#but also a kind of off kilter day

[cerbreus]

🚣‍♂️

[orcelito]

Had a moment of "Why do I feel so melancholy haha" and then I remembered that my uncle literally died yesterday

I've been compartmentalizing like crazy I guess

[purposefully-lost]

theo after his fall has a lot of breathing problems send tweet

[hellodarling1357]

Tiny Toes: Part 7 - Cassian x Reader

Hello hello hello!! It's only been...five months... (sorry) but I am back and have some goodies lined up for you all.

To get us started, here's the next, long-awaited part of Tiny Toes - I did see everyone's messages and they all meant so, so much. You have no idea! So thank you for all your kind words and encouragement!

I've schooched away from the timeline a bit with this one and jumped ahead a little, I might be bouncing back and forth while I get back into the rhythm of things but everything will line up in the end.

Please let me know your thoughts, seeing all of your comments and messages truly make my day and inspire me to keep writing!

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 7k (oohh it's a long one!!)

You can read the previous part here

Recent news of disturbances throughout the Continent had sent the High Lords into a state of panicked caution – memories of Hybern and Amarantha still raw in the aftermath of the war. As a result, Rhysand and the rest of his inner circle had been staying in the Dawn Court at Thesan’s palace, alongside the other High Lords and their courts, as they debated what to do next and planned how best to stay on top of the situation to prevent further conflict from crossing into Prythian’s shores.

Unfortunately for both you and Ottie, this meant Cassian’s absence was now pushing into its fifth week. Selfishly, you wanted him home with you; had you had a say, you would have never wanted him to leave in the first place. Cassian had also been reluctant to go, memories of the teary farewell still made your heart throb, however, he would never be able to live with the guilt of abandoning his duties and responsibilities to both his High Lord and Court. Even though you knew it was for the best, that didn’t stop the longing ache that came from missing him so desperately. You hadn’t realised it was even possible to miss someone this much, yet this had been the longest the two of you had been apart since falling into each other’s lives, the longest Cassian had ever spent away from Ottie, and you found everything slightly off kilter and as though it was all at a standstill without him by your side.

In Cassian’s absence, Ottie had very quickly wormed her way into his side of the bed. Usually, the two of you discouraged her from doing so, cherishing the limited time you had to simply be together at the end of the day without the interruption of a small, yet demanding, child, as well as Cassian’s taxing duties as General and your own work. However, waking up that first morning without Cassian in cold, unrumpled sheets had you quickly agreeing when Ottie had asked if she could have a sleep over with you.

The goodbyes had been hard. You had all decided to make the most of the day that Cassian was set to leave as the inner circle weren't required to get to the Dawn Court until later that night. The three of you had woken up early to make pancakes and Cassian’s special hot chocolate before heading out into Velaris to walk along the Sidra and grabbing lunch at your favourite little café that overlooked the shimmering water.

Upon returning home, Ottie had announced that she needed exactly 23 minutes to prepare as she ushered you and Cassian into the kitchen, closing the doors firmly behind her. Neither of you said much in those 23 minutes, choosing instead to bask in the silence, only interrupted by a few bumps and Ottie’s hurried “everything’s fine”, and being in one another’s company. Cassian had leant against the kitchen counter, pulling you snuggly into his arms and enveloping the two of you even closer together as his wings draped around you. In return, you had wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, burying your face into his chest as he pressed kisses to the top of your head.

“I’m going to miss you,” your voice came out muffled as you pressed tighter against him, willing away the tears that had started to trek down your cheeks.

“I’d hope so.”

You looked up, ready to chastise him for not returning the sentiment but instead found yourself crumbling even further at the emotion you found on his face. There was too much happening for words, the unknown of when he would be home as well as the unknown of what may lay ahead if what was happening on the Continent turned into a bigger threat. So instead, you lifted your hands and gently wiped away his tears, heart fluttering as Cassian turned to press a chaste kiss to your palm that rested against his cheek, his eyes refusing to leave yours as he let out a shaky breath. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you leant up on your toes, relishing in the feel of his arms tugging you even closer against him as he spun the two of you around and lifted you up onto the counter, your legs habitually wrapping around him as you pulled him closer so as to capture his lips with your own.

“Okay! I’m ready. You can come out now,”

Cassian made a disappointed noise at Ottie’s interruption, slumping against and leaning his forehead against your shoulder in defeat.

“Mum! Dad!”

Ottie’s singsong voice was laced with a threatening degree of impatience, making Cassian huff a sigh and quietly comment, “she’s too bossy for her own good.”

You laughed as you reached up to kiss him again before he helped you off the counter, one hand lingering between your shoulder blades as he led you into the living room, or what had once been the living room. In its place, a giant blanket fort had taken over the space with Ottie poking her head out of the opening, her face breaking into a wide grin as she ushered you both inside.

“Where did all these blankets and pillows even come from?” You asked, noting that most of them you had never seen before. Cassian just shrugged in response, eyes narrowing in on what lay in the centre of the rug.

“I’m not even going to ask where you got these, Otts.” Cassian promptly ignored the guilty look that graced Ottie’s face as he picked up one of the choc-chip cookies before making himself comfortable and pulling you down to sit snug against him. You smiled to yourself, realising the display of treats were more than likely from Elain and making note to yourself to ask your friend when she had dropped them off to figure out exactly how long Ottie had been storing them for.

“So, what’s the plan?” Cassian asked Ottie as he held out his half-eaten cookie for you to share. Ottie simply pointed to the large pile of games with a wicked grin on her face that had you both rolling your eyes, realising she expected you to play every single one.

*****

“You know,” Ottie started, as she slumped against Cassian’s chest from where she sat in his lap. “It would be a lot easier to play if there were more of us.”

“Hmm? How do you mean?” You absentmindedly asked, placing down your cards and smugly grinning across at Cassian and Ottie as you scored an extra 20 points, earning a groan in response.

“Well, just that if there were more of us, we wouldn’t always need to play two-against-one, or one-against-one-against-one.”

She had a point in that, the three of you had already circled through ‘boys against girls’, ‘wings against no wings’, ‘adults against kids’ multiple times throughout the afternoon.

“Maybe next time we have a games afternoon we can invite the others around?” you suggested, watching as Ottie placed down the cards Cassian silently handed her, completely missing the scrunched expression of frustration on Ottie’s face and the way Cassian had tensed up and remained silent throughout the whole conversation.

“Or,” Ottie stretched the word out causing you to look up in curiosity as you tried to catch Cassian’s eye who busily looked through his remaining cards in an attempt to avoid your gaze, “you could just have a baby.”

Cassian let out a sigh and it was now your turn to freeze in place as the words lingered in the space between. Sure, you had spoken about having kids together and you definitely wanted them with Cassian, but you didn’t feel ready yet. Joining their family had already been such a detour from the life you had imagined yourself living at this point in time, and while you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world, you still wanted the time to enjoy your life as it currently was.

You knew Cassian wanted another child and that he would jump at the chance as soon as you agreed, yet, despite feeling guilty as you noted his disappointment when you first told him not yet, the sense of relief that had washed over you when he quickly changed the conversation was telling enough in itself to prove that you weren’t ready yet.

Tuning back into the conversation as Ottie listed all the reasons why she thought she should have a baby brother or sister, your eyes landed on Cassian, finding him already looking back at you with a tentative expression. He didn’t seem shocked or caught off guard so Ottie must have already brought this up with him.

You opened your mouth, to say what you weren’t quite sure, but Cassian saved you from having to fumble for words as he abruptly clapped his hands together, “how about we start on dinner, that way, Ottie, you can have your surprise treat before bedtime.” At the mention of the words surprise and treat, all thoughts of a sibling appeared to immediately vanish as she scrambled out of Cassian’s lap and towards the blanket ford entrance.

“Nuh-uh, Ottie, you know the rules; if you make a blanket fort you need to pack it up, alright? You get to cleaning and Mum and I will start making dinner.”

The bubble of amusement at Ottie’s groan of annoyance as she stomped up the stairs, laden with pillows, was quick to pop once you realised you and Cassian were now alone. You turned towards him, already feeling his eyes on you, and were met with a soft and knowing expression.

“Cass…”

“Y/N, its fine.” His tone was comforting yet you couldn’t help but feel as though you were disappointing him.

“No, you know that it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…”

“Not yet, I know and its fine. We have Ottie and once you’re ready…once we’re ready, then we can talk about it.” He held out a hand which you took, letting him pull you up off the floor, a small smile gracing your lips when he didn’t pull his hand away and, instead, squeezed yours and soothingly rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand.

You let out another sigh, “Cass…” you tried again but were abruptly silenced as he pressed his lips against yours.

“Stop,” He pulled away but held your gaze, “I love you and we have all the time in the world. Even if you decide that just Ottie is enough, it won’t change anything between us, alright?”

Noting that the hesitant look on your face remained, he kissed you again, putting everything into it until he felt your tension ebb away. “Now enough of this, I don’t want to spend my last few hours here having you feeling like this. Come on, let’s start on dinner. Ottie won’t be happy if it gets too late and she misses out on her treat.” Cassian nipped at your ear, his own concern leaving him after hearing the small giggle you let out. Finally satisfied, he slung his arm over your shoulders and headed towards the kitchen.

“You know she won’t be going to bed while you’re still here, treat or not, she’s going to want to stay up until you need to leave.”

“Well, we can’t have that, she’ll be a nightmare for you tomorrow and then you’ll never want to have another one…” He let out a playful yelp as you smacked his stomach, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Besides, I want at least a few uninterrupted hours alone with you before I have to leave...”

Rolling your eyes you move to pull away, but Cassian was faster as he spun you back around to face him, leaning down to kiss your lips once more and then the tip of your nose before brushing the hair away from your face and giving you a lovesick smile that you couldn’t help but return.

*****

The three of you slumped against the plush, green couch, Cassian in the middle with you and Ottie tucked in either side of him as you finished off the final few crumbs of the slice of chocolate cake Ottie had wanted to share. The young Illyrian let out a loud yawn that she quickly tried to cover up, “that’s so weird, because I’m not even tired.” You raised your brows and shared a look with Cassian who was shaking his head, an amused smirk lighting up his face.

“Hey, Otts? I know it’s not your bedtime yet, but can you do me a favour?” Ottie sat up and gave her dad a suspicious look as she waited for him to continue. “I was hoping you would let me tuck you in early tonight and read you a few stories? I’m going to miss you while I’m away and I’m going to miss bedtimes so was hoping for one more before I have to go?”

Ottie looked back and forth between the two of you before letting out a dramatic sigh, “Fine.” With that, she slid off the couch and grabbed both yours and Cassian’s hands as she began walking towards the stairs and up to her room.

“Very smooth,” you murmured into Cassian’s ear, he just gave you a wink before leaning down to scoop Ottie up, causing her to let out a squeal as he bounded up the remaining steps.

*****

After taking in turns to read Ottie eight different books, she was now tucked into bed with the two of you lying either side of her, tightly gripping your hands as she began to slowly succumb to sleep. Cassian was still as he played with her hair, silently watching her and taking in every little movement and feature. You stayed just as still, just as silent, as you took in the scene before you, knowing that the minutes were ticking by too fast in the count down to Cassian leaving.

“I love you, Ottie.” Cassian whispered the words as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

A sleepy smile spread over Ottie’s face, “I love you too, Dad.” Soon enough her breathing evened out and soft snores filled the room.

Looking past Ottie’s small frame, your eyes met Cassian’s and the tears you found there had the ones you had been fighting so hard to keep back finally escape down your cheeks. Cautiously, Cassian slowly moved, testing just how deeply Ottie was asleep before nodding his head towards the door. You both carefully got up, Cassian leaning back down to fuss over Ottie as he tucked her in further and brushed her hair away from her face before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Moving around the bed to stand beside Cassian, you put a hand on his back and rubbed soothing circles across it, waiting for him to make the move to leave.

“Alright,” Cassian whispered, taking your hand and leading you out of the room, “now I want to properly say goodbye to you.”

You had just managed to silently close Ottie’s bedroom door before letting out a yelp as Cassian suddenly picked you and threw you over his shoulder before determinedly walking towards your own bedroom door.

*****

“Stop,” you laughed, a half exasperated, half amused expression on your face, “you’re being ridiculous.”

Cassian just winked up at you from where he rested between your legs, “I’m just making sure you won’t forget about me while I’m away.” He looked back down, a devilish grin spreading as he admired his work, you just groaned as you finally saw the marks he worked so hard to leave already appearing across your hip bones, trailing further and further down.

Pulling himself back up your body, Cassian sprawled himself out over the top of you, trapping you beneath him as your legs intertwined once more, his face burrowed in the crook of your neck as you let your fingers run through his hair. You let the silence envelop you, knowing your time was up but neither of you wanting to acknowledge it.

After what felt like both seconds and years, Cassian shifted, now leaning on his elbows as he looked down at you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. You felt the sting behind your eyes return and knew you wouldn’t be able to speak, so instead you leant up to kiss him. “I have to go…” Cassian said, eventually pulling away just fair enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes still shut tightly as he held you close.

“I know,” you murmured back, kissing him softly once more before you both reluctantly started to pull apart.

Throwing on the shirt Cassian had been wearing, you watched from where you sat on the edge of your bed as Cassian got dressed.

“Do you know where my –”

“In the corner of the wardrobe.” Knowing he was asking about the boots you had been reminding him to get out all week. Cassian gave you a sheepish look as he ducked into the dressing room, causing you to huff out a laugh as you laid back down and stared up at the ceiling.

“Oh!” Cassian’s voice echoed out to you, “look what I just found.”

You sat back up just in time to catch the small woollen jumper that Ottie would have worn at just a few months old.

“It’s so tiny,” you held the small item up as Cassian sat beside you, leaning down to tie up his laces, “where was this?”

“It must’ve fallen down the back, it was poking out from underneath the drawers. Can you believe she was ever this small?” Cassian sat back up and reached for the jumper, trailing the small cut out sections in the back that once would have fit her wings. A pang of guilt coursed through you at the look on Cassian’s face, knowing what he was thinking about. You weren’t sure if it was the heightened emotions brought on by such an overwhelming day or the images of Cassian holding a small baby that raced to the front of your mind that had you wanting to say something.

“About before, what Ottie brought up –”

“Y/N, we don’t need to do this now, it’s –”

“No, Cass, I was just going to say that maybe… maybe, once you get back, we should talk about it again. Properly this time. I was caught off guard when Ottie mentioned it but…” you trailed off, not quite sure where to go next.

Cassian released a breath, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you against his side and kissed your temple.

“When I’m back, we’ll talk.” You could tell he was trying to keep a neutral expression for your sake, but there was no missing the sparkle that ignited in his eyes and the way the corner of his lips twitched as though holding back a grin. “Fuck, Rhys is going to kill me. I’m going to be so late…”

Your heart dropped as Cassian stood, taking your hand to pull you up off the bed before guiding you to the door. He stopped outside of Ottie’s door, quietly opening it to peek inside and, seeing that she was still fast asleep, let out another shaky breath before whispering “I love you, Ottie” as he closed the door once more. You squeezed his hand in reassurance, “we’re going to be fine, Cass. We’ll miss you, so much, but we will be fine.” Cassian just grimly nodded in response as you made your way down the stairs.

All you could do was stare at one another, your hands were grasped firmly in his calloused ones, as you stood by the front door.

“You’ve got to go,” you whispered, tears freely falling now as you realised this was the last time you would be seeing him for weeks or, Cauldron forbid, months.

A pained expression crossed his face as he softly wiped the tears away before leaning down to kiss you. You quickly moved again him, the two of you melding together before a soft cough that indicated another person’s presence had you pulling apart.

“I figured you would need a little longer to say goodbye. Thought I would winnow us both over, save you the hassle of flying and experiencing Rhys’ telling off for being late,” Azriel’s low voice broke through the silence as you both turned to face him.

“Hi, Az.” You said, voice shakier than you intended it to be. Cassian simply nodded at his brother as his hand tightly squeezed yours.

“Y/N.” He greeted back with a smile that did nothing to hide the sombre expression that had been becoming a more permanent fix as the going-ons of the Continent continued to surface.

Cassian turned back to you; brows pinched as his eyes scanned your face. You offered him a small smile, not knowing how to make the goodbye any easier.

“I love you,” he said, repeating the words over and over again in a whisper between the hurried kisses he gave you.

“I love you.” No other words were needed as Cassian grimly nodded, leaning down to kiss you once more before taking a step towards where Azriel stood.

“Stay safe,” you called out, doing your best to stop yourself from racing after him, “both of you.”

Cassian’s turned back to face you as soon as he was beside Azriel, every emotion conveyed in a single look.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll keep him out of trouble,” Azriel replied in an attempt to lighten the weight of what they were about to head into and the significance in the changes that could come about over the following weeks.

*****

Five weeks and three days later

You and Ottie had just gotten home after spending the evening with Elain and Nyx, who she was looking after whilst Feyre and Rhys were in the Dawn Court.

“Mum?” Ottie asked as you slid into bed beside her, “Can I please have two stories tonight?”

“Two? Otts, you look like you could barely stay awake for one. Are you sure? You’ve had a pretty big day.” You had gone into work, so Ottie had spent the day with her friend, Ciela, and, after picking her up, the two of you had then headed straight to the River House.

“Please…”

“Okay, fine. What do you want tonight?”

Whilst you read aloud, Ottie had snuggled up against you, but you could tell by her fidgeting that she was far from sleep.

“…the end.” You finished, placing the book on the bedside table and looking down at your daughter who was staring vacantly at the ceiling, only moving once you had settled back beside her so that she could hold onto you once more.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

“Yep.” But the deflation in her voice didn’t ebb your concern. Instead of pushing her to answer, you wrapped your arms around her and stroked her hair, hoping to offer some form of comfort as she muddled over her thoughts.

You had almost thought she had drifted to sleep and had begun to doze off yourself when Ottie suddenly sat up and looked at you with a determined expression.

“Mum?” You sat up as well, giving her a soft smile to encourage her to continue. “You know how before Dad left, I said I wanted a baby brother or sister? Well, I’ve changed my mind, I like that it’s just the three of us. Maybe we can get a dog? Dad’s always saying he wants a dog and that it would be really fun. And then the dog can keep you company when we’re flying and you’re on the ground, and it will also be able to…”

Ottie continued to list all the reasons why you should get a dog, yet you were waiting for her to drop the reason for her sudden change of heart in regard to a sibling. In Cassian’s absence, your mind had run amuck with imaged scenarios and that promised conversation you were to have upon his return.

“Well,” you interrupted Ottie’s rambles, noting the way she almost frantically avoided eye contact. “We can definitely talk about getting a dog once Dad is back. But how come you no longer want a little brother or sister?”

“I just don’t…” her voice was muffled as she slumped back against the pillows, pulling the blankets over her head.

Letting out a sigh, you racked your brain for what could’ve caused the sudden change but came up blank. Just this morning she had been telling you that if she had a sibling she wouldn’t need to have gone to Ciela’s because she would have someone at home to play with – completely missing the fact that it was the child caring factor that was the concern at hand. With Ottie yet to lift the blankets away from her face, you tried for another tactic and laid back down beside her, pulling the other half of the blanket over your own head.

“Does Ciela have any siblings?”

“Yes, three”

“What are they like?” You asked, maybe it had something to do with one of them picking on the girls…

“They’re alright,” Ottie shifted closer to you, and you were quick to pull her into a hug that she immediately melted into. “One of them is too little to play, the other one was at the big kids’ school today, and the other one is a grown up.”

“Did you tell Ciela you wanted to be a big sister?”

“Yes…” her voice trailed off into a whisper and she took in a shaky breath, burring her face tighter against you.

“Oh? What did she have to say about that?”

“Nothing really…,” Ottie squirmed a bit before continuing, “but she said she had heard her mum talking about you and daddy to Niamh’s mum.” You let out a sigh, knowing you were close and not liking where this could be heading. You knew people talked about you and Cassian and the cliché of you being his nanny before getting together, you only hoped they had the common decency not to bring a four-year-old into the mix.

“Did Ciela tell you what they said?”

There was a beat of silence before her quiet “…yes.”

You could only just make out Ottie’s response before she was sniffling and curling in on herself. Pulling the blankets away you scooped Ottie into your arms and held her tightly against you, one hand rubbing up and down her back while the other soothed her hair as she quietly sobbed into the crook of your neck.

“Sweetheart,” you started after a few moments, pressing a kiss to the top of her head once her sobbing turned into quiet sniffles. “I need you to tell me what happened, please? Otherwise I won’t know what to do to fix this and make you feel better.”

“They said… They said that when you and daddy have a baby,” her shaky intake of breath had your heart breaking even further at the inner turmoil she must have been hiding from you all afternoon. “That you will send me away to live in the Autumn Court because… because I’m not…”

You pulled back to look her in the eye, blood thrumming in your ears as you waited with bated breath for her to finish saying those dreaded few words, doing your best to quell your anger and focus on the girl in front of you.

“Because you’re not what, Ottie?”

“Because I’m not your real daughter. And when you have your own baby, you won’t want me anymore.”

The few beats in which Ottie’s eyes welled with tears as she hid her face against you gave you all but a moment to compose yourself and decide how you wanted to navigate the situation.

“Well,” you started, keeping your tone light, “that is just the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, and you’ve heard some of the things your dad says...” Ottie pulled back and looked up at you with wide eyes, lower lip still trembling as she processed your words. “Of course you’re my daughter, I mean, sure I didn’t give birth to you, but that’s hardly the point. Ottie, I have been in your life since before you could crawl, besides, how else would I know how to make your favourite meal, or how to do your hair just the way you like, or the fact that you only like chocolate brownies if half the chocolate is melted and the other half is in chunks, it if I wasn’t your mum?”

You let out a sigh of relief as Ottie wiped away the few remaining tears, a small tug of a smile beginning to appear. “And why would we ever send you away to the Autumn Court? That’s just silly, your home is here, with us. The only time we would ever send you away is if you got to, like, 187 and still lived at home with us, although even then we might still keep you here, we just love you that much.”

“Really?”

“Of course. You are my whole world, Ottie. Everything changed for the better when you and your dad came into my life, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. And if we do have another child, we’re going to need you around to help us out and to teach them how to be just as amazing as you are.”

“I love you, mummy.” You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and then to her cheeks.

“I love you so, so much, sweetheart.”

You blinked away your tears as Ottie wrapped her arms around you, holding her tightly until she was ready to pull away.

“So, do you think you’re up for the job of being a big sister?” You asked, tickling Ottie’s sides and relishing in the sound of her melodic giggles.

“Yeah, I think so,” Ottie looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing, “please can it be a girl? I don’t want another boy here, daddy is enough.”

You let out a laugh, “I agree, leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Wow, I’ve been gone all of five weeks and the two of you have already kicked me out of my bed and decided that it’s a girls-only house. Maybe I should leave and stay with Uncle Rhys and Auntie Feyre, at least Nyx appreciates me.”

Your heart froze at the sudden voice, not having heard anyone approach, and then it completely melted at the sight of Cassian before you.

Ottie froze from where she was beginning to settle herself back against the pillow, looking between you and Cassian with wide eyes and a stunned expression that slowly broke into a look of pure joy.

“Daddy!” She all but jumped across the bed and launched herself towards where Cassian had been leaning against the doorframe, her small wings carrying her the rest of the distance. Cassian was quick to catch her in a tight embrace, spinning her around and around as he peppered kisses all over her face, sending her into a fit of giggles and happy squeals.

Completely caught off guard and feeling overwhelmed at the heartwarming reunion before you, you slowly pulled yourself out of bed and took a few steps towards the pair, grinning as you caught Cassian’s eye from over Ottie’s shoulder.

“Well,” Cassian started as he set Ottie back down on the ground and knelt down to her level, “now that I’m home, I think you should go back to your room–”

“But dad–”

“–to get your own pillow then come right back. What? The least you can do is give me back my pillow seeing that you’ve taken over my side of the bed.”

Ottie grinned at him then jumped forward to give him another tight hug before racing out of the room. With a soft chuckle, Cassian watched her leave before stiffly getting to his feet and turning to face you, the exhaustion so clearly evident you marvelled at how he had managed to hide it so well in those first few moments.

“Hey, you.” Your voice was quiet and came out hoarser than you would have liked but Cassian simply let out an incoherent noise as he stepped closer, all but falling against you as he pulled you into the warmth and comfort of his arms that you had so sorely missed.

“You,” he mumbled into your hair, “are the most amazing and incredible female to ever live. Let me know if I ever stop telling you that, yeah?”

“Cass…?”

“Hi, sorry, I’ve just missed you, so much. And I’m–”

“Exhausted?” you offered, taking in the dark circles under his eyes as you grasped his hand and led him to the side of the bed.

“That too. But I was going to say that just I’m so in love with you that these past few weeks have been absolute torture.”

“I love you too.” You laughed at his jumbled words, shaking your head as you took in his face before pushing the stray pieces of hair away from his eyes, your heart stuttered at the way Cassian moved into your touch.

“Y/N…,” he stared at you for a beat before his own hand came up to cup your face, gently pulling you closer in such a way that had your heart skipping a beat as your eyes flickered shut in anticipation of finally, finally having his lips on yours again.

“Gods, I’ve missed you.” Cassian murmured against you as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer so that he could deepen the kiss. You responded just as enthusiastically, hands landing on the base of his neck as your fingers tugged on his hair, causing him to let out a small moan that had you grinning.

“Hi,” you whispered as you pulled away.

“Hi,” Cassian’s voice was just as soft as his eyes skittered across your face, leaning in once more until the patter of footsteps had him pulling away.

“I’m in the middle!” Ottie announced as she reappeared in the doorway, bounding over to the bed and making space for her pillow before looking at you both expectantly.

You watched Cassian with a worried expression as he turned to look at Ottie in bemusement. There hadn’t been much news from anyone regarding what had been happening, likely for security reasons, just the occasional hurried notes from Rhys and Feyre checking in and letting you and Elain know that everyone was okay and would hopefully be home soon.

“Do you want some food or a shower or anything…?”

Cassian pressed a kiss to your cheek, before trailing his fingers down your face, eyes lighting up just at the sight of you before him. “If I smell that bad, I’ll go and shower, but right now I just want to be with my girls.”

Shaking your head, you pushed Cassian towards the dressing room, “at least get changed before getting into bed, you’re still in your leathers.”

“I thought you liked me in my leathers.” He called back, making you roll your eyes as you climbed back into bed beside Ottie.

“You were right,” she mused with a thoughtful nod of her head, “Daddy does say some silly things.”

*****

After filling Cassian in on every little detail he had missed, Ottie was quick to fall asleep, complete exhaustion from her activity-filled and emotional roller coaster of a day knocking her out as soon as the initial shock and excitement of Cassian’s return ebbed away.

Once Ottie’s soft snoring filled the room, Cassian gave you a look before silently scooping her up and carrying her to her own bedroom. You knew she would be mad about the fact that she had been moved when she woke up in the morning but after a month of not seeing Cassian, you were more than happy to deal with the consequences of that later on.

“Is she alright?” Cassian asked after closing your bedroom door and sliding back into bed, immediately wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“Yeah, she’s alright. How much did you hear?” You let your fingers trail through his hair, a month’s worth of stress and tension easing away simply by having Cassian beside you again.

“Enough,” the darkening of his voice told you that he knew exactly what had happened. “Ciela’s mum?”

“And Niamh’s.” You added, tone bitter as images of Ottie’s distraught face returned to the front of your mind.

“For fucks sake… can’t they just mind their own business.”

“She’s alright.” You reassured, knowing there would be plenty of time to get into it over your daughter’s friends’ mums, but not wanting to waste the time you currently had together doing so.

“I know…” he trailed off, letting out a sigh before pressing small kisses along your neck.

“Are you alright though? What’s happening on the Continent, will it –” Cassian cut you off with a kiss that you immediately returned.

“I’m fine. And that will all be fine. Tomorrow, alright? I’ll tell you everything but right now I just…” he trailed off and looked down at you, a soft yet longing smile on his face that you returned before tangling your fingers in his hair once more and pulling him closer.

*****

For someone who appeared to be completely exhausted, Cassian still had plenty of energy when it came to you in those few hours that followed his return home. You knew you would both feel the brunt of getting next to no sleep once the sun had fully risen, but as you lay in the calm silence of your candle-lit bathroom, your back against Cassian’s chest, both of you submerged in the warmth of the lavender-scented bathwater, you couldn’t find yourself caring.

Cassian had begged you to fill him in on every single detail of every day that he had been away for, no matter how boring and uneventful it seemed, he wanted to hear it all. He also managed to easily skirt away from any questions you directed at him regarding his time away and what had happened in the Dawn Court and on the Continent. Knowing he needed time to decompress, you playfully flicked water at him in response before jumping into a recount of Ottie trying to outfly Nyx and winning.

When you felt Cassian’s breathing begin to even out, the strokes of his fingers through your hair growing lazier and slower, you finally made a move to get to bed.

“Cass?” All you got was a grunt in return as Cassian pulled you back into the water and nestled his face against your bare back. “My love, you are exhausted and need to sleep. Come on, bed time.”

Reluctantly, Cassian let you help him out of the bath, his exhaustion clearly taking over as he slumped against the bathroom counter, eyes shut as you wrapped the large towel around him. Once you were both dry, you took Cassian’s hands and led him back into your bedroom, helping him onto the edge of the bed before pulling out some loose-fitting sleepwear for him to change into. As he collapsed against the pillows, you were surprised you didn’t hear the immediate onset of his snores, instead finding him watching you get ready for bed, a sleepy yet adoring expression flickering across his face.

You were about to climb in beside him when the sudden appearance of a small, folded sheet of paper caught your eye:

Please tell me he got back in one piece? We were all planning on coming home tomorrow but Az said he insisted on flying straight home as soon as the final meeting finished up.

- Rhys

“Cass, why do I have a note from Rhys saying you flew all the way home instead of waiting just one more night to winnow back with the others?

“Shh,” Cassian murmured as he reached for you and pulled you against him, “wanted to see my girls. I missed you.” The words were muffled against your skin, heavy breathing quick to follow.

The soft thud of a pen landing on your bedside table where the note had appeared only moments before had you rolling your eyes.

Yes, he made it home, missed telling me the part where he flew hours across Prythian without taking a break... No wonder he’s so exhausted, head hit the pillow less than a minute ago and he’s already snoring! See you all soon

- Y/N x

Mere seconds passed before another sheet of paper appeared on your bedside table.

Clearly not that exhausted if he’s only just asleep, he would’ve made it home hours ago according to when Az said he left ;)

- Rhys

You scoffed and scrunched the piece of paper up, not deigning to reply to your High Lord’s cheek, before settling back against your pillow. Cassian immediately reached for you, pulling you tight against him, even whilst being fast asleep. You let yourself relax against him, quickly finding sleep now that Cassian was back home and where he was meant to be.

*****

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[peachesofteal]

Soap on the escort mission with Cypher to her temporary base: they're both given rooms, but he tricks her into thinking they were only given one so they only have one shower and bed. He gets her into sleeping in the same bed, copping a feel and cuddling her so tight it feels like he's suffocating her

Oh my god yes but also this sent me off the deep end, sorry.

18+ mdni / soap x cypher (fem reader) / dark and twisty themes

First of all, the entire trip is nauseating. You weren’t given much notice. You’ve never ridden in a helicopter before, and Sergeant MacTavish has to show you how to buckle the straps, knuckles brushing along the tops of your thighs as he clips you in. You’re way outside of your comfort zone. You’re so off kilter, more changes, adjustments to your routines, more strangers. When you get to the outpost, it’s even worse. The systems are rudimentary. You can work with anything, because you’re good, but harvesting the data that Laswell has tasked you with is going to take longer than you’d like. The group you’re with is… small, as well, just you, Sergeant MacTavish, and Sergeant Garrick, who confidently ignores you unless you speak directly to him.

All of this piles and piles on top of you until you’re practically having a nervous breakdown on the first day. Nothing goes right, no one at the outpost is kind, and they all stare at you as you work, like you’re some kind of freak. You’re pretty sure you even hear someone make a joke about you under their breath, something cruel, something that sounds like the things kids used to call you in school. Awful, isolating things, things that always made you feel more alone than you already did. It picks at you, picking and picking, and then you break.

You run into Sergeant MacTavish in the hall, who stops you, alarmed. You try to tell him you need to go to your room, that you need some time to decompress and sit in the dark, but you can't get the words right, they come out messy and mixed up, and you get stuck on a few, repeating them more than once, embarrassment simultaneously trying to melt you into the floor. You’re ripping at the skin on your fingers, digging into the cuticles, trying to keep a lid on yourself when he informs you that the outpost is over occupied, and you’ll be bunking with him.

After the initial shock, he herds you with efficiency to the room, firm hand on your shoulder blade, and you’re surprised at how well the touch grounds you, closing your eyes, sinking into it, listening to the sounds around you, his breathing, the scratch of a door handle, a lock clicking closed.

"Keep 'em closed." He coos, and the command relaxes you. You like the dark, it comforts you, and you think he knows, because the lights never flick on, even though the room is nearly pitch, only one little window in a concrete box, the standard issue. When you don't respond, he hums, pulling you back into the warmth of his body. "Do ye need a lay down?" He murmurs into your hair, petting over your skin, under the neck of your shirt-jacket combo, and you nod, fingers still picking at your skin until his hands overtake them, separating them by force. "Words, sweet Cy."

"Yes, sir." You croak, and he rewards you, in a way, with his arm across your chest, pressing you harder against his front, his chest, stomach and waist, the pressure working like a tea kettle that's boiling, letting off steam.

"Good. That's good, bonnie. Let's get ye comfortable then." He works your clothes, unbuttoning your jacket, your pants. He lays you on your back, eyes still closed, pulling your boots off, divesting you of everything but your underwear, folding your feet onto the mattress together so your knees are bent, and then laid to the side, outwards. You let him move you, shift you around like a doll, unable to protest. The words just won't come out, half afraid you'll earn yourself a punishment, and half afraid he'll stop whatever he's doing right now. You don't want this, do you? Don't you? A hot mouth washes over the inside of your thigh, thumb pulling your panties to the side to expose your cunt, and he clucks his tongue. "Ye need a shave, wee sweet." Oh my god. Oh my god? Your cheeks burn, entire body doused in gasoline and then lit on fire with shame. "Dinnae worry, we wonae be doin' it tonight." His mouth is closer now, you can feel it, the thorned silk of his stubbled cheek against your leg, nose nudging into the curls between your legs. Your heart thumps inside your chest at the first contact of his tongue to your clit, and even with your eyes closed, you think you can see the moon, the sun, the fucking stars.

"Fffuuck." You moan, unable to keep yourself quiet, and he brushes his calculated touch back and forth at the perfect rate and speed, pad of his thumb rubbing soft circles into the flesh of your thighs at the same time, pressing them wider and wider, giving him more and more access to your weeping pussy.

"My sweet Cy." He breathes into your body, flicking around your clit, across it, electrical pulses spreading up through your belly. "Ye jus' need someone to help ye. Take care of ye and this bonnie pussy, aye? Treat it nice." He's working you over so well, like an expert on your body, pushing and pulling you towards the cliff, and you writhe on the bed, the burn spreading, shoving your too busy brain and too busy thoughts slowing slipping away with every second.

"Yeah." You pant, dumb. What? What are you saying?

"Want ye to come for me, baby." His voice goes serious, mouth pulling away a fraction, and you whine a little, confused. "But ye need to be good, and ask. Ask yer Sergeant for permission."

"S-s-sir. Can- Can I-" You struggle with it, brain overloaded, floating away on a cloud, and he smacks his palm against the flesh of your ass, from the side.

"Try again."

"Sir. Please. Pleeease. Can I- I come?"

"Aye, wee genius. Come for me, let me see it." It only takes a few more seconds, long strokes of mouth and tongue against you and then you're bursting into stardust, wild and fast orgasm slamming into you, as he coos to you about how good ye are, how ye wonae need anyone else now, he'll take care of everything, anything, how sweet, and your brain glitches trying to piece together his meaning until you're turning to putty, sinking deeper into the mattress under the aftershocks.

Later, not long after, he folds you into bed fully, nestled under the covers in the dark. He slides in behind you, blazing heat of his body against yours, hard cock against your ass in his boxers, and you gasp, squirming, trying to shift away until he tightens his grip, smothering you still, arms locking around you too tightly, and soothing you with calm touch in all the right spots until you're drifting off into sleep.

[stevie-petey]

episode three: holly, jolly

Jonathan, your Jonathan, would never do this.  He tries to approach you again but you find yourself stumbling back, knocking against Steve’s chest. Hurt flashes in his eyes, you’ve never flinched at Jonathan’s touch, but what he did has changed everything.  Steve places a hand on your shoulder. “See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hard-wired into them. They just can’t help themselves.”  He begins tearing up the pictures, and you can’t believe Jonathan of all people is making you agree with Harrington, yet here you are.

summary: you and jonathan talk it out and things are better (spoiler alert: they aren't), you somehow end up agreeing with steve harrington ?? then you have a minor breakdown in front of the kids and once again fail to prevent them from experiencing more trauma.

rating: general, slight cursing.

warnings: cursing, use of the word “slut”, fem!reader, use of y/n, and description of a dead body. this chapter is pure angst, steve is steve, jonathan is jonathan, and... well. we know how this episode ends.

words: 6.2k

before you swing in: hello ! i'm currently in the early stages of chapter 5, and it's a loooong chapter, so i figured i'd treat y'all to this one before taking my time with updating. this chapter was a bit difficult in terms of bug and jonathan, but i promise that they'll have more time later to really figure out why they keep clashing - for better or for worse lol. if their relationship feels stilted: that's why ! after all, season 1 is literally titled: we don't talk about it or have the time. the title has immense meaning for the overall tone of season 1 (and the song for the series shhh). anyways, enjoy <3

-

The next day you bike to school alone, not bothering to see if Jonathan’s car will pick you up as usual. 

The two of you have never fought before, at least not like this. From the moment you met him when you were twelve, there has never been a time where the two of you haven’t been on the same page. You’ve been in sync from the moment you met. 

Now it feels like everything is off between the two of you. It feels as if the tiny planet you live on is now off kilter, angled ever so slightly now, rotating out of sync. The change is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. You can feel it. 

Last night just proved that there’s something wrong with your relationship with Jonathan, but you can’t figure out what.

Jonathan has never yelled at you before, and you’ve never turned your back on him; then again, he’s also never kept anything from you. While he didn’t admit it last night, you know him. He was hiding something from you last night and it frightens you that he seems too ashamed to tell you what it is. 

You trust him, you do, but the guilt you saw in his eyes makes you uneasy. 

As you walk the school hallway towards your locker, you overhear some girls from your English class talking about Steve and Nancy. You normally wouldn’t eavesdrop on such a conversation, but the girls were talking obnoxiously loud and by the tone of their voice, they weren’t being kind about what they were saying. 

“I heard Harrington got little Miss Wheeler to sleep with him.” One of the girls giggles, looking around to make sure no one is listening.  

“What a slut!” Her friend sneers.

You clear your throat loudly, making sure they hear it, and send a glare their way. “Well, aren’t you guys just peachy?” 

The girls lower their eyes and shift uncomfortably, which pleases you. Good. They should feel bad. What does it matter if Nancy slept with Harrington? It’s always the girls who get labeled the slut, never the man who has slept with more girls than classes he’s passed. 

Typical. 

You roll your eyes at them and continue towards your locker, spotting the couple in question up ahead. Your locker is a few down from Nancy’s and usually you’ve been able to avoid their gross lovey-dovey sessions in the mornings since Jonathan is always running late, but since you didn’t ride with him, you’re forced to deal with two hormonal teens who you don’t necessarily like. 

“Hey, Henderson!” 

Steve stops you as you walk past, causing you to look up in confusion. “Yeah?” 

“How’s Byers doing? Ya know, with everything going on?”

You stare at him, trying to figure out what the punchline is supposed to be. Steve may not be a massive dick, but he’s still a dick, and you can’t imagine he’d ever ask about Jonathan given the fact that he can’t even remember Will’s name. 

“He’s… dealing.” You say, uncomfortable with the entire conversation. 

Steve nods, letting out a slight hum. “Well, tell your guy that any friend of Henderson’s is a friend of mine.” He sends a wink Nancy’s way, and it’s then that you figure out what he’s doing. He’s playing the nice guy card, trying to impress her with his “generosity”, and you’ve had enough of idiotic and emotionally constipated men these last 24 hours. 

“Funny, I don’t tell my friends to get fucked, yet here we are: get fucked, Harrington.” Steve’s eyes widen at your words, taken aback, and Nancy goes to say something but you cut her off. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Nancy. Why don’t you ask him why everyone’s staring at you? I’m sure it’ll be a thrilling conversation.”

You shove past the two of them and make your way to class. 

– 

You don’t see Jonathan for your next three classes, which only makes your shitty day worse. Not only have you guys never fought before, but you’ve never done the silent treatment either. As far as you can tell, there’s no reason for him not to be in class today besides your fight the night before. 

When it’s your lunch hour you try to find him, because at this point you just want to put it all behind you and move on to focus on Will. You never got the chance to tell Jonathan about El last night, you hadn’t had the time to before things blew up. 

You wait at your usual corner of the lunchroom for Jonathan, but he never appears. You sigh in defeat and pick at your meal, which honestly looks more like prison food than anything else, trying to figure out what you should do next. 

While you’re thinking, Carol’s obnoxious moans carry through the lunchroom. “Oh, Steve! Steeeve!”

Tommy joins in now, banging the table to get a bigger reaction. You see Steve trying not to smile at their antics, but it’s obvious to everyone how uncomfortable Nancy is. You feel pity for her, she deserves better than Harrington and his immature friends. Then again, you suppose she chose this for herself the second she started dating him. 

King Steve has never hidden who he is. 

You watch as Steve says something to appease her, but something catches Nancy’s eye and she turns to face it. Curious, you turn as well and spot Jonathan staring right back at her. They share a look, one that you can’t decipher, and you feel something twist within your stomach. 

It’s not jealousy, at least, not in that way. Jonathan is your only real friend in Hawkins (the kids don’t count, you recognize how embarrassing that is), and you’ve never had to share him before. Clearly Nancy has taken an interest in him of some sort and Jonathan, being ever the private person, has allowed her to, so you just have to swallow down your pride and accept it. 

Besides, you did always tell Jonathan that the two of you needed more friends. 

Taking a deep breath to will your nerves away, you ditch your lunch and follow after Jonathan. Screw whatever silent treatment is in place, he’s your best friend and you honestly don’t think it’s possible for you to ever be angry at him. It just isn’t in your nature. 

For better or for worse, you could never hate Jonathan Byers. 

You catch Jonathan as he’s leaving the photo developing room. He’s holding some pictures in his hands but quickly hides them away when he sees you. 

“Y/N, hi.” 

You ignore the voice in the back of your head telling you that something’s wrong, that he’s still acting weird with you, but you ignore it because you just want some normalcy in your life. You need your best friend. “Hey,”

“Look, I’m so sorry for what I said last night…” 

You brush him off, “It’s okay, I promise.”

Jonathan huffs at you, exasperated as always whenever you let people get away with things that they shouldn’t. “No, it’s not okay. You’ve been nothing short of amazing and I was the dick who yelled at you for it.” 

The two of you are walking out of the school as you talk, and you let out a weak laugh. “I guess you were pretty awful, huh?”

He doesn’t laugh along with you, instead shaking his head in shame. “You didn’t deserve that, not after all you’ve done for me and my mom. I was lying through my teeth last night, you are family, Y/N.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s genuinely okay-” 

“Bug, I was a dick. End of discussion. I just… sometimes it feels like I don’t deserve your help, you do so much for us. I let it get to me last night, and I’ll never stop apologizing for it.”

You don’t know what to say, caught off guard by the vulnerability. “Just… don’t do that again, alright? If something is bothering you I’d rather you tell me about it than take your frustration out on me.”

“Deal.”

“Anything else on your mind?” 

Jonathan thinks for a moment and you can tell he’s trying to word whatever is on his mind correctly. “While I know you’ve always loved to help, there’s some things that I have to do on my own, okay? Will, my mom… they’re my responsibility, not yours. I mean, not in a bad way-” 

“Hey, I understand. I need to back off a bit, I recognize that now. I’m sorry, bee.” You kick at a rock in the parking lot, “so we’ve got ourselves a deal?” 

The boy gives you a quizzical look and you laugh at him, extending your hand. When he grabs it, you turn the hold into a handshake. “I’ll calm down my fretting antics and you’ll come to me about whatever is on your mind, no matter what; we don’t hide anything from each other.”

The slight smile Jonathan briefly had on his face vanishes. He pales slightly and quickly releases your hand. “Right.” 

You eye him. “Bee, what aren’t you telling me?”

Caught up in conversation, you and Jonathan don’t see Steve and his gang resting against his car until it’s too late. 

“Hey, man.” Steve approaches, effectively ending your conversation with Jonathan. He glances at you. “Henderson, good to see you again.” 

“I highly doubt it.” 

“What’s going on?” Jonathan asks, putting himself between you and Steve. 

“Nicole here was telling us about your work.”  

Confused, you look at Jonathan. “What, did you start another photo series or something?” 

Steve laughs coldly. “You could say that.” 

Jonathan ignores him and pulls you close behind him, ducking his head down to whisper into your ear, “it’s not what it looks like, trust me.” 

“Bee, what-”

“Henderson, want to take a look with us as, you know, connoisseurs of art?” 

You look at Steve now, more confused than ever, but you feel a slight sense of dread. You know that whatever photo he’s about to pull out will be bad. You know it’ll be connected to Jonathan’s behavior last night, to the guilt he’s been carrying, to the way he hid the same pictures from you not even ten minutes ago. 

You look back to Jonathan now, silently pleading with him for more of an explanation, but he averts his eyes. Exhaling deeply, you face Steve. “Show me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jonathan says, trying to walk away, but Tommy grabs at his backpack. 

“Hey!” You run up to Tommy and start pulling at the bag, but the guy is twice your size and easily wins, accidentally flinging you to the ground. 

Jonathan runs over to check on you. “Y/N!”

At the same time, Steve berates his friend. “Woah, Tommy, easy man! Henderson isn’t who we’re here for, leave her out of this.” 

Both boys crouch next to you and offer you a hand, but you bat them away. You’re irritated and confused and pissed the fuck off at both of them right now for vastly different reasons. You pick yourself up and brush away some dirt that got on your jeans. “Show me the photos, Jonathan.” 

He looks at you, hurt. “Do you not trust me?” 

“Do you trust me?” Your words hang in the air.

Steve is now right behind you. “Oh man he’s like, totally trembling. He must really have something to hide.” 

Jonathan tries to step closer to you, but Steve is now the one who blocks him. You watch silently as he unzips Jonathan’s bag and pulls out the photos, ignoring the pleading look that your friend sends your way. You trust Jonathan more than anyone else in this world, but something doesn’t feel right. 

The photos are tame at first, though admittedly creepy. They’re all still shots of Steve and his friends from the night before, you recognize the famous pool that the whole school talks about when it comes to Harrington’s parties. 

“Your boyfriend is a creep, Y/N.” Steve says, nudging you with his shoulder as he continues to flick through the pictures. 

“He isn’t my-” 

“I was looking for my brother.”

Jonathan’s words make you freeze. “You went looking for Will without me?” 

Steve says something else, but you don’t catch it. You stare at Jonathan, hurt that he’d search for Will without even telling you first. He’s his brother, you understand that, but what would you do if Jonathan went missing too?

Nancy then appears, causing Jonathan to finally look up to catch your eye, but he quickly looks away. “Here’s the starring lady!”

She laughs nervously. “What?”

Carol explains what was going on, and you’re too upset to speak. There’s too many thoughts going through your mind, but when Carol flashes you a picture of Nancy, naked, it takes everything in you not to throw up. 

Jonathan, your Jonathan, would never do this. 

He tries to approach you again but you find yourself stumbling back, knocking against Steve’s chest. Hurt flashes in his eyes, you’ve never flinched at Jonathan’s touch, but what he did has changed everything. 

Steve places a hand on your shoulder. “See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hard-wired into them. They just can’t help themselves.” 

He begins tearing up the pictures, and you can’t believe Jonathan of all people is making you agree with Harrington, yet here you are. 

Nancy is his girlfriend, and even outside of that, Jonathan had no right taking pictures of her naked without her consent. You agree with Steve’s actions, but then the camera comes into play. He reaches for Jonathan’s camera, causing him to dive forward to stop anything from happening to it, and it’s finally what breaks you from your shock. 

You react as well, shoving past Steve to try and get to the camera first, but it’s no use. He beats you to it, Carol now holding you back as she digs her claws into your skin. Jonathan is being held back by Tommy, and all the two of you can do is watch helplessly as Steve dangles the camera high in the air. 

What Jonathan did was wrong, there’s no denying that, but you know how long it took him to save up for the thing. How many awful shifts he picked up at the theater to pay for it, adamantly refusing any money both you and Joyce offered him to help pay for it. 

This camera was his and his alone. Paid for with his own money, bought for his own enjoyment, his pride and joy. 

“Here you go, man.” Without even hesitating, Steve lets the camera fall to the ground. 

You gasp, watching as the lens shatters and you crouch down to try and piece it back together. Your hands are shaking, you don’t know what to feel right now, but with how badly your hands shake, it’s no use trying to fix the camera; you need something to distract yourself with. 

Jonathan and Nancy join you on the ground, but you’re too overwhelmed to really notice them. The combination of emotions leaves you wondering if you’re about to cry, throw up, or both. It’s only when Nancy begins snatching up the torn pictures that you acknowledge her presence. 

You grab her hand and catch her eye, “I’m so, so sorry.”

She doesn’t respond, only giving you a slightly confused look, and you recognize how stupid it is that you feel the need to apologize for Jonathan’s actions. You aren’t his keeper, and until now you never even considered he’d do something like this, and yet the guilt creeps in. You open your mouth to say something else, but Steve calls her over to join them and she leaves. 

Jonathan is still next to you, remaining silent even after Nancy’s departure. You can feel his eyes on you as you continue to fumble with the broken camera pieces as a gust of wind blows away the remaining photo shreds. 

“Shit!” A shard of glass from the lens cuts your finger, drawing blood. 

“Bug, let me-” Jonathan grabs at your hand to inspect the cut, but you pull away harshly. 

“Don’t touch me!” 

“Y/N…” The hurt look on his face is almost enough to make you crack, but the blood drips from your finger and falls onto a picture that somehow didn’t blow away. You look at it, seeing the outline of Nancy’s back in the photo, her beautiful side profile perfectly captured. 

The urge to throw up returns. 

“You’re hurt, let me look at it.” Jonathan pleads, his voice soft, with more empathy than he’s ever shown you these last few days. It’s as if last night never happened. As if you’re some idiot who is always ready and willing to come crawling back to those who discard you whenever they please. 

In a way, you suppose that you are. 

You hate it. 

Jonathan tries to grab your hand again but you stand up before he can. “I said don’t touch me.” 

He tries to grab you once more but again you pull away. Your brain is a mess right now trying to comprehend everything that happened within the last fifteen minutes. You look down at the broken camera pieces still laying on the ground, its glass reflecting in the late afternoon light. 

Those photos of Nancy… 

God, you’re an idiot. 

“Nancy is the reason you were such an asshole to me last night, isn’t she?”

“Y/N, those photos-”

“You knew that the second I looked at you I’d know you’d done something terrible.”

Jonathan is silent beside you, but you don’t need to hear whatever excuse he’ll give you to know that you’re right. Instead of telling you what he did last night, he kicked you out of his home in a guilt-crazed daze, saying horrible things to you that he can never take back. 

Instead of being honest with you, he had been a goddamn coward who hurt you in the cruelest way possible. 

Jonathan runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, you know I’ve never been able to lie to you-”

“So naturally you resorted to screaming at me and saying we aren’t family-”

“I regret what I said, but how was I supposed to tell you about the photos if I don’t even know why I took them in the first place?” 

You start pacing around the parking lot, too overwhelmed to stay put. Jonathan’s words only confuse and upset you more. In the midst of your frantic pacing the cut on your finger begins to bleed more, which causes you to wince and catch Jonathan’s attention.

“Bug, you’re in pain,” his voice is gentle now, the worried crease between his brows now prominent in a way that you’ve always found cute. “I’m not just going to stand around while you’re hurt. Let me help.” 

Unfortunately for Jonathan, his words only piss you off more. 

“You’re not just going to stand around while I’m hurt? That’s fucking rich coming from you, Jonathan.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This entire week I’ve been hurting! I mean,” you let out a laugh laced with tears threatening to spill out. “I lost Will too, did you ever consider that? And I understand he’s your brother and I would lose my mind if anything ever happened to Dustin, but I’ve done nothing but love and support you through this shit show and you haven’t even asked how I’m holding up. I mean, what kind of best friend does that?”

Shame washes over Jonathan. “I didn’t think-” 

“I’ve been exhausting myself trying to help and not once have I considered it a burden because I’m doing this for Will, for you. I’m doing what any decent person is supposed to do, and I’m not asking for praise or-or for a reward but holy fuck, Jonathan! I mean, I understand now that maybe I was bit too much but,”

You’re yelling at him now, all the frustration you’ve been swallowing down these last few days now spills out. “At least treat me like a human being! I mean, the stunt you pulled last night was such bullshit and I was ready to excuse your actions because you’re my best friend and you’re hurting, but then you hide those damn photos from me? Scream at me like I’m some pathetic fucking child because you’re too ashamed of your own actions? We don’t lie to each other.”

Jonathan steps towards you and it isn’t until he’s cradling your head in his hands to wipe away your tears do you realize you’re crying. He’s so tender, gently wiping the tears as they fall, and you feel weak against him, closing your eyes as you soak up the affection. 

“Bug…” His voice cracks, not knowing what else to say. 

You open your eyes now. “You went looking for Will without me… did you even think about what your mom would do if you disappeared too? What I would do if you disappeared?”

“I…”

“And Nancy…” you pull away so that he’s no longer touching you. “That was a line I never thought you would cross. And to lie to me about it, I just… why?”

Jonathan shakes his head, a few tears of his own now beginning to fall. “I don’t know.” 

There’s nothing else you can say; you’ve drained all your energy. A headache is beginning to form and with the parking lot clearing out, indicating the end of the school day, you know you need to leave for work soon. 

Normally when you look at Jonathan, you feel a sense of security, but now all you feel is dread. His shoulders are hunched, the bags under his eyes darker than ever, and at this moment you’re not sure you know who he is anymore. It terrifies the shit out of you. 

“I should go,” you wipe your nose with your sleeve, side stepping Jonathan as you start walking towards the bike stand. 

“You’re leaving?” There’s fear in his voice, and you can hear the undertones of are you leaving me, too?

“I have to work tonight, so I need to-” 

“Let me drive you then, it’s cold and-and we can talk more about this-”

He follows you to your bike and you feel such pity for him. You know he’s right about needing to talk more, but all you want right now is to crawl into bed and pretend that this whole week has been a dream. A horrible, awful dream. 

You offer Jonathan your hand, the cut on your finger no longer bleeding, and intertwine your fingers with his. “I want to be alone right now, okay? Please, just give me some time.” 

He wants to argue with you, you can see it in his eyes, but just like you know him better than anyone else, he knows you just as well. He knows there’s no use trying to change your mind when you get like this; when the feelings become too much and solitude is your only solution. It's happened before in the past, but never with him. 

All he can do is wait for you to come back when you're ready. 

“Okay, I can do that.” 

You squeeze his hand, like you always do, before you let go and bike away. 

He watches as you leave. 

– 

Tonight’s shift is another slow one, which you’re grateful for. 

It was just last week that Jonathan had been driving you, Will, and Dustin to school. You’d been singing some song on the radio and the November air had a slight nostalgia of August warmth. Will and Dustin complained about your singing as you wailed on, Jonathan eventually joining in so that the two younger boys could only cover their ears with their hands and groan in annoyance. 

Now Will is gone, taking the August warmth with him and leaving behind only November cold that leaves your bones feeling raw. 

The laughter is gone, and now you’re afraid that your best friend is gone as well. 

You come home to an empty house, a note on the kitchen counter informing you that your mother is at her knitting club and that Dustin is off with his friends. 

Wonderful. Your brother has once again gone off on some adventure without informing you first. What a lovely addition to your already horrible day. 

You call the Wheeler’s first, hoping that maybe you don’t have to bike around the entire town to find the little shit, but like always: you’re mistaken. 

“I’m sorry, but the boys went out biking right after school.” 

“Oh, lovely then. Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler, have a good night.” 

“You too, dear!”

As soon as you hang up, you allow yourself a moment to just scream. The headache that formed during your fight with Jonathan hasn’t left, you’re tired, you have so much homework that you’re too afraid to even look at, and you still have no idea who El is or what she really knows about Will. 

And now you have to bike all around Hawkins to find said girl, because there’s no way the morons have listened to your orders to stay put with her. 

You check Lucas’ house first, but Erica tells you that they aren’t there and requests that you inform Lucas that her lying fee has been raised to $5. 

“That’s a bit steep, don’t you think?”

“Do you wanna pay?”

“Good point, have a good night then Erica.”

You then search around the middle school, but there’s no sign of them anywhere. After another thirty minutes of nothing, you finally give in to your hunch and bike to the Byers. You’re not sure if Jonathan will be home, but your idiot brother may need you, so you just have to suck it up and check. 

Ultimately you’re glad you do, because as you ride up the driveway you see the boys circling around El. 

“Why did you bring us here?” 

“I have a better question Mike, why did you bring us here?” None of the kids had noticed your arrival, so they all jump at your voice. 

Dustin’s face goes pale. “Y/N! What-what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you little assholes for an hour now,” you park your bike and step closer to the kids. “Why do you never listen to me when I tell you guys to keep me updated, huh? Do I have a giant sign on my head that says ‘hey, ignore me and treat me like utter shit!’, is that it?” 

No one responds, too stunned by your words. You never cuss at them, and apart from last night, they don’t think they’ve ever seen you so angry before. 

“I’m just so sick and tired of people treating me like I’m some throwaway toy, just casting me aside and forgetting about me until it’s convenient. I have feelings too, isn’t that a wild concept? I mean, who knew Y/N Henderson had any real emotions behind her pathetic need to help everyone around her!” 

Dustin can hear the hurt in your voice and knows that this isn’t just about them sneaking off. You’re upset about something else, someone hurt you and he needs to know who, so he softly asks, “Y/N, what happened?” 

You spin around to face him. “Nothing! That’s what happened! None of you told me anything, everyone has just decided to keep me out of the loop because god forbid I deserve any honesty after years of being there for you guys-”

“Okay, this is definitely about Jonathan then.” Lucas mumbles, which Mike nods in agreement to. 

“This is not about Jonathan-” The sound of sirens cuts you off. 

Everyone freezes, and your heart stops. This is Hawkins, where nothing ever happens; cops don’t just go flying down the street late at night. 

You know, even before you can fully comprehend how, that it’s Will. You can feel it; the sirens are for him, the precious boy you’ve come to love like your own brother. 

Then, to confirm your fears, an ambulance follows behind the line of cop cars, and you feel your entire world shatter.  

“Will…” Mike exhales, and the second the name leaves his lips everyone scrambles for their bikes to follow the cars. 

You know you shouldn’t, you know this won’t end well, but it’s Will. Maybe he’s alive, maybe he simply got lost in the woods and has been wandering around the last three days or so. There’s so many other possibilities, an endless array of explanations, and yet…

Your legs feel heavy as you pedal after the kids. You know that, no matter what you guys end up finding, that nothing will ever be the same again. As you follow, the route you take begins to look familiar, back when you and Jonathan would spend your summers exploring the forest and its surroundings. 

The quarry. 

Suddenly you can’t breathe. “I… I can’t-” 

“Y/N, we have to see if it’s Will!” Dustin calls behind him, too eager to realize exactly where you guys are going. 

If you could just warn them, maybe speed up to block their paths, you could convince them to turn around, but it’s too late. The five of you arrive at the quarry’s edge and toss your bikes behind the fire truck. You see the firemen in the water, sloshing around for something, and you realize what they’re doing a second too late.

Immediately you begin to pull the kids away, not wanting them to see what you desperately hope you’re wrong about, but you’re too late. “Guys, get away from the truck, we shouldn’t be here-”

You’re always too fucking late. 

“Please, we need to leave,” your voice shakes as you try to shield the kids from the sight of Will’s body being pulled from the water.

Mike pulls away from you. “No, it’s not Will. It can’t be.” 

“Mike…” 

The firemen lift the raft up higher and the light lands on Will’s lifeless body, and you feel a piece of you die. He’s always been the smallest of the boys, but as the men lift his dead body out of the water, he’s never looked so small. Will is gone; he’s taken all the light with him. 

Dustin reaches for your hand and is the first to start crying. You pull him into your chest as he sobs. Lucas looks over at you, a silent acceptance in his eyes. “It’s Will. It’s really Will.” 

You grab the boy and pull him into you as well, the two of them now crying as you hold them. All you can do right is hold your boys, staring off into space as you feel them shake with grief against you. This isn’t real. 

From the corner of your eye you see El approaching Mike, and you’re too numb to warn her against it. “Mike…” 

“‘Mike’? ‘Mike,’ what?” He slaps her hand away, which causes you to become alert. He’s hurting, you know Mike loved Will more than anyone else, but he’ll only hurt himself more if he pushes everyone away. 

“Mike, I know you’re upset-” 

He faces you, a betrayed look in his eyes. “Upset? She was supposed to help us find him alive. She said he was alive!” he turns to El now, “why did you lie to us? What’s wrong with you?”

As he yells at the girl you hear his own tears beginning to form, and as you hold his friends, you lean closer to Mike and use your other hand to console him, but he begins to run away. 

Dustin and Lucas watch helplessly as their friend leaves, you all call after him but are ignored. They beg him to stay, too scared to be separated once more now that Will is gone, but Mike doesn’t listen. He grabs his bike, leaving you and the boys alone with El. 

She looks at you, tears in her eyes and a pleading look on her face. She’s looking to you for reassurance, to console her and tell her that everything will be okay with Mike, that he’ll forgive her, but you can’t. 

You also feel betrayed by the girl. You don’t think she was lying, in a sense, but then how can she explain Will’s dead body 50 feet away? El promised you and the boys that Will was alive, but he’s not. 

Tears start to fall down her face. “Y/N?”

You’re sure that when you look back on this moment later, you will have wished that you had done something braver, something more kind to the terrified girl, but you don’t. Instead of wrapping her into your arms alongside Lucas and Dustin, you give El a curt shake of your head, dismissing her. 

It hurts to watch her leave, and you’re ashamed of yourself, but then Dustin lets out another sob while Lucas tightens his hold around you, and you know that you’ve made the right choice for now. You don’t know El or her intentions, but her actions have hurt the people you love the most, and right now you have to put them first. 

You let the boys cry, barely registering anything else. 

– 

Later, much later, after getting Lucas home and tucking Dustin into bed, you finally allow yourself to grieve. You lay in your bed, staring at the framed drawing on your desk that Will had made you for your birthday this year. It was a sweet gift, having drawn you as a princess in one of their DnD campaigns with your sword and shield. Jonathan stands next to you in the picture, holding his own sword and wearing a crown, while Will and the boys are next to him, dressed in their own armor. 

In the picture the six of you are facing a dragon, but there’s a smile on all of your faces as you fight the creature together. You, Jonathan, and your boys; together, there’s nothing that you guys cannot defeat.

It’s your favorite drawing of Will’s. 

And now it’s your last drawing from him. 

The tears come slowly at first, then all at once. You find yourself hunched over, letting out anguished sobs as you mourn for the boy, for Jonathan and Joyce, for your brother and his friends. You mourn for the Byers losing a child, a brother. You mourn for your brother’s now tainted childhood. He’s too young, they all are too young to be experiencing such a loss. 

Will was too young. 

You cry until there’s nothing left within you, and yet the sobs still wrack against your body long after the tears have dried up. It’s a pain like no else. 

Then, as you’re finally beginning to calm down, you hear a knock at your window. 

You get up and fling your curtain open to find Jonathan on the other side. 

Neither of you say anything as you open the window and let him in. Once he’s inside the two of you face each other, unmoving and silent for what feels like years. There’s still a tension there from earlier, though this afternoon feels like decades ago. Jonathan stares at you, a guarded and unsure look on his face, as though he’s afraid that if he breaks in front of you that you’ll push him away. 

Instead, you surprise him by throwing yourself against his chest and into his arms. 

You’re not sure who begins to cry first, but it doesn’t matter. His cries only make you cry harder, having never seen your best friend this heartbroken before, and it’s all so fucking unfair. He doesn’t deserve this, no one does, but especially not Jonathan. He loved his brother so much, with such an intensity that rivaled your own love for Dustin. 

Jonathan pulls away a bit so that he can look at you; tears stream down his face. “He’s gone, bug.” 

“Bee,” you don’t know what more to say. What can you even say? While it feels like your heart has been ripped from your chest along with your bones, you know it only feels worse for Jonathan. No words could ever soothe that ache. 

“He’s gone,”

You grab at his jacket and gently guide him so that you sit on your bed. “Jonathan, look at me.” It takes some coaxing, but eventually he listens. “I’m here, okay? I’m here.”

Your voice cracks at the end, your own grief getting in the way, but it’s all you can say right now. You’re not sure how else to phrase it, how else to tell him that even if everything and everyone else is gone, you’re still here. You’ll never, ever leave him, especially not when he needs you the most now. 

Despite the vague words, Jonathan nods, always able to understand you, and he rests his head against your shoulder as the two of you cry. Faintly you can hear Dustin’s cries through the wall, but you leave him alone. You know he needs to process this alone, just like you needed to, just like Jonathan had before coming here. 

Tomorrow you’ll comfort your brother, you’ll bake the cookies that Joyce loves, and tonight will pass. A day must always end. This day will end, and tomorrow will come. Then, you’ll face this together with everyone you love. 

For now, your best friend needs you, so you let him cry into your shoulder and you run your nails against his scalp and whisper soothing words. Fuck whatever is going on between the two of you. 

Will is dead. The best of you, the purest of you, is dead.

-

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[creadigol]

Can you continue hero x villain teacher hero?

Thank you so much for the request! This is actually one of my favorite prompts and it was one of my first writing prompt ideas ever, years back before I even had a Tumblr. Due to my love of this one, it kinda got away from me and I wrote a lot. Like a lot. Lol.

I hope y’all enjoy! 

Part 1 and Part 2 here! 

Hero’s very shitty day was taking a turn for the better. 

This morning Hero had woken quite late (due to the extended hero-ing from last night), skipped breakfast, tripped on the curb, spilled their cold coffee, lost their parking space to a visiting mother, and almost got disciplinary action for arriving three minutes past their classroom attendance slot. 

After hearing the ‘ooohs’ and ‘ahhhs’ of various fourth graders, all of whom watched the principal reem Hero out in the hallway; Hero had finally obtained a sense of control over the class just after lunch. Of course that was after one of the kids had accidentally spilled finger paint on Hero’s chair and didn’t feel the need to tell them until Hero found themselves with a neon pink ass. 

As it was, just after lunch was their history time and Hero, not feeling too great about standing in front of the kids looking this disheveled; nor wanting to show off the new color of their pants, simply opted to play two episodes of Liberty’s Kids while the students sat on the carpet. The ploy seemed to work as not one student strayed from the carpet or asked to go to the bathroom. Hero stayed at the classroom sink, located just behind their desk, and tried to clean themselves as much as possible with the children distracted. 

Hero couldn’t help themselves from laughing along with the kids as the characters in the show told jokes and got into trouble while learning about the creation of The United States. Hero had forgotten how enjoyable the PBS show was and felt very nostalgic as they remembered the show premiering back when they were a child. Some things never age, Hero thought. 

So, all in all, the shitty day was getting better. Perhaps after the show Hero would give the kids a break from memorizing the different kinds of rocks and do a fun science experiment instead. With Hero’s powers they were sure they could make the demonstration look very cool without outing themselves as a super. Maybe they could win back their ‘awesome teacher’ status in the eyes of the kids after it had taken such a hit this morning. 

“Not exactly in style, but I must admit you wear it well.” Hero jumped and turned. How had they not heard someone come in? 

“I’m sorry?” Hero addressed the unknown adult. They turned from the sink, suddenly very aware that they had been wiping their backside with a wet paper towel. Pink was on their hands and now the floor at the attempt…not to mention still on their ass. 

Hero very nearly froze at the sight of the intimidating man. If not for their hero training they surely would have. 

He was tall, tall and brawny, but not in the typical sort of way. The muscle in his physique was evident underneath the expensive Italian silk suit; but there was also a leanness to it, like a coiled spring that spoke of agility and readiness. Hero wasn’t sure why, but they instantly felt off kilter, instantly felt tense, like when they are about to face off against a criminal or a villain. 

“Your ah…” the man smirked and chuckled, “choice of presentation…or should I say style, on your…well…” 

“Oh,” Hero noted the visitors-pass around the man's neck and felt a little of the apprehension fade. Perhaps they were just on edge due to the circumstances the man saw them in. “Not exactly my choice. This is courtesy of a young aspiring artist. She’s just too young to  know where her canvas is.” 

The man laughed jovially, “What a kind way of putting it!”

Hero heard some of the children snicker to themselves from over on the carpet, evidently finding the new stranger and their painted teacher much more interesting than the Revolutionary War. Hero tilted to one side so as to see past the newcomer and give their students ‘the look’.

“Pay attention please,” Hero chided. “You never know…I may be inclined to give you a quiz on this at the end of the day.” 

A series of ‘awwwws’ followed their remark. 

“But if you pay attention now, I might be in too good of a mood to write a quiz…”

All the kids turned back to the television with such force Hero was surprised there was no neck damage. All except for one. 

“Daddy!” 

Oh god. 

“Why hello Maria,” the man stooped down and scooped up the child who had run over from her place on the carpet. He hugged her and then placed her back down. Her stature only reached just past his waste. 

Hero felt their blood go cold. 

Daddy…Maria…

Maria, the student who was first in their class in everything but English…Maria, the student who all the other students named most popular…Maria, the student who aspired to be a veterinarian one day because she loved the class rabbit so much…Maria, the student Villain was most concerned about…

Maria, the student who was the daughter of Supervillain. 

Shit. 

“Are you here to talk to Teacher?” She asked sweetly, her gaze never leaving her father. 

The man nodded, “I am, so you best be a good girl and go back to watching what Teacher has put on.” 

She scrunched her face up in a pout, “But you’re going to talk about me.” 

He nodded as if it made no difference, “I am.” 

“So you’re not supposed to talk about people when they aren't there.” She crossed her arms and gave him a look of determination. 

The man, no Supervillain, laughed. “Is that so?”

She nodded sagely, “Yes. Teacher said so.” 

Supervillain fixed his gaze on Hero. Hero clenched at the sopping, paint dripping paper towel in their hand. 

They knew this day would come. Of course they did. But they had somehow hoped it wouldn’t. Hero was under the impression that Supervillain was not that active in his child’s life. Parent-teacher conferences had always been with Maria’s mother, who had stated that she was happily divorced, and all open houses and concerts had been devoid of Maria’s father ever since she had enrolled at the school. 

When Villain had brought up who Maria was, Hero had already known. After all, they were well connected in the hero world. 

It wasn’t that Hero purposely got Maria in their class, in fact it was the opposite. Hero tried to keep their two lives as separate as possible, but that was just how the dice fell. Hero didn’t get to choose who was in their class and Maria had been assigned to them. 

It was how Villain had found out their secret identity in the first place, their research into Supervillian’s private life had led them straight to Hero. 

Hero had said it was a small world.

Villain had said they best be careful. 

“Really? Well, I guess you better leave me and Teacher alone so they can teach me lessons like that.” Supervillain smiled at Hero. 

Maria was not deterred. 

“No, you just want to talk about my report card. But you can’t, because it’s not parent teacher day.”

Supervillain laughed again and ruffled her hair. “Not all parents need to wait for parent teacher day to talk about their children. It’s a parent’s right to bring up concerns to their children’s teachers, isn’t that right Teacher?” 

Hero gave a hesitant smile, “Yes, of course it is. Though most call first.”

Hero looked down at Maria, “You go back to the show, Maria, Benjamin Franklin’s about to speak to the French Parliament. I know how much you like him. ” 

She looked at Hero with suspicion, though with a hint of apprehension at the idea of missing anything involving Benjamin Franklin. 

Hero smiled warmly at her, “You won’t understand the book I’m loaning you if you don’t know what he did in France for the revolution.” 

Maria’s eyes lit up, “I can take your book home?” 

Hero nodded, “But only if you promise to take care of it for me. Now off you go.” 

“I will!”

She turned to her father and gave him a quick hug before hurrying back to her spot on the rug. Hero almost laughed when they saw her place her head on her fists in an effort to concentrate more on the words Benjamin Franklin was speaking. 

“Nicely done. Though I can’t say I condone bribery,” Supervillain crossed his arms, but still held the smile from before. 

“Well, at least it’s enriching bribery. I told her two weeks ago I had a book at home about Benjamin Franklin and she’s been after it ever since. I guess now I’ll have to bring it in.” Hero found themselves slipping into their normal Teacher to parent tone, though they were sure the tension in their shoulders was noticeable. 

“We’ll make sure to get it back to you just as it was,” Supervillain leaned on the desk and looked down at Hero in a conspiratorial way. Hero tried not to think about how Supervillain was taller than them even while leaning. “Now about Maria’s last report card…”

“Mr….” Hero cut them off.

“Escole,” Supervillain filled in easily, though his eyes rose. “Maria has my last name.” 

“Mr. Escole,” Hero hoped their voice held more bravery than they felt. “I didn’t want to say this in front of your daughter, but this is rather unorthodox. If you wanted to speak about her grades you could have made an appointment for later in the evening or perhaps during their lunch time…”

“Yes, yes,” Supervillain waved them off, “I meant to stop in during lunch but work got ahead of me. I’m sure you know how it is…” Supervillain gave them an up-down, no doubt seeing the old coffee spill mixed with paint and the tear in Hero’s pant leg from when they tripped earlier. “Some days are just chaotic.” 

“I know but…” Hero stopped at Supervillain’s raised hand.

“My darling Maria is too precious to be put on the wayside because of work, don’t you agree?” 

“Of course, but as I said…” In an instant Supervillain was in their face. Their tall body leaned over the desk as though there was no barrier between them. 

“I am a very busy man Teacher, so I’ll get right to the point. I don’t make appointments, people make them with me. When it comes to my daughter, I honestly don’t care whether you’re on lunch or in the middle of a lecture, I’ll be here and when I’m here we will talk. And when we talk, I expect you to listen and do what I want. Is that clear?” 

By the time Supervillain was done, not only was he only an inch away from Hero’s face, but his hand had found its way to Hero’s arm. The grip was tight and bruising, making Hero’s hand that held the pink paper towel shake. 

Every part of Hero wanted to fight, to get themselves out of Supervillain’s hands, but a stronger part of them was hyper aware of the children. They couldn’t fight here. They couldn’t do anything to endanger the children. 

“What do you want to talk about Mr. Escole?” Hero asked in a shaking whisper. 

Supervillain smiled, “Maria was right. You are smart.” 

Supervillain lounged on the desk and pulled on Hero’s arm to bring them down closer. “That new repairman that’s been hanging around…what’s their name?” 

Hero looked them in the eyes with confusion, though in their mind they started panicking. 

Good god, did he know about Villain? 

“I thought you wanted to talk about Maria’s English grade?” Hero spoke. 

“I know you’ll do what you need to with that. I’m not concerned about her grades. What I am concerned with is her account of her teacher being buddy-buddy with a new repairman. One that seems to do the majority of their work only in this classroom.” Supervillain narrowed their eyes at Hero’s large ones. 

“I don’t know what you mean…” Hero stumbled when a hand gripped their throat. Not tight, but plenty threatening. They hoped to god that the children were absorbed in the show. 

“Are you saying my daughter is a liar? That there is no repairman? Now, now Teacher, remember what Maria said? Can’t be talking about her while she’s not here.” 

“I,” Hero breathed raggedly. They couldn’t let this escalate with the children so close. “Every school has repairmen. I…I don’t know what you want.” 

Supervillain squeezed a bit tighter as he stared directly into Hero’s eyes. It took all of their willpower not to look away. What if Supervillain recognized them? They used to think their costume was foolproof, but after Villain had figured it out…now Hero wasn’t so sure. 

“Are all repairmen so attentive?” 

“I don’t know. They come and do their job.” I’m more focused on the kids, Hero almost said, but stopped. They didn’t want Supervillains attention turning the children right at this moment. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary?” Supervillain’s grip on their arm was so tight it felt like it was going to break. Hero suppressed their whimper.

“Not that I’ve seen.” They shook. 

“Then why are they here so often?” 

Hero blinked away tears of pain. “The classroom was in disrepair. It has been for a while. I thought we finally had the funds to fix everything,” They lied. 

“Why no funds?” Supervillain tilted his head. 

 Hero brought their hand up to grip Supervillain’s wrist by their neck when it got tighter. It only made Supervillain shake them. 

“Why no funds?” He asked again.

“I…I’m not sure,” Hero wheezed. “I think the city cut the money during the recession.” 

The hand got tighter. Hero started to see spots. Oh god, did Supervillain see right through them? 

Hero was pulled so close that they were nose to nose with Supervillain. Hero could smell his breath and feel every puff of air that came from his nose. The way Supervillain had positioned himself perfectly blocked what was happening from the children. At least there was that. 

“I want that repairmen gone. Immediately.” He paused, his gaze unwavering, “I expect you not to tell anyone of this encounter. If you do…well Maria will be upset, but there are always other teachers. She’ll get over it.”

Supervillain unceremoniously pushed Hero away. Hero collided onto their wooden swivel chair making the whole thing topple backwards. The crash called attention from all the children. 

“Teacher!”

“Oh no!”

“Teacher are you okay?” 

“What happened Teacher?” 

Supervillain gave a fake look of shock and placed their hand over their heart. “Oh my! Kids, it seems Teacher slipped and fell. Better make sure they’re alright.” 

It was through a throng of worried children that Hero saw Supervillain slip out of the room with a pat of goodbye to his daughter. 

Hero assured the kids that they were okay, just a few bruises. 

“That’s why we never leave water on the floor,” Hero said with a smile. “It was my own doing.” 

All the students laughed at Hero’s rare klutzy moment and were more than delighted when Hero told them they could eat snacks and watch Liberty’s Kids for the rest of the day, no quiz required. 

Once they were settled once again, Hero put their head down on the desk and tried to slow their breathing. 

They had only just got their heart-beat back down when they heard one of the kids approach their desk talking. 

“Teacher slipped and fell. It was after the mean man whispered at them. Now Teacher doesn’t feel so good.” 

“Mean man?” Asked another voice. 

Shit. Not now! Why are they here now? They already practically fixed everything in the school. 

“It was Maria’s dad, but we all call him the mean-man because he didn’t help Teacher up when they fell down.”  

“Maria’s dad?” The shuffling stopped at Hero’s desk. “And Teacher fell after they talked?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Well, you better get back to the show. I think Washington’s about to cross the Delaware. Don’t worry, I’ll check on Teacher.” 

“Okay! Thanks Repairman!”

There was silence. Hero could feel Villain’s eyes staring into as they kept their head down on the desk. 

“Hero,” Villain whispered. “What happened?” 

At first Hero said nothing, then, 

“Are any of the kids around?” Came Hero’s muffle reply. 

“Nope, they’re all eating cookies on the rug.” Hero felt the air change as Villain bent down closer. Unlike with Supervillain, Hero didn’t feel threatened at all. “Why?” 

“I don’t want them to see. It’s sure to have set in now.” 

Villain placed a hand on Hero’s shoulder, “What’s set in?” Hero could hear the urgency in their voice. “Phillip said Maria’s dad was here…”

“Supervillain was here.” Hero confirmed. “And,” Hero lifted their head. Villain sucked in a breath as they saw the dark bruising along Hero’s neck and the mark on their forehead from when they hit the ground. “We had a talk.” 

…

…

…

“I’m going to kill him.” 

@crow-with-a-typewriter @stevihj @waterflower20

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Part V — (Azriel x Reader)

Hi! Sorry it took me a while to get this out! Hope this looong chapter makes up for it a little. Enjoy!

Warnings: None for this part.

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Azriel was close. 

His hands gripped the female’s full, sumptuous hips, fingers digging into the flesh. And in the throes of pleasure, he didn’t glance once at those hands he hated so much.

His head falling back, he released a deep, guttural groan; release stormed him. Coursed through his body. 

As his panting breaths evened out, the female flipped onto her back, shooting a sultry smile up at him. “Feeling a little better?” She asked. 

No. Not really. He nodded all the same, shrugging his shirt on. “Thank you.” 

In reality, the pleasure hall probably wasn’t the best place to come to in such a foul mood; he didn’t make for very good company. But he’d needed something — anything — to occupy him for a little while.

Sex, as it turned out, did not make everything better. 

As he finished dressing, he dipped into his pocket, producing a coin that he held out to the pretty, plump redhead on the bed. 

She blinked up at him. “That’s way too much.”

Azriel shrugged. “Buy yourself something nice.”

In all honesty, it was rare that he left the pleasure hall in a good mood. He found, despite the nature of the place, that fucking someone and leaving straight after made him feel like a wretch — even if that was what he’d paid for. 

He wasn’t sure why he continued to come here, really. He’d only started to do so upon Rhys’s encouragement, to sate the desires he felt around Elain. 

And maybe it was working. He hadn’t felt them recently.

“Thank you.” The female looked genuinely touched by the gesture. “See you soon?”

Azriel dipped his chin. He didn’t know if he meant it when he responded, “Absolutely.”

He left the private room, weaving his way through the dark, narrow corridors of the pleasure hall. A chorus of breathy, sultry moans followed him wherever he walked, and he found himself desperate to get back out to the main bar area. To cleanse his thoughts for a little while.

He was restless. Had been restless for over a month.

He’d abided by Rhysand’s orders — of course he had. There was no justifiable reason he could muster to overrule what the High Lord had said and continue his surveillance of the human villages. Of one village in particular. 

Everything had itched and pawed at him to go back, though. Every day, he thought of that piano music. The beautiful hands that played it. The fact that the sweet woman who had feared him so absolutely had also helped him. Showed him kindness.

It hadn’t been easy to stay away. But stay away, he did.

He ran a hand through his hair, heaving a quiet sigh as he made his way towards the bar. He needed a drink strong enough to chase away his thoughts, to remind him that everything that mattered was this side of the Wall—

But he stopped in the hallway. And almost scowled to himself at the sound of the piano music that snaked over to him. 

It was a male who sat at the keys, entertaining those nursing a drink around him while scantily-clad females sauntered in between tables, touching shoulders, coaxing punters to join them somewhere private.

The music was…clanky. Strange and off-kilter. There was nothing beautiful about it, nothing soothing and ethereal. The male’s fingers practically pounded the piano keys; he seemed to be under the impression that the louder he played, the better it sounded. 

Azriel didn’t care to stick around and hear any more. He knew the music that he craved, and where to find it. 

But Rhysand had given an order.

So he turned on his feet and went home.

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Az traipsed into the sitting room, slumping down into his usual chair. Cassian already had a glass of amber liquid waiting for him.

“You smell like sex.” The General commented.

The Shadowsinger downed the drink in one go, staring into the embers of the fire. The entire flight home, he’d heard piano music in his head, felt it in his bones — could have sworn it floated to him on a wind, coaxing him in the direction of the Wall.

He was desperate for it. For the music, and for the person who played it so stunningly. 

He was so, so sick and tired of being forbidden. 

Sworn off Elain and sworn off going near the human lands and sworn off having a fucking life. He didn’t mean to be bitter. Rhysand was his brother as well as his High Lord, and Azriel loved him dearly.

But it was easy for him to bark orders from the cushy comfort of his settled life. He had a mate; someone to go home to. Someone he could hold in the cold, long nights. Someone he could sound off to. Someone he could give his best and worst to. 

And judging by the direction things were going in with Cassian and Nesta, it wouldn’t be long before Cass had that, too. And gods, Az didn’t begrudge his brothers these things — not for a second. 

But could he not have, at least, the soothing presence of music? Something to fill that lonely, aching chasm in his life? And perhaps a…a friend, too. 

He dragged a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. The sound of a piano played distantly in his mind. Maybe if he just…allowed himself to hear it once more—

“What’s wrong with you?” Cassian studied him, a frown pulling at his features. “Is it—did you hear about Elain and Lucien?”

Az hated how quickly he looked up. “What of Elain and Lucien?”

“There’s been some progression in their relationship, apparently. I don’t know the details.”

Azriel stared forward, pursing his lips. Waited for that telltale sting of jealousy to wash over him. 

And it did. But it felt…different. Misshapen. Not jealousy about Elain and Lucien per se, but simply at the prospect of having another happy couple to smile around. Whilst he was restricting himself so thoroughly. It seemed…it seemed unfair. He hated it. 

He’d had enough.

Cassian seemed to be trying to puzzle out his expression. “What're you thinking?”

“Nothing.” Azriel sat up. “I just…forgot to do something.” 

“What—”

But Az was already rising from the chair, wings flaring. The music in his head seemed to increase in volume, like it somehow sensed his change of heart. 

He could look out for himself. He wouldn’t be doing any harm by travelling to a little human village. He didn’t need Rhysand to coddle him. 

He didn’t say another word as he strode from the room.

He’d made his mind up.

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You’d grown used to an ever-present loneliness in your life. It had, in fact, become such a being of its own right — an entity — that in a strange sort of way, it had turned into company. Loneliness was a loyal companion.

But it was nights like these that it taunted you. Reminded you that you didn’t have a life — desperate as you were to just…experience things.

Your village’s Summer Festival was a huge event every year. But you were only permitted to experience it by listening to the distant sounds from your backyard.

The only positive was that it drove all your usual punters away; every single person in the village would be out in the fields, dancing and drinking the night away; enjoying themselves. Everyone except you.

You’d begged your father to let you join, of course. But his response was the same one he gave every year; it’s just not safe, Y/N. I can’t spend the night keeping an eye on you. I’m more comfortable knowing you’re at home.

You tried to remind yourself that he was simply being protective, that it came from a place of love. Your mother’s brutal death at the hands of the Fae had traumatised him so thoroughly that he wouldn’t risk such a thing happening to you. And particularly not with the slayings of village girls still on everyone’s mind.

But it had been over a month, now, since the last killing. 

And the same amount of time, too, since Azriel had been in your home. Since you’d helped him.

You wondered if it was a coincidence that his absence had brought a sudden stop to the brutal murders.

Probably not. Which meant it was probably a good thing he hadn’t returned, despite a small, strange part of you hoping that he would.

You sighed quietly to yourself, feeling boxed-in in the confines of your small, concrete yard. Distant music floated to you on a summer breeze, accompanied by the smells of bonfires and roasting meat. At a higher vantage point, you’d probably be able to glimpse those very fires lighting up the fields. The fun that you couldn’t be a part of. 

It was…disconcerting, to feel the village so empty. Even your most trusted regulars had ditched The Bluebird Inn for the Summer Festival. It would be wise to lock yourself inside, perhaps lose yourself in playing your own music. You turned—

Darkness and shadows appeared before you. The scream that left you could have filled the entire village. 

Azriel stepped straight out of those very shadows — seemingly out of nowhere. You gawked at him, stumbling back a few steps.

He looked…ethereal. Perhaps just because this time, there was no blood or pain marring his features. But bathed in moonlight, you couldn’t deny how utterly stunning he was.

Nor could you deny the thrill that shot through you upon seeing him again.

His lips quirked up into a tentative smile. “Sorry — I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You swallowed, looking around for some indication of where he’d even come from.

“…I saw you from above.” He studied you. “It seemed safer to winnow than fly down.”

“Winnow?” You were unfamiliar with that word. 

“It’s like…stepping through shadow. Directly from one place to another.”

Right. Because of course he could do stuff like that. For the same reason he had wings.

He wasn’t human. 

He was Fae. Perhaps even a human-slaying Fae.

You weren’t quite sure how to respond. 

But in that moment, his gaze flicked around inquisitively. “Where is everyone?” 

“It’s the village Summer Festival.” You couldn’t stop yourself from studying him. “Everyone will be down in the fields.”

“…And it’s not your kind of thing…or…?”

You hesitated; you didn’t really have any reason to answer him. And if he was, after all, responsible for the murders in the village, it didn’t seem wise to admit that you were here all alone, not a single other resident around to hear your screams.

But something — perhaps his Fae allure — coaxed the truth from your lips. “My father prefers that I stay home. He feels reassured that I’m safer here.”

Azriel pursed his lips, his intense, honeyed eyes seeming to narrow on you. What he was seeing or thinking, you couldn’t possibly know. You felt self-conscious under his gaze. Pathetic. Human. 

Vulnerable. 

And yet, none of that explained why you hadn’t yet gone running back into your home and tried to barricade the door, fruitless as the effort might be. It didn’t explain why, on some deeper level you weren’t sure you had access to, you didn’t want to do that.

“That doesn’t seem very fair.” He eventually spoke, his tone just as indulgent as his eyes. “Everyone having fun while you’re not.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “My father’s protective.”

He nodded. “So you can’t join the festival.” A slight pause had his eyes flitting upwards. “Have you ever wanted to fly?”

The question seemed so preposterous that you couldn’t stop yourself from snorting. As though the ability to fly was a normal, everyday thing. Here, in front of you, was a lethal being of a species you neither understood nor respected. Here, in front of you, was a potential killer.

And yet, instead of killing you — like he absolutely could have done already — he was asking peculiar questions. The sheer bizarreness of the situation had you a little dizzy.

“I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.” Your eyes darted to his wings; you’d never seen a person with wings before. “Why would I have done?”

“Some people would like nothing more than to be able to escape to the skies. For that luxury, I’m very lucky.” He held out a gloved hand. “How about it?”

You gawked at him. “You’re offering to take me flying?”

“I am.”

“…Why?”

“You shared your music with me. That’s your escape.” Azriel’s eyes softened imperceptibly. “Flying is mine. So let me return the favour.”

Bad idea. Very, very bad. Accepting his offer could be akin to strolling freely into a lion’s den and asking it to maul. You didn’t know where he’d take you, or what he’d do with you there. Perhaps he would soar as high as possible and then allow you to fall to your death—

Somehow — foolishly — your intrigue, your excitement, that lick of pure thrill, were all far bigger than your doubts. 

Somehow, you knew that if you refused, and Azriel walked away, you would want him to come back. 

Standing in front of him was awakening something in you. Something that might be dangerous and risky and unwise. Something that you never would have imagined yourself giving in to. 

You were powerless against it. And when another bout of distant laughter reached your ears, you knew you’d made your decision.

The corners of Azriel’s lips flicked up, and he wiggled his fingers; like he’d sensed the exact second your doubts had faded into the background.

“…Alright.” You relented after a lengthy pause. “Show me how to fly.”

You slipped your hand into his gloved one. And you knew you didn’t imagine it as you both faltered at the odd sensation that seemed to encase the both of you. Azriel stilled for a moment, staring at you, your joined hands suspended in the air.

And then he was clearing his throat. Shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Can I—is it alright if I lift you into my arms?”

Another thrill soared through you, stretching from your head to your toes. So inexperienced you were with human contact — or rather, Fae contact. You’d never held somebody’s hand, never felt another’s body pressed against yours. And not for lack of yearning.

The fact that Azriel had bothered to ask your permission instead of just yanking you into his arms…it had your shoulders relaxing slightly. You nodded.

If he was a murderous being, he was a polite one, at the very least. 

His lips wore a soft, reassuring smile as he tugged you closer. And when there was barely a hair’s-breadth between your bodies, he fastened an arm at your back, moving the other one down to your legs.

It was an effort not to yelp at the contact. Not to balk from it. If Azriel noticed the way your body slightly trembled, he had the decency to pretend he didn’t. 

“It’s probably best if you loop your arms around my neck.” He cleared his throat again. “If you’re comfortable with that.”

You glanced down at the rigid way your arms hung down by your sides. Your cheeks reddened. “Right—yes—of course.”

You willed yourself not to shake like a damn fool as your arms snaked to join around his neck, and as the scent of cedar and frost shrouded you, and his warmth permeated you, his hair tickling your arm…you’d never felt so alive.

He seemed to read that thought, too. His mouth kicked up, and he leaned in closer. “Hold on tight.”

And then he took to the sky.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Everything was gentle at first.

The speed at which he carried you upwards. The flap of his wings. The coasting through the air. Gentle and slow. 

That didn’t make it any less terrifying. To begin with, anyway.

With every glance down, the ground moving further and further away, you felt your stomach lurch. To be so high up was unnatural. To plummet back down would be lethal.

But Azriel was a soothing presence pressed against you. He allowed you to adjust in your own time; didn’t force you to look when you weren’t comfortable looking. Didn’t speed up, despite the leisurely pace probably being so at odds with his usual way of flying. He was patient, and calming, and solid beneath your arms.

He seemed to sense when your fears began to abate. When they began to morph into curiosity.

He leaned in, his lips suddenly at the shell of your ear. “I’ve got you.” He reassured quietly. “You can’t fall.”

His deep voice was a heated tickle against the skin of your neck. And you…you found yourself fighting the impulse to gasp at the sensation. You knew your cheeks were scorching.

Even more so when he spoke again. “Look.” He whispered.

You followed his line of sight, your eyes finding the sprawl of fields below. The pyres that had been lit for the festival looked like arms of glowing fire reaching up to the skies. You felt yourself slacken in Azriel’s arms as you drank in the sight.

“I’ve been flying for a very, very long time.” He told you softly. “But I never tire of the views.”

You angled your face back slightly to look at him. “How long?”

His lips twitched. “Are you asking me how old I am?”

“Is that rude?”

“No. I’ve been alive for over five centuries.” He studied you. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one.”

For over five centuries. You couldn’t even wrap your head around that amount of time. What he must have seen in that time. The amount of women he must have been with—

Why your thoughts went there, you weren’t sure. You hoped he couldn’t read minds. 

You allowed yourself to silently sit on the information for a short while; Azriel allowed you to, also. But as he flew, his dark, indiscernible gaze repeatedly made its way over to you.

Eventually he asked, “What are you thinking?” A strange quality lay in his tone, as if…as if he were self-conscious.

But it wasn’t exactly a secret that the Fae lived for such ludicrous amounts of time. Your initial shock over his age had already worn off.

And you answered honestly, “Doesn’t it get boring? Being alive for so long, I mean.”

Azriel paused. And then bellowed a great, unguarded laugh. “That’s what you’re thinking?”

“I think I’d get bored.”

Unless, of course, he was passing his time with things you couldn’t comprehend. Like taking the lives of innocent girls. Like splendour and indulgence and utter debauchery. 

Your stomach somersaulted as Azriel suddenly swooped. You dug your fingers into the strange, intricate leathers he wore, watching the peak of a hill grow closer and closer. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, your heart racing slightly. 

“To sit.” He answered, nodding towards the hill. “And enjoy the view.”

He landed with barely a thud and set you down gently, ensuring that your legs were stable before he pulled away.

It was so wildly inappropriate that you missed the sensation of his body pressing against yours. You quickly turned away before you could linger on the thought.

And your breath hitched in your throat. The view was just as exquisite from the hill as it had been from the sky. Lights dotted around and music and laughter and scents floating up to you. The air was charged with excitement, enjoyment. And your father had asked you to miss out on it all.

So naturally, you sunk down onto the feathered grass, tucking your legs beneath you. After a beat, Azriel sat beside you.

The two of you surveyed the sights below in complete silence. But your thoughts were loud and weighing. Thoughts of how, exactly, you’d ended up in a situation like this — allowing a Fae male to whisk you away into the sky whilst your father was none the wiser. If you were even safe, up here, with him. And why, exactly, you’d been so incredibly disappointed when he hadn’t returned over the last month and a half. 

You turned your head to look at him — and found him already gazing at you. His lips lifted into a soft smile.

“Why didn’t you come back?” You blurted. Your cheeks burned, and you cleared your throat. “To listen to my music, I mean.”

The smile slowly fell, a strange look crossing his face. “It’s a little complicated.”

“I’m sure my silly human brain can comprehend.”

His lips twitched again. He seemed to take a moment to think, his fingers absentmindedly pulling at the grass. “There is a…situation.” 

“A situation?”

He dipped his chin. “It’s the reason I was flying around your village to begin with. We had a tip-off that a group of humans are rising up against the Fae.”

Your body tensed.

He’d be right about that, of course. That group of humans was led by your father.

“We’d like to avoid trouble if we can help it, so…” Azriel cleared his throat. “I was in the area looking for information. And that was when I heard your music.”

Looking for information. It made a sickly, oily feeling overcome you. If he found your father — if he saw that he was building his cause against them — you had no doubt that that threat would be eliminated on sight. Your only remaining parent — the only person you really had in the world — would be taken from you.

You swallowed a lump down. “Did you garner any information?”

“I did.” Azriel nodded. “I learned that there’s a group of men that seem to be travelling from village to village and spreading their word. I was given orders to wait and see what move they made next. That’s why I didn’t return.”

No way would you tell him that your father was behind that very group. You weren’t going to give him up, let Azriel know exactly where he could find him. That’d be as good as killing him yourself.

But there was another reason, buried further down, for biting your tongue. One that surely complicated things. One that shouldn’t have bothered you at all.

You didn’t want Azriel to know that you were associated with that group. You didn’t…didn’t want him to think poorly of you. 

That was very troublesome, indeed. You shouldn’t have cared what he thought. 

You tried to shove your problematic feelings down, focusing on the view once more. It was best to steer the subject far away from your father. 

You sat back, leaning on your hands. And your voice was a mix of curiosity and mild accusation as you said, “There haven’t been any more murders in the village since you’ve been absent.”

Azriel’s eyes were a brand on your skin. “And I take it you’ve come to the conclusion that I must have been responsible for the ones that occurred?”

You lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don’t know what to think.”

The following silence was so heavy and prolonged that you began to wonder if you’d offended him. Another thing that shouldn’t have bothered you — but did. 

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye just as he turned, angling his body towards you. He crossed his legs, and he looked…open. 

“My name is Azriel.” He said.

“I already know that—”

“I belong to one of the seven courts of Prythian — the Night Court. I’m a member of its High Lord’s Inner Circle, and I work as his spymaster. I’m also a very, very rare species of Fae called a Shadowsinger. I possess the ability to wield and control these shadows to my will, though they are their own entities. It also lends me the ability to hear and feel things that others can’t.”

So that’s what those shadows were about, then — the dark, wispy shapes that coiled around his person like smoke. You hadn’t seen much of them tonight; whether Azriel had made that so, or the shadows themselves had been hiding, you weren’t sure.

But now, they seemed to dance out towards you with fluid grace, tentatively brushing your arms with a cool, almost chilled touch. 

You couldn’t stop your curiosity piquing. Your fingers penetrated the dark, cold mist, and Azriel watched you closely, tentatively.

“I’ve been alive a very long time.” He said quietly. “The role I have to play is sometimes not easy. It’s forced me to do certain things that sometimes still chase me from sleep. I’m not without conscience. I don’t revel in such things.” He paused. “But I sleep at night knowing, at least, that I do not and would not do such things without reason. I wouldn’t kill for sport. I don’t harbour any particularly negative feelings towards your kind. I certainly don’t wish them harm.”

Your eyes lifted from the shadow tickling your arm, finding that honey-hued gaze. There was such sincerity on his face…such honesty. And also an undercurrent, perhaps, of…of pleading. As if he was trying to communicate words he didn’t have the nerve to say aloud; please don’t fear me. Please don’t think of me as a monster. 

“I have no ill intention, Y/N.” The way he spoke your name sent shivers down your spine. “I was simply following orders, and—”

The scream was loud enough to reach you at the top of the hill. It cut Azriel’s sentence off immediately. Your body fell still. 

In an instant, he was on his feet, gazing below at a view your human vision was too unsophisticated to see. And then another scream broke through the night; horrifying, blood-curdling.

“I should take you home.” Azriel’s voice was tight, commanding. “Now.”

You didn’t argue as you jumped to your feet. There was barely a chance to glance down as he swept you up into his arms again — not gentle like before, but hurried, worried — and took off. 

You were far too high up to see anything as Azriel flew, but his gaze was firmly on the sight below; the field that sat closest to your village. He banked so suddenly that your stomach lurched, and then he was landing on the roof of a building, pressing you tightly to him.

The commotion reached you clearer there. The sound of chaos and fear. Screams and charged conversation. 

“What’s going on?” You whispered, not even aware of the way your hands were clinging to the front of Azriel’s jacket.

“From what I can discern,” his eyes were alert, fierce, “the body of a girl has been discovered.”

Cold seeped into your bones. 

Another body. Another girl. 

Azriel listened closer. His voice was quiet as he spoke to you, “They’re saying she was still warm when they found her. That she was only at the festival around twenty minutes ago.” He paused. “Her name was Polly.”

Another village girl. You knew her briefly. She could only be a year or so younger than you were. And only twenty minutes ago, she’d been alive, enjoying herself—

You thought you might pass out. If it weren’t for Azriel’s strong arms keeping you upright, you were sure you would have done.

Twenty minutes ago. Azriel had been with you at that time. 

He truly wasn’t responsible.

You stared at him, feeling sick and cold all over. And as he glanced back at you, surveying your appearance, he seemed to understand what you needed without either of you speaking. 

“I’ll drop you back in your yard.” He slipped a hand through yours.

“Wait. I—” You swallowed. “Will it be safe for you? All these people around...”

For a moment, he was silent. He didn’t need whispering shadows to understand that you felt concerned for him. 

A hint of a smile appeared on his mouth, and he dipped his chin. “I’ll be just fine. I know how to stay hidden. It’s you I’m worried about.”

It’s you I’m worried about.

The words clanged around your head loudly as he swept you up. Within mere seconds, you were back inside your small, concrete yard, the awful sounds of panic growing closer. 

“Go inside.” Azriel said. “Lock the doors.”

You studied him. “You’re sure you’ll be alright?” You weren’t sure whether it was insulting for you to even ask him that.

But he had been shot by an ash arrow in this very village. Your worry wasn’t entirely unjustified.

“I promise.” He squeezed your hand once before pulling away. “I’ll come back as soon as it’s calmed down.” 

“…will you really?”

“I give you my word.”

In silence, the two of you stared at each other. Neither of you spoke.

But then the voices grew louder, and Azriel was straightening out. You were utterly still as he brushed the backs of his knuckles against your cheek.

Before you could react, he disappeared before your eyes.

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“Polly was killed tonight. The girl from the bakery.”

You were just slipping into the room, carrying your father’s nightly drink to him, when he spoke. At least two hours had passed since Azriel had dropped you home, and you couldn’t stop your gaze straying to the window. Wondering where he was. If he’d truly return.

“I know.” You placed the glass down —  and realised your mistake the second your father’s head snapped up. You cleared your throat. “I mean—I didn’t know it was Polly. But I figured something had happened from all the noise outside.”

That seemed to satisfy him enough. You released a deep, quiet breath as he took a long draw from his glass. He nursed the drink in silence for a while. 

“You see, now, why I don’t want you going out there.” he eventually said.

You bowed your head. “Yes, Papa.”

“The scumbag Fae are still picking our girls off one by one. I won’t have you meeting the same fate.”

Something inside of you twisted. There was nothing appropriate you could possibly say. You couldn’t exactly reveal that you’d met a Fae male who appeared to be different to the rest — or that you’d spent your evening with him.

So you shifted your thoughts elsewhere. To something that had been bugging you since Azriel had mentioned gathering information on your father’s group of rebels. I was given orders to wait and see what move they made next.

“...Papa?” You hovered awkwardly at the unoccupied armchair that sat opposite his.

“What is it, Y/N?”

You chewed your lip. “The cause that you’re building against the Fae. I was just…wondering how it’s going. What move you plan to make next.”

His light blue eyes flicked up from his glass. And for a split second, you wondered whether you’d made a mistake in asking. You’d merely been a silent supporter before, never taking too much interest, asking too many questions. 

But then those eyes seemed to soften. “You don’t need to be frightened, Y/N.” He said. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. The cause is coming along nicely. Right now, we’re trying to gather enough supporters so that we can present ourselves — and our concerns — to the queens of our realm. We have a far greater chance of success with their support. That’s why I travel to the other villages. To gain more supporters.”

The human queens. This was big — really big.

It should have been a good thing. But it just made you feel…worried. Did Azriel know how big this truly was? Perhaps he did, and he’d simply not told you—

“You should get to bed.” Your father sliced through your thoughts. “Let me worry about these things, Y/N. Just do as I tell you, and all will be fine.”

You always had. Always would. Your father was the leader of your life; you merely followed.

“Yes, Papa.” You swallowed. “Goodnight.”

His response followed you all the way up the stairs. And as you got to your room, you found yourself wondering why you’d even enquired about his next move. It wasn’t exactly your business; he would do as he saw fit.

Surely…surely you hadn’t been asking in Azriel’s interests. Surely you wouldn’t feed such information to him.

The mere thought made you feel an oily sense of betrayal. You shut yourself in your bedroom, shaking the thoughts from your head. 

But you couldn’t stop yourself glancing at the window again.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *

You supposed he wasn’t coming back — not tonight, and perhaps not ever.

The thought had pathetically kept you awake. You sat at your dressing table, listening to the fear and chaos in the village eventually die down. Silence swept through once more, and you were restless, disappointed.

You’d enjoyed yourself tonight. The company, the conversation, getting to know Azriel a little. And you knew, now, that he wasn’t behind those murders. You knew.

Perhaps…perhaps he wasn’t so bad. Most Fae were, but perhaps he was just…different.

Which was why you wanted to see him again.

You sighed softly, standing from your dressing stool and tucking it in. There was no use staying awake, waiting to see if he would come back. You turned to your bed—

Cold, night-chilled shadows suddenly filled the room. And just like he had in the yard, Azriel appeared out of nowhere.

You reeled back, stunned, knocking into your dressing table. “Gods.”

Azriel’s lips quirked up. “I really must stop frightening you with my winnowing.”

“How—how did you know this was my room?”

“I saw you…through the window.”

You brushed past him, marching over to the window and yanking the curtains shut. You lowered your voice as you turned to him, “You flew so low with all those people down there?”

He stared at you — assessed you. And a strange look passed his face. “I was too high up for them to see me. Fae sight, though, is…better.”

Right. Of course. He could probably make out every miniscule detail through your window while he’d been a mere speck among the stars. Your shoulders relaxed slightly, your worry lessening a little. Shifting into…excitement.

Azriel took a step towards you. “I’m sorry for just…appearing, like this. I needed to check if you were alright.”

Your heart did a silly little flip in your chest. “I’m alright.” You paused. “...Are you?”

He smiled, inclining his head. “I’m very well.”

“Well…good.”

He chuckled quietly. “Good.”

You stared back at him, your lips begging to twitch up. And after a moment, you couldn’t resist your smile.

Azriel seemed to watch it grow on your lips. The way he studied you so intensely made you feel naked.

He edged even closer. “I enjoyed spending time with you tonight.”

Heat spread across your cheeks. You dipped your chin, attempting to hide your blush. “I enjoyed myself, too.”

“Well…good.”

You scowled at his light teasing. “Good.”

He was grinning widely, now, a glimmer in his eyes. He stopped just in front of you, close enough to touch. “When can I see you again?”

Never, you should have told him.  You are Fae and I am human; we have no business getting involved with one another. You should leave, and never come back.

But you didn’t want to say those things. And perhaps it made you a fool, but you weren’t thinking about preconceived notions, or bloody history, or your father’s cause. 

You were thinking about the giddy excitement you’d felt tonight. And how badly you wished to feel it again.

“Despite what happened to Polly, the festival seems to be continuing tomorrow night. They’re just increasing the security.” You played with your hands, the fire in your cheeks almost unbearable. “You could…you could come here and keep me company in the bar. I’ll be on my own…”

Azriel’s answering smile was so brilliant, you thought it might have knocked you breathless. 

“Tomorrow night, then.” He hummed. “I’ll be here.”

“Well…good.”

He snorted. “Good.”

There was a beat. You waited for him to disappear again, nothing but the chilled air and his pleasant scent left behind.

But then he leaned down, gently taking your hand in his. You watched, preternaturally still, as he lifted it to his lips and pressed a feather-light kiss to the backs of your fingers.

“Goodnight then, lady.” His breath warmed your skin. Your bones.

And then he was gone.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere

[dearharriet]

hello love! congrats on 150 followers, your writing is very lovely, you deserve this so much more 🩷❗

i was wondering if i could get a 🍸send me a character + one of the following songs to write a drabble for with sirius black + lover's rock tv girl. (perhaps a tattoo artist au? only if you're comfortable though!)

feel free to ignore if you don't feel like writing it :) hope you have a nice day/night ahead! 🩷

hi, lovey! thank you for being so sweet, i hope this is something like what you had in mind 🩷 (wc: 874) (cw: pg mentions of nudity, mentions of smoking)

The whirring buzz of the tattoo gun does little to calm your shoddy nerves, though it at least pads the long standing silence. You’re not really sure if it’s customary to chat with your tattoo artist or not, but it certainly feels tense between you two. Luckily you only have…

You pick up your phone as casually as you can, careful not to twist your torso somehow.

3:17. Two hours left. How is that possible?

“Getting sick of me?”

Tucking your phone away, you glance down at the man inking your sternum. He’s lifted from you momentarily to dab at the area he’s working on, the sterile towel coming away black and red. You’re not sure if it’s proximity or some kind of psychological pain response, but he’s probably the hottest man you’ve ever seen. And he thinks you’re sick of him.

“No, not at all. How’s it coming?”

The man—his name is Sirius—smiles like he knows exactly what you’re doing, but he allows you to divert the conversation anyways.

“S’fucking badass. You’re a brave one for getting something so big for your first piece.” He’s completely genuine, which sends a lovely shock of pride through you. You’re not the daredevil type, but you aim to impress.

“It’s not so bad as I thought it’d be.”

Wincing, Sirius tilts his head like he’s about to burst your bubble.

“Well, I’ve only done your sternum.” As he says so, he places a gloved hand just under the place he’s mentioning, and you try hard not to suck in a breath. “Once I get to your ribs it’s gonna hurt a lot more.”

Right. He doesn’t demonstrate where he’s talking about for that, considering the rib area you have mapped out is essentially your underboob. You’re not sure how to feel about that, especially now that you’ve met who’s inking it, but you figure you’ll manage when the moment arises.

“Right, yeah, I keep forgetting,” you say truthfully.

Sirius sits back.

“Do you wanna break? Have a snack, maybe?”

Twisting your lips, you avoid his expectant gaze. A break admittedly sounds really nice, but for some reason it feels shameful to say. You’d sort of planned to tough it out the full three hours, no matter what.

“I’ll be fine, I think. I ate beforehand like you told me.”

At this, Sirius grins, though he’s also peeling his latex gloves off.

“Good lass,” he praises. “I’m gonna step out shortly for a smoke, though, if you don’t mind.”

You blink. “Not at all.”

Tossing his gloves, Sirius stands and exits without a word, leaving you sprawled on the tattoo chair. Finally out of his sight, you feel you can breathe again, but it’s all for naught; Sirius comes strolling back in moments later with a juice pouch and several snacks, taking your breath away again.

“Alright, killer, take your pick.”

You glance over the options he assembled—cookies and crackers and crisps—and hesitantly decide on one, slightly off-kilter. Sirius is like a whirlwind, or a cyclone. He dumps the remaining snacks on the counter behind him, and then he’s on you, putting his big hands under your shoulders to help you sit up.

“Let’s get you sat in my chair, it’s a bit more comfortable.” He does exactly that, setting you up for an intermission that you sorely need, and then he just…lingers. You’re certainly not complaining—his aptly ink-black hair and exposed tattooed forearms are really doing it for you. Still, it’s odd that the smoke break he planned never seems to happen.

When you’re back in the chair, satiated and far less jittery, you finally realize what he’s done.

“You tricked me.”

Sirius glances up from the ink palette he’s re-prepping, raising a dubious brow.

“Did I?”

“You did. You said you were taking a smoke break.”

Shrugging, he saddles up close to you, easing back into his work. A little jolt goes through you at the first contact.

“Relax,” Sirius says under his breath, and you make a conscious effort to unclench your muscles. “I changed my mind.”

“What?”

“Smoke break,” he reminds you. “I changed my mind.”

“Oh,” you breathe, waving him off. “Right. No you didn’t.”

Sirius pulls back to laugh at that, his shoulders shaking gently.

“Really, I did. I wanted to take my smoke break later, say—“ he bobs his head in an indecisive motion, “—another hour from now.”

Really, you're not sure this tattoo will ever get done if you keep making each other laugh. Sirius has to wait for your chest to stop lifting to continue.

“I’ve changed my mind, too,” you say as he finally ducks back in.

“Oh, yeah?” Sirius shoots an indulgent grin up at you. “‘Bout what?”

“I’m completely sick of you.” Another long pause in his work, and this time you’re both laughing. “You're incorrigible.”

As Sirius laughs, you watch his lips pull back over his teeth, canines flashing. Everything about the look of him is sharp, but his laugh is warm and round. Boyish.

“Pardon me for looking after you. It won’t happen again.”

Glaring at him with an exasperation you don’t really feel, you say, “yes it will.”

Sirius licks over his teeth now, an image of feigned guilt.

“Yes,” he agrees, “it will.”

+

thank you for reading! xx

join the celebration!

masterlist

[hwaightme]

GUY.exe

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

✏️ pairing: yunho x gn!reader ✏️ genre: fluff, crack, friends? to lovers, drawing? to lover ✏️ summary: you never expected for the character you designed for the newest dating simulator to be quite as realistic as this ✏️ wordcount: 5.0k ✏️ warnings/tags: questionable editing, unhinged crack galore, fever dream, digital artist / designer reader, shy boy best friend yunho, lowkey referencing the song the fic is named after (GUY.exe by SUP3RFRUIT) ✏️ taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ ✏️ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE MY NADIA @justhere4kpop !!! you are the kindest, funniest, sweetest person ever, i love you so so much and i am so grateful for every day because it means i can spend it with you <3 wishing you the best day, all the most amazing things, experiences, achievements and more!!

Another hour more, and you were going to scream. Hunched over your drawing tablet with bloodshot eyes and a cramping hand, you had been drawing and redrawing what seemed to be the same thing over and over again. But nothing gave you that magical feeling of completion and rightness when the abstract lines and shapes and shadows and doodles all came together on a page to form one whole. What you were experiencing was, in fact, very much the opposite. All because of these damn dumb brown doe eyes that you had decided to give to the character. Of course. What other eyes could the golden retriever type have, right? What other kinds of eyes would your boss approve of for the established archetype, the persona that you had ideated, storyboarded and proposed not only in front of your immediate team but also to senior management? That was right. None. No other. Only these doe eyes that you had been staring at and cursing profusely for the last four hours after having promised yourself that you would try to get to bed at ten in the evening instead of the less-than encouraging past midnight madness. But who were you kidding? 

Setting down the pen, you leaned back to stretch, hearing random joints crack and echo around your body, making you wonder if you have even been moving at all for the past few weeks. Having the opportunity to work from home during fast-paced sprints was, of course, a big benefit, but all too often for you, it also meant only ever walking from your home office to your kitchen and back, with the occasional bathroom break and a flop onto the armchair you had dragged into your office for designated social media scrolling time. Gone from the world, with your friends having nicknamed you an e-hermit in not one, but two separate chats. Zoned out and barely hanging onto the words spewed by your superiors, much like the rest of your fellow designers working on this same project, be it other characters, setting, clothing customisation options, accessories, or special items… as the main project lead, boss of the bosses had said: ‘whatever the user wishes for, should be there’. Who knew that a dating simulator could be that intense and demanding? 

Your drawing tablet was glaring at you, and so were the eyes on its screen, doubled onto your monitor watching your every movement like a painting at a museum would. They were meant to be kind and loving, crafted to complete the sunshine that this character was supposed to be, but the slightest misses in the lines were throwing the image off-kilter, and you could not pinpoint what was wrong. Reaching out for the now lukewarm cup of coffee off to the side of your desk, narrowly avoiding the clutter of sketches and notes you had made, you heaved a sigh, pondering if it would be the wisest to simply resign yourself to abandoning the task for today, and pick it up at work tomorrow. It was not like you would be punished for having the eyes be slightly off during an update meeting, after all, this was an ongoing process. But the perfectionist part of you was not letting go. You had managed to ideally depict everything else - the toned, tall physique with the stunning waist, torso and broad shoulders, the cheeks that made you feel a strong cute aggression, the tousled locks that could then be customised by a player’s colour preference, every other feature of the face that screamed ‘handsome’ and ‘appealing’... you did it all, and you would not be yourself if you could not overcome this little blip.

“One more try…” you whispered to yourself and searched for the file on your computer that contained a user story and profile of the character you had been agonising over. 

One click, another, and the document was up on the screen, revealing an initial concept sketch that you had made when you first proposed the man as a possible love interest for the main character in the simulator, as well as any facts about him, now being even further developed by the story-writers. Page after page, update after update the character in some ways felt more real than you, especially in your current deflated state. A gentleman, a sentimental soul, with what your colleague had called ‘four-dimensional’ traits and overall a funny, adorable sweetheart who at the click of a finger can turn into the sexiest man alive. There was nothing you did not like - aside from some details here and there that you were not sure who added but they had been approved so you had to deal with it, and that was problematic for your work since it meant that you were in the permanent state of wanting to do the character justice. You scrolled back up, starting at the brief, staring at the name as if it wasn’t already imprinted in your mind. Jeong Yunho. 

The dance instructor and choreographer. The talented and hardworking man who the main character would meet third, on her eighth day in Seoul. Born on the twenty-third of March nineteen ninety-nine in the city of Gwangju, moving to Seoul to chase his dreams and fight for them. Special talents… skills… favourite phrases… preferences… key memories… you read on, re-absorbing the details and rearranging them on imaginary shelves, trying to make sense of the information in the context of character design. How were you going to depict all of this in a pair of eyes? A part of you was confident that you were overthinking - actually, you definitely were. Not a single other designer was on Yunho's creation, and developers were going to look at him not as a persona, as a representation of a being that had become real in your mind, but as a task to execute, lines of code to make him move in predetermined ways, make him talks in predetermined ways, smile… yes, you were excited to see him be just that bit more alive, but at the same time, you were afraid of that moment - it would be right then that the world you had subconsciously built for you and him alone would be shattered, and your daydreams dispelled, maybe even crushed. So, getting the eyes perfect right now was the least you could do. At least your Yunho would be perfect.

Swearing under your breath, you picked up the pen once more and twirled it once around your fingers. His personality was fresh on your mind, heart racing, you could almost imagine him in front of you. With a final nod of encouragement, you dived back in, with more vigour and motivation than before, determined to get Yunho right, and to depict him how he truly was, how you knew he should be. The time ticked past, and so did the layers of doubt. Erasing themselves along with strokes of the digital brushes that dissatisfied you, you were unveiling the true character, and with a light heart, a smile on your face and a saved file, leaned onto your desk and rested your head on your crossed arms, just for a quick break to relish in the fact that you finally achieved the look that you had been searching for…

“Hey, good morning you worker bee, what did I tell you about sleeping at your desk?”

You never thought you could yell, right after waking up, as loud as you did at that moment. Jolting up from your seat, forgetting all the papers, equipment and stationery that was strewn about on the table on which you had been dozing, you bolted away from the source of the voice. It had resounded far too close to you for comfort, belonged to no one whom you knew, and was dangerously sweet and slightly lower-set. Pleasant. But who the hell was in your apartment and how did they break in when you almost always double-locked your door? After building up a bit of distance, you finally looked up and rubbed the last bits of sleep from your eyes. The figure was lean, toned, considerably tall, perhaps even very tall, definitely a man, with dark hair and a face that was a bit too similar to-

Jeong Yunho. Jaw-dropping, you darted back to your tablet and computer, practically shaking the mouse, forcing the entire digital system to begrudgingly awaken at your command. You searched everywhere. The open file, others, older versions… nothing. No luck in finding what you had been working on. It was as if the Yunho you had been spending weeks developing had never existed, and all that you were left with and were staring at was a blank page, and the character, no, a whole man, right in front of you, supposedly living, breathing and in your room. You stood up straight, giving the not-quite-a-stranger but still a stranger a once over, while he, confused, had an eyebrow raised and a sheepish smile on his face. He looked adorable that way. Abashed to the point of cuteness - you recalled a game developer on your team describing the planned emotional response functionality in that way; it had been a hit, and now you were seeing, in person, why. 

“Y-Yunho?” you whispered in disbelief, a hand hovering over your mouth while you were wondering whether you should officially report yourself to your boss for having succumbed to the delusions. Relief flashed over the beautiful man’s features when you mentioned his name, timidly, yes, but still, it was his name that you uttered.

“Yes, Y/N, that’s me, hey, don’t worry.”

“Y/N?” He knew your name. This was too real - a shriek erupted from what felt like the depths of your soul, and you shut your eyes, only to open them again and to see the same picture, but a little more zoomed in. He was approaching you. Code red, alert, alert, hot man of your dreams who you had been drawing all the time and were effectively being paid to thirst over was approaching you.

“Do you not remember me or something, are you okay? See I keep telling you to not sleep so late, it’s bad for you-”

“Look who’s talking, mister ‘time to text at two in the morning’,” It was a shot in the dark, a random recollection of facts that had been noted about Yunho, but that was true, since he stopped immediately, a dazzling smile on his face.

“Alright, alright, you got me. But hey, you answer me so we are in this together, right?” he countered, and winked. 

“Yeah… and I should stop drinking coffee that late, it gives me some cursed… abilities…” you concluded cryptically, though Yunho did not seem to care much about the wording, taking it as your account of how easily you had been spooked by him.

After the initial wave of ‘stranger danger’ had subsided, instead being replaced by the odd conviction that the man before you truly was just the representation of the character for the simulator, you crossed your arms and regarded him more slowly, calmly while he approached the book cabinet that was filled to the brim with manga, manhwa, figurines, dolls, action figures… effectively the best representation of what had inspired you and continued to drive you to do what you were doing in your life now. He was dressed casually, in a zip-up grey hoodie and dark grey jeans. He had taken off his shoes and was in black socks that he stuffed into a pair of slippers - so in this reality, Yunho clearly was a regular guest. Scratching the back of your head, you wondered if this was a storyline that had been updated and you were unknowingly hallucinating.

“Well, uh, if you… if you want me to come by another time I don’t mind. Whatever works best for you…”

Oh. It finally clicked in your head, and your heart fluttered. The moment was stark and aching in your mind, and you were barely able to contain yourself, the subconscious fangirl in you fully awakening. The light flush of pink on his cheeks, those damn doe eyes that were so perfect, and were now looking right at you as if you were Yunho’s entire world, it was all a telltale sign for what was to happen later, and the past disappointment at having been woken up and having no more documents to present evaporated. This was another life, it had to be. One where you did not have to worry about the endless story points, bi-weekly sprints and one deliverable after another. Only a very precious Yunho who, while toying with the sleeve of his hoodie was pondering if he was even welcome.

“Hey! No, we were planning to hang out and we are going to. Sorry, you know how work is and it got to me this time. What shall we do then? Go out, stay in?” you amplified your sociability, putting the fantastical aspect of the circumstances on the back burner for future pondering.

Laying down the pen that you had absent-mindedly grabbed for self-defence, you stepped around the desk and towards Yunho, never once breaking the visual exchange, except when his gaze darted to the floor under your intensity. You had the advantage after all, of knowledge. You could sense, and could confirm by your universe, what exactly was going to happen. He was pretending to not be affected by your closeness, looking at the cabinet again, though the tone in which he spoke was vulnerable, every bit the dream guy you were imagining all this time. You could barely resist the urge to pinch his cheek - in fact, you made a mental note to yourself to check if that was a playable option in the game or not.

“Can we… stay in?”

“Take out?” if there was something you would not quite let him do, it would be to give him full power over the kitchen. Perhaps another time, but not when the dream was so magnificent.

“You bet! I’m buying this time-”

“Yun, c’mon.”

“Technically I am still the guest.”

“You are much more than a guest-” a pause, a blur within which Yunho was attempting to pick out the meaning behind the words which you had purposefully left to be ambiguous, just to mess with him a little bit. It was too sweet, “I mean, you practically live here at this point,” he groaned and playfully rolled his eyes while continuing to tap in the order to what was for sure meant to be your favourite restaurant in the neighbourhood.

You followed him into your living room. Everything was just as you had left it. Even Yunho’s presence was beginning to feel natural, probably because it had already been pretty much just as constant as him now physically falling onto the couch and leaning back to stretch an arm out over the back of it. Hell, you had even spent some evenings sketching him in this same room. As you settled beside him, while still keeping a little bit of distance - just as friends who were feeling not quite platonic would do, you realised that indeed, you were that close. You did know him ‘since forever’, and whatever this fever dream was, you had every right to enjoy it. So upon pulling your legs onto the couch and under you, you settled in and with a soft sigh began to set up the movie you were going to watch. Just like you and Yunho would do had he been an actual interest of yours.

As the food arrived and was promptly devoured, and you were midway through the film, you found Yunho slowly but surely gravitating towards you. First, it was with an outstretched hand when he was trying to imitate a character on the screen, then with him sitting ever so slightly closer when there was supposedly a ‘spooky moment’ even though you knew full well that out of the two of you, you were the one who would not dare enter a haunted house again, and finally, under the pretence of ‘wanting to show you a funny meme on his phone’ he sat right next to you, thighs flush against each other, arm resting on the sofa right behind your head. You could not help but lean into the warmth, attracted to it, comforted. You knew Yunho inside and out, and if there was anyone who you would trust like this, it would be him. He had seen you at your worst - crying in the office bathrooms when during your early days at the company you had been humiliated by your old boss (who, thankfully, had been promptly fired), and had seen you at your best - your award-winning presentation and proof of concept for an innovative life simulation game, selected as a showpiece for the company at a major global conference. He was always there. Be it on your phone, in a sketchbook, or on your laptop - he was always there, cheering you on. There was no difference between then and now, except that now you could allow your head to rest against his broad chest, hearing the soothing beating of his heart behind the cotton fabrics, feeling how his hand dropped to trace random, intricate shapes on your shoulder while his eyes stayed glued to the television screen. 

You could sense that he was afraid to look at you, or at least of what he would think or do if he were to do so. He was warm. Very warm. Maybe too warm. You looked up, noting the adorable redness of his ears that appeared only in particular instances: either he just woke up from deep sleep which was not the case, or he had violently shaken his head and rubbed his ears - another no, or he was embarrassed and shy. Bingo. There it was. You nuzzled against him and swore you could feel his entire body stiffen. Just like when a cat makes a person ‘ the chosen one’ by lying on their lap and said person almost forgets to breathe, you nearly knocked consciousness out of Yunho, it seemed.

“What’s up?” you mumbled, noting that Yunho straightened his back, sitting in an unnatural position.

“I, uh, nothing, it’s nothing,” he responded, clearing his throat, still not daring to look to the side to face you. 

A pause. That was his character - you nodded to yourself. He had always been like this. Sympathy through the roof but when it came to his openness - he far from often strayed into that field. It would take quite a bit of coaxing, or, somehow easier, waiting for the right moment. So wait you did, comfortably resting against Yunho, insistent that he return to his previously unwinded state. Before you could snake your hand around him to pull his hood up, your friend suddenly shot up, mumbling something about it being too stuffy, or too hot, and tugged the article of clothing off.

All would be fine and dandy if he was not built how he was - and you knew it better than anyone, however strange it was to admit. After all, you had been the one to pick and sketch out his physique, knowing every muscle, curve and edge. As he fumbled with the sleeves, you took in his form, mouth agape as you saw what you had only perceived two-dimensionally, now in live action, and somehow being the one case of where the transition was impeccable if not better. If he were to turn at any moment, he would bear witness to your disturbingly dedicated scrutiny. But at the same time, what could a digital artist and designer do when a handsome man was right before them? Exactly. It was practically a duty to perceive; if not for personal interests (which you would be a liar if you were to say you did not have them), then at least for science. He looked too good in the dark grey graphic t-shirt, which, despite it being slightly oversize, did its beautiful work by revealing his perfectly toned arms. When you noticed him being in the process of turning back, you peeled your gaze away and back to the movie, not sure where in the storyline you even were, nor what the actors were saying. Patting the space next to you, you beckoned Yunho back. This time, he was calmer in his demeanour, falling back and letting you fall into him, with him, for him - and he was right there to catch you. 

Action scene after action scene turned into a blur, dialogue was static that you were not bothered to discern while you focused on Yunho’s breathing. Shallower than before, but still comforting. Who would have thought that you would be cuddling with your dream man when a mere few hours ago you were holed up behind your desk, with a cramped and stiff neck, an exhausted hand and equally tired eyes? Eyelids grew heavier, and you wondered if it would be long before you would fall asleep again, and wake up alone, as usual; a bitter smile settled on your lips when the realisation hit you, earning you a perplexed glance from Yunho and a poke in your side.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Definitely something, he turned to you, studying your every movement. The action led him to detangle himself from you, leading you to shiver a little from the lack of his body heat, “ah wait are you cold now? I- wait, here, hoodie?”

“Thanks.”

Him. In every thread. The scent of clean laundry, cotton, and fabric softener. There was something so magical in it, soothing. You wanted to float in the aroma and this moment forever. Pulling the hoodie tighter around you, you pretended to not notice the adoration that was blatantly obvious in Yunho’s expression. He watched as you pushed up the sleeves a little bit, crossed your legs and looked back at him.  Your friend, your muse and subject was nervous, and it did not need a trained professional to figure it out. The tale was climbing to a peak, and the main characters had to face it together. You waited for him, mellowness across your features as you played with one of the hoodie’s drawstrings.

Yunho looked at you, and something about the purity, and hopefulness within him made you think of the very first drawings you had made on post-its in the middle of a conference. Bored out of your mind, your mind wandered back to pondering the new project you had been assigned - the dating simulator. Idea after idea had been proposed for the characters, but not a single one stuck. Everyone was at a standstill until he came along. A breathtaking blessing, just like he was now. Silence settled like snow, only to be broken by a short hum, and Yunho taking the risk you had been wishing for.

“I… I know it has only been a few months but… I really don’t think I can be friends with you anymore, Y/N,” you tilted your head as he put his hands on his lap, fingers repeatedly messing with the material of his sweatpants - his attempt to soothe himself. You, on the other hand, were oddly calm. Simply waiting for the events to unfold and for you to embrace them with the fullest heart. While he was searching for the right words to say, you placed a hand over his, waking him from rumination. A weak smile was replaced by determination, truth spilling from his soul.

“I like you too much. Really. I would not be able to keep my distance even if I tried.”

“Well I think you are a bit too far away right now, Yun,” with a wave of boldness having washed over you, you acted on instinct, leaning towards the beautiful, infinitely precious man until he could not look away, captivated by your proximity, your glimmering eyes, your acceptance.

“Huh?” the sound was barely audible, an echo lost to the tension. You ran a finger over his jawline, instantly seeing his expression darken with another reverberating, deep sensation.

“We should seal the deal, shouldn’t we?” remaining cryptic, you inched closer and closer until you could pick apart the flicks of lighter mahogany in those stunning irises - you wanted to shake your hand for having persevered to finish them in the drawing. Truly, one of a kind.

“What-”

“Oh just kiss me already-”

That phrase you did not need to tell Yunho twice. Finally catching on, he was the first to destroy the distance between you, capturing your lips with his and letting his hand find purchase in your hair, digits running through it, caressing you, guiding you into a shared rhythm. He was as sweet as vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. An intoxicating, ecstatically overwhelming daze that consumed you whole. You saw the sketches flash before you, burning one by one to fuel the desire building for Yunho, for you, for the two of you together. It felt right, it felt real. Arms over his shoulders, you allowed him to pull you into his lap, embrace you and pepper the softest kisses on your cheeks, and your neck, finding the path back to your lips. You felt more alive than ever with the electricity coursing through your newfound intimacy. Nothing existed. This universe was Yunho, and you could not be happier. Better than in any story that you or your co-workers could develop, better than in any fairytale, the oddity transformed into eternity. This was a dream you wanted to remain in for as long as you-

Saying it was hard to wake up was an understatement. Your entire body had been aching from having fallen asleep in an awkward position over your drawing tablet, you had slept past your alarms and as such had only fifteen minutes to cram getting ready and leaving for the office, and upon checking your schedule you had the ‘pleasure’ of having three more meetings being crammed into it, reducing your lunch break to what was a near null. With a sigh, you moved away from your space, dragging your tired body to your first official interaction of the day after having sat at your desk for a couple of hours, already dreading it. The new CEO - whoever they were, was the ‘I want to know all the details and be one with the teams’ type, how joyful, you wondered how long that would last. 

It was hard to find the motivation, especially after a dream such as yours. It kept on revolving in your head, pressing down on you, making you reminisce the gentle caresses, the sweet words and actions, the delightful kiss that you had managed to just have the time to experience with Yunho. You were seeing your character in an entirely new light, already having reworked some ideas for the possible special event outfits and spammed your close colleagues who were working on the storyline with some ideas about how Yunho could have even better depth and as such, engagement from prospective users. Perhaps for this meeting with authority you just needed to tap into your delusions and it would be good enough - at least they were productive for once. 

While you were setting up the presentation, the rest of your immediate team began to file in, giving you excited waves that you returned with an unprecedented warmth. Pleasant chatter, discussion of possibility, mention of just how special it was that this dating simulator game project was the one the CEO had chosen to see today… you were feeling confident. Whoever this person was going to be, you were going to give your best and-

The door opened. Heads turned. Greetings, bows - all forms of politeness that could be expressed being delivered. People standing up, while you stood up taller by the board, the title slide behind you. You raised your head, only for time to slow down and freeze entirely. Your hold on the clicker tightened, and the only person aside from you who existed at that moment was the newcomer. The CEO. Greeting others with a smile and with equally as elegant bows. Every bit the gentleman in his tailored suit, hair swept back and impeccably styled. Jeong Yunho.

This had to be some kind of joke, right? Was this a dream? The stinging remaining after you pinched your arm slapped you back into reality. No. This Yunho was definitely real. But who was the one you-... the one you started dating? The one who you were way more than colleagues or friends with? Before your mind could accelerate into panicked rumination, his gaze stopped at you, and you could sense everyone else’s attention drift to you too. You were under his spotlight. Melting under what was nothing but kindness in his eyes.

“L/N Y/N, right? I heard a lot about you,” his grin was making you dizzy, memories of his taste resurfacing and sending heat to your cheeks, giving them a light dusting of pink.

“Good things, I hope?” you managed, he chuckled, and sent you a wink before sitting down on his chair.

“The best. I am really looking forward to this,” a playful tease.

“Glad to know this.”

“I heard you made quite a few new developments, how did that happen?” you knew what he was getting at, and that made you feel secure. So it was the same Yunho. That precious Yunho who had confessed to you, the one who had come to life and was now part of yours, by some odd twist of fate had appeared in your company, and was now right in front of you, eager and in love. You smirked while twisting to check the slide one last time, well aware that his only focus ever would be you.

“Came to me in a dream.”

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thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please leave a kind reblog, much love!

[eiightysixbaby]

I dunno why but my brain always short circuits thinking about Eddie and a metal reader like both in all black and chains listening to loud music. He likes watching her put men in their place at the record store when they try and say she doesn’t know that kind of music. They go to concerts together and head bang screaming at the top of their lungs. And then one day she comes over after a lunch with her grandparents and her parents make her wear a pink dress with ruffles and Bobby socks, Mary Jane shoes, no heavy makeup just light and soft and Eddie LOSES HIS FUCKING MIND. His girl still cussing like a sailor, chugging beer and singing to Dio in that fucking pink dress is making him FERAL.

oh my god he would lose his shit.

you’re usually all black and leather and metal and chains, fishnet stockings and combat boots, eyeliner and red lipstick.

so when this happens, he has no idea it’s coming, isn’t expecting to see you like that at all, and when he opens his door to you in a little pink dress that hugs you in the right places but is also so delicate and frilly, he just about creams his jeans. like, he’s down bad enough for you as is, in your normal attire. he had no idea that seeing you like this would get him so riled up, he can’t explain it, it just has him foaming at the mouth. you look so innocent and sweet and he knows you’re not underneath the pink and bows and ruffles, and it’s making his head spin. his eyes are practically burning holes through your skin the way he’s staring at you, and wayne can’t help but catch it. eddie’s hand is gripping the sofa cushion so hard wayne’s like “calm down boy, gonna rip the damn fabric”. but he just can’t handle the way you look right now paired with the way you sing along to holy diver and cuss on a level that rivals wayne’s trucker talk. as soon as he has you alone his hands are skirting up your thighs beneath your dress, squeezing handfuls of your ass. he gets you on all fours on his bed and spanks you, just cause he likes flipping your dress up and having such easy access. he’s growling into your ear, “what would your poor parents think if they knew I was defiling you in this sweet little dress right now?” he has you dumb with the way he’s treating you, ready to fuck you into oblivion in your pretty little outfit. and after this, you’ll sometimes surprise him by wearing something pink or preppy or frilly when you go out with him just to throw him off kilter, loving the way he gets so wound up because of it.

[honey-dont]

stex month day five: electra!

favorite actors: jeffrey daniel, koffi missah, mykal rand, john partridge, leon maurice-jones, and lashane williams!

favorite songs/scenes: ac/dc is such a good song, i esp love the olc and update bochum versions where it sounds super off-kilter and kind of creepy. electra throwing a tantrum in no comeback/dinah's disco and getting wrecked in one rock n roll is so fun too! special shoutout to the gl kiss <3

favorite costumes: toothpaste electra with the super long mowhawk and liberal amounts of glitter is always peak, but i like the update costume a lot too! the wig especially, it's honestly mesmerizing to watch. also very fond of on-ice electra he is a banana

favorite ships/friendships: greasedlightning <333 their relatinoship would be such a disaster and i'm here for it. i also like the thought of electra trying to be besties with rusty by constantly inserting himself as a third wheel. also electra & flat top just based on backstage pics...electra brings him home to the components like look i found this stray on the side of the road :)

headcanons: he's the train equivalent of chronically ill! he's prone to random shut-downs (hence the 'unreliable' line) and has to rest a lot between races

unpopular opinion: the monochrome costume is good actually. i didn't like it at first but it grew on me a lot!

[evesaintyves]

Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, rated M, eleven 200-word drabbles. Warning for mentions of abortion.

 She must have fallen asleep. She thinks it’s a fly crawling up her neck, for a minute, and nearly swats it before she realises it’s his mouth. Her heart gives a squeeze that is aching at the same time that it is sweet—how little it takes from him, these days, to wring a few drops of nervous hope from that tired old thing. But she turns to him, anyway, and they don’t speak but he kisses her a little, and fuck, there goes her gormless heart again.

Read it on Ao3.

I wanted to say a few things about what went into this fic below - and I will be talking about abusive relationships and abortion from a secular, pro-abortion-on-demand perspective, so if that's likely to trouble you I recommend giving it, and the fic, a miss.

This story is set around chapter 7 of Deathly Hallows, "The Will of Albus Dumbledore," when Lupin and Tonks leave Harry's birthday party to avoid being seen by Rufus Scrimgeour. This period of canon gives us several glimpses into how Lupin & Tonks's relationship is going and it strikes me as a really scary and unsafe time for Tonks. Lupin's unhappiness is so evident even Harry notices it, while she's described as "radiant," - meaning pregnant, but also that they're clearly not on the same page. Around this time we see Tonks facing some of the disturbing realities of being married to Lupin: Bellatrix's pursuit of her in the battle of seven Potters, having to flee from her boss so he doesn't see them together. Tonks's mentor is dead (and we see when that happens that Lupin's not all that interested in supporting her as she's reeling from it), Tonks's family is pretty unhappy with her (according to Lupin), things are unraveling.

(I'd like to point you to two takes I really love on how off-kilter their interactions are right before this, around the time Mad-Eye dies: Fallen Warrior by @bikelock28 and Mandible by @saintsenara - both of these authors have had a huge influence on my writing and my thinking about hp canon.)

I've always been kind of obsessed with this particular moment between Lupin and Tonks - when we see Lupin seize Tonks by the wrist and haul her out of the burrow. It's an alarming interaction, to me, that suggests the possibility of a very frightening dynamic setting up between them. Tonks is an adult, she's aware of the consequences of being seen together. I'm not even convinced she had to leave in the first place instead of changing her appearance or just making herself scarce upstairs for a while. There's no argument that leads Lupin to grabbing her out of desperation - he just says bye to Harry and hauls her away. Not by the hand, like he's trying to keep her from tripping or something. By the wrist, so she can't let go, which seems even more likely to unbalance her. It's a dismissal of her autonomy at the very least, he's treating her a bit like a child, and it's probably quite embarrassing for Tonks. The way she makes excuses for it the next day, in the context of everything else we're seeing about this relationship, only makes it all seem unhealthier. If I witnessed this interaction between a friend and her new husband, I'd be checking on her.

And in the midst of this rapidly-disintegrating relationship with this escalatingly-discontent and reactive husband - Tonks is finding out that she's pregnant, something that will complicate things even further and tie her to a man who does not really seem to want to be with her.

This fic came to be as I was thinking about the way Lupin talks about Tonks in "The Bribe," when he reveals that she's pregnant and they've split up, in a way that respresents this development as something abhorrent and humiliating but also downplays his culpability for it: ...then Lupin said, with an air of forcing himself to admit something unpleasant, "Tonks is going to have a baby." And how devastating that attitude might be for a Tonks who is happily pregnant.

But we don't really know how happy she is to be pregnant. We never hear about it from her. We see her as radiant in an early appearance, sure, and the baby ends up getting born, but that's all we really have to go on. And I have to wonder what options Tonks might have had if she didn't want to be pregnant or wasn't sure. She'd have had access to a legal abortion through the muggle health system up to 24 weeks, but there's evidence in canon that wizards are fearful of and disgusted by muggle medical practices (e.g. Arthur's stitches in OoTP). And wizarding society seems pretty regressive in some respects: people get married and have children young, there's no mention of divorce or blended families or out-of-wedlock babies - and yes, that's also because these are childrens' books (and books that privilege a certain kind of familial love above all else) but this is the text and the universe we have to work with. Notably, the immortal human soul demonstrably exists in this world and I think it's pretty safe to assume that most people believe in it - it seems to be pretty common knowledge that a dementor can remove the soul from the body and that ability is encoded into the wizarding penal system. What does that mean for abortion access in that world? Do wizards believe that an embryo or a fetus is an ensouled person and that it would be murder, or something like that, to terminate it? Even if a magical abortion is legal, what are cultural attitudes toward it like under this belief system? How difficult or inconvenient is it? I'll leave the particulars of how the wizarding legal and medical systems function to someone smarter than me, but... I work in health care, and I've seen the ways that even vague or minor barriers to access - stigma, embarrassment, misinformation, wait times or travel requirements, the levels of executive function and emotional regulation required to keep multiple appointments and talk to a bunch of providers about a sensitive issue - mean that some people who need care won't get it. We don't really know if Tonks unreservedly chose to keep her pregnancy, or if she just didn't have meaningful access to another option, or if access was just hard or unpleasant enough that she didn't make a decision until it was too late.

There's a tendency in some Remadora fic— including one of mine, in a way I didn't think much about until later—to frame the hypothetical of Teddy being aborted as a regrettable tragedy, thankfully averted by the power of true love, and not as a reasonable response to the difficult circumstances and something everyone might have moved on from and been fine - and I think that's understandable. Teddy's important to trajectory of Tonks and Lupin's lives. It's okay to love these characters and want everyone to be as happy and whole as their situations allow. And I think that we have some (at least mildly gendered) expectations that of course our faithful Tonks wants to stay married, wants a child with the person she loves. But I wanted to depict this slice of their relationship with sympathy for a Tonks who is seriously considering ending her pregnancy - who has at least as much reason as Lupin to just want shut of the whole thing. I would have, in her position. I have seen friends locked into horrible situations with abusive partners by pregnancy.  I think you could argue that not having Teddy and getting out of that relationship might have meant a different outcome for Tonks in the battle of Hogwarts. And I think that it's entirely possible for Tonks to have wanted an abortion that she didn't end up getting - for whatever legal, cultural, or psychological reasons - and for Teddy to still have been a welcome and loved child when he was born.

Anyway, let me know what you think.

[image: from francis bacon, three studies of figures on beds, 1972]

[aihoshiino]

chapter 157 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 14… IN THIS CHAPTER OF ALL CHAPTERS…????

Aqua Hoshigan Status: White

Congrats to 157 for taking 144's crown as the Oshi no Ko chapter that has vexed and confused me the most. Taken entirely in isolation, it's a sweet, lowkey, calm before the storm moment… but it's entirely because it stands in such stark isolation from the events surrounding it that it feels so baffling. It's like an amped up version of the issues with 156 - when viewed in isolation, you can't strictly say there's anything wrong with it, but as a part of the sequential storytelling of Oshi no Ko it just feels off. I'm reminded of the weird, off-kilter pacing of the Movie Arc, where story beats fell at weird places as if the story was falling out of tempo with itself. Because of that, this chapter review is probably going to be a bit disjointed but tbh besties i am fighting for my life on this one

I will say at the top of things though that it's darkly funny to me that we're fastforwarding through so much of the B-Komachi tour lol. Offscreen no Ko strikes again!

Honestly, this chapter in general kind of defies any attempt at a beat by beat analysis though that does seem to largely be by design. As the chapter title suggests, this is simply some pagetime spent on letting us stew in what a calm, ordinary day looks like for the twins and for what it is, it's sweet and chill. Taken on its own there isn't really a ton to pick apart, other than just pointing at what moments I found cute which was like 90% of them. I want a 5 chapter mini arc of AQRB goofing around at the grocery store and squabbling over the cooking together.

I also really like that Aqua is the one to suggest doing something nice for Miyako and that he joins Ruby in waiting up for her to get home and see it. It feels like a sweet and warm acknowledgement of the subtle shift in their relationship after 155, with the two of them properly stepping into their roles as parent and child.

As nice as this chapter is though, it does kind of feel like too little too late. One of the major complaints across the series (that I do largely agree with) is that Aqua and Ruby's day-to-day dynamic is for the most part underbaked and that the two of them don't really feel like people who grew up in the same household for 16+ years. I think a few more moments like this properly threaded through the manga would have helped but… well, considering OnK's pacing, do I really want to encourage much more downtime…

Moving on from the things I liked, as cute as this chapter was it's also just kind of weird that so much of it feels like the framing device is a recap episode lol. I guess it isn't the worst idea in the world to have one as we're heading into the final stretch of the story but… well, again, see my point above about weird pacing.

It's also just baffling as fuck to see Ruby frame these events in a way that distinctly did not happen lol. Like, sure, she was definitely having fun doing idol stuff for a lot of it but seeing her so warmly gas up stuff like Tokyo Blade when the anime airing right now is reminding us that Aqua was going through the SpongeBob horror hallway the entire time is so jarring - especially when Aqua (and thus, implicitly, the narrative) agrees with her. I mean, fuck, even putting Aqua aside it's WILD to see Ruby framing "Dig Deep" as having been fun for her when her major contribution to the show was manipulative drama stirring for the purposes of chasing clout that she herself said was having an impact on her mental health. I've criticized the story for the ways Ruby's black hoshigan arc amounted to nothing but there's a special kind of infuriating in seeing it specifically call back to that arc and still fail to actually acknowledge any wrongdoing on Ruby's part.

This is part of a much bigger trend in OnK right now of Ruby being super coddled by the narrative and coming off in some really unpleasant ways as a result. I didn't mention it last chapter but something that's been percolating in my brain since after I wrote my review is just how fucking bonkers Ruby's total non-respose to Mem's situation is. "Oh, you're getting stalked by the press? Sucks to be you, thank god I'm Miyako's special little favourite tho 🙏". Not only is this just kind of a shitty response to begin with but it feels insane coming from a person like Ruby who, you know, saw her mother's life blighted and then ended by this kind of treatment. No concern for Mem, tho!

Idk. I don't want to dislike Ruby but man. A lot of the ways Akasaka has been playing favourites with her lately has the effect of Ruby coming off, in universe, like a deeply self centered and callous person in ways I don't think narrative intends or even realizes and thus fails to interrogate in a satisfying way. But that's a rant for another day. And I'm pretty sure you guys already know what today's rant is gonna be. Which is to say, uh…

HEY. AKASAKA. ARE THEY GONNA TALK ABOUT… ANY OF WHAT HAPPENED IN THE MOVIE ARC?? ANYTHING AT ALL????

This is what I meant when I said this chapter utterly fucking bamboozled me. The way the story has contorted itself into knots to avoid letting Aqua and Ruby have a conversation even when they're literally in the same room is already insane, but giving us an entire chapter of them alone together with ample opportunity to have any sort of meaningful discussion as to the gigantic elephant in the room looming over their relationship and……. literally nothing happens???

This is made even more insanity inducing by the fact that this is, as stated above, more or less a recap chapter and not only does Ruby talk about the movie specifically but we even SEE a flashback to the HikAi kiss…. but not the one Ruby jumpscared him with at the end of 143!!!

What the fuck is even going on anymore? Was it retconned? Resolved offscreen?? Did we collectively hallucinate it??? Is Akasaka gaslighting us????

If nothing else, this chapter has proved to me once and for all that whatever goes on with Aqua and Ruby, that resolution is going to come entirely at the speed of plot, as and when Akasaka decides to do it and not when it would be natural and organic for development to occur. This is an issue that has plagued Aqua and Ruby's r/s from the start, where Akasaka simply refuses to let them communicate, seemingly for the purposes of drawing out the drama rather than because of any narrative justification. So I'm giving on predicting what direction their relationship is going in and what the outcome is going to be. The inner machinations of Aka Akasaka's mind are a mystery to me.

To pre-pick some nits before I leave off… I've seen some people calling this a 'Tanabata chapter' and insisting this is intentional/foreshadowing aquruby end/etc and uh… sorry to be that guy but no it's not lol. Even accounting for the differences in calendars that scatters Tanabata celebrations across July and August, August's Tanabata falls on the 10th this year - and even in the anime world, celebrations across Japan took place on the 'official' date of 7/7. And while there is a Tanabata festival being held in Sendai today… that's just in Sendai, which is all the way up in northern Japan, nowhere near Tokyo where the series is set (and which itself had its Tanabata celebrations on the weekends surrounding 7/7 as per usual.)

There's also just the fact that this chapter… has nothing to do with Tanabata? There's no imagery or iconography and it takes place in the middle of December lol. I simply don't think it was intentional at all on Akasaka's part. It's a cute coincidence, sure, but still just a coincidence.

break next week. i love biweekly manga, oshi no ko.

[corawritesthings]

chishiya shuntaro flirting headcanons

(gn!reader, presumed to be in the borderlands.)

okay. let’s talk.

pov he's looking at you

-this man, in terms of flirting, would be one of two extremes. I will die on both of these hills.

-the first: this man being the most awkward, embarrassing flirter of life.

-picture this if you will. you two meeting at the beach (and I'd imagine in this scenario you’d eventually get to know each other well, he’s crushing on you, you’re crushing on him, that kind of thing.)

-kuina probably pushed him into making a move—because you know it’d be a cold day in hell for him to approach you himself—and thus begins the STRANGEST COURTSHIP SAGA OF YOUR LIFE.

-he’d probably attempt giving you gifts (gifts here meaning literal weapons he created) and he’d kind of just hand it to you quietly and walk off, leaving you with nothing but confusion.

-compliments would sound a little something like, “you’re pretty good at the games.”

-something distant and impersonal, because he wouldn’t feel right about complimenting specific things about you, if that makes sense? like, it just seems off to him to compliment things about your appearance or your personality. he’d prefer to speak a language he understands.

-(and, let’s not forget, most emotionally unavailable man on earth probably doesn’t want to understand his own feelings, so he’s just as off kilter about the whole thing as you are.)

-in that same vein, he’d probably compliment your intelligence a lot. (again, speaking his own language). he might commend you for your analytical skills or the way you understand things. the way your mind works is something that intrigues him regardless of what universe you’re in, so he’d certainly comment on it if he were making an active attempt to flirt (?) with you.

-he’d be that person who learns your route/routine just so he can run into you. look me in the eyes screen and tell me he wouldn’t. he’d absolutely deny it, don’t get me wrong. he will go to the grave with it. but he would.

-would accidentally insult you without realizing it at LEAST one time. (though if it were a true offense and you were genuinely hurt, I do think he’d apologize in his own on-brand chishiya way. maybe bring you a treat you really like.)

-okay, now for the second extreme, which I personally will subscribe to for eternity.

-this man.

-this MAN.

-chishiya. shuntaro.

-having the most rizz you’ve ever seen in your LIFE.

-it would catch you so off guard—you would NOT see it coming—but this man would be the smoothest motherfucker you’ve ever met.

-picture it. if you will.

-the PETNAMES. tbh I only see a specific set of petnames coming from this man? things like angel, sweetheart. or any variation of pretty. just ‘pretty,’ or ‘pretty girl’/’pretty boy.’ oh my god marry me or nicknames that only he calls you >>>

-if anyone approached you flirtatiously at a party and you were clearly uncomfortable or not interested, he’d just walk up to you and put an arm around your shoulders, asking if you wanted to go somewhere else. probably would verbally obliterate the person approaching you at the same time.

-when you would eventually ask why he did that, telling him you thought he didn’t care, he’d just shrug it off with a smirk on his face, and say something like, “i didn’t like the way they looked at you. that’s my job, isn’t it?”

-honestly are any of us ready for possessive chishiya? I am

-gift giving and quality time are his love languages, so if he’s interested, expect both of those in abundance.

-man would also not understand personal space. he’s a leaner. tell me otherwise, I dare you.

-(please tell me you know what I mean.)

-like, okay, his hands would generally stay in his pockets, but he’d always just be leaning in towards you, or appearing randomly without you realizing it and whispering in your ear to startle you. ESPECIALLY if you’re shorter than him.

-teaser.

-if you get flustered easily, he’d tease you on how your cheeks turn red or how blushy you get when he says something particularly flirty. (“it’s just the truth, y/n,” he’d say with a little hum. “you don’t want me to start lying, now, do you?”)

-if you don’t get flustered easily, he’d just see it as a challenge to up his game. you can leave that up to your imagination <3

-would probably hold your hand just to throw you off guard.

can I do actual relationship headcanons or are you guys tired of him yet?

[aranarumei]

What do we thing of the few and far between Niibashi and Hirano interactions?

[ask me about any two ssmy charas and i'll give my thoughts on their dynamic, real or imagined]

he’s so relatable. If I knew my friend was crushing on someone I’d already feel weird meeting them. if I knew the extent of the wildness of hirano to kagiura I would be unable to function normally. niibashi’s a trooper.

so basically I think he’s overly conscious of hirano! which is kind of neat because he usually seems like a guy who’s like. blunt and self-assured and cool. it’s hard for him bc kagiura talks about hirano SO MUCH, so he’s got this whole perception of a guy that he doesn’t know, and he’s aware its colored in some sense, but he also doesn’t know exactly what hirano’s truth is. and that’s confusing for him because I think he’s got a sense of responsibility of like. I must not let kagi get caught up in daydreams. 1) he’ll get hurt and 2) they’re roommates and that could get so badly complicated, so let’s make sure hirano’s comfortable. but a lot of that second point is also motivated by like. kagiura likes him SO MUCH, I’ve got to treat him well. a biased self-interest towards wanting kagi to be. successful / happy etc. what a wonderful friend he is.

but because of this Awareness, there’s also a sense of embarrassment and avoidance. it’s almost like. if I met a celebrity I’d talked about I’d get so embarrassed like. HELLO. You’re not supposed to know me!!! let me analyze your thing in peace. I’m not for you to look at. You see this when niibashi jolts at hirano’s presence and then gets the hell out of there after giving him the sewing kit—he’s cheering on kagiura, but also he doesn’t want to touch that with a ten foot pole bc it feels weird to intrude on their space? third-wheeling is awkward. I mean u see this in ch 24 when kagiura runs off and niibashis like DON’T LEAVE ME HERE??? in his head and then hirano also steps out and he’s like what the fuck do I do. I’m not gonna start up conversation w/ whoever this guy (sasaki) is. and then he just heads to the gym. speaking of, there’s a bit there where he sees hirano scolding sasaki and is like. THIS is the “super kind” hirano-san? guy was probably envisioning a blond angel at first so I think that adjustment to reality is messing with him.  

so if they interacted For Real, I think at first it would be hard and awkward bc niibashi would be put off-kilter by KAGI’S HUGE CRUSH hanging over them (basically the current state of affairs). after kagihira couple up though. I think niibashi would say something like “you guys are so annoying” and then get extremely embarrassed that he did that in front of hirano. bc its normal to nag at kagiura like that but not so normal to do that with a senpai. he’d be the type of guy who’d wanna be careful around hirano and then get embarrassed if he was naturally harsh or blunt in the kind way he is. and that wanting to be careful makes him unsettled. probably with enough time he would get comfortable, but I don’t think he & hirano have like… similar interests or demeanors, so I don’t really think anything like “oh my boyfriend is better friends w/ my friend than I am” would happen? still, at the end of the day they’re both thoughtful people who love kagiura. they’ll do fine.