying our planet, so you’re clearly familiar with its structure.” Fingertips graze across the gilded metal of the sphere, the only one occupying the habitable zone. “I doubt you’ll answer my question, so I can only presume you’re used to hiding your interests.”

“Presume away,” he drawls, “it’s no bother to me.”

“No bother,” you echo, spinning the orrery, cogs ticking, globes rotating smoothly. “You hide like there’s something to be embarrassed about. What’s wrong with being fascinated by the world?” You play with the system, again falling under its spell, admiring the intricate carvings, how the tinkerer has rendered texture into metal—made it appear soft.

“You speak as if you’re knowledgeable of it. How much can you know having only spent two years in our land, feeding off our history?” He counters, stepping toward the table, eyes flicking carelessly over the mechanism. With forced lightness. Your brow furrows as you peer at him, “what’s the meaning of having endless time to discover if you don’t use it? I know about the world because I’ve read about it, and I’ve read about it because I want to know. Two years isn’t long to study something as vast as this, but unlike you, I have time to myself, to do things for myself that I want. And this—” you gesture to the small solar system, “—is what I’m interested in.”

The corners of Eris’ mouth tilt down, stepping finally closer to the table, as if accepting a conversation is inevitable. “And you think it is wise to invest your time in something as academic as this? You think you’ll be allowed to study it? Pursue your interest in it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You counter, absently tracing the rings of one of the planets—how beautiful they are! “I’m immortal now. Why shouldn’t I spend it doing things I like? Not all of us want to be sour and miserable.”

His lips quirk, “you maybe immortal, but you’re also detrimentally female. If you think your sex will not be an obstacle in your study, then you’re much more naive than I thought.”

Your brow dips, “and you’re awfully cynical. The library is filled with books, and is run by females, so no—I don’t think my sex will be an obstacle,” you snap. Take a breath in. He’s good at getting under your skin. You have to remember that’s his game. And you can’t fall for it. Otherwise Azriel will be right.

Eris opens his mouth, and you just know you don’t want to hear whatever rubbish he’s about to spit out. So you divert by returning to your wonderful orrery, “if you had to choose between these two planets to stand on for five minutes—” you point to the globes either side of your own, “—which would you go for? Air shortage aside?”

He rolls his eyes, irritated. “I do not have an interest in your childish device, and I did not come here to be lectured on how great the world is, nor anything beyond it. I have much more pressing things to concern myself with. The fact alone you choose to entertain yourself with knowledge that will never impact anyone is proof of your naiveté.”

You ignore the jab, even if it scratches its nails down your mental walls. “If you set foot on this one—” point to the one further from the centre, “—you would be crushed in seconds. Do you know why?”

The viper’s smile again, “as I have already said, I have no childish infatuation with things beyond my control. You’re wasting your time.”

“This planet,” you carry on, pointedly ignoring him, “spins nearly five times faster than our own, meaning gravity—the stuff that holds us to the—”

“I know what gravity is,” he snaps, fire lighting in his eyes.

You blink, startled by the outburst. He watches you silently. Doesn’t make a move to interrupt you again.

“Meaning the gravity,” you say slowly, waiting for him to jump again. He doesn’t. “…is stronger.” You blink again, but he makes no comment. “As a result, the days there last mere hours. How can that not fascinate you? How many other quirks are out there? Even limiting it to our own planet?”

His caramel eyes narrow. “Careful,” he warns. “People have been put to death for talking as you are.”

You look at him, confused. “People in your court? Why on earth would anyone be killed for this?”

“Regardless of court,” he drawls, as if it’s obvious. “For suggesting something other than the Mother. On grounds of blasphemy. The study of science is inherently rooted against her.”

Eyes widen as you stare at him.

“Is that what’s stopping you?” You ask, incredulously. “You’re a favoured heir to the throne, aren’t you? What good is that title if you’re unable to benefit from it?”

His brow narrows, “there are infinite ways I benefit from it. If you’re too ignorant to figure them out, then it speaks volumes to your wisdom.”

You ignore that, pushing forward. “But Rhys has one in his study—an orrery. It can’t be that serious?” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re doubting yourself. “Is it?”

“Hasn’t your sister witnessed first-hand how selective the world can be in who it favours? Did you not listen when I told you your sex would present difficulties?” He says sharply. “If you’re set on remaining ignorant, I see no point in continuing this conversation.”

Spine straightens as you stare at him, surprised.

“If I don’t know something, then explain it to me,” you say quietly. “How can I learn if I don’t know where I’m lacking?”

“It is not my responsibility to educate you,” he snaps. “Neither my responsibility to entertain you with conversation. If you prove to be dull, I have no reason to waste my time on you.”

“I agree it’s not your responsibility to educate me,” you say, frowning, “but if you have knowledge of something I don’t, and refuse to share it, how can you stand there and remain irritated with me? When you have the ability to change that?”

Eris’ lips twist again. “Like I said: it’s a waste of time.”

Your brows curve in frustration and disappointment. “You’d rather allow your irritation to fester than do something to prevent it? If you have a problem, and the means to repair it, but choose not to… Well, it speaks volumes to what sort of High Lord you might be.” As soon as the title leaves your tongue, it smacks back into you, the weight registering in your mind. The male before you really might become High Lord—inherit the power and responsibility that comes with it.

He’ll become responsible for his whole Court—yet prefers inactivity when faced with a problem that does not directly impact him.

“Why spend my energy on something so useless? You are only one person—why should I waste my breath? You clearly have no concept of how important and limited time is to someone in my position, in spite of immortality,” he states coldly, caramel darkening to something icy. “I prioritise matters I deem to be important; you waste your time flicking through old books that would better serve a fire.”

“I’m wasting my time on something I love.” You reply sharply, skin itching again, prickling at your fingertips. Sick of having it looked down on. Of being looked down on.

Lips twist in a faint, serpentine smile, eyes gleaming with predatory focus. He descends into the seat opposite you, moving with the grace of a spider, spiralling down into the centre of his web to meet his prey. Suck it dry; liquidate its insides. “Now that piques my interest.”

You don’t need to look down to know the colour your skin has changed to. You do anyway, eyes widening as you take in the faint, radiant green of your fingertips. You stare silently, noting the iridescence.

“I gather my brother’s mate is a seer, while the hell-cat yielded her power,” his smile is one crafted from centuries of cultivated misery, sharp edges created to keep himself safe. Carving his own bones into weaponry. “Could Rhysand have kept you secret because you have no control over it? Even after all this time?”

You bite down on the fear—it’s the second time it’s sparked up in broad daylight. Out in the open. Where anyone can see. “So persistent with the theory of secrecy,” you manage, voice coming out smooth, for the most part. “Maybe you didn’t know, because my power is nothing. It doesn’t heal, doesn’t hurt—nothing besides a dim light in the dark. It’s utterly useless.”

Eris doesn’t look convinced. “The cauldron wouldn’t give you a meaningless power. You haven’t tried hard enough.”

“Why is it so unbelievable?” You counter, in a hurry to end the conversation so you can return to the cover of your room. “Elain is the only one gifted with a real power. Nesta—” Are you allowed to tell him? He already knows she yielded it, so you see no point in hiding it. “Nesta took something. Ripped it away from the cauldron. Why would I be given anything meaningful?” You ask, and see the interest drain from his eyes. “Out of the four of us, Elain’s the only one with a working power.”

“And that’s why you’ve had so much time to yourself,” he drawls, malice again swimming in his whiskey eyes. “No training to do, nothing useful to preoccupy yourself with. Just steadily draining resources, and researching nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense,” you fire back weakly. “And it’s not heresy either. —nor blasphemy, or whatever name you want to give it to try and convince me it’s wrong.”

His eyes harden, “it denies the power of the Mother. Everything was made when she tipped out the cauldron. Science seeks to disprove that.”

“It shows the beauty of the world!” You insist, vaguely aware of the colour growing more intense as you press your hands into the surface of the table, rising to your feet. “It shows how intricate, and delicately woven it is! The only thing it does is prove there is something out there. How can you look up into the night sky, or gaze across the world, filled with magic, and life, and think any other way?” You argue, pushing the orrery across the table. “There are patterns in our world. Strange, and wonderful patterns, if you know how to spot them. The perfect rotations of our world around the great star, how everything intertwines with one another, like those cogs and screws you were trying to make light of. How can a world be so intricately faceted by chance? There has to be a designer—a creator. The one who set everything in motion to become as it is now.”

Your heart spikes as you think about it—how great she must be. The vastness of her capabilities.

“Science does not deny the existence of the Mother—it allows us to study the depth of her. Or something close to it.”

Eris’ eyes flick down to the solar system that you’ve pushed between his hands—now studying the details. His attention drags back up to you, noting how your pupils have dilated, heart beating quickly, nails digging into the surface of the table, gleaming with iridescence. A slow smile as he makes the connection between your emotions and the glow.

It would be a shame to tell you.

He’ll watch you figure it out for yourself—even if you have to stumble your way to the end.

“You’re skilled with words,” he says at last. “Has anyone told you that?”

You regard him silently, a little taken aback. Almost exhausted from the output of energy. Who knew it could be so tiring sharing an interest. How draining excitement is. “You’re just saying that,” you murmur quietly, fatigue weighing on your tongue from the outburst. You know he’s manipulative. You won’t fall for it.

His smile grows a little wider, into something vaguely normal. “You might even have avoided execution with a speech like that.”

Strangely, it doesn’t feel like he’s lying. It’s not much to go off, not much to rely on. He’s had centuries to perfect this act, would be flawless at it by now. And yet…

And yet. It’s enough for you to believe him. Trust your gut, and it’s telling you he’s being sincere.

Strange indeed.

————

Mor had interrupted almost immediately after, making you spring back from the table, seeing her blonde head appear in the kitchen, eyes hard when they landed on the Autumn Court male.

She’d promptly whisked him away to whichever room they were having their meeting in, and you’d hastily tucked your hands at your back, concealing glowing fingertips from her sharp gaze. You’d hated yourself a little in that moment, for hiding it from her. For not being brave enough to face them head on.

It was nothing compared to the sharp, stabbing laceration in your gut when Eris noted the movement. Offered you a slow, vulpine smile.

It’s been days since then, and every step seems to echo your doom. Every footfall in the hallway, every chirp of voices—you’re convinced they know. Because how much longer is he going to keep it a secret? How long before he asks something from you? Something you can’t give, because you don’t have access to them. To any of them. Not in the way he would like.

A series of knocks is landed to you door, and the book slides from your hands. Yelp when it nearly hits your foot. Feyre really needs to start walking a little louder so things like that don’t happen. You sigh heavily.

“Come in,” you call, hastily collecting up the book, plonking it down atop the precarious stack at your bedside. A small gust of dust motes shoot out from the pages, and you cough, turning to the window. Opening it to invite in the crisp, midday air. Open the curtains a little wider, too.

You turn to face her, here probably to ask you to another dinner. It’s been nearly a fortnight since the last one, when Elain had invited you to the…mortal lands. You really don’t know what to call that part, now.

Hazel cuts into you, air catches in your lungs—maybe it’s the dust.

You stare. Stare, and stare, but he doesn’t morph, or transfigure into your sister. Shadows crawl at his feet, slink over his wings, kept tight to his body. It’s strange to see him so tense.

“What are you…” you trail off, shaking your head slowly. “No.”

Azriel’s mouth purses. Remains in the doorway, not even one step away from the threshold. “We should— I would like to speak with you.” You stare longer; shake your head again.

(you are a proving to be a burden.)

“I don’t… No. I don’t want to,” you manage. “I’m in the middle of something right now.” His eyes flick about the room, and you shift to conceal the books at your bedside. “You don’t look busy,” he says slowly, aware how quickly things can turn sour. “That’s because I’m talking to you,” you reply, equally carefully.

He pauses, eyes once again scanning your room, then, “may I come in?”

Spine goes rigid; his pupils dilate. “I want to clear the air between us,” he supplies. “It would be better to do so in private.” He has a point. Feyre’s added a sound barrier to your room after the mess of last time, but… It’s midday, no one should be here. The only people who occasionally dip in are Elain and Feyre. Nesta doesn’t really…the two of you aren’t as close. “Okay,” you find yourself saying, dipping your head, “but I need to—” you gesture to the clothes on your floor. The general mess.

He nods, throat bobbing before he steps inside, the door clicking behind him as he keeps to the clear spaces on the floor. Few and far between.

You swallow, prying your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “What did you want to… Where do you want to start?” You ask, returning to the far end of your room to push the windows wider—as far as they can go. The breeze plays with strands of your hair, cleaning out the stuffy room, smelling slightly of mildew and parchment. Mostly dust, though.

“Your feelings for me…” he begins quietly, the words blaring throughout the room. “How long have you—”

“You know. Start somewhere else,” you interrupt, nails digging into the wooden frame, nudging the fabric of the curtains with your foot. He pauses, and you remain turned away from him, heart spiking. But he acquiesces.

“Okay…” he breathes heavily, followed by the faint stretch of leather as he folds his arms. Flexes his fingers before doing so. Still, you don’t look at him. “The talk with Eris.” It’s your turn to sigh, shifting on your feet to face him, wind blowing in gently from behind, soothing the heat between your shoulder blades, wrapping your cardigan a little tighter.

You don’t question how he knows about that short chat. Maybe Mor mentioned it—she’s the only one who saw, anyway. And you can’t imagine Azriel would have allowed it to go on that long if his shadows were aware. There’s a sour taste at the back of your throat.

“He just asked why I lived up here, instead of with the rest of you,” you mumble, scanning hastily for something to do. “I just said I liked the quiet, and that’s it.” Fingers grip the hem of a top, carrying it to your bed to fold away. The first of many.

Silence stretches between you, taut and tenuous. Hairs rise at the back of your neck, skin prickling.

“You didn’t mention that last time,” he says slowly, neutrally. Too controlled to be calm.

Your brows draw together. “I didn’t,” you confirm, picking up another top, folding it. It’s slightly out of place, the seams not lining up, and you redo it. Set it above the other. “Why not?” He asks tentatively. “It helps to know exactly things like that.” You stand straighter, looking at him—he does indeed have his arms crossed. Uncrosses them when you face him. Also straightens.

“We haven’t spoken since then,” you say slowly.

Eyes lock briefly when you both connect the dots.

“You’ve spoken with him since?” It’s phrased as a question, but…

Throat rolls, eyes turn away, body following shortly after, grabbing a pile of three garments. Set them on the bed. Hands moving like clockwork.

Head dips in confirmation.

Silence digs deeper. A shovel in a grave mound.

“When we had a meeting?” He asks, voice again taking on that controlled tone. Body coiled tight. Features neutral. “Yeah,” you murmur, “when you had that meeting.” Set the skirt atop the pile.

“And he asked why you live alone?” There’s an implication there. What is it? So many different angles to study it from—not a pleasing thought. “Not directly,” you mumble, “he said it was interesting I chose to live here when Feyre had a house deeper in the city. I think.”

“What you do you mean, you think?” He asks steadily, remaining statue-like in your peripherals.

“It was a few days ago,” you supply. “It didn’t stick with me.” That part didn’t, at least. He nods, reasoning it out in his head. Understandable.

“Was there anything else?” He asks instead. You know he marks the way your shoulders tense, even if you operate otherwise normally. “No,” you mumble, turning away from him, “nothing important.”

“We’ve been over this,” he reminds. “You don’t—…” Sighs. “Just tell me everything, and I’ll decide what’s important.” Why does this keep happening?

“You can’t trust him,” he adds gently, a touch softer than before.

You nod your head quickly, “I know.” Quiet reigns again, and he’s debating something. “Just say it,” you murmur, straightening the stack of books, skittish fingers fumbling with some of the loose papers. You should probably separate them out into a neater pile—they’ll only get more crinkled otherwise.

“I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” he supplies carefully.

“Okay.” Nod once. “I won’t.”

Picture the way his throat rolls, fingers flex at his sides. “Do you really understand why you can’t trust him?”

You pick up a few books from the stack, depositing them on your desk, moving to sort through which ones can be returned to the library. Mentally cataloguing their numbers and titles that correlate with set aisles. “I do,” you say, seeing how that would have been misinterpreted. He does you the courtesy of not asking you to explain it. “So you understand why you have to be careful about what you say. What you let him know,” he reasons softly.

Something heavy settles in your gut at the reminder, but you keep your lips shut.

“Eris is a snake,” he continues. “I can’t stress enough how wary you should be around him. And certainly never by yourself.” Eyes briefly meet over that last part, then your own dart away, returning to organising the catastrophe on your desk. Shifting through papers and diagrams. Charts and catalogues. Star formations and little doodles. “If you give him something, he will find a way to use it. It’s imperative you never let him know anything important.” You look at him over your shoulder, temporarily removing your focus from the lovely books, “what counts as important?”

Azriel sighs, leans against the tall frame of your bed, one shoulder propped against it calmly. He looks relaxed—it’s intentional. A distortion to make things seem fine; to keep you calm.

He raises one hand, gestures between you and him. “Us,” he says, reluctantly. “Things like this—they’re private. Emotional problems, and squabbles or…complications,” he expands. “You can’t let him know about anything like that. If he thinks there’s weakness, or a rift he can exploit, he will.”

Breath catches in your chest, and you snap you attention off him, forcefully reattaching it to the books you’ve laid out. Which pile means what?

“I don’t…” you begin. Swallow. Unstick your tongue. “I don’t know about any of your relations. Within…within Rhys’…” You fumble, unsure how to describe them all.

(Us.)

“Family?” He supplies. “Within your family?”

“No,” you sigh. “Beyond my sisters. I don’t—…I mean, I don’t know what’s going on with Cassian, or Mor, or Amren, either. I don’t—… There’s nothing he can get from me.”

Azriel watches you silently, skin prickling beneath the weight of his focus. “They’re your family, too,” he says gently. Almost tenderly. “Not just Rhys’, or Feyre’s. You’re her older sister, so you’re a part of it all, too.”

(A single pair of pearl earrings.)

Hazel locks with your own, and you release a soft laugh, beams of amusements finally lighting your eyes, mirth building on your mouth. How long has it been since you’ve laughed because of him?

Azriel narrows his eyes, and the laughter dies on your tongue. “Oh.” The word whispers out on an exhale, subconsciously taking a step backward. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I thought—” You shake your head. “You’re just saying that.” He remains silent, watching you intently.

“They don’t—,” you fumble. Trying to find the words. “I mean, they—… We’re separate. Me, I mean. I’m not—”

“Yes you are.”

You shake your head, not accepting it. “You can’t expect me to believe that,” you mutter. “I’m not that naive.”

Azriel’s brow furrows. “Granted, you don’t make it easy. But you’re still part of it all.”

“So you—” You’re not sure if you can say it. “You don’t… You see me as family?”

It’s his turn to falter, coming up short. You shake your head in disbelief. “Azriel…”

His eyes narrow as he stares at you. Opens his mouth.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Let’s just… Let’s stay on track.” Otherwise it’s going to get ugly.

(you are a proving to be a burden.)

Lower lip trembles; you bite it, turning your attention to your desk. He’s quiet for a few moments, and the energy begins to settle.

“Why does family bother you so much?” He asks, quietly.

Breath whooshes from your lungs, and you place both your palms flat on the desk, so tired. “Because,” you sigh, eyelids weighing heavy. Massage the bridge of your nose with both your middle and forth fingers. “The feelings I have for you…those don’t belong to a family member.” Shame heats your cheeks, fingers covering you eyes. How many times do you have to say it?

“Why do you insist on targeting everything I’m uncomfortable talking about?” You ask, softly, hands remaining over your features, muffling you. Because if you don’t divert, he’ll target that, too. “You did the same in the air,” you whisper, “you get hung up on these tiny points and you can’t let them go and it’s…” You don’t know.

“It’s what?” He asks, coldly. Lip trembles at the tone, pushing away the dampness, lowering your hands. “Why do you do it?”

“It’s my job to get the details right,” he replies.

(Is this your preferred battleground? Verbal warfare?)

“I’m not your job, Azriel.”

“You are when you run off and have unmonitored chats with that male.”

“Eris, or Bas?” You ask quietly.

(You’re quite talented at it.)

He falters, then his jaw ticks, the muscle feathering. “We’ll talk about Bas in a minute,” he says. “For now, we’re talking about how you behave around Eris.” You stare at him. Blink. “I don’t know how to make it clearer,” he continues, watching the ceiling, head tipped upward slightly. Eyes flick down, looking as though you’re below him.

Lowers his head.

“Eris prefers verbal warfare,” he begins, repeating the same old things he’s already told you. Fingertips begin to itch.

Hazel pierces into you, muscle in his jaw tensing. “He’s good at it, too. Good enough to make all of us wary. Doesn’t that show enough?”

(You’re skilled with words, has anyone told you that?)

“I got that impression.”

He nods, no more than a gentle dip of his chin. “That’s good,” he sighs. “It’s a good start.” Something twists in your gut at the words.

“Just don’t go near him,” Azriel continues, unaware of the numbness that’s slowly spreading down your back. “Okay.” Hands move automatically, and you watch distantly as they go.

He sighs, “so tell me what happened most recently. All of it. Then I can tell you what’s good and what’s not.”

“I don’t remember all of it,” you mumble.

Why are you so tired? It’s not the same fatigue as after talking with Eris. That was pleasant. Your mind was tired from working. Now… You’re just tired of resisting.

“You said he asked about you living alone,” he prompts. You want to go to bed. Want to close the curtains and crawl deep under the sheets.

You nod distantly. “And you said you liked the quiet.”

Nod again.

“So what happened after that?” He’s gotten quieter, sensing your disengagement.

You shrug weakly. “We just talked.”

“This is what I mean,” he says gently, attempting to soften the words that need to be said. “Eris doesn’t do idle chatter. You have to start understanding that.”

You shake your head, denying, “he didn’t ask anything else.”

“But you were talking?” He asks pointedly, doubt clear.

You go quiet. Shoulders slope.

Azriel sighs, standing upright. There’s no use talking to you like this.

“Let’s try this another time. When you’re more… When you’re feeling better.” He waits a little for a response. Feel the weight of his gaze on your hands. You don’t respond, and he dips his head in acknowledgement. Allowing your peace.

But still, when he leaves, you’re torn between crying, and wanting to run after him.

Nothing’s gotten better.

You still crave his attention, even though it’s begun to hurt.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei

#CBMTHY #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You #CBMTHY Part 5 #Azriel #Azriel angst #Azriel x reader #Eris #Eris Vanserra #Azriel x reader angst #angst #acotar #multi part fic #series

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lemonfreshlysqueezed · 5 months

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Biting is a love language!

- Part 3

Cuz we’re still not done :)

Link to part 1 and 2

Kiseki: dear to me!

Bai Zong Yi x Fan Ze Rui (episode 8)

Gifs by @tachineko

Chen yi x Ai de

Gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Gif by @zhaozi

Kissable lips

Kim Jun Ho x Choi Min Hyun

Gifs by @smittenskitten

Hidden Agenda

Zo x Joke (Episode 8)

Gifs by @khaotungsfirst

Moonlight Chicken

Jim x Wen (Episode 1 and 8)

Gifs by @maxescheibechlinichacheli

#biting is a love language #already on to part 4!#kiseki being the bl that has both couples biting eachother both ways #kissable lips should have been on this list sooner i mean its called kissable lips and they dure as hell are also bite-able #kiseki: dear to me #kissable lips the series #moonlight chicken the series #hidden agenda #hidden agenda the series #thai bl #korean bl drama #taiwanese bl #bl series #multi bl #bl tropes

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cyberkitty1 · 1 month

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𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒

Eren Yaeger x black!fem!reader

The love story of your relationship with Eren. Including your high’s and low’s, the beginning, the middle and maybe even the end.

you sped walked to your next class, with your tote on your shoulder. it was confusing being in a place so big and unfamiliar. you stood in front of the door talking a deep deep breath before exhaling and pushing said door open.

all eyes landed on you as you looked for a seat seeing one right next to the windows going from floor to ceiling.

you sat silently gracing your laptop ready to take notes listening intently when the guy sitting to your right caught your eye, his tattoos especially. spanning from his hands to his neck. you couldn’t help but stare until he tilted his head towards you, startling you.

you cough as you switch your attention back to the lesson.

as it came to a close you started packing your bag. “hey” you heard a deep, raspy voice say. confused you turn and look in his direction. you look around for a second before muttering a simple “hello” “you new? i dont recognize your face” he says simply “ yea todays my first day actually” you scratch your neck.

“makes sense, im Eren Yeager nice to meet you.”

——

it was already winning so idc, prt 2 is already being made 😛

banner from @fawndollie !

NEW TAGLIST

#eren x black fem!reader #eren x you #eren x reader #eren aot #eren yeager #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger #eren #college au #collage #au #aot au #student #˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 #cyberkitty1 #series #multi part fic #part 1

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creative-caramel-coffee · 9 months

Text

The Bear || Chapter 1

Pairings: Wanda x R || avengers (platonic) x R

Word count: 3.3K

TW: alcohol, underaged drinking (mentioned)

Summary: You join your uncle tony in the avengers, it wasn’t your original plan but you never planned for your powers either so here you are. Now your at the avengers tower and falling for the girl of your dreams. With a haunting past and interesting abilities can you navigate your way through the challenges of being a hero? After a mission gone wrong and a cruel twist of fate the team starts digging for answers. Can tony keep them from finding out the truth?

A/n Whats this a series??? Insane right??? Also this is my longest posted fic yet :)

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

“Uncle Tony do we have to do this? I mean I’m not even that special.” You grumbled from the backseat.

“Yeah sure L/n because everyone can shapeshift and teleport”

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean I can fight.” You shot back

“You can turn into a literal bear if you want of we both know you can fight. With the right training.” He rolled his eyes.

“Are you sure. I mean I can take myself back right now.”

“No we’re five minutes away now just sit tight and look out the window or something.”

“Whatever” you grumbled pulling out your phone and mindlessly scrolling through instagram. After what felt more like five seconds happy pulled up and stopped the car opening the door for tony as you opened your own door and got out muttering something about being too rich for door handles. You stretched and popped your back making tony wince at the sound he hated.

“Let’s go glow stick enough trying to light up by breaking your back. I’ll take you to your room before I have you meet the team.” You dragged your feet as you followed him into the foyer of the avengers tower and watched as he pressed the button for the right floor.

“You Wanda and Natasha will be sharing a floor.”

“That’s the black widow and scarlet witch right?” You asked not being one to follow the news much.

“Yep. The redheads.” He winked knowing you were gay. You hid a blush and shoved him.

“Shut up uncle tones” you grinned. The lift pinged and tony began walking you down the hall. “This rooms Natasha this one’s Wanda’s” he said gesturing loosely at the closed doors. “And this one’s yours. I trust you can-“

“Get my own bags? sure pops.” You winked and with a small pop you vanished. Tony groaned hating when you did that.

He slumped slightly in the hall. “Jarvis please keep me updated on her position in the tower and alert me if she goes anywhere near the lab.” He grumbled. Nat’s door opened and she poked her head out frowning at tony.

“Tony what are you doing? Who are you talking to?”

“I was- never-mind I’ll explain at the meeting.” He said waving a hand and going back to the lift. Nat shrugged retreating back into her room.

With a pop you arrived back at the car and opened the boot pulling out your backpack and two suitcases before holding them all and teleporting you and your things back to your new room.

With a sigh you began unpacking knowing no matter how much you may avoid to you had to go back across the country to get the rest of your things. You stood, taking a deep breath and preparing for the long jump before disappearing with a pop.

Your head spun as you reappeared in your bedroom back home, hundred of miles away from the tower. You stumbled grabbing your box of art supplies you didn’t want to risk damaging on the long car trip. Sucking in another deep breath you teleported back. The dizziness was much worse now. Two big jumps without rest in close succession wasn’t good for you. Before you could fall over you set down the box on the floor and passed out onto the bed with a loud crash.

A few moments later Natasha entered the room looking at your unconscious form and bags around the room and frowning.

“What the hell” she muttered “Jarvis?”

“Yes Ms Romanoff.”

“Who is this?”

” Ms Y/n l/n is the niece of Tony stark.”

“Alright and what is she doing here?”

“Ms l/n’s uses to the avengers will be great thanks to her-“

“alright Jarvis that’s enough” tony said walking in the door after receiving an alert that his niece had passed out.

“Yes yes she’s my niece.”

“Tony she can’t-“

“Can’t be here. Sure she can, she’s here isn’t she? Pass me that backpack Romanoff”

He said gesturing to your small backpack by the desk. Natasha frowned and picked it up shoving it into Tony’s chest.

“Less attitude Romanoff” he grumbled.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “What did Jarvis mean she has great value to the avengers?”

“Ask her yourself” he said pulling a small vile and a pack of gum from the front pocket. He broke the vial open and waved it under your nose. Your eyes screwed shut.

“Tony what the hell is going on?” Nat asked

You screwed up your face. “Tony” you whined “why couldn’t you let me sleep it off like normal” you whined eyes still shut.

“Sleep what off tony? what’s going on?” nat asked again.

Tony pulled a strip of gum from the pack and unwrapped it shoving it in your mouth.

“Chew. And I woke you up because you can’t meet the team if you’re unconscious idiot” he grumbled.

“Whatever. And those are for emergencies only.”

“Whatever i live with you now I’ll just make you more. Or make Bruce make you more.” He grumbled.

You cracked an eye open finally noticing nat who was stood watching unamused.

“Oh hi.” You said

“Hi?” Nat said sounding unsure.

“I’ll leave you two to it then.” Tony said winking at you and leaving before you could protest.

“Let’s try that again shall we?” You said standing up and brushing invisible dust from your clothes and extending a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Y/n, Y/n L/n” you said. Nat took your hand raising an eyebrow at your last name being different to Stark’s.

“Natasha but you can call me Nat.” She said her grip was firm and you could feel the callus’s of long days spent training on her palms.

“Well not the best first impression.” You chuckled putting the vile and pack of gum back into your backpack.

“What is that stuff?” Nat said raising a brow.

“Oh uncle tony makes it. Its energy gum a special type he made for me so i can recharge the battery after long jumps.” You said and Nat had about a thousand more questions.

“Long jumps?” She asked.

“Oh he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“This.” You said disappearing with a pop and appearing behind her tapping her shoulder. Nat spun around.

“Super speed?” She asked.

“Nope.” You said popping the p. “Teleportation. And..” nat blinked and suddenly a bunny was sat by her feet.

“Shapeshifitng?” She said sounding impressed. With a pop you stood before her again.

“Yep” you smiled.

“Alright ill admit that’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah. Well I’m sure you have important things to do before the meeting this afternoon. Tony wants to introduce me to the team and i need to unpack.” You said wiping your hands on your paint stained jeans one of your nervous habits.

“Yeah. Well I’ll see you around L/n” she smiled and patted your shoulder before leaving and closing the door softly.

The day went quickly as you unpacked. The meeting was smooth with the team impressed and curious about your powers. You must have answered a hundred questions before tony stepped in. You shifted to about six different animals and teleported to get them all ice-cream from downtown as proof and just like that they all loved you. Apparently ice cream was a weak point for the group of earths mightiest hero’s. After the meeting was over you couldn’t help the fact your eyes lingered after the goddess you had come to know as Wanda. She was just so perfect. Her hips swished slightly as she walked away and you had to stop yourself from drooling. A crush was forming just like that. But you knew you had to pace yourself. You had plenty of people end things with you for being “too much” and you didn’t want another heartbreak.

As you walked back to your room you smiled to yourself. You grabbed your backpack and sketchbook and walked down to the grounds. Picking a tree and sitting under it. You opened your back and buried your nose in your sketchbook. So for the next few hours you sat trying to capture every last detail your brain could remember about Wanda’s face. After a few hours you had a beautiful drawing of the redhead and you smiled shutting. Putting on the finishing details you were so wrapped up in it you didn’t hear the footsteps approach until the person spoke to you.

“I was wondering where you had run off to.” Nat said sitting beside you. You quickly slammed the book shut but not before nat saw the picture. She grinned and raised a brow.

“Your an amazing artist.” She said and you flushed.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” You said.

“What that your a good artist?” She said grinning coyly

“No. About the drawing. You weren’t suppose to see that.” You said still bright red you slipped the sketchbook back into your backpack.

“My lips are sealed.” She said. “But before i say anything else. She single.” Nat winked before getting up and turning to leave.

“Nat?” You said and she turned around again.

“Yes?”

“Did you come to tell me something or just tease me?”

“Oh lunch is ready Wanda made a bit of a fancy meal for your arrival. Something tells me she likes you.” Nat winked and started to walk off. You hid your face in your hands. Grabbing your backpack before teleporting back to your room and dropping your bag on the bed before teleporting to the hall by the kitchen and strolling in.

“Something smells good.” You said and Wanda looked up and smiled.

“I just sent nat to get you.” She smiled. And you grinned as Nat walked in.

“Looks who’s here.” Wanda said pointing the spatula at you and smiling. Nat frowned at your cheeky grin.

“Must be a sixth sense” you said and winked at nat.

“Or you just teleported.” Tony said walking in and Wanda burst out laughing.

“Your no fun tones.” You fake glared at him.

“Bite me bear.” He said. Using your playful nickname for you. He loved bears and you often turned into one for him when he was drunk and sad so it became a name for you. Of course nobody would ever know that the great tony stark was cheered up by riding a big fluffy brown bear around his backyard in his late twenties. He couldn’t count the number of times he fell asleep running his hands through the fur of a sleeping bear cub in his lap. You brought him a comfort only family did. One he had failed to receive for years after his parent, your grandparents died. One you had also lost when your mother and father died also.

Wandas calls for lunch broke you from your thoughts as the boys all tumbled into the kitchen. You were introduce to the two girls you hadn’t seen before. Just getting back from their mission you learnt the blonde was Yelena, Natasha’s sister and Kate was Clint’s protege. You sat down feeling that maybe your family had grown a bit bigger. And maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Just a reminder your party is tonight to welcome you to the avengers.” Tony said slapping your back as he walked past to get his morning coffee.

“I heard the great tony Stark’s parties aren’t the same as they used to be. Hope I’m not disappointed.” You grinned taking another swig of your coffee.

Tony grumbled something about being domestic and you chuckled before going to your room to get ready for training.

It was about five when you finally decided on an outfit. The party starts at 7 so you had plenty of time. You had decided on a small sleek black dress that hugged all the right places. Sure you would have preferred a suit but you didn’t feel much like making a stir at your first party. After laying out the outfit you yawned not used to being awake so early in the mornings. Deciding you could take a quick nap you curled up and shut your eyes.

Incessant knocking woke you up with a start.

“Y/N the party started twenty minutes ago get your butt downstairs. Come on your making me look bad” Tony yelled with an almost whine in his voice and you jumped up. Fixing your hair into a fancy up-do and throwing on the dress and some makeup.

As you stepped into the room you realised it was one of Tony’s more calm parties. The avengers were sat around a table drinking and you grabbed yourself a martini before going to sit beside Natasha.

“Your going soft tones.” You grinned and he shot you a glare.

“Am not.”

“Its alright i kinda like domestic you.” You took a long swig from your drink feeling the alcohol go straight to your head.

“So y/n why do you call tony tones?” Wanda asked and you grinned lopsidedly as tony groaned knowing what was to come.

“Well witchy.” You grinned as you watched Wanda fight down a blush. “When my parents so kindly died.” Maybe the alcohol was doing a bit more than you thought. You missed the look of shock on the avengers faces as you continued. “Mr stark here.” You gestured loosely to him “adopted me. I was about sixteen and tones being the fun uncle let me go to his parties. When i was seventeen we were all hanging out, me and Tony’s street scum friends were drinking.”

“You let her drink at 17!!” Nat yelled and you shrugged.

“No point being rich if you don’t break a few laws I guess.” You grinned as tony covered his face with his fingers. “Tonys parties were a lot more wild back then and we had a little family legend me and the street scum.” You said affectionately. “They were my family. Anyways the legend was that if you got tony drunk enough his tone deafness goes away and his awful catawalling turns into the most angelic singing ever. So one night we tested it out and secured some strong liquor. I wont say if it was true or not but tony woke up in Mississippi with a hangover and no clothes.” You grinned and the avengers all started laughing.

“And where did you wake up y/n?” Nat said narrowing her eyes jokingly.

you blushed “w-well thats not important.” Tony seeing his chance to get back at you took it with a grin. “She woke up in Massachusetts with a hangover and a piercing.” You groaned.

“Where?” Wanda asked her curiosity peaking.

“Right here.” You said tapping the helix piercing you always loved but never had the confidence to get without the help of alcohol. “And before tony can convince you otherwise i alway wanted one so its not like i woke up with a piercing elsewhere.” You said pointing tony a sharp look. Tony choked on his drink. “Alright” tony said clapping his hands “change of subject.” And you burst out laughing knowing his piercing was rather … intimate.

“Oh i have plenty more stories of party animal tones over there.” You said tilting your drink in his direction “but I’m not nearly drunk enough yet for that.” You grinned taking a long sip.

“And you wont be tonight.” Nat said taking your drink from you carefully and setting it on the table “this isn’t that kind of party.” She smiled seeing you frown.

“Boring.” You yawned and slumped down the couch.

“So how did you get your powers if you don’t mind me asking?” Clint said eyeing your reaction closely.

“Oh you know, the usual.” You waved your hand dismissively dodging the question and changing topics. Nat and Clint exchanged looks not missing the way your shoulders hand tensed at the topic. Tony shot Clint a dark look telling him to drop it.

The night went well as you and the avengers chatted and shared stories. Nat was careful not to let you drink too much to keep you from embarrassing yourself on your first night. Taking it off you ever twenty minutes for a break. You let her for the most part. After about three hours the team was getting tired and you were mildly drunk despite Nat’s best efforts.

“Come on hot stuff i think its time i take you to bed.” Nat said playfully and your eyes widened. “Not like that.” She scoffed slapping your arm lightly.

“Goodnight everyone I’m taking this one to bed now.” Nat said jabbing a thumb at you and helping you to your feet as you swayed. Nat grumbled not ready for you to get a head injury walking back to your room she scooped you up with little effort. You squeaked slightly and threw you arms around her neck as she carried you bridal style into the elevator. Nat helped you back to your room handing you some of you pyjamas she found in a drawer she smiled at the matching snoopy pj shirt and fluffy pants. Handing them to you she turned her back as you changed. After the shuffling stopped she asked if you were done turning to find your shirt on backwards and a dopy grin on your face. Nat sighed. Turning your T-shirt around by guiding your arms back inside before helping you into bed. You looked adorable in your pjs and she helped take out your hair pins and used a wipe to clean off your makeup. After you were ready she placed a motherly kiss on your forehead and tucked you in. She sat with you until your soft snores filled the room and before she slipped out she put a bottle of pain meds and a glass of water on your bedside. She padded quietly down the hall to her room and slipped out of her fancy clothes changing quickly before getting into her own bed.

You were a puzzle, one she was determined to figure out. When she had heard you had lost your parents she felt almost a primal protection spark in her heart for you. It was almost maternal in nature as despite being almost 22 nat wanted nothing more than to mother you like a child. And it scared her. Yet she couldn’t seem to resist the urge to care for you. She thought you were sweet and she wanted to protect you.

Wanda however had different feelings. Since she had first laid eyes on you she was wrapped around your finger. You were perfect in her eyes. And the night of the party she was awake until the early hours thinking of every moment in great depth all over from the way the dress held you tight in all the right places to the way your grin became lopsided when you drank. All down to how nat had left with you in her arms and a feeling of jealousy sparked in her heart. She knew she had nothing to worry about. Nat was like a mother to all the younger avengers. Peter, Yelena and Kate were basically babied by her all the time. And she saw the love in her eyes for you the moment she met you. She knew you held a special place in Nat’s heart already but she couldn’t help but feel it should have been her who helped you to bed and cared for you. But she didn’t want to scare you away. She couldn’t live with herself if she blew her chance before it really even began.

MASTERLIST

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gutsby · 4 months

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HOLY SHIT IS WEDDED BLISS GONNA BE A SERIES 👀⁉️⁉️

DUDE I HOPE SO

#i haven’t written a multi-part series in so long but this could be fun!

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chasingmidnights · 2 months

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A Brutal Life Series Masterlist:

Summary: After leaving your ex-husband, you find yourself on a new life journey. But, a question lingers in the back of your mind, are you truly free of your ex?

A/N: This story is gonna be a slow build up with some twists and turns mixed inside of it. This is an 18+ story, minors DNI! (You will be blocked!) It's gonna be filled with angst and soft!dark moments along with several other themes, but I will put appropriate warnings before each part, so make sure you read them! This is also going to be a multi-fandom au and have several different characters pop in and out. As of right now, I'm not sure how many parts this is going to be, so I will post each part as I go. A little side note, the green divider was made by @saradika, anything else was made by me!

~ Part One: The Right Direction - A friend points you in, hopefully, the right direction of finding out who's been sending you harassing emails.

~ Part Two: It's Nice to Have a Friend - You stop by Jake’s shop for an update, while there, you meet Bucky. You can’t help but have this feeling that the three of you are going to be really good friends.

~ Part Three: Just Another Manic Monday - With the most recent nightmares plaguing you, you nearly forgot about your lesson with Jake.

#a brutal life series #a brutal life #new series #multi part fic #multi fandom #multi fandom series #jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen fandom #jake jensen x female reader

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hesthermay · 2 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 // 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

PAIRING: sergeant hunter x fem!oc reader

SUMMARY: the assignment of miri rocksled to clone force 99 brought an even higher success rate than the two groups presented on their own; in the times of the clone wars a well working and formidable team was necessary for the republic. but little did they know that the decision would become the biggest thorn in the empire's side. master rocksled had never been like other jedi, and the bad batch had never been like other clones, and as they navigate the end of everything they had known and the beginning of something much darker those traits are put to the test. rules no longer exist, lines are blurred, and forbidden waters are tread as the bad batch fight the great fight for everything they deserve.

RATINGS + WARNINGS: general audiences, mature themes, angst, fluff. female oc, jedi!oc, use of she/her, mentions of death/canon typical violence. found family trope. the bad batch time period, follows the timeline of the show.

NOTES: this one...came to me in a matter of days. miri was born quickly yet she is the moment! tbb makes me feral, i apologize for anything that happens during this period in www.hesthermay.tumblr.com history. again, winging it! love it or hate it, it is who i am

STAR WARS MASTERLIST

-: ✧ status: [ongoing]

SEASON 1

part one

part two

in the works !

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honeysuckleharringtons · 5 months

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Part Two: "Déjà Brew" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Back in Hawkins, Reader is still reeling from the news she's just received. Turns out, sometimes the love of a mother might just be the very help you need when times are tough. — (Now) At Brew and Me, Reader struggles with the stress of motherhood and working. Turns out, a visit from her least favorite patron might be the thing she needs to cheer her up.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 2,120

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, mentions of food, mentions of medical-related things, small mention of childhood cancer (not related to any of the main characters in this series), lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: ngl, the writing in this chapter sucks but i promise it gets better!!

Originally Written: 10/08/2023 through 10/12/2023

honeysuckleharringtons' masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, June of 1987 ]

You'd been holding onto the knowledge of your pregnancy for roughly two days, and since then, everything had felt upside down.

You'd looked for every reason possible to not see your boyfriend. You only spoke to your mom and siblings when spoken to. And worst of all, despite the human being growing inside of you, you felt absolutely empty.

You truly wanted to be happy about this. After all, a new human life was forming in your stomach. But the pain of anyone in your small town finding out you were a sinner, and the gossip about how you'd thrown your life away for some guy, it was just too much to bear.

So instead of facing your problems, you'd holed up in your room, lights out and window closed. You only left your room to grab snacks—which lay uneaten on your nightstand—and to use the bathroom. To your family, you were a passing ship in the night, a ghost barely seen. And just when you thought you'd run out of tears, more slipped out of your eyes and onto your pillow, which you were holding like your life depended on it.

It was sometime in the afternoon when Joyce knocked on the bedroom door. You'd cried for so long that you lost track of time, only realizing it was afternoon due to the setting sun peeking through the curtains. "Honey?" she called, barely getting the word out before gently opening the door. She must've registered quickly what was happening, closing the door behind herself in record speed. "Honey, what's the matter?" she cooed, a loving hand meeting your shoulder.

It's now or never, you thought to yourself. Pulling yourself up, you wiped the excess tears away with the pads of your thumbs. "Mom," you sniffled, the word sounding weaker than ever, "I've done a terrible thing."

"I'm sure it's not that bad, my sweet," she said, taking your hands in hers. "You know you can always talk to me, right?"

You nodded, though you were questioning if that statement really was true, considering the bomb you were about to drop on her. More tears involuntarily slipped down your cheeks, your eyes darting anywhere in the room besides her face.

Joyce ran a soft hand through your hair, clicking her tongue lightly. "Honey, I want you to know that you don't have to feel pressured to tell me what's wrong. But I am always here if you do want to tell me."

You forced the words to come out, and you were nearly hyperventilating before you'd even said them. "I don't really know how to tell you, because I'm not quite sure how you'll take it."

Her lips left a soft peck on your forehead, a silent reassurance that she was there for you. An unsteady breath exited your mouth, before you finally said the dreaded words you'd been thinking about for the last forty-eight hours. "The terrible thing is… I'm pregnant. And I have no clue what to do."

You braced yourself for impact, waiting for her to throw you out into the street or scream at you or slap you or anything really. You'd gone over every possible reaction in the book, hoping to find a rebuttal to each one.

Still, the screams never came and her hand never even touched your skin, other than the moment she pulled you into her side. "Oh, honey," she whispered, a tone of sympathy clear in the words.

Tears started to fall once again as she held you close, a gentle hand rubbing soft circles on the small of your back. You'd surely covered the both of you in tears and snot, but truth be told, that was the least of your concerns, given the situation.

"Y/N, you're gonna be okay," she reassured. "I promise, there is nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you. And from here on out, there's nothing that is going to stop me from loving this child. I'm going to be here for you every step of the way. Okay?"

Through your crying, you managed to ask, "You aren't mad at me?" Genuine confusion took over you at her response to the news. You'd been convinced she'd be angry, never considering that she was the one becoming a grandmother.

She clicked her tongue again. "No, I'm still very frustrated with you for doing something this irresponsible. But that doesn't mean I don't love you or this baby."

It felt like all the blood had drained from your body as you lay practically limp in your mother's arms. The air was heavy as she waited for you to say something, anything, but the words never came. Words seemed a million miles away as the discovery of life inside you started to feel all too real.

Some time passed before she spoke again—whether it was two minutes or two hours, you didn't know. Her hand rubbed soft lines over your disposed arm, her touch as warm and welcomed as your favorite childhood blanket. "Honey, I've been where you were before. Maybe not exactly your situation, but I know what this feeling is like—the worry of what the dad is gonna think, the anxiety of caring for two people. It's terrifying. But I've got good news for you," she paused, kissing the top of your head. "You don't have to do it alone. Because I'm gonna be right here."

You weren't sure you gave her a response to that. Full-on sobs were now wracking your body, despite her kind words. Your tears flowed and your chest heaved, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't seem to stop. Panic and fear coursed through you, and as much as you wanted to be happy about this baby, the only true feeling you had at the moment was resentment toward yourself.

[ Now, November of 1991 ]

"Max, honey, do you know what time it is?" you asked, quite frantically. "I left my watch at home this morning."

A knock sounded on the counter behind you. "It's time for me to be your boyfriend," Steve said smugly, giving you a smirk as you turned to face him.

Max glared down at her watch, rolling her eyes at the cheesiness occurring in front of her. "Actually, it's almost 7:30," the redhead answered, pulling down the sleeve of her flannel shirt.

A grateful sigh slipped past your lips. "Ah, sweet freedom," you said before turning your attention back to Steve, who was sporting a curiously teasing look across his face. "What? I've got a hot date with a bubble bath and my feet and backbone couldn't be happier."

"Sounds sexy," he snickered.

Max huffed in fake annoyance as she passed the latte in her hand over to the brunette girl on the opposite side of the counter. "Have a nice evening," she smiled, then turned to you and Steve, to which she quipped, "If I had a dollar for every time one of you told the other something that was inappropriate to say in a coffee shop, I'd make enough money to pay off my student loans."

"Hey, it's not my fault your boyfriend is off playing basketball at Princeton and training for the NBA," you shrugged, joking of course.

Max gave you a fake pout. "That is below the barista belt, Y/N. That's just cruel."

You shot her a playful smile, giving her a sisterly pat on the arm. "Why don't you get started on the tables, hon'?"

And with that, Max was grabbing her cleaning supplies and heading to clean off the abandoned tables. You gave Steve your attention once more, curious as to if he was interested in holding up to his end of the bargain.

He surprised you with the response that came out of his mouth. "I will have a salted caramel latte with almond milk," he said proudly, sure that his answer was right. "Are you ready for that date yet?"

Your lips formed into a thin line, a look of regret coming to your face. "I hate to tell you, Doc, but nut allergies are a very common thing in my family."

"You work with almond milk all the time," he rebutted, a hand on his hip.

Your eyes narrowed in on him, not ready to back down from his challenge. "I don't like caramel."

He scoffed. "Who doesn't like caramel?"

You shrugged. "Me."

"Why don't you just admit that I was right and tell me where you wanna go next weekend?"

"Because you're wrong and I'm busy next weekend," you answered, both responses true.

He finally broke eye contact with you to look over at Max. "Hey, Max, is a salted caramel latte with almond mix Y/N's favorite item on the menu?"

"Everyone knows she hates almond milk," she answered. "I'm disappointed in you for not knowing."

His attention turned to you again, his eyes narrowing in on yours. "How do I know she isn't being paid to say that?"

An exasperated sigh left your mouth. "We make five bucks an hour and you expect me to have extra money to throw at Max? No offense, Max."

"None taken," she laughed, still scrubbing away at one of the tables. "I don't have money to throw at you either."

Steve shook his head in some mixture of disbelief and playfulness. "Would you just get me my coffee? To-go, please."

Your brows furrowed as you got to work on the drink. "What's with the to-go order? You hardly ever get your coffee to-go."

"If you must know, I happen to have a hot date of my own," he said vaguely, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Sounds sexy," you jested. "Who's the girl?"

"A cancer patient in the PEDS ward."

Your expression went from curious to downright confused at his statement. "Do I wanna know how that constitutes as a hot date?"

"She's got a crush on me so I get asked to sit with her on nights that her mom works," he explained, slipping some cash into the tip jar. "It's a hot date because every time I go in her room, she asks me to crank the heater all the way up. I think that's just because she likes the way I look when I'm sweaty."

A gentle smile appeared on your face as you passed him his latte. You thought about your own little girl, who'd be here any minute, and how much you regretted nights like those where she was left to her own devices, left to stay with your mom or one of your brothers instead of the person she needed most.

You shook off the thoughts, taking the money from his opposite hand and placing it in the cash register. "Have a brew-tiful night and enjoy your date, Doc."

And with that, Steve gave you one last playful smirk and headed out the door, but not before a certain little girl ran past him and over to you. Joyce followed suit behind her as Steve held the door open, then began his journey out to his car and, presumably, the hospital.

"Mommy!" Mandy squealed, running around the counter to greet you.

You picked her up, happier than ever to see her, placing a kiss on her soft hair. "Hey, sweetpea," you smiled, love overflowing from you as she wrapped her tiny arms around your neck. "What did you get up to today?"

"Grandma took me to the park!" she answered excitedly, her hazel eyes lit up with delight.

You gasped, playing along with her enthusiasm. "No way! You'll have to tell Mommy all about it."

"Now, don't get mad," Joyce started to say as she walked over to you.

Your brows furrowed. "Mad? Why would I be mad?"

A regretful look came across the woman's face, explaining, "We passed an ice cream truck on the way here and-"

"Mom, you know I always give her one of the leftover cake pops at the end of the day. She can't eat too much sugar."

"I know," Joyce said, "but Jon's in town for Thanksgiving so he's offered to give you us both a night off."

It was selfish, but you'd never been so grateful for your brother to be home. You sighed, setting your daughter back on the ground. "Well then, let's put all that energy to use, shall we?"

And with that, Mandy was hot on your trail, following you around as you worked to close up the shop. You just smiled down at the girl, prouder than anyone had ever been to be a mom. Sure, it was biased, but you were quit certain you had the best girl in the whole world.

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