#cool and fine and good and cool and great

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Prologue

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?)

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel had always liked Starfall. 

Even he could enjoy one night a year where they danced and were merry…where they pretended that everything was just fine. 

Just that this year…he couldn’t quite manage it. 

Feyre had invited Lucien. 

A year after that catastrophic Winter Solstice. 

And for the very first time, Elain…Elain seemed not just willing but genuinely happy to converse with her mate.

*Keep away from her,* Rhys had repeated his order that morning, making it very clear what he wanted his spymaster to do. And Azriel…well, he had acquiesced. 

Of course, he did. 

Nobody had even noticed when he had slipped away…Nobody had wanted to notice. Why should they? They were all content...they were all happy.

Mor's mating bond with Emerie had snapped just weeks before and that had...everybody was so very pleased for her.

*You are not going to ruin this for Mor,* Rhys had snapped into his mind. *She has been through enough.*

Azriel wasn't going to ruin it. 

So he pretended that everything was normal. And then he disappeared silently, and launched himself off the balcony and went flying. He didn't need to think when he did that. Even the shadows kept silent.

The night sky was a velvety black, speckled with countless glittering stars. 

Azriel loved to fly, loved the rush of the wind buffeting his body, the exhilarating feeling of power and freedom. He soared high into the sky, basking in the cool breeze on his face.

At least he had this .

As a child it was all he had wanted. And now...now it was...now it was seemingly the one thing that gave him something close to peace. The last few green sparkling streaks on the sky...Skyfall was nearly over, once again.

He basked in it for a little while. Until he felt the scratch of Rhys' mental claws against his walls.

*Azriel,* Rhys' voice was harsh, sharp, demanding. *Where are you?*

* Out. * Azriel answered simply. * Flying. *

*Come back,* Rhys ordered with a sigh. *Look, I get it. You are angry at me.*

Azriel didn't even bother answering to that, swooping lower and then pushing higher again, revelling in the cold night air.

*Elain and Lucien are figuring things out,* Rhys continued.

* Good for them, * Azriel replied, his tone still bland. * Is there anything else? *

Rhys let out an exasperated breath.

*Azriel...I am sorry,* his brother apologised. *Be angry at me all you like. This would have only ended in heartbreak for you anyway.*

*That should have been my decision to make,* Azriel's voice was cold, curt, brooking no argument.

Rhys sighed. *Not if the political ramifications could have upset an already strained peace,* Rhys snapped. *Be reasonable, Azriel.*

* Are you done? * he asked Rhys drily.

*Azriel... * Rhys' voice was exasperated. *Fine. Be angry with me, if it makes you feel better,* his brother snorted. *If you want to throw a tantrum like a child, be my guest.*

Azriel gritted his teeth. This was not a tantrum. *Great. Thanks.* he shot back at Rhys nonetheless.

*Elain is happy, Azriel,* Rhys said softly. *And you should be happy for her.*

* Fine, * he said, voice toneless. * I am happy for her. What else do you want from me, Rhys? *

*For you to stop sulking,* Rhys replied. *And to come back to the Party.*

*No,* Azriel said simply, making another loop in the sky, feeling the wind rushing past him.

*Azriel,* Rhys growled, his temper shortening. I mean it. 

*I think I'll go to that pleasure hall near the harbour instead,* Azriel said, his voice cold. * After all, if I want to fuck somebody, I should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, right? *

*Azriel!* his brother snapped, clearly irritated. *That is enough.*

* What? I am just following your orders, High Lord, * Azriel gave back icily.

*You sound like a petulant child.* Rhys snapped.

* Go back to your party, * Azriel said drily. * I'll be just fine. *

Rhys let out a huffing breath. *Fine. Go and pout some more.*

Azriel ignored his brother, closing the connection and feeling his walls snap back into place.He would pout some more. Thank you very much.

Azriel flew higher, ignoring the party, ignoring everything. He pushed his wings faster, harder, revelling in the wind, in the silence, in the stars above him.

The only sound he could hear was his heartbeat, pulsing in his ears, matching the beating of his wings as he flew. He flew and flew and flew, until his muscles ached, until his wings felt heavy.

It was nice. He liked it. He loved it, in fact.

There was a reason he loved flying so much. It was freedom, it was a rush, but most of all it was quiet.

He did go back to the House of Wind…even when he had no plans to go back to that party. He would go to his room and pout some more. Maybe write some more reports.

Do whatever the High Lord expected the Spymaster to do. 

He landed one one of the many, many balconies, recognising the Priestesses’ herb garden with a start. 

"Spymaster."

Azriel froze for a heartbeat, closing his eyes, cursing mentally. He had wanted to come back unnoticed, to slip in silently. But apparently he wasn’t the lucky. 

One of the Priestesses was sitting on the balcony’s ledge. He wasn’t scared that she was going to jup, simply because the balconies were spelled to prevent exactly that. 

Sitting there, wrapped in a thick knitted blanket, with dark brown hair reached her waist was Irena. 

Clotho’s right hand. The one in charge of seemingly all the paperwork that involved the library. All the bureaucracy went over Irena’s desk, all the accounts and acquisitions… 

She was the daughter of one merchant of the midlands, married off to another richer merchant as soon as she had been barely old enough. 

Azriel had met her for the first time two centuries ago. There had been a string of disappearances of young girls in the surrounding areas and his shadows had very quickly found the culprit. 

Azriel had killed her husband…before he could kill Irena. Her husband had had a taste for violence…his young, beautiful wife had been one of his long-suffering victims. 

Azriel had brought her to the library. He hadn’t really thought that she would bloom here as she had…hadn’t thought that a girl raised with a silver spoon in her mouth would be content with in the library. But she was. 

And Irena turned out to be one of those scarily efficient people that could do the job of three people. In two hundred years, she had actually managed to make the House of Wind cost Rhys nearly nothing in upkeep anymore. Thanks to the gardens of the priestesses that kept them in fruits and vegetables and herbs…some of them sold to the vendors in Velaris, some turned into creams and potions in the stillroom, that were also sold…the library was just one thing the priestesses did. Some preferred the stillroom or the gardens or even needle work, knitted sweaters that were handed out to the needy in Velaris.

She had done that. Had bloomed and flourished here. 

"Irena," he finally brought out, his voice hoarse.

She turned to face him for the first time. She had just grown more beautiful over the years…with long dark hair and dark doe eyes sat in a delicate face. 

But all of that didn’t matter anymore. The moment their eyes met...suddenly everything changed.

His priorities were rearranged. All he cared about anymore was her. Was the priestess wrapped in her wool blanket sitting on that balcony ledge…

Irena. 

She was his mate .

" Oh ," she breathed, her brown doe eyes widening near comically large.

Azriel just stared at her, feeling as though even the world had stopped breathing.

His mate .

His mate was sitting in front of him. 

Irena .

Irena was his mate.

"Azriel," she whispered,  her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.

 They just stared at each other for a long, long time. He stepped closer to her, wanting to touch her, wanting to feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, her soft lips against his. He wanted to pull her close...he wanted...

But Azriel didn't reach out. he didn't want to scare her. Didn't want to corner her. So he simply leant next to the railing a little bit away from her, still staring at her. "I..." he stuttered, trying to come up with he perfect sentence to tell his mate.

"I...I didn't expect that," Irena whispered.

"Me neither," Azriel said quietly, still slightly breathless, the information slowly sinking in.

"But it's not... unwelcome ?" Irena offered next.

"Absolutely not," Azriel said immediately. "I mean..." he said. She looked so small, sitting there on the ledge, wrapped into her blanket. One delicate shoulder poked out of it, only covered by white, near translucent cotton. She must only be wearing her nightdress, he realised suddenly. 

She looked…so young right at that moment. 

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly, still staring at her, a soft, tender feeling spreading through him.

His . She was his .

Irena closed her eyes with a heavy breath, before nodding hesitantly. "I just....this was..." she said slowly, not daring to look at him. "It was unexpected."

"For both of us," Azriel said quietly, trying to read her expression. Was it...was she happy? Was she upset ?

She nodded, and then bit her lip. "I..." she started and his eyes lingered at that small, plump lip of hers, wishing that he would be the one biting it.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly and he instantly snapped his eyes back up to her face. "Sorry?" he echoed, frowning, because...what was she apologizing for?

"I mean," she continued, her dark brows knitting together as she bit her lip. Oh dear god, Azriel had never wanted to be a lip so much in his life. "I... I don't think I'm what you were expecting ."

Azriel took a breath, ready to assure her that he was positively delighted at the prospect of her being his mate but the words didn't quite leave his lips because...

"Are you dissappointed?" he managed, his hands clenching around the railing. He was scared what her answer would be.

She finally looked at him. Looked into his eyes and Azriel felt the world slow down for a moment, felt his throat tighten as she searched his expression, searching for something.

Whatever she was searching for, she seemed to find it though because she let out a sigh of relief, her lips quirking into a small, self-depreciating smile. "No," she said honestly. Azriel's breath caught at the Genuity on her face. "No, I'm not. But I...I don't know what...if I can ever give you..." Irena said weakly.

He shook his head. "We have time," Azriel promised her fiercely. All the time. They could figure this out at their own pace.

"Time," Irena echoed softly, looking towards the vast, twinkling night sky, the stars reflected in her eyes.

She looked back at him for a moment, and he could see an almost helpless expression in her eyes.

 "I...I don't want to disappoint you,” she said quietly. 

"You couldn’t," Azriel whispered, still staring at her, at the beautiful face of his mate. "Believe me, you never could disappoint me."

She gave him the tiniest smile. She didn't believe him, he knew that. Regardless of how ridiculous it was. She deserved more than him. More than scarred and battered and broken warrior.

"I will never...I will never force you," he promised her softly. "I will never..."

She nodded, but Azriel still saw something like relief flash over her face.

It broke his heart. "You are a good male," she whispered.

"No. I am not," Azriel immediately disagreed, because he knew he wasn't. He couldn't even begin to name all the things he had done, all the horrors he had committed. 

He had killed her husband. That was just one of the things on his long, long list. “You deserve better than me,” he said weakly. 

"You are my mate," Irena murmured softly. "There is nothing better."

"I...have...killed people," he protested. Killed her husband too. though he did think that that male deserved it.

"You did," she agreed. "You are a warrior. A protector. You were the one that saved me" she said quietly.

Irena took a deep breath, and then, slowly, reached out, touching his scarred fingers, running small, delicate fingertips over the back of his hands, and Azriel froze, completely still, hardly able to breath as she slowly traced the scars on his skin.

Her touch was light, but searing, making his skin tingle.

He slowly turned his hand, catching her fingers between his, squeezing gently as he intertwined their hands.

"I will never force you. I will never lay a finger on you. Whatever we do in the future, is your decision," he swore. 

She stared up at him, the stars reflected in her eyes, her cheeks a faint pink.

Beautiful . Azriel thought, mesmerized and completely enraptured.

"I believe you," she whispered and Azriel's breath caught.

From her...that had been hurt so much...to hear that...it was...

"I will protect you," Azriel promised fiercely and her breath hitched as he lifted her hand, carefully, gently pressing his lips to the tips of her fingers. "I will protect you with my life."

She smiled at him then, a real smile, and Azriel felt as though his heart might stop. He had thought her beautiful before, but now, with her face illuminated in all its delicate beauty by the starry night sky...she was breathtaking .

"I...I will need some time to adjust," Irena said softly. Azriel just nodded dumbly, still a little star struck by her smile. "I...I haven't..." Irena said and she turned her head, looking out into the night sky, her hand still in his.

She hesitated, clearly struggling for words, and Azriel felt his heart seize up in his chest. Had he overwhelmed her? Had he pressured her?

"I haven't been with anyone in a long time." she admitted quietly. Irena didn't look at him, but Azriel was still looking at her, taking in her soft, almost angelic features, the slight blush on her cheeks.

He swallowed."I understand," Azriel whispered, and he did. He understood her hesitation, her uncertainty. And he would be patient...he would wait for as long as she needed.

"But...if you wanted to...you know where to find me," she said softly.

Azriel felt as though he was dreaming. He had found his mate, his beautiful, incredible mate, and she had welcomed him, wanted him even, and

Breathe .  He told himself as he tried to calm the hammering of his heart. Breathe .

And slowly, carefully, he nodded, his fingers still interlaced with hers. "I will come to you," he said, his voice husky. "Whenever you want me too."

She was...a gift. A gift he didn't deserve but would treasure always.

Slowly...and so, so very carefully, Azriel stepped closer to her, still holding her hand, before lowering himself slowly down to sit next to her on the ledge. And this close he could sense just how much smaller she was than him, could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell her scent.

Poppies and something sweet and warm like…apple blossoms maybe?

Azriel wanted...gods, he wanted to kiss her.

But he didn't. He just held her hand, trying to memorize every small detail of hers. The curve of her cheek, the soft blush on her skin, her nose, the full lips.... The tiny flecks of gold in her eyes that reflected the stars above them.

She was breathtakingly beautiful

For a moment Azriel forgot where there were, forgot the cold air around them. For a moment there were only the two of them on this ledge, beneath the stars and a soft night sky. And it was...he felt peaceful .

It wasn't a feeling he had a lot. But here, on the ledge, his hand in hers, he felt at peace. And when Irena slowly rested her head on his shoulder, Azriel could feel nothing but utter contentment.

His heart swelled with affection for her, and he carefully rested his cheek against her head, taking a deep breath.

This was real. She was his mate.

She was truly, truly his.

His .

And nobody knew. Nobody had a clue. He could keep her all to himself.

And selfishly...that felt really good.

Nobody was going to have an opinion about them. Nobody needed to know now.

He wanted to keep her a secret. Gods, he wanted to.

She let out a soft, content sigh, her head still resting on his shoulder, and Azriel smiled to himself.

Notes:

If you liked this fic, then kudos, comments or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔙𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

Mike munroe x male reader

A request that I received from a really nice person here on tumblr: a small idea I liked for a fic if you like the idea as well. Nothing too big, just a fic about Reader and Chris being brothers and constantly nagging each other about their crushes on Ashley and Mike.

I expanded the request a bit, sorry if I went overboard with it. Hope you enjoyed it.

Tags: set before the event of the game. Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Chris and the reader are brothers. Some very quick shifts of pov between characters. Jealousy. Mike and Jess/ Emily are not together in this. Friends to lovers. Mike is a flirt.

Words count: 4000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

For anyone interested, I took inspiration from this clue that you can find while playing as Chris.

The music thumps in the background, a mix of bass-heavy beats and voices blending into a dull roar. You and Chris sit at a small, round table near the back, well out of the action but with a good view of everyone mingling.

"So," Chris says, taking a long, dramatic sip. "You actually spent the whole night staring at Mike. Dude, seriously, you're lucky your eyes didn't burn a hole in the back of his head."

You scoff, leaning back in your chair with a mock sigh. "Like you're any better. When are you actually gonna talk to Ashley? She's cool, she's cute, she's well, out of your league but hey, a guy can dream.”

"Hey, I do talk to her," Chris retorts, feigning offense.

"Uh-huh," you say, raising an eyebrow. "It’s a lot if you can manage to squeak out a sentence before turning red.”

Chris chuckles, crossing his arms. "Fine. Why don't you go up to Mike and tell him what you think? 'Hey, by the way, I've been thinking about how perfect your jawline is all night!’ I'm sure that'll go over great." He did a horrible interpretation of your voice to mock you even further.

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush just a bit. "First of all, I would never phrase it like that. And second, at least I actually know things about him beyond his favorite book."

"Oh, really? Let's see who knows more about their crush. No cheating. No wimping out. Winner gets bragging rights." Chris leans forward, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Bragging rights? How about you admit I'm objectively hotter than you when I win?" you echoed, folding your arms.

"Sure. Whatever fantasy helps you sleep at night," Chris said, grinning as he dramatically cracked his knuckles. “I'll go first since I know you're just dying to hear all the juicy Ashley knowledge."

You chuckle. "Go with your in-depth research, Sherlock."

Chris clears his throat, sitting up straighter. "Fine. For starters, her favorite color is purple."

You make a face, unimpressed. "That's it? You think knowing her favorite color makes you the expert here?"

"Let me finish, smartass. She loves thriller movies. She also has this little habit of chewing on her nails when she's nervous."

You raise an eyebrow, genuinely impressed but unwilling to give him the satisfaction. "Okay, okay, not bad. But that's kid stuff. Let me show you how it's done."

Chris rolls his eyes, clearly not expecting much. "Alright, hotshot. Give me your best Mike trivia."

You sit forward, lowering your voice like you're letting him in on a secret. You have always been good at noticing things. Maybe it was a result of growing up with Chris and when it came to Mike Munroe, your crush, the small things were more than just interesting, they were revealing.

For one, every morning, without fail, he was up before the sun. He’d go for a quick run to stay in shape. You’d always catch glimpses of him at college heading back to his room in a tank top, earbuds in, eyes focused ahead and glimpses of sweat on his forehead.

He had this tough, confident exterior. He wasn’t loud like some of the others in the group. He had a way of using humor to deflect, to keep people from getting too close. You saw it when he’d brush off any talk about specific topics.

And then there were his tastes.

He likes his coffee black. Pretends it's macho. He had a surprising amount of nostalgia in his preferences. You couldn’t forget the time you’ve talked together casually on the lodge, his face lighting up as he talked about his love for old action movies.

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Alright. Maybe you’re better equipped than me. But, let's be real, you wouldn't even know where to start."

"Better than starting with nothing," you counter. "Besides, I could charm him if I wanted to."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "What would you even say?"

You grin, leaning in like you're revealing a grand plan. "I'd just walk up and ask him about his football season. Mention that time he scored the winning touchdown. You instead are hopeless"

Chris nods, pretending to take you seriously. "Oh, sure, because that'll definitely make him swoon. Hopeless? Me?" Chris laughs, leaning back with a smirk. "At least I don't have to worry about being mistaken for a stalker."

You both burst into laughter. For all the banter, you know neither of you would really judge the other for these harmless crushes. It's what makes the night so much fun.

From across the room, you caught sight of Ashley standing awkwardly near a table stacked with half-empty snack bowls and crumpled napkins. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly trying to blend into the background.

"Hey, Romeo. This is your chance," you said, leaning closer and nudging Chris with your elbow.

Chris snapped out of his trance, his head swiveling toward Ashley. His brows furrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in amusement before settling back into a more thoughtful expression.

Chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "What am I supposed to do? Walk up and make everything even more embarrassing?"

"News flash: she knows you're a loser," but she clearly likes you anyway. Stop overthinking it. Just go talk to her. Be romantic for once. She loves that whole 'awkward and sincere' thing you've got going on."

"First of all," Chris said, pointing a finger at you, "I'm not awkward. I'm, uh, charmingly self-aware. Second, what if I say something dumb? Or worse, nothing at all? I can't just walk up to her and-"

"You're a coward," you interrupted, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

"Yep," he said, popping the "p" and lifting his cup in mock toast.

You were scanning the room until your gaze landed on Mike Munroe.

He was leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand, chatting with a girl you vaguely recognized from English class. His tuxedo fit him perfectly, tailored in all the right places, the dark fabric catching the light just enough to highlight his athletic build. The black foulard tied loosely around his neck was an elegant touch, a little different from the usual bow ties and neckties most guys wore. His hair was perfectly tousled, like he hadn't even tried but still managed to look effortlessly handsome.

You felt your chest tighten. For a moment, your imagination betrayed you, painting a picture of Mike turning toward you, smiling like he did when he told one of his dumb jokes when he got elected class president. You could almost hear his laugh, warm and inviting, as if it were just for you. But reality snapped back into focus when the girl he was talking to leaned closer.

"Mike would never look twice at me like that." You mumble more to yourself without thinking, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice.

Chris, placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was light but reassuring. "Don't do that to yourself. You're a catch. If Mike doesn't see that, he's an idiot."

You looked up at him, grateful but unconvinced. Chris stood up, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket. "I'm getting us drinks. Let's make it through the rest of this night together, yeah?"

You nodded, watching as he made his way to the bar. You glance around, your gaze landing once more on Ashley and an idea strikes you. Chris is now far away from your position. It’s your chance to do something.

You stride over to her, flashing a friendly smile, keeping your movements casual so you wouldn't startle her. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed you, but she relaxed as you softly took her arm.

"Hey," you said, grinning playfully as you gently guided her away from the corner.

Ashley laughed, the sound light and genuine. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement but no resistance as you led her toward your table.

"Come on, you can't let Chris and I have all the fun sitting in the corner judging everyone." you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a mock-serious expression.

"That's what you two have been doing all night? Very productive." She scanned the place as you reached the table and she managed to spot Chris at the bar, meticulously mixing something with an unusual level of focus. But then her gaze shifted, catching Mike watching the two of you.

Jaw set, lips pressed into a firm line, eyes tracked the way you gently tugged Ashley along. His gaze lingered on your hand before flicking back up to your face. Lips pressed together in a faint, almost imperceptible scowl, as though something about the sight of the two of you together unsettled him. There was a slight tension in his posture, the way his shoulders seemed just a bit too stiff for someone casually enjoying a party.

Chris returned with two drinks in hand. "Okay, I've done it," he announced dramatically. "The ultimate drink. If you don't like it, I'm never speaking to you ag-" He cut himself off mid-sentence when he saw Ashley sitting at the table, smiling up at him.

"I... uh..." Chris stammered, turning an impressive shade of pink.

"You made this for me?” Ashley asked sweetly, taking the drink from his hand before he could respond. “Thank you, Mr. Bartender."

Chris blinks and he lets out a nervous laugh, giving you a quick glare as he hands the drink to Ashley.

She giggles, taking a sip and you watch as Chris visibly relaxes. They share a smile and there's a warm, unspoken understanding between them, a quiet moment that you can't help but feel a bit envious of.

The music shifts, slowing into a softer, more romantic melody. Couples move onto the dance floor, swaying together in a slow embrace. Ashley’s eyes light up as she turns to Chris, her cheeks flushed with a faint rosy tint from the slight inebriation she feels. "Come on, Chris," she says, tugging at his hand. "Want to go there for a bit?"

Chris's eyes dart to you, searching your face for reassurance, his expression almost apologetic. He's asking, without words, if you'll be okay.

You manage a smile, giving him a nod.

Chris lets out a laugh, his tension melting away as he lets Ashley pull him onto the dance floor. They disappear into the crowd, leaving you alone at the table. You watch them go, feeling a bittersweet pang in your chest as you take in the sight of them together, laughing and smiling, fitting together so effortlessly. Chris fumbling his way through the first few steps before finding his rhythm.

They looked so happy.

And you were here instead, alone at the table, your thoughts inevitably drifting back to Mike.

Chris feels his heart race as he stands on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on Ashley's waist, her arms draped over his shoulders as they sway to the gentle rhythm of the music. Her gaze meets his every so often, a smile warm and genuine, making him feel like the only person in the room.

"I didn't know you had these moves." she teases, her eyes twinkling.

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, trust me, I don't. I'm just doing my best not to crush your toes."

Ashley laughs, her grip tightening on his shoulders as she rolls her eyes. "You're doing just fine. I don't mind if you, you know, relax a little."

"Relax? Yeah, I can... I can do that," he says, voice faltering as he tries to ease into the rhythm, matching her movements as the song continues.

His focus wavers after a while, gaze drifting over her shoulder as he catches sight of his brother sitting across the room at one of the tables with Matt nearby.

There's something off about the way you're holding yourself. You're smiling, sure, even laughing at something Matt is saying, but Chris can tell that the smile doesn't quite reach your eyes. It's the kind of forced expression he's seen on you before, usually when you're trying to act like everything's fine when it really isn't.

Matt, on the other hand, seems entirely oblivious, leaning in a bit too close, his face lit up with that typical over-eager grin. He's almost leaning into your personal space as he chats away, looking way too thrilled to have your undivided attention, his eyes never leaving yours. The proximity feels a bit too familiar, too comfortable, with his arm casually resting on the back of your chair.

Chris feels a pang of protectiveness twist in his gut. He glances around the room, half-expecting Emily to appear and pull Matt back to the dance floor, but there's no sign of her. Instead, he spots her on the far side of the room, tipsy and laughing as she spins around with some stranger she's apparently mistaken for Matt. She's caught up in the music, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend is practically glued to your side.

Ashley notices his distraction, her gaze softening as she studies him. "Chris?" she asks, her voice gentle, bringing him back to the moment. "Is everything okay?"

He blinks, snapping his attention back to her, guilt creeping in as he realizes he's been distracted. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just... got a lot on my mind."

Ashley smiles, tilting her head as she searches his face. "You sure? You can tell me, you know."

Chris hesitates, glancing around the room one more time. His gaze lands on Mike, who's slow-dancing with the girl in glittering dress. She's leaning against him, her head resting on his chest, but Mike's attention isn't on her.

His eyes are locked in your direction, his brow furrowed and his jaw set in a subtle scowl that's hard to miss. There's a tension in his gaze as he watches you and Matt together. There's a faint scowl tugging at his mouth, a subtle clenching of his jaw that makes it look like he's holding back the urge to step in but doesn't quite know how to act on it. His brows are drawn together and his eyes flick between you and Matt with a guarded intensity.

Chris frowns, glancing back at you. It's clear now that something is brewing beneath the surface, something he doesn't fully understand but can sense all the same. He looks down at Ashley, his expression softening as he makes up his mind.

"Hey, Ash?" he asks quietly, feeling a bit awkward but determined. "Would you mind helping me out with something real quick? I, uh... I owe someone a favor.”

You were mid-laugh at something Matt had said about his latest sports practice when a shadow loomed over the table. You looked up to find Mike standing there, holding his drink loosely in one hand and the other casually tucked in his pocket.

"Hey, Matt," Mike said, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge like he's asking for a favor he already expects to be granted. "Mind if I steal him for a bit?"

Matt's smile falters, and he glances at you, a bit reluctant, as if he doesn't quite want to let go of the moment he's carved out. "Uh... well, we were just-"

"Looks like Emily's about to make out with that guy," Mike interrupted, tilting his head toward the dance floor. "You might wanna handle that before it gets messy."

Matt whipped his head around, his face paling slightly as he spotted Emily drunkenly giggling and leaning far too close to the stranger. "Shit," he muttered, scrambling to his feet. "I'll, uh, catch you later." he says to you, giving you a quick nod before he disappears into the crowd.

"Yeah, sure," Mike said smoothly, his smirk widening as Matt hurried off. You glance back at him just in time to catch a wicked grin flash across his face as he watches Matt weave his way toward Emily.

He turns back to you and without a moment's hesitation, he slides into Matt's now-empty chair, shifting it even closer to yours with an obnoxiously loud scrap of wood against the floor. He dropped into the seat with a satisfied sigh. His arm resting along the back of your chair but soon sliding fully around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne, earthy with a hint of spice, made your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. From this close, you could see every detail of his face: the light beard perfectly trimmed along his jaw, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the infuriatingly perfect way his smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. He was leaning into his persona, that cocky, playful charm cranked up to eleven and it was doing things to your brain you weren't sure you were ready to admit.

"Well, this is cozy," Mike said, his voice low and smooth. "Didn't think Matt was ever gonna leave. Guy's got some stamina for talking, huh?"

You blinked, struggling to form words. "Uh, yeah. He's chatty"

Mike chuckled, the sound warm and teasing "Chatty? That's the nicest way to put it. Bet he's been boring you to death, huh?"

"Not entirely," you said, though your voice was far too shaky to be convincing. "He's enthusiastic."

Mike raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "You're too nice, you know that? If I had to sit through more than five minutes of that guy's rambling, I'd be asleep in my chair."

You laughed, though it came out a little too breathy. "Maybe I'm just better at pretending to be interested."

"Pretending, huh?" Mike's smirk widened. "So, what about me? Are you pretending to enjoy this little moment we're having?"

Your brain short-circuited. "I... I mean, no. I-uh... you're not boring. Definitely not boring."

"Good to know," Mike said, his voice dipping slightly as he leaned in just a fraction closer. "I'd hate to think I was putting you to sleep."

"You're not," you managed to say, your face burning.

Mike grinned, clearly reveling in your flustered state. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

“I’m not nervous,” you said quickly, though your gaze flickered away from his, betraying you.

“Sure you’re not,” Mike murmured, his fingers brushing just a little too close against your shoulder, the touch lingering for a beat longer than necessary. “What were you and Matt talking about? You looked a little bored." His tone was smooth but there was a faint edge to it now, like he was testing the air.

You noticed the subtle shift in his expression. His jaw tightening just slightly, his eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second as if he didn’t quite like the idea of you and Matt sharing a private moment.

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Just sport stuff and his latest victory for his team. He was just being friendly,” you added, trying to sound indifferent.

You didn’t miss the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flickered just briefly toward the ground before locking onto yours again.

Mike’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, he looked real friendly.” The smirk that followed didn’t help, pulling at the corner of his mouth as if he was more amused than you thought he should be.

You raised an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, Mike just stared at you, his expression unreadable. “Nothing,” he said too quickly, the innocence in his voice so forced that you could almost feel the tension cracking around him. The grin stretched wider, like a challenge. “Just saying, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Matt was hitting on you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and a flush of heat spread across your cheeks. You tried to play it off, but there was no denying the way your heart stuttered in your chest. “He wasn’t,” you said quickly, your voice coming out a little more defensively than you intended.

"Either way. Figured I'd come over and I don't know... make the night more interesting for you. Prom only happens once, right? Gotta make the most of it. Besides—” His voice softens, his gaze locking onto yours with a sincerity that takes you off guard. "—I've been waiting for an excuse to spend some time with you."

You swallow, feeling the heat rise to your face as his words sink in. "You have?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a slow, deliberate motion. "I mean, I could've come over sooner but you were busy with your brother. Then you were with Matt and I figured, maybe it's time I got a little selfish."

The intensity in his gaze makes it hard to breathe and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, caught between disbelief and exhilaration. "I... didn't think you noticed me like that," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike's grin softens, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently rest on your waist, pulling you even closer. "I notice a lot more than you think," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Like how you always look away when you think I'm watching, or how you get that little crease in your forehead when you're trying not to smile too much."

Mike makes a silent note to himself to later thank Chris for the insights he’d shared minutes ago.

You laugh, feeling both embarrassed and overjoyed. "Okay, now you're just showing off."

He chuckles, his arm tightening around your waist as he dips his head a bit closer, his voice a soft murmur. "Can't help it. You’ve got me so close to losing it and you don’t even realize it." His fingers press gently into your side.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with a tenderness that surprises you. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, a vulnerability that makes your heart race. “Let me be the happiest guy in this place tonight.”

You feel your pulse race at the invitation, your mind whirling with both excitement and uncertainty. "What about that girl you were with?" you ask, your voice quiet and hesitant, unable to stop yourself from wondering.

Mike's smirk returns, his hold on your waist tightening slightly as he leans in, his voice a soft, almost possessive murmur. "She's not you. You’re the only one I can’t get out of my head.” His voice is rough, coated in something darker.

You meet his gaze, feeling your breath hitch as you search his face, trying to process the weight of his words.

He takes his chance to lean in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that leaves your heart racing. His lips crashing into yours with a desperate urgency that leaves you reeling. His hand slides around your waist, fingers tightening as he pulls you against him. The heat of his body sears through your clothes, and his thumb traces a slow, deliberate line along your cheek, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, that familiar cocky edge in his eyes. His eyes burn with that familiar, dangerous gleam-a challenge, a promise. His breath is ragged, as if he's barely holding back.

"Still up for that dance? Because I've got this new boyfriend I'd really like to show off." he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His breath brushes your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks at you with that trademark mischievous grin, the one that could melt anyone’s defenses.

A rush of warmth floods your chest at his words, a mixture of giddiness and disbelief. Your heart skips, caught between the sweetness of the moment and the thrill of his presence. The corners of your mouth twitch up as you meet his gaze, and though you can barely keep your composure, you nod.

Mike's grin widens and as he takes your hand, guiding you to the dance floor, you feel as if you're floating, lost in the warmth of his gaze and the excitement of being his.

Note: if you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

[princesskenny1998]

hey can you write a draco malfoy x reader where instances draco is showing signs of softness towards reader? like they aren't close but some students are noticing even the golden trio that he is fond of the reader but reader is oblivious. an example would be reader struggling to carry something to the great hall and draco happen to pass by and help her?

Hello <3

That's a good idea, hope you like it!

Harry Potter | Draco Malfoy x Gryffindor!Reader ~ Helper

It started with small things, too small to be anything but easily overlooked. You’d barely noticed, really, and it was only after Hermione’s nudging that you started to pay attention. But the way Draco Malfoy—the Draco Malfoy, Slytherin prince and known nemesis to all things Gryffindor—acted around you seemed... off. Off, in the sense that he was somehow kind, or at the very least unexpectedly considerate, and in ways that simply didn’t line up with his reputation.

The first time it happened, you’d been balancing a rather tall stack of books, struggling to get them from the library to the Great Hall. You couldn’t see much past the top of the stack, but you were determined to make it without asking for help, ignoring the sore strain in your arms.

“Honestly, Y/N, let me help,” Hermione had tried, reaching out to take some of the books from you.

But you’d waved her off. “I’m fine, really! I can—”

You barely got the words out before colliding with something—or rather, someone. The stack tilted, wobbling, and you braced yourself for the inevitable crash of books spilling all over the floor. But to your surprise, they didn’t fall. Two hands appeared over yours, steadying the pile.

“Careful there, you’re about to topple over,” said a cool voice, and you looked up to find Draco Malfoy staring down at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled, caught off guard by the unexpected assistance. You blinked, half-expecting him to make a snide comment, but instead, he adjusted his grip, taking some of the books from the top of the stack without another word.

“Going to the Great Hall?” he asked casually, and when you nodded, he simply fell into step beside you, carrying the books as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hermione, who’d been watching the whole scene with a look of pure bewilderment, fell in on your other side. Once you reached the doors of the Great Hall, Draco handed you back the books, offering you a curt nod before striding off toward the Slytherin table as though nothing strange had happened.

“Did... did Malfoy just help you?” Hermione whispered, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Without insulting anyone?”

“I... guess?” you said, feeling just as baffled as she looked.

But you shrugged it off as a fluke, an unusual but meaningless gesture. After all, this was Draco Malfoy—there was no way he’d actually done it out of kindness.

Yet it kept happening.

The next incident was in Potions, a subject where you usually didn’t mind working on your own. Slughorn had paired you with Draco, a twist of fate that might have been concerning had Draco not been unexpectedly cooperative. As the two of you worked to brew the particularly complex Amortentia potion, you’d reached for the ground rose petals only to find the jar was just out of reach.

Before you could think about grabbing a stool to reach it, Draco was there, his arm stretching over yours to retrieve the jar. He handed it to you without comment, his hand brushing yours for a brief moment. His face betrayed no emotion as he went back to his side of the cauldron, focused as if this were all a matter of simple practicality. You weren’t sure if you imagined it, but there was a gentleness in his movements, a subtle care he didn’t usually show in class.

By the end of the lesson, your potion had turned out perfectly, and Slughorn had even given you both a rare word of approval. As you cleaned up your station, Hermione, who’d been working nearby, gave you a significant look.

“He didn’t seem like his usual self, did he?” she murmured, casting a suspicious glance in Draco’s direction.

“Who, Malfoy?” You shrugged. “I think he just wanted to get a good grade. No big deal.”

But Hermione only narrowed her eyes, as if she could see something you couldn’t. It wasn’t just her, though; Harry and Ron had noticed too. After class, they caught up to you in the corridor, exchanging conspiratorial glances.

“Malfoy was being weirdly decent in there,” Harry remarked. “And not just today. Remember the book incident?”

“Probably trying to mess with you, better be careful,” Ron said, but he sounded uncertain.

You laughed, brushing it off. “You lot are making it sound like there's more to it than there really is. He’s just being his weird Malfoy self.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t ignore the strange, unspoken understanding that had begun forming between you and Draco. There were little gestures here and there—moments when he’d pause to hold a door open for you, or when he’d linger just a second too long after handing you a quill you’d dropped. They were subtle things, things that no one else seemed to notice unless they were watching closely. And your friends had certainly started watching closely.

One day in the library, as you were struggling to reach a thick volume on a high shelf, you felt someone’s presence behind you. Expecting it to be Neville or Hermione, you didn’t think twice about it—until a pale hand appeared, effortlessly pulling the book down and holding it out to you.

“Here,” Draco said, his voice soft but unmistakable.

“Oh. Thanks, Malfoy,” you said, surprised yet again. He’d been helping you more often lately, and you couldn’t quite explain why.

He just nodded, his gaze lingering on you a second longer than usual before he turned and walked away. You stared after him, the weight of his glance lingering even after he was gone.

By now, it had become something of a regular occurrence: Draco being unusually helpful or considerate, in ways that left your friends dumbfounded and you more confused than ever. And while you tried to tell yourself it didn’t mean anything, there was a certain look in his eyes, a certain softness in his gaze, that was hard to ignore.

As winter deepened, you found yourself in the courtyard one chilly afternoon, attempting to light a small fire with a charm you hadn’t quite mastered. The wind kept putting it out, and despite several tries, you hadn’t managed to get the flame to last more than a few seconds.

A soft chuckle sounded behind you, and you turned to see Draco leaning against a nearby pillar, watching you with an amused expression.

“You’re going to catch frostbite at this rate,” he said, coming over to stand beside you. “Let me help.”

Before you could protest, he muttered the charm under his breath, and a steady, warm flame flickered to life between his hands. He released it gently, and it floated into the small pile of kindling you’d been working on, crackling into a cozy blaze.

You looked at him, half-grateful, half-bewildered. “Thank you, but…why are you doing this?”

His expression faltered for a moment, the usual mask slipping just slightly. For a second, he looked almost vulnerable, as though he were considering his next words carefully.

“Maybe,” he began slowly, “I don’t have to be the person everyone thinks I am.” His eyes flicked away, and he cleared his throat, his usual guardedness returning. “Anyway, don’t overthink it.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you to stare after him, the warmth of the fire mingling with the confusing, lingering warmth in your chest.

By the time spring arrived, it wasn’t just your friends who had noticed Draco’s subtle attentions. Whispers began circulating around the castle. You heard your name linked with his in hushed tones, the rumors painting you as some kind of enigma who’d managed to charm the Slytherin prince himself. You dismissed it all, brushing off the gossip with a laugh. It was Draco, after all; whatever strange kindness he’d shown you, it had to be some fluke.

But your friends were less easily swayed. One evening in the Gryffindor common room, as you were studying with Hermione and Neville while Harry and Ron lounged on the couch nearby, Lavender joined in, and talk turned, inevitably, to Draco.

“I don’t know how you haven’t noticed, Y/N,” Lavender said dreamily. “He’s always watching you in class. It’s almost… sweet.”

“Sweet?” Ron scoffed, though he shot you a curious look. “It’s Malfoy we’re talking about, remember? Are we sure he doesn’t have some hidden agenda?”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t,” Neville said thoughtfully. “There’s something different in the way he acts around you, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You lot are making way too much of this. Malfoy’s probably just trying to get back at me for some reason. It’s not like he—”

But even as you spoke, you felt a strange flutter in your chest, a flicker of doubt that was hard to shake. Because, deep down, you knew it wasn’t just an act. You’d seen it in his eyes, felt it in those brief, almost tender moments when he’d let his guard down. Draco Malfoy was far more complicated than you’d ever imagined.

Then, one day, everything changed. It was a particularly rough day; you’d been overwhelmed with coursework, stressed over an upcoming exam, and generally exhausted—physically and mentally. You were in the library, nearly on the verge of giving up, when Draco appeared by your side, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You looked up, ready to decline, but something in his expression stopped you. You hesitated, then nodded, and for the next hour, he sat beside you, helping you work through the complex spellwork that had been giving you trouble. There were no biting comments, no sarcasm—just a quiet, unexpected patience that left you feeling disarmed and strangely comforted.

When you finished, he didn’t move away immediately. Instead, he lingered, his gaze searching yours as though he wanted to say something important. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath with you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant, “I—”

But before he could finish, the clock chimed the late hour, breaking the spell between you. He straightened, his expression closing off as if he’d remembered himself. Without another word, he stood and left, leaving you to sit there, confused and with a thousand questions swirling in your mind.

That night, as you lay awake in your dormitory, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way Draco had looked at you—the softness, the uncertainty, the way he’d almost seemed... vulnerable. It was something you’d never associated with him before, and yet it had been there, clear as day.

And you realized, with a dawning, disconcerting clarity, that maybe you’d been oblivious all along.

[wordsofelie]

🌌The stars he left in the sky

Oikawa x f!reader

Part II:🎋The footprints he etched on the earth (coming soon)

Summary: The stars he left in the sky are nothing compared to the footprints he etched on the earth.

or when you fall in love with Oikawa Tooru, only to have your heart collapse into his orbit.

Content warnings: angst, high school & time skip setting, manga spoilers, swearing

Words count: 4.5k

You shouldn’t have been impressed by stars. After all, they were just distant objects burning quietly in the void, destined to explode in silence. Yet, every time you looked at them, a feeling of greatness gripped you.

But they were out of reach. You knew that. You would never touch them; they were bound to the laws of science. You had known this since childhood.

And it made sense, really. Stars exist on a scale far beyond your own. So why did you ever think you could change that? Why did you let yourself believe you could stand beside one? Naivety had swept you up, convincing you that proximity was possible. But no matter how far you stretched your arm in their direction, they remained a universe away. And so did he.

You met Oikawa Tooru during your second year of high school, a time when everything seemed to fall into place for you. You were diligent, sharp, and unassuming—the perfect daughter, the good student, the nice friend. Life was predictable and neatly organised. You weren’t really popular in school, didn’t really care about romance and boyfriends. You just had a normal life, and you were fine with it. But that’s precisely why you found it strange when he, the infamous volleyball captain and your senpai, started taking an interest in you.

Your eyes met his for the first time when you went to the third years floor to discuss a club matter with someone from his class. He got up from his chair the second you called for your clubmate’s name.

“She’s not here. Should I deliver a message for you, chibi-chan?” He spoke.

You found the nickname weird but tried not to look flustered by it.

“I…yes. Thanks, I guess.” And you handed him a paper, he looked at it with attention.

“You’re in the baking club, huh?” He read on the paper, “would you bake me milk bread someday?”

You tried to ignore the pressure coming from his classmates glaring at you, “Sure, if you want, Oikawa-senpai.”

Before you could leave the classroom, he asked for your name because “it’s only fair since you already know me.” And his charming smile made your ears warm.

After that, he often came across you. He always made sure to linger on you when you walked past by in the corridors, fasten his pace to reach you on your way to school (leaving Iwaizumi on his own, not that it disturbed the outside hitter).

And you found yourself looking for him more. You wanted to see him everyday. And little by little, it made your heart beat loud in your chest.

“Hello there, chibi-chan. Mind if I join?” he sat next to you one afternoon in the library and leaned over your shoulder. “What’s that book?” he asked.

“I’m preparing for the university exams,” you replied.

“Even though you’re in your second year? You’re so cool,” he said, his lips turning into a smile.

“What about you senpai. Are you planning to go to university?”

You bet he would. Oikawa Tooru wasn’t only pretty and athletic, he was smart and studious. He could get accepted in the best schools; get the highest scores in everything he would do.

“Me? Nah, I’m going to be the best setter in the world.”

In the world. Those words should have been your first warning, but the glow of his confidence made you blind to how far his dreams really stretched. He was bright, made of light. You were attracted by him the way meteorites are pulled into an orbit. There was nothing you could do about it anymore, you couldn’t look away from him. So when he asked you to be his girlfriend a few weeks later as he walked you home—“Even though it’s my last year and volleyball’s my priority, I promise I’ll take care of you. If you’ll have me, of course”—you didn’t hesitate and said yes, under the starry night.

Oikawa Tooru was the kind of boyfriend who made you believe in true love.

Every morning, he was there waiting for you in front of your house, his scarf loose around his neck, cheeks pink from the cold. On bitter winter days, he let you slip your frozen fingers into his coat pockets, teasing you about how small they were. For your birthday, he somehow convinced—or maybe, forced—Iwaizumi into helping him bake chocolates for you.

The taste wasn’t too bad, but you told him that next time you would teach him how to bake proper chocolate biscuits. You liked to hear him talk about his passion, and in return, you talked about yours.

When you sat together in his room for what you insisted were “homework sessions and nothing else,” his hands inevitably found their way to your hair. He would twirl strands around his fingers, brushing it with the same precision he used to set a ball. It would always end up in heated kisses sessions.

You gave back in your own way. You never missed a game—not even practice matches—always in the stands. Your cheers were never as loud as his fangirls, but it was always your voice he heard first. At lunch, you peeled fruits for him, offering slices in a delicate handkerchief. He didn’t even like apples, but when you held one out with that quiet smile of yours, he couldn’t refuse.

He liked your baking, though it was never enough sweet for his taste. The first time he tried your chocolate mousse, he stuck out his tongue and wrinkled his nose.

“Heh… Too bitter,” he told you.

“Oi! Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi growled. “Say thank you, it probably took hours to make.”

“Oops, thank you chibi-chan.”

Matsukawa looked at you with a detached look, “don’t mind the guy, he always puts two spoons of sugar in his hot cacao.”

“Matsuuu!” Oikawa whined, “I’m sure everybody does that, right?”

“You’re gonna dye of hyperglycaemia someday.”

The setter pouted and he hid his face into the crook of your neck, “help me, I’m being bullied.”

Everyone laughed, expect for your boyfriend who pretended to be hurt and Hanamaki who was trying to find the definition of “hyperglycaemia” in his biology book.

You didn’t bake him much after that. It’s not that you didn’t want to but rather you were scared it wouldn’t meet its liking, and you had to focus on your studies anyway. You needed to be great for him so he would be proud to tell the world you’re his girlfriend.

When he failed to make it to Nationals, your eyes held no pity—only love and respect. That was the moment he realised how rare you were.

At first, you both kept your relationship quiet.

“That’s how you know she’s different,” Makki had said.

“All the other girls would be screaming from the rooftops,” Matsukawa added.

Oikawa only smiled. You were special. So special. But he only truly understood how special when it was too late.

After high school, his world shifted.

Even though losing at the semi-finals had been a heavy pain, Oikawa never allowed himself to feel down on failure, or at least he didn’t show it. His dreams reached far beyond high school volleyball, beyond Japan itself. So, when he created the opportunity to train in Argentina under his hero, José Blanco, he didn’t think twice. Even if it meant leaving his family and Iwaizumi behind.

Should he have felt guilty when you promised to get a part-time job to save for visits, while a quiet voice in his mind whispered that he hadn’t thought of you at all when making his decision? Maybe. But when you asked if long-distance was okay, he still said yes.

It was the second warning you ignored.

You had never been like Iwaizumi Hajime, you were not able to read between the lines the way he did, or to decipher what Oikawa hid behind his pretty face, so you trusted him.

You believed it would be alright. Your first love would last (but every seventeen-year-old would think so; it is an incredibly naive time to fall in love).

The day he boarded the plane for San Juan, you started your final year of high school.

“Tell me when you get there,” you said, forcing a smile to hide the sadness, “and send me plenty of pictures. Call me every day.”

“I will,” he answered. “Go on now, or you’ll miss your entrance ceremony.”

Move on, he should have said instead.

Distance, it turned out, was more than just eighteen thousand kilometres. It was in every missed call, every half-hearted apology, every time zone that stood between you.

The “plenty” of pictures you had asked for became sparse, dwindling to nothing. One day, you learned he had cut his hair short through a post on Instagram. He didn’t even tell you. You cried all night.

Oikawa was amazing. Articles were written about him, fans started queuing outside arenas just to catch a glimpse of him, coaches from all around the world praised his sets. And each time you read something about him, you remembered. Remembered his brightness, his light. Remembered he was a universe away, out of your reach.

You were a mere object; he was a beautiful star.

And that reality hit you in the face on a May evening, a year after he left.

You had planned to talk but the phone call came late at night. You tried to picture him, somewhere in his room, the sun coming through his window, where it was the moon on your side of the world. Maybe his face was glowing faintly from his phone screen, maybe he had dark circles under his eyes like he often had when he trained too much. Maybe his brown curls were falling on his face. He probably looked handsome anyway.

“Will you come for Christmas?” you asked at some point during the call.

He paused. Too long.

“I’ll try,” Oikawa said, his voice sounded polished but there was something brittle beneath his words. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, after your exams.”

“Do you promise you’ll call?” You hated how childish your voice came out, but you were desperate to have him on the phone. You wanted him to the first you would hear after your exam.

“Promise,” he said. And though his tone softened with a warmth coming from an impossible distance, you doubted.

When the exam ended the next day, you waited for his call.

He will call, you repeated a few times in your head. He promised.

But as the evening turned into night, your phone remained silent in your pocket. After what felt like longer than the exam itself, you started walking, though you didn’t know where you were going.

You only stopped at some point in front of a shop. It was the smell that drew you in.

It was a little pâtisserie tucked between two tall buildings. Inside, it was warm and so you sat somewhere by the window. It was oddly comforting.

You weren’t hungry, you didn’t even know why you were here, yet, when the waitress asked what you wanted to eat, you found the courage, somewhere deep in your gut, to order something.

“What would you recommend?”

“Try the black chocolate cake,” she said. “It’s my favourite.”

You didn’t regret the choice, and the first bite melted on your tongue, it was rich and bittersweet. For the first time in hours, if not in days, you felt good.

When you stood by the door, on impulse, you asked, “Is it hard? Becoming a pastry chef? Running a shop like this?”

The woman smiled, “it’s hard work,” she said. “But it’s worth it.”

What if it was worth it for you as well?

Your phone finally rang just past midnight.

“Hey,” Oikawa’s voice came through. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of time. Are you okay? How was your exam?”

You hesitated before saying. “It was fine.”

You could have told him in details how it went, what exercise you found hard, which ones were easy, but somehow, you found yourself losing the will to do so.

“Is everything okay?”

“You promised you would call.”

You heard his mouth opening and closing a few times, “I know and I’m really sorry. Training went longer than expected and since I became the starting setter, I really need to put more effort into work.”

You stayed silent, to be honest, you didn’t even know what to say. Should you have gotten mad? Gotten sad?

He was the one to continue the conversation.

“Listen, I won’t go home for Christmas.” He finally admitted with a long sigh.

You stopped breathing. You couldn’t move. In this moment, you were convinced that if someone looked into your heart, they would find nothing but broken pieces, “Why?”

“I’ve been offered to play for the National Team here. But I need to apply to become a citizen first and the appointment with the embassy is around Christmas.”

“I’m not going to university,” you informed.

There was a long silence again. Oikawa was probably waiting for your disappointment or congratulations. But neither of those things left your mouth, “What? Why not?”

“Because,” you said and your voice started trembling slightly, “I’ve decided to become a pastry chef.”

“But… you’re so smart. You’ve always talked about university. I mean, baking is nice but that’s just your hobby, right?”

The words hit like a slap, and something inside you snapped. “My hobby?” You repeated his word. “I’ve been baking for I don’t know how many years. That’s the only thing that truly makes me happy and you call it a hobby? Of all people, I thought you would understand what it’s like to pursue a dream. But of course you wouldn’t even know this was my dream, heh? You’ve never really paid attention to me anyway.”

“That’s not true,” his voice rose. But you didn’t let him finish.

“I can’t do this anymore, Tooru.” You tried to hold your ground even though your stomach twisted and your throat tightened. “I think we should break up.”

“What? Wait, shouldn’t we have a real conversation about it? I-I will call you tomorrow morning, alright? Try to get some sleep first.”

“No, sorry Tooru. It’s over. Good luck with volleyball.”

There was a muffled sound on the other end—a sob, barely stifled—but you ended the call before it could break you more.

The days that followed felt like a blur. He sent a few messages—apologies, explanations—but you didn’t answer.

You told your parents you wouldn’t apply for universities here in Japan, they couldn’t hide their confusion at first but supported your choice after your brother mentioned how happier you would be if you did what you really wanted.

(You made sure to bake your little brother dozens of cookies.)

You started researching schools and ended up going for the one that stood out the most: l’École Ducasse, in Paris. It felt like a long shot, but you applied anyway.

A few days later, an email arrived. You opened it with trembling hands, your heart was pounding in your chest.

You’ve been invited to attend the exam, in France.

You stared at the screen.

“I knew you could make it nee-san,” your brother grinned.

“I didn’t get in yet; I still need to pass the exams.”

“Yes, but you’re going to Paris.”

Your eyes were filled with tears, happy tears. And in a rush, you booked your ticket and began packing your bags.

For the first time in years, you felt like you were moving toward something that was truly yours.

Maybe, just maybe, life wasn’t entirely against you.

When you stepped into Paris at the age of nineteen, you didn’t imagine it would become your home for the next five years—but it did. You passed the entrance exam and began your studies. The first few months were tough. You missed Miyagi. You missed the crisp sound of cicadas in the summer, the quiet beauty of snow-draped mornings in the winter, the comforting taste of miso soup, and the warmth of home. Everything felt foreign—the dormitory walls, the sound of words, even the stars above you.

Still, you told yourself it was for the better.

Some days were great, especially when your teachers praised your work. Other days were marked by a single, damning silence—the kind that hurt more than any harsh critique. You’d lie awake at night, blaming yourself.

Who did you think you were, chasing this dream? You were no Oikawa Tooru. You didn’t have his tireless hard work or his ambition and would definitely never polish your instinct the way he polished his. You found yourself missing him more than when you broke up with him. You missed his curly bed hair, the lock that fell on his eyes when he was sweating after practice, his wink to you from the court after a powerful serve, the face of disgust he would make when you baked dark chocolate mousse.

Regrets invaded you; homesickness ached your heart.

Had you made a mistake leaving Japan? Had you walked away from your true love?

You were on the verge of giving up the next morning. Still, you decided to get up to attend the chocolate-making workshop with students from a year above you. Afterwards, you decided that you would talk to your director and move back to your hometown.

“Bonjour,” you murmured hesitantly. You were still struggling with French. You looked around the room and tried to remember the right orders of words to ask a question, “Est-ce que c’est là… I mean… Ici pour le classe de chocolat?”

Shit, you know “classe” is feminine, so what did you get it wrong? What are they going to think of you?

Your eyes fell on your feet. You were tired.

“Yes, welcome,” someone replied.

The words weren’t in French but in Japanese. You blinked, startled, and turned toward the voice. Your own language sounded familiar and foreign, and somehow, both felt like a lifeline.

“Well, well. Isn’t this Oikawa Tooru’s girl?”

It took a moment to place him—Tendou Satori. But you had not doubt it was him with his red hair, his thin silhouette and curled smile. Your ex-boyfriend would often refer to him as “Ushiwaka’s freak middle”, you had also heard, probably from Iwaizumi, that his nickname was “the Guess Monster”.

Class began, and Tendou ended up as your partner. He was just as sharp and quick-witted as you’d heard, but also kinder than you’d expected. After the session, you wanted to find a way to spend more time with him, so you came up with the excuse that you had a few questions about chocolate making, since it was his speciality. Instead of brushing you off, he asked if you wanted to come with him “somewhere nice”, you said yes. He led you through the Parisian subway, chatting the whole way, until you found yourself standing in front of a small Japanese restaurant tucked into a side street.

The owners welcomed you warmly. They were from Akita, just next to Miyagi, and when they placed full plates of oysters and steaming gyutan in front of you, you didn’t wait a second to bring your hands together in slap and with a grin (and a little drool at the corner of your mouth) exclaimed a loud “Itadakimasu.”

You shared a few beers and had zunda mochi for dessert. It tasted like home and more.

“It gets easier,” Tendou said as you walked along the Seine later. “You just need to find your own rhythm. Do you still want to give up?”

You opened your mouth in shock. You never talked to that guy before tonight, and still, he had been able to read you like an open book. You simply offered him a smile and a “of course not.”

The Friday evenings at the restaurant became a ritual, it was always followed by long walks by the water. Paris felt less overwhelming with Tendou around, you even came to believe that meeting him was a miracle. And so, slowly, you found yourself thinking less and less about Japan and about Oikawa.

One evening, as the two of you strolled, you tried to be discreet, but Satori noticed right away. He always noticed.

“You keep looking up,” he said, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

“It’s just… we don’t see the stars here. In Miyagi, they’re so clear and bright.”

“It’s because of the pollution.” He said matter-of-factly.

“But what do you do when they’re not here?”

“There’s water,” Tendou replied after a moment, he didn’t stop walking. “And trees, and buildings, and wind. They’re here and they’re close. You can touch them and feel them. Isn’t that better than stars?”

You smiled faintly, and the pain in your chest seemed to be relieved, even a little. “I was always scared of what Tooru would think of me. I thought, if I didn’t succeed, if I didn’t become something impressive, he’d stop walking beside me. I wanted to go to university to become a lawyer or an engineer just so he’d be proud. Am I weird for following my dream and breaking up with him instead?”

Tendou glanced at you, then grinned suddenly. “See that rat?”

Startled, you followed his gaze to a fat, black rat scurrying across the cobblestones.

“Most people hate them. Think they’re dirty and gross. But no matter what, rats keep doing their thing. People try to chase them away, kill them even, but they always come back.”

“Are you comparing me to a rat?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Rats are cute.”

“Not the ones in Paris.”

“Fair.”

You both laughed, the regrets eased.

“What I mean is,” Tendou said, almost turning serious, “there’s something you’re meant to be. It’s up to you to figure it out. But once you do, you’ll always be drawn to it. Your cakes are amazing. I think you’ve already found your path. So, stop worrying about whether that loser would have been proud of you or not.”

“He’s not a loser,” you said instinctively.

“Come on. It’s just between you and me. I know you want to say it.”

“Well…” You hesitated, “maybe he is a loser.”

“You can say it louder.”

You turned toward the Seine, cupped your hands around your mouth, and shouted, “OIKAWA TOORU IS A LOSER!”

Tendou burst out laughing again, and so did you.

That night, you went back to your dorm and, perhaps because you felt a pang of guilt, you sent Oikawa a text (because he really was not a loser, you were simply a bit heartbroken). You attached a photo of yourself in your chef’s uniform, smiling brightly.

“If you ever come to Paris, you can visit my school. We have a restaurant, and I’ll bake you milk bread.” you wrote, “I’m happy here. I hope you’re happy too.”

He replied quickly. “You’re so cool!!!(*´◡`*)” A moment later, he sent a picture of himself on a mountain peak, lying in the snow. “This was in Patagonia a few weeks ago… I got high on coca leaves. It’s supposed to help with nausea. It didn’t for me >﹏< But I’m glad to know you’re happy. I’m happy too.”

You laughed quietly at his message. You wanted to tell him more; that it was hard, and that you cried a lot, you almost wrote it down. You imagined him answering that it had been hard for him too, working even more than in high school, learning a new language, fitting in a complete different society. The two of you, maybe, weren’t so different after all. But you decided to keep those thoughts to yourself.

“Do you have one of those big white hats, like the real chefs?” he texted.

You scrolled through your photos. There was one selfie with Tendou where you were both grinning, wearing tall chef’s hats, you sent it. “This one?”

A few seconds passed before he called you.

“First Iwa-chan, now you? Traitor,” he accused. You knew he was pouting on the other side of the phone as he told you about Iwaizumi and Ushijima meeting in California. You asked for updates on his childhood friend. The call stretched on, two or three hours, his afternoon overlapping your late night.

“Shit, I have to go to my physiotherapy session. You know for my knee. I’m good though,” he added quickly. He suddenly remembered the old times in high school when you scolded him for not going to the doctor even though his knee hurt or when he forgot to apply the anti-inflammatory cream. “But I prefer when you’re the one putting it chibi-chan.” (he would always get you to do it).

“Tooru… thank you. I mean, for everything you taught me. Talent really blooms when you let it.”

This was a moment you knew you’d always remember. It was like an in-between, a raw instant and it made you feel like your universe was finally meeting his.

Stars were distant objects burning quietly in the void, destined to explode in silence.

However, they don’t explode to disappear, no, they create something new. They die and then, they are born again.

“And thank you”, he said, his voice softer now. “For teaching me to believe in myself.”

You never asked what he meant by that. Maybe he said it out of politeness. Maybe he truly meant it. Either way, you wanted to keep those words in the back of your mind forever.

Years passed, and your hard work paid off. You got an internship which turned into a permanent position at the prestigious Ritz in Paris.

Eventually, life pushed you to London. You climbed the ranks and carved out a name for yourself.

One day, Oikawa walked through the doors of your workplace in the UK, always so charming but more confident than when you met him. He was visiting from Argentina, he explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to drop by unannounced. You made him a chocolate mousse (you didn’t forget to add two extra spoons of sugar in it.)

Tendou, meanwhile, often took the train to visit you. You would always go out in the city to try the best pastries and rank them (it would usually end up with a stomach ache). He never stayed too long, but his visits would brighten your days.

You loved Europe, deeply, it had a special place in your heart now, but maybe it was time to go back, you found yourself thinking one day. Not because you’ve failed here, but because you missed Japan—its sounds, its tastes, its skies.

When you returned home, you noticed how brightly the stars in Miyagi shone, but you knew there was one, on the other side of the ocean, that shone even brighter.

Slowly, you stopped searching for stars above you. You began to think that what you have here on earth is enough. Perhaps what you’ve been seeking all this time isn’t a thousand kilometres away or in some distant universe. Maybe it’s real. Maybe it’s closer than you imagined.

Maybe it’s already within reach.

And one day, it might find its way to you (but that’s another story).

author notes: this will be the first part of a 2 parts story. i really enjoyed writing it so i might post the second part before i start writing ‘and i will wait for you (a thousand springs, a lifetime)’, my apologies 🫣

btw as a non-english native speaker i found it really challenging to write in the past tense, so i really hope the grammar and stuff is consistent, please tell me if you see mistakes <3

lots of love

Elie

[peachhcs]

YES YES YES another side plot!! i love the angst and tension of the wonder years

one person has spoken so this is becoming a side plot!!! so excited bc i love writing about the wonder years & expanding it further. this got way longer than i expected and way angstier than i thought LOL enjoy!!!

au masterlist | previous part

the state championships were the weekend before thanksgiving break up in alpena, so the boys packed into their cars to make the trip in support of samy and the team. it was the girls’ third year in a row making it to the state finals, so almost everyone from the school was in attendance on the cool november night.

will and the boys found seats with ellen, jim, and luke. even quinn and jack managed to catch a flight to watch their little sister play in what will be her final high school game.

marcie rallied everyone the night before to make signs for the whole team. they probably spent a good 4 hours altogether, but it was worth it in the end and getting to see each girl smile with excitement that they had a sign. the boys also excitedly took turns holding one of them up so everyone go some recognition.

“god, i hope they win. if they do, they’ll set a new record for the school,” marcie smiled despite the harsh cold that made everyone bundle up in layers of long sleeves and jackets.

“with samy they will. she’s gotten them to win for the past three years,” drew said like it wasn’t a big deal. the others chuckled.

“she’ll do fine. she knows what she’s doing,” will hummed, eyes finding samy’s number 6 down on the field. she was doing warm-ups with her teammates.

it was her lucky number ever since they were little. something about sixes was always catching her attention and the thought made the blonde smile. although, his happiness didn’t last long when a familiar voice snapped him from his thoughts:

“oh, hey. funny seeing you guys here,” it was kevin.

he’d been passing through the stands with some of his friends when he saw the boys a few rows down.

“what’s up, kevin?” marcie wondered, clearly not interested in his presence.

“not much. good to see you, mar. didn’t know you guys were coming,” kevin looked over at will and the guys where they exchanged wary glances.

“wouldn’t wanna miss supporting samy,” will decided he needed to stop letting kevin push him around, so he stood up for himself.

“agreed. she’s got some big stakes on her shoulders tonight,” kevin said and for some reason, that didn’t sit right in will’s stomach. shouldn’t boyfriends be more supporting of their girlfriends instead of just adding pressure to them?

“she’s gonna do great. we’ll be cheering either way,” ryan cut in.

“right. of course. well, good seeing you guys,” they all exchanged a tense wave, the jealousy being so obvious.

“could you look any less angry?” gabe nudged will’s shoulder who’s eyes were still on kevin’s retreating figure.

“he’s such a fucking idiot. ‘didn’t know you guys were coming’ why the fuck wouldn’t we?” the blonde voiced his frustrations to which no one had an answer to other than letting it go because picking a fight was not worth it right now.

will brushed the boy’s behavior off and focused on samy instead. the commentators began announcing the starting line-up, so the girls lined themselves up the field side by side with the opposing team. they played against grand rapids last year at the state finals, so would this be another win or redemption? everyone in their section was definitely hoping for another win.

“number 6, center offense: samy hughes!” everyone jumped up in cheers as the young brunette stepped forward to wave at the crowd. will held the sign up and he saw samy giggling at their energy before stepping back into line.

once they finished announcing everyone else, samy and her other co-captains went to the officials to decide who was playing on what side and discuss other minor details.

will could see kevin and his friends diagonal and three rows down from where they were. the boy caught his gaze and the two stared at one another with what felt like hot rivalry in both of their eyes.

the blonde quickly looked away. this wasn’t about him or kevin. this was about samy and her game tonight.

once the sides were decided for the first half, the girls got into position. samy was in the middle right in front of the ball. her and the center offense from grand rapids exchanged a few words, shook hands, and got into position.

the whistle blew marking the beginning of the first half.

it was a tense game right from the start. the grand rapids girls were always close and on the backs of ann arbor, a lot of pushing and shoving already underway. samy had good ball control, but she just couldn’t shake the other team to make a pass or get open.

“come on, sam! get around them!” jack began his rowdiness and will’s probably never seen the hughes brothers so focused on something besides hockey.

the teams continued battling it out, calling nonsense to one another that was hard to understand from the stands. samy would wave her hand to indicate she was open but then a girl from the other team got in front of her and blocked her pass. she was quick on her feet, nearly sending the brunette to the ground when she failed to get the ball back.

everyone’s eyes followed their movements across the field. the ball moved fast between feet, but then lauren eventually got ahold of it and went up the turf towards the goal.

“let’s go lauren! go! go!” marcie screamed so loud it hurt will’s ears.

lauren shoved her way past grand rapids, passing her to samy so she could get open again. samy took the ball to the corner before passing back to her teammate when she saw lauren back open. the girl took her shot and the entire stand erupted in cheers when it flew into the net.

“hell yeah! let’s go! wooo!!!” marcie jumped up in down in excitement.

now the girls just needed to keep that lead for the rest of the game and they’d be state champions for the 3rd year in a row.

—

by the time the first half ended, it was 4-3 and ann arbor had the lead, but it wasn’t easy getting those points. grand rapids were definitely out for redemption after last year’s loss. the teams went inside for halftime discussion and everyone began heading to the bathroom or getting food.

will and gabe offered to get things for everyone and surprise, surprise, kevin and his friends landed in line right behind them. the hockey players tried their best ignoring him knowing he technically was still the guy samy liked and was talking to.

“you know i never really understood why hockey goes to 3 periods. like why 3? why not 2? or go up to 4?” it was obvious kevin was trying to pull a reaction from them, mainly will.

him and gabe exchanged a glance. the darker haired boy gave a look saying to just ignore it and be chill, and that’s what will did.

or he tried to.

he kept his chill for probably a good 3 minutes. after 3 minutes, kevin’s friend was saying something about the girls on the team and then it turned to samy.

“she’s the hottest one on the team, no doubt about it,” one of them laughed and the others followed in agreement.

“dude, you’re so fucking lucky man. if you didn’t have dibs i’d totally hit that. have you seen her?” and that’s when will lost his cool. he spun around faster than gabe could stop him.

“what the fuck is your problem?” he snapped at the boys behind him. kevin and his friends exchanged a glance.

“excuse me?” kevin raised his eyebrow.

“if she’s your so called girlfriend, why the hell are you letting your friends talk about her in that way? fucking disgusting,” the blonde continued angrily.

“well am i wrong? don’t lie, you’ve totally thought that too,” will was pretty sure the other kid’s name was tyler and he wanted to smack that smirk right off his face.

“yeah, will, tell us. have you thought about it before?” kevin taunted and gabe pulled at his friend’s arm, trying to get him to just leave it before anything escalated.

“and if i did?” the blonde raised his eyebrow.

for a second, nothing happened and the boys were staring one another down. the next second everything happened so fast—kevin raised his arm, his hand balled into a fist that landed right into will’s cheek with a loud smack.

everyone around them gasped. gabe freaked, grabbing will before he fell over. kevin’s friends quickly pulled him back.

“what the fuck!” gabe yelled angrily at the brunette.

“so you admit! you’d have her in a second if you had the chance! i fucking knew it!” kevin yelled at will who pulled out of gabe’s grasp and launched himself at him.

will took his own punch at kevin and then they were both on the ground. everyone around them began yelling and screaming while gabe and kevin’s friends desperately tried pulling the boys apart.

ryan, aram, and drew appeared a moment later and used their combined strength to pull will away. ryan stepped between them, holding his friend back while kevin wiped the blood from his nose.

“alright, alright. everyone just calm down,” ryan said, trying to get the crowd to go away before someone came over and kicked everyone out.

“he fucking started it!” will exclaimed while the boys pulled him away. kevin’s friends pulled him away too and they dispersed before a teacher or something caught wind of what happened.

“dude, what the fuck?” ryan said as they sat will down at one of the benches to check him over.

“he punched me!” will exclaimed.

“that doesn’t mean you punch back, idiot,” gabe shook his head. luckily, the blonde wasn’t bleeding and nothing looked broken besides the bruise already forming on his cheek.

“what did you want me to do? stand there and listen to him and his friends talk about samy in that way? he’s just mad i’d be way better than him,” the blonde scoffed while the others just sighed.

“dude, if coach catches wind that you got into a fight with some kid, you’re not gonna be playing,” ryan shook his head too.

“i’m just standing up for samy which was something kevin was not doing when his friends started talking about her like that. some boyfriend he is.”

the boys exchanged a glance, unsure of what to do, but the they saw kevin coming back over. their glances hardened as they basically shielded will.

“if you’re here to start another fight, you better just turn around now,” ryan said.

“i’m not. i’m here to apologize or whatever,” kevin rolled his eyes.

“i don’t want your fucking apology, man,” will stood up, pushing ryan and gabe out of the way.

“look, me neither but i’m apologizing in hopes that you won’t tell samy what happened,” kevin crossed his arms.

“in hopes that i won’t tell her? you want me to shut my mouth about what your friend was saying about her and how you punched me because i was defending her?” will raised his eyebrow.

“look, dude, i got it all on video and i can send it to your coach and ruin everything for you if you don’t,” the blonde’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“you’re fucking threatening me now?” he looked back at the four boys who were also at a loss for words.

“one click,” kevin held his phone up.

will cursed to himself, running a hand through his hair.

“whatever. i’m sorry,” the blonde huffed.

“good. i’m sorry too,” the brunette held his hand out and pulled will into one of those bro hugs. “and if i hear anything about what actually happened and people talking, i won’t be afraid to post this everywhere,” kevin whispered before will pulled back.

the two exchanged a glance before fully letting go and kevin walking away.

“jesus christ,” gabe mumbled.

“i fucking hate him,” will scoffed before heading back to the stands and hoped no one would see the bruise and ask about it.

marcie did notice it though and so did luke. “dude, what happened to your face?” the girl shrieked.

“nothing,” will kept his eyes down and pulled his hood further over his head.

“nothing? that’s a big fucking bruise, man,” luke said.

“did someone punch you?” marcie kept asking questions.

“i don’t wanna talk about it,” will shook his head.

marcie and luke exchanged a glance, but they decided to let it go for now so they wouldn’t draw anymore attention to it. will’s gaze saw kevin glancing up at him and the blonde really wished he could punch him again. the first time felt really good.

—

ann arbor won the finals in an overwhelming 7-4. the whole section cheered their names as they were awarded their medals and the banner to hold up for a photo. samy’s smile couldn’t be bigger as her teammates lifted her up into the air with the trophy and chanted her name.

everyone lined the railing so samy could go down the line and high five everyone. will kept to the back when she got to them. he didn’t want her to see his bruise and make her worry. she didn’t need that after winning the state championship. the brunette was too caught up in everything that she didn’t even notice will hanging in the back more.

the teams waved one last goodbye before heading back inside to debrief, so the stands started heading out to the parking lot where the players would meet their families for more proper hugs.

will kept his head down the entire time, pretending her was interested in his phone as him and everyone else waited in the parking lot.

“alright, be honest with me. what happened?” marcie was back at it now that they weren’t around everyone anymore.

“i said it’s nothing,” will shook his head.

“bullshit, smith,” marcie looked at the other boys like they would tell her instead.

“it’s fine, i promise, mar,” the blonde said.

“will, you have a bruise the size of a tomato on your cheek. what happened?” the girl wasn’t gonna give it up this time.

“he threatened me, mar. i can’t talk about it,” will snapped a bit.

“who?!”

“who do you think?” ryan cut in.

marcie quickly realized who they were talking about. her entire face fell, “kevin punched you?”

“if i say what happened, he threatened me with the video of it and will send it everywhere, especially my coach. i can’t have that on the internet, especially with this being the last year and my commitment to boston,” will said quietly, making sure kevin or his friends weren’t nearby.

“holy shit, will. why is he threatening you if he punched you?”

“it’s more about what he said and who he doesn’t want to find out,” will hoped marcie would get it without him having to explicitly say it.

she did because her expression turned angrier.

they didn’t have anymore time to talk about it though because the doors opened and the girls poured out, cheers and shouts leaving their lips as the reunited with their parents.

samy came out close to the back, the trophy high in her hands. ellen and jim were hugging her first along with her brothers who were congratulating her. marcie just squeezed will’s arm, telling him they’d talk about this later before jumping over to congratulate her best friend on her third win.

will trailed behind everyone else. he enjoyed the way samy never stopped smiling and the excitement in her expression as she hugged everyone who came up to her.

“so glad you guys came. i loved the signs,” the girl chuckled as she finally got to hugging the boys.

“of course, obviously we’d never miss this,” ryan smiled.

when she got to will the boy ducked his head into her shoulder before she saw the bruise. she squeezed him tightly and he did the same back.

“congrats,” will cheered.

“thanks so much for coming. i think you’re my good luck charm,” the girl chuckled making the blonde flush.

when they pulled away, samy didn’t miss the new bruise on his face this time. she grabbed his face, eyes wide.

“what the hell happened?” she exclaimed which caught the attention of everyone else around them.

will grew nervous, eyes darting to gabe, ryan, aram, drew, or marcie for help.

“i accidentally smacked him when i was cheering. it got crazy in the stands,” marcie spoke up first.

“that hard?” samy didn’t quite believe it.

“my hands flew up when you guys scored and it collided with will’s cheeks. totally my bad. you know how i get,” the girl laughed.

samy glanced between the two before seemingly believing it. “jeez, mar. didn’t know your cheers got so aggressive,” the brunette chuckled and a wave of relief washed through will that she believed them.

no one else asked after that. not even when kevin came over to congratulate her and eyed will when samy wasn’t looking. no one even batted an eye when kevin had a similar, but smaller bruise on his face.

[blujayonthewing]

me: okay, come on now, that's a few too many weed nights in a row I think, let's cool it if we don't want it to be a habit

me the very same goddamn night: [openly weeping at my desk in a sudden fit of overwhelming existential despair]

[spokelseskladden]

oh wow that gatsby fella's pretty great

[ellies-enrichment]

Tommy Miller in "Kin"

[the-sunshine-dims]

I do love that the horrors are just straight up happening (everything. everything) and that for a good 90% of it Ava is just away building a carnival

She is the moment, oh the void sickness has spread more? Damn that sucks anyway she just made a sick ferris wheel though

Viviana kidnapped Sylph, died. And Sylph was left in a coma? Armor ran away? Cowabummer man she's busy living her best carnival architect dreams

[yayswag]

rlly silly doodles based off of a post the hc goat @tegr1dy made about stan and kyle adult braces that had me laying awake at night 😭😭😭

[haberdashing]

Hey. All y'all who make things? Tangible physical things--art, crafts, whatever?

Plug your work on this post, and link to your shop(s). Don't be shy.

I want to help people and small businesses, especially at a time like this, but also I am not immune to the allure of Shiny New Thing Get (TM). I already bought a couple things from the ACLU store, but I know there's a world of stuff out there I just don't know about off-hand.

Give me options, guys. I know some talented folks are reading this right now. Show me what you got!

[anemonet]

Happy halloween!!! Aimed and fired mainly towards >> @choliosus for the @mcyt-halloween gift exchange, but happy to everyone else too :DD

[i-cast-zone-of-truth]

big scary demon Zhao Yuanzhou bringing “weaker than a human” energy levels to fight the final boss was so choice

[sukibenders]

Look, I enjoy the Targaryens as much as the next person and think that their house, their family mess, all of it is very interesting. I want a dragon so bad and they are one of the reasons, I get it. But, on the same hand, it gets annoying when people say/act like they are the only interesting house within ASOIAF (this rhetoric is mainly on Twitter, from what I've seen) and it primarily has to do with them having dragons (to which, for a time many Targaryens didn't have after the dance and until Daenerys came into the picture). Look, having dragons is cool and all, but if that's all that makes a house interesting then maybe that house is boring. And, could be just me, but by saying that I feel like it's lowkey disrespecting all the work GRRM put into the other houses and their characters. If the Targaryens are your favorite that's fine, but there's no need to act like the lore behind other houses also isn't just as important. I'm new to this fandom, but there are so many aspects that have pulled me in and it's sad that people ignore it just because it's not a part of one particular house.

[princema-k]

hey guys i'm perfectly normal

[vanhelsingapologist]

Strahdposting (with possible spoilers so tread lightly)

One of the worst things about Strahd in our campaign is that he's not overtly forced anyone to do anything. His underlings have, sure, but never him. He just waits for us to eliminate our options all on our own, and then presents us with his way. And of course, his way is the easiest. He'll even make it easier. We keep falling into the pit because he ensures we dig it ourselves.

We're almost past the point where he wants to bargain with us and I'm nervous about what happens when he stops being the devil we know and becomes something else altogether.

The recent reveal that there were other parties before ours has been so shattering for us, I think, because it made us all realize that our party is an amusement until it is an inconvenience, and then we'll be insects in the garden that have overstayed our welcome. And then he'll start with the force.