"I can survive without a leg, asshole."

Honestly, it had been another fucking miracle that they all managed to get back to the Byers home in one piece after everything, somehow even before the others arrived, considering the fact their driver most definitely had a concussion at the fucking least. However, when Max had so kindly put her offer in to drive them once more, it had looked like Steve was about to actually have some kind of aneurysm so Blair was swift to usher the red-head away...so of course, they all had no choice but to climb back into the car with the teen behind the wheel, and somehow feeling even less safe than they had been in the upside down.

And then when they had finally arrived at the house...it seemed like the kids were awake for all of half an hour before passing out on any surface that was available to them. And the witch would of definitely done the same too if she could, but considering she had both Max and Lucas curled into her side, snoring away upon her shoulders as she sat against the wall as well as Dustin cuddling into her good leg, she found that she didn't dare move in the absolute terror that she'd somehow wake the little bastards, because god only knows how much they needed that little nap.

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long for the rest of their party to arrive, the Byers and Nancy carrying a weary Will in their arms who was practically tackled as soon as he limped over the threshold by the suddenly awake children who were swift to embrace him while Jonathan was quick to grab onto Blair and hug her tightly, muttering neck that he'd been worried about her as she replied the same. And then finally, it was Eleven and Hopper coming back to her, rushing to embrace the witch as she pressed desperate kisses into the kids hair while their...dad held them both in his large arms like a mocking shield.

Now, she wished that she could say that they stayed like that for hours, all of them, the people she adored most in the world safe under one roof where she felt like she could keep them safe under the comfort of her magic, under the comfort of her love...but she knew that she had to get the kids back home before a search party began and would ask questions no one had a good enough answer to. And, strangely enough, all it had taken was one look from her for Steve to be standing upon his unsteady legs to take them with the keys already in hand.

But there was a fear curling in Blair's stomach when they drove along, burning deep inside of her that made her feel like she was about to choke on ash with her teeth blackened with soot. Because every time one of the kids left and said goodbye with their shoulders weighed down with the burden of survival and disappeared off into the comfort of their homes...she felt as though a piece of her lonely corpse was taken with them as she watched them all go with her heart pounding inside the bloodied ruin of her throat and her trembling hands curled into fists by her side as they all left her alone.

And then finally, as Dustin gave them one last wave before closing the door ever so gently behind him as to not wake his darling mother, it was suddenly just Blair and Steve left in the overwhelming silence. All of the kids were gone, they were finally fucking home like she'd wanted them to be ever since the shitshow of a day started, safe in their little beds where not even the vile touch of bad dreams could haunt their weary little minds...but now they were gone all she wanted was them beside her again where she could see them with her own eyes...and wasn't that just fucking ironic?

The car rumbled to life once more, loud and roaring as it echoed in her ears and threatened to burst them as she grimaced tiredly, leaning to the side to rest her head against the rocking window as they drove along, lost in the silence even as the familar route to her home that had never looked so small as it did when it came into view, breaking through the tree line and looking down upon them in one large shadow as Steve cut the engine and squinted up at it, trying to remember if it had always looked so blurry or if that was just the concussion taking hold as the witch cursed quietly.

"Okay, come on big boy...let's get you fixed up."

"What?"

"Oh fuck off, asshole. You really expect me to just let you leave looking like that? Yeah no that's not exactly my style so get the fuck up so I can heal those bruises, send you on your way and sleep for like, a month." And perhaps even more than that, she groaned, swiftly tampering down a yawn that tickled her throat in its exhaustion. But much to her relief, it appeared that Harrington didn't have a whole lot of fight left in him as he climbed out of the car and followed after her, complaining all the while, but still walking into her humble abode after watching her struggle on with her stupid fucking keys which was extremely humiliating.

"Alright, go stand near the counter or something, I'm going to get the potion that should heal that mess you're currently calling a face. And don't fucking touch anything because half of this shit in here will fuck you up." Blair warned as Steve followed behind her into the kitchen, waving her hand over her shoulder to said counter as she limped over to where jars of all things witchcraft sat pretty right next to the fridge in ominous promise, some glowing, some moving, some looking like mere smoke in a bottle, but all of them having that vile taste of something powerful in the air as she bent down to grab the bowl that had been stained green.

However, naturally, walking around with her calf bone playing fucking peekaboo with the open air was a recipe for disaster, one of which that she was finally feeling the agonising effects of because they were no longer in danger of being torn apart by vicious monsters...and she no longer had to play the part of being stronger than she felt in the presence of the damned and innocence she'd sworn to protect. And so, it wasn't all that surprising when she took a step and her stupid knee gave out and she bounced her head off her fucking counter with a pained yelp...right in front of Steve who looked torn between laughing and helping.

"Whoah, okay, maybe you should do your leg first, Jones, you look like you're about to pass out, man. I think I can handle a couple of bruises for a bit longer-"

"It's not the bruises I'm worried about. That many blows to your head is a invitation for brain damage...and I don't know what you learned in biology but we can survive without legs, but not so much without a brain." Blair grumbled, rubbing at her forehead with trembling fingers to soothe that sharp sting, before clutching the bowl tighter to her aching chest and slapping the brown-haired boys hands away from where they were touching the wounds scattered upon his swollen face self-consciously with a pointed glare.

"Now, eyes shut and mouth open, Harrington, there's a good boy."

Okay, she really did have to stop calling him a good boy, it was starting to feel strangely intimate everytime those damned words slipped past the bruised seam of her lips. She didn't even know where it had fucking come from, one moment he was just Harrington and the occasional Steve when she was feeling nice, and now she was definitely giving people the wrong impression of their fucking relationship...though it wasn't like he exactly helped matters either by hurling himself through the air to catch her everytime she took even the slightest of tumble or comforting her when she was sick, or even when he became her shitty ass babysitting assistant.

Oh god...were she and Harrington...were they friends? No, they couldn't be, he'd been her sworn enemy for like, years. So fucking what if he was kinder, so what if he had dropped Tommy and Carol for being fucking assholes, so what if he had protected her kids when she couldn't and offered them lifts from school when he was driving Nancy home, so what he apologised to Jonathan, and so fucking what if he was possibly one of the only ones who took a minute to see her for the ruined devastation she was.

Oh, that motherfucker, with his stupid character development, it was like having a golden fucking retriever or some shit, of course she'd been bloody doomed.

It was safe to say that Blair was absolutely furious with that development, in fact, even that seemed too tame of a word to describe that bubbling heat of rage as it festered. The comfort of her anger swallowing her whole as she'd grabbed at Harrington's jaw and wrenched it open like he was a dog before pouring the potion into his mouth without as much as a bottoms up to warn him...watching as he choked and then went still in wide-eyed horror at the feel of something lumpy sliding down his throat. "Eugh- what- what the hell did you just put in my mouth- oh, no, no, no, no- is that- Jones please tell me those weren't frog eggs."

The witch paused, pursing her lips off to the side as she debated just lying to him to stop the impending meltdown in its tracks which she could admit was probably her fault...however, that plan was thrown out if the window when he hiccuped slightly, and from out of his mouth, a singular frog spawn dropped into his lap as they stared at it with two varying expressions of disgust...before he lifted his gaze to glare at her unblinkingly as she winced awkwardly. "Well they weren't just frog eggs...there was also some rosemary, an eye of newt and some vervain...but yeah, there- there was alot of frog eggs there, my bad."

"I'm- I'm going to throw up- Jesus Christ- what is wrong with you?!"

"And that's why I told you to close your eyes. To spare us both the dramatics- don't spit that out- it's going to heal you, you cum-guzzler. Swallow it Harrington, or next time I'll just shove it down your fucking throat, god, it's like being with a toddler."

"If you treated a toddler like this I'd call child services." Steve warbled, obviously disgruntled, leaning over her sink with his face tinged green as he yanked desperately at the small detachable hose to unhinge it and then squirting it into his mouth like a dog with sprinklers, gagging all the while as she rolled her eyes muttering under her breath about how dramatic he was before she popped her own spoonful of the potion. It wasn't even that bad, truly, sure the texture left much to be desired, but there were definitely worse things in the world than some fucking frog eggs.

Everything was fucking hurting, her bones aching in their muscled prison that made her bare her teeth in discomfort, but Blair was nothing if not a martyr as she forced herself to move despite the agony and limped away from where he stood still trying to drown himself by the looks of things, even leaning on her tip-toes to go into the cabinets and grab one of her healing balms, before making her way back over towards him...only for her leg to gave way once again and suddenly, Steve was there, like he always seemed to be, to catch her in his arms with a grunt as they collided and time seemed to just stop.

His large hands covering the entirety of her hips, calloused palms cradling the sharp bones stretching out through her skin as he pinned her back, pulling her away from the harsh reality of the floor beneath them, seeping warmth back into her cold flesh as she swallowed her gasp and held it there in her birdcage chest as he crowded her against the counter until she could feel it against her spine, pressing her to it, holding her steady with his broad shoulders blocking the harsh light of the moonlit windows.

Fuck me, the thought almost slipped out as she stared up at him, large eyes dancing across his features as he stood in front of her in frozen horror, as if just realizing the intimacy of their position, their embrace as his breath brushed across the flushed skin of her cheek in careful puffs, shaky and trembling and soft...before he seemed to just say fuck it and suddenly she found herself being lifted upon on said counter, only having time to blink before Harrington was between her thighs as he gestured up to his bloody face that seemed rather flustered. "There, now you can rest your leg and rub whatever shits in there all over my face, okay? Now everyone's happy, that's great, that's just- great."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better-"

"It won't, it definitely won't, really. Just- just don't tell me what's in those jars and we should be good." Steve grimaced deeply, because even just a fucking whiff of whatever it was that was resting in her palm made him feel physically ill to his stomach and he really didn't want to risk throwing up all over her lap after she'd been weirdly nice enough to fix him up. Plus, something told him that the whole, eating the frog egg crap wasn't going to be a one time thing...he could only count himself lucky that they were a bit friendlier than they had once been or else he'd be choking on sheep brain or something.

And yet, he found himself rather suprised when instead of just shoving it into the crooks of his wounds without a care like he thought she would, Blair instead carefully got to work with her trembling fingers soft against his weary features, swiping it across the swollen edge of his cheekbone, dancing the salve over the split upon his brow, the bruising along his temple with her dark eyes focused as she moved with a comforting grace...it was strange, he thought to himself in the privacy of his own mind, the gentleness of her scarred fingertips, of rough hands that were so quick to harm being so perfect at everything but.

Yet it was in the witches silence that Steve was reminded of the morning before, though it now seemed so long ago after everything that had happened, at the haunted look that had twisted her face, at that fear that she had almost whispered before they'd been interrupted by the curly-haired boy who'd dragged them both there in the first place. "Hey uh, back at Dustin's when- when we were hunting Dart, uh- you said that your magic wasn't right...that it drained you or something. Is- are you better now? Like it's not going to have any long term effects or something, right?"

"What? No- no it's not like that, nothing like that. It's- well, I guess it's hard to explain-" Hard to explain that death was creeping ever closer, that she had been so sure she'd conspire in the darkness of the upside down that she'd tried to ensure it. Hard to explain that she wasn't even scared of dying but simply terrified of leaving them all without her and knowing that it wasn't healthy in the slightest. And it was even harder to explain that she was so delirious with agony and strife that she no longer remembered if it were visions...or merely dreams haunting her like the ghosts of her past.

"What was it that you said to me ages ago? That you wouldn't ask if you didn't care? Come on Jones, lay it on me, pretty sure I owe you anyway considering the obvious here." He said, gesturing towards the healing wounds on his face that were slowly but surely knitting together, the skin melding, forming around the bloodied cuts and purple bruises as it seeped beneath his flesh and blistered around like a flower in bloom, touching him with blessed worship that would soon swallow that darkness whole, like it hadn't even touched him in the first place.

She smiled at that thought, happy to find something good in her magic that didn't come from a place of violence, of flame that had bent to her forceful will because sometimes it was hard to remember that she was more than everyones sworn sword and shield. But obviously, she wasn't exactly going to tell Steve that as she went to pull away...only to have his warm palm encase her wrist like she was made of delicate China and not blood-borne iron and sin. "Hey...you can tell me, you know? I uh, I just want to help. Seriously, I want to-"

"You can't." Blair said simply, yanking herself away from such a gentle touch and placing the balm off to the side without a backward glance as she turned her back to him, hoping desperately that he couldn't hear that her heart had started to pound as she was confronted with the unforgiving nature of her powers that had driven her to despair by showing her the bloodied strings of fate and expecting her to be grateful for the anguish she'd witnessed, for the martyr they'd made of her still breathing corpse. "And if it's all the same to you, I really want to stop talking about this because it's fucking pointless."

"What? Why? Is it- is it because I'm not a mage or whatever? Or because I'm too dumb to understand or something-"

"What? No, no of course not for fucks sake. You can't help because I don't even know how to help- just- shut up, please just shut up-"

Her teeth were bared as she pressed herself further into the counter like a wild animal snapping at willing hands, like a foxes muzzle soaked with her own blood from where she'd torn at the trap on her leg to expose ivory bone to the eyes of the hunter or the saviour she could never tell because they looked the same. And yes, it was her fault for getting too close to the cursed beauty that was humanity, but she was so desperate and hungry for any kind of understanding...and now she was being shown it, and all she could think of were her brethren stuffed and mounted upon walls.

All she could think about was her fellow women that hadn't even been witches when they were burned.

There was nothing more humiliating to Blair that her own desires, nothing more humiliating than her wanting for love in a world that had only gave her hatred, that had set her out into the universe with nothing more than a knife and a match. She wanted to tell him about the visions of death, about the exhaustion of her magic that was draining her of divinity with every hollow breath that lingered in her chest...but the truth was she could never be that selfish, and she could never be that vulnerable...because when the world would ask her about the love she hadn't been given, it was just so easier to respond with cruelty.

"Well maybe if you would just fucking tell me I could try-"

"I don't fucking want to talk about it Harrington- I don't- I can't talk about it, you fucking asshole- just stop fucking talking, stop talking, stop talking, stop talking, stop talking, stop talking-" and then, her chest was burning, bone-deep aching clawing at her throat as her vision flickered, as it began to turn red as she gasped for breath with everything rushing towards her, hurling her off into the abyss of hysteria and rage that would just never fucking leave her. Not now, she begged, please god not now, she pleaded in a prayer of desperation...but when had fate ever listened to the mournful cries of the reckless and the damned.

Just like that she was dissolving, sliding down the the floor with howling sobs slipping through her trembling lips as the world started spinning around her, drowning her in the ghosts of her memories, of her anger that haunted her like phantoms searching for vengeance. It was all too much, everything that had happened, everything that she'd seen, that she hadn't given herself time to grieve over, and without a second throught, she was raising her fists and slamming them into the side of her head, again and again to try and settle the thoughts tearing her apart as her scarred knuckles split and bathed her face with crimson as she screamed.

Shut up, shut up, shut up- can't you hear that clocks ticking? Can't you feel it creeping closer? Who's going to protect your darling hearts when you're gone? Who's going to miss you when you're rotting and dead-

And then, suddenly, there were careful hands around her wrists touching her like she was something sacred, something so very fragile as they tugged them away from their violent intentions, not flinching as she snarled, trying desperately to slap at herself with a frantic desperation to make the pain she felt inside of herself visible to her disbelieving eye...but they didn't move, didn't drift from the sturdy hold that put a stop to her desire to ruin. The voices chased away with something louder- no, no- not louder, something closer, something kinder, something that tethered her back to humanity.

"You're okay, Jones. You're okay- you're fine- I've got you, just breathe? Yeah, yeah just focus on your breathing or something- where the fuck is Byers when you need him, jesus christ-"

Blair swallowed shakily as Steve's low murmurs was caught in the wind mess of her hair, as such words finally registered, falling back into the bottomless pit of her body to find her back somehow pressed against his chest, safe and crowded between his bent legs, their bodies intertwined upon her kitchen floor as he held her tingling hands against her chest that had long since became numb. Tension thick in the air and heavy on her tongue with the weight of it as it lingered around the two teens bonded by trauma as they sat together with only the moon to bare witness to their strife and unease.

However...all the young girl could focus on, truly focus on, grasping at it like it was a lifeline was the fact that he'd actually stayed, that he hadn't ran away like so many had done when confronted with the cruelty inside of her mind, like even her crowning saint Jonathan had done when he had spilled her juicebox when they were younger and had watched her explode for the very first time.

And she never blamed him for it, she'd never blamed anyone for running away from the monstrous beast inside her that was destruction made human because she knew if there was ever a chance she could do the same she would. Because ever since she'd been born she wished she could tear herself away, wished she could peel back the layers of her skin and slip away from her bones and slither into the soul of someone else where she could pretend she'd been cherished...and that's why it was so confusing to find Steve Harrington of all people, still by her side. "Wow...you're really fucking awful at comforting someone."

"Fuck- yeah that's great, thank you for that, really helpful."

She huffed out a chuckle, more a pity laugh than anything else at his disgruntled tone before she slowly glanced up at him, her whole body shaking as he looked down at her earnestly, gently sliding his hand from her wrist, to the hollow of her arm, to her neck and upwards until he could push a fallen curl behind her ear carefully. "Look, I was uh, I was a douchebag last year, I know I was and I'm sorry. And all that king Steve bullshit can go suck a rock for all I care, okay? He's gone and he's not coming back...and I want to help you, Blair...in any way I can, y'know? Let me take some of that weight off your shoulders because I want to be...better. I really want to be better."

"You are better, Steve. You're you."
_______________________________________________

And a mere fucking hour later had Blair wanting to vomit as the conversation they'd had echoed in her mind, bouncing off the walls of her stupid brain as she cleaned the kitchen counter with a deep set grimace upon her face, listening to the barely there sound of the water running in the bathroom where she'd vanished Harrington to clean away the blood that still stained his face. Mortified honestly seemed too gentle of a word to describe how she felt at her vulnerability, at her cursed weakness that he'd watched when she'd crumbled in on herself like rotting petals.

God, she just had to have a fucking episode right then and there didn't she? Her dysfunctional head couldn't of fucking waited just a little longer until she was completely and utterly alone to drown her in the dark abyss of the unpleasantness of her mind, to paint her in a tragedy where the blood on her teeth was something to pity instead of something to fear...no, of course not, because when had she ever been that fucking lucky to her merciless fate?

She grumbled under her breath, lost over the steep pounding of her heart that seemed no closer to slowing than it had been before, slapping the bloodied cloth that she'd used to clean her own wound upon the counter with a frown tugging at her lips in disgust because of the ruin that stained it. Well, she was pretty sure she was going to have a gnarly scar after this, because unfortunately, learning to hide blemishes in the flesh was a spell she had yet to learn from her grimoires of wickedness...and she could only really count herself blessed that she still had a leg left to fucking scar after everything, fucking demodog, she should of tortured the little cunt.

And then she suddenly heard rather loud footsteps making their way down the stairs that abruptly tore her attention away from such damning thoughts that scared the absolute shit out of her, and she looked up just in time to see Harrington coming back into the kitchen with a rather awkward grace about him as he pushed the wet strands of hair from out his face, looking marginally better and cleaner than he had been with one of her towels folded behind his neck to insure he didn't get water all over her flooring.

"Well I, uh...I guess I should probably get going, it's getting late and knowing my luck I'll end up falling asleep behind the wheel or some shit."

"Your parents not going to freak out with you going home like that? Your clothes are drenched in dirt and blood, asshole, you couldn't of tried to give yourself a quick scrub down in the bathroom? You look like you've dug your way out of a fucking grave." Which wasn't exactly that far from the truth given their little expedition into the upside down...not that he could tell them that of course. Sometimes she almost felt sorry for the others, never being able to tell their parents the fucking trauma they been cursed with the weight of the world upon their shoulders...but then she remembered that she had nothing and she forgot about such pity swiftly.

Loneliness was her burden to bare and it had lingered for her whole life, she had carried it around until it had begun to resemble every bad memory, every terrible fear, every fucking nightmare she had ever had until she was delighted in the solitude that was as disgusting and as ugly as she'd felt inside.

"What? Oh- uh, no...they're not home, dad's away on some business trip and, uh, mom doesn't really trust him so she went with him, obviously." Steve snorted but there was no amusement in the sound, if anything, it sounded like pure spite scratched in the long column of his throat, all bitterness that had never dared slip out of his lips in fear of what would be said in return, in fear of being ripped open and found unsightly, of being found to be bullshit. "I mean- last year I had Nancy but uh...its not like I can go there anymore. It'll be fine though, it's not like I'm twelve again freaking out after watching some shitty horror movie."

Now honestly, Blair didn't have the slightest clue on who he was trying to convince, the witch standing by the sink or himself...but she was confident in her belief that either way, he was doing a pretty shitty job of it as she shrugged her shoulders and leaned against the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest and her dark brows furrowed. "No, you just had to live through one this time."

"Yeah...right well I'll uh- I'll get out of your hair. Seriously, thank you for- for everything, really, the face and the Hargrove situation...you really had my back. Take it easy, Jones." He smiled softly, something warm and almost fond in his brown eyes as he tapped his knuckles against the counter, looking down at her with something she couldn't decipher in his gaze that lingered...before he was walking away as she watched him go, nervously clenching her hands into fists and digging her nails into the scarred skin as he got further away from her, threatening to leave her alone in the dark without a hint of light in sight.

"Do you want to stay the night?"

It took the witch a few moments to realise that it had been her who'd asked the question just as Steve's palm encased the door handle, not even feeling it fall from her poisonous mouth, not even noticing she'd spoken at all until he slowly turned to look at her and she found herself repeating herself ever so quietly. "If you want to stay you can, I know you don't want to be alone and I know I certainly fucking don't after everything, and I've got some spare clothes and a toothbrush and crap somewhere in this shithole...you can even stay in my room since I'm feeling generous, just- if you want, it's okay if you don't, obviously-"

But before she could even attempt to take the offer back, stumbling over her words, embarrassed to be caught being so fucking vulnerable and desperate for a way to swallow the decaying cowardice she had let fester in the open air...Steve was suddenly leaping away from the door as if it had burned him through. "Yes- no- wait, I mean, uh, where would you sleep? Don't take it personally but your sofa has seen some better days."

Her lips twitched into a barely there smile, hiding her grin behind the mess of her hair because honestly, she had expected some awkward avoidance, perhaps even some half-assed gratitude before her fellow teen was running out for the hills to get the hell away from the Blair bitch...she didn't even think in a million years that he'd actually accept her offer with fucking enthusiasm. "I'll probably just go in my gram's room. Unless you want to sleep in an old dead ladies bed then by all means, be my guest."

Obviously he ended up choosing her room, much to the suprise of no one considering she hadn't exactly sold the great experience of grams bed that still smelled of stale cigarettes and whiskey no matter how much she scrubbed it down and stripped it, it was like the stench was literally buried deep into the goddamn mattress itself...but luckily for the young witch, she had long since started thinking of that smell as comforting instead of stifling, all because it reminded her of times where her greedy heart had been sated and warm.

And yet tonight, as Blair lay amongst the sheets with her blanket pooled around her waist and her dark eyes staring up to the ceiling, all her mind could fucking focus on was the haunting mirage of what ifs echoing around her, biting at her with their sharp teeth with taunts about the slowness of her magic, the redness of her blood when it had bathed the grounds crimson, about what would of happened if she had just been a tad slower, if her sister hadn't of arrived with the monster science had made of her.

She was awake and dreaming of massacre, of black and red agonies and hungry claws sunk deep into hollow bones...she was awake and dreaming of the destruction she could feel mounting around her.

What was real? What was fake? Could she even trust her own mind anymore? Her awful and cruel mind that seemed so close to tearing itself apart to show the climactic end of her everlasting ruin? Was that the price she paid for the magic inside of her? For the resurrection of rage that blistered like a storming sea to drown out everything that had once been blessed and held sacred...was she merely a ticking time bomb that was getting closer and closer to detonating and taking this whole wretched world with her?

Was she ever going to be anything more than a fucking selfish martyr?

The questions kept coming, echoing around in circles above her head as her trembling breath was lost to the rumbling thunder outside that seemed to be drifting and closing the distance that had once been between them, unapologetic as it roared in her ears and made her home shake at the vengeful fury it radiated. Every time her eyes merely fluttered shut, everything she held dear exploded behind her lids, tricking her with memories of what happened...letting her watch as she saved her family, as she damned her family, the kids home safe where they belonged and the kids ripped apart by ruin and the wrongness of the upside down.

Her magic was paralyzing her to silence, to the madness of the moon-drunk agony, swallowing her down in an abyss where there seemed to be no reach in sight as she desperately clawed at the darkness and tried to remember what was real in her isolation.

And eventually, Blair had no choice but to rise from the sweat soaked sheets with a desperation in her gut, lightning bathing her in its sharp glow as she moved around the home with her footsteps quiet against the wood like a ghostly apparition that drifted through like a vision, already knowing where she was going, the destination in mind...finally stopping from her moonlit walk when she found herself standing outside of her bedroom, her scarred fingers dancing over the door handle with a prayer clinging to her tongue...before she pushed it open ever so slowly.

"Jones? What are you still doing up?"

Steve's voice was a gentle murmur, rising up from the bed with his warm brown eyes hazy with the bliss of sleep that slipped away from him in the dying light, staring up at the witch who honestly didn't know herself why she was there as she blinked at him, mouth breathlessly opening and closing as she tried to say something, tried to say anything instead of just standing there...but nothing came up, nothing but the bone-deep hope's that he could see what she wanted painted across her face.

And for a moment, it was like the roles had reversed, like he was the one with magic beneath his veins as he read her expression like his favourite story, as he leaned across her bed to grab onto the corner of the blanket and lift it like an invitation, watching her with a warm gaze as she swiftly crawled inside, trembling from limb to limb and blaming it upon the cold draft, cursing all the while under her breath as he chuckled and shifted away from her cold feet and pointed elbows that were keen to catch him in the ribs, practically tucking her in as she finally lay down beside him, sighing in bliss at the silence of her mind.

"One word Harrington, one fucking word of this getting out and I'm turning you into a frog."

"...Eat shit, Jones."

"The fuck did you just say to me, you long-legged fuck-!"

DISCLAIMER;
Okay so hello I'm not dead, however I am currently at university so updates are going to be few and far between, so please don't hound me fir updates I promise I am trying my best. And- quick question for y'all, obviously season three is coming up soon, and I was wondering if you want me to jump straight into it, or have around ooooh let's say 3-4 chapters of just Blair shenanigans with everyone? Some of which may include a haunted house, a sleepover, and date that was definitely not a date.